Gravity, It's working against me

Gravity, It's working against me
And gravity, wants to bring me down

I saw the plastic surgeon today. My breast surgeon says he's the best and I trust her judgement on things of that nature. He was a professional. He looked at me, listened to my story, took into account my recent radiation and chemo treatments and gave me his professional opinion on the type of reconstruction I should consider. We agreed on a plan. He shook my hand and left.

As I was leaving, his PA approached me to ask if I wanted to see photos. I sort of understood what she meant but said, "No, do I need to? Am I not being curious enough?" She indicted that it would help me picture the outcome so nothing would surprise me after the surgery. My husband encouraged me to follow her telling me, "Go ahead and look it won't hurt to know."

We went back into the exam room where she proceeded to show me a few photos of the outcomes of similar surgeries. She explained about the drains and the time I would be in the hospital. She said I would be sore and demonstrated some positions that would be difficult and..... I started to cry. Not a full on bawl, just that little bit of tearing up you do when you're really trying not to cry.

You see, I didn't ask about the drains (although I did know about them) or the photos or where my belly button would eventually be. I didn't ask because I didn't care. The only thing I wanted to know about was the day. The day, they would do the operation. The day I wouldn't have a cancer in my breast any longer.

The day was the only thing I could think about. You see it's not that I HAD cancer, like the first time when I found out after the tumor was removed. This time I HAVE cancer. I still have it. And it's a heavy burden to carry. It weighs you down.

It's wanting more
That's gonna send me to my knees
Gravity, Stay the hell away from me
Gravity, it's taken better men than me

Every woman (and I think most doctors) know it's no fun to wait around for the surgery. And, I imagine every woman thinks they have a special need to have their cancer removed more quickly. I know I do. But experts will always say a few weeks don't matter. Cancer takes years to grow and those extra weeks won't make a difference in the outcome.

In my case (here's my special rationalization just for me) the cancer didn't take ten years. The first one appeared in only a few months. I had a clear MRI looking specifically at that spot in November and was removing a 2.3 CM tumor in February. This much smaller recurrence appeared only ten weeks after my chemo and radiation treatments had ended. I know it wasn't there in September. That's why I think I am a special case, I'm growing cancer very quickly.

But I got to thinking about it. Every woman is a special case and we each have the right to feel like our need to remove the cancer is urgent. It doesn't matter if it took ten years, ten months or ten weeks to grow that tumor. Most tumors have a day, a minute a moment when it is contained... and in the next moment it is not. Every tumor can have that cell, that one tiny cell slip out of the breast and into the blood or nodes or bones. And, since no one can tell you when that moment happens, we all have the right to feel the urgency. Maybe during that wait that one tiny cell will slip out. Who knows?

So, it will be three weeks until I can get the cancer (and my breast) removed. I like my medical team. I have total confidence in them. However, while three weeks doesn't seem too far away for all of the members of the team that DO NOT have cancer. The weight is too much for me.

Just keep me where the light is
Just keep me where the light is
Just keep me where the light is

-John Mayer

 Gravity