Before I forget, thank you if you messaged me. I have probably not messaged you back. The last two weeks have been a whirlwind of information, and apparently I respond to stress by going to sleep. I really appreciate the contact and I will find some way to respond to you personally really, really soon. Really.

This week I have plunged into the vortex of confusing factoids and innuendo and second opinions. I have been proceeding on the hopes of getting a bilateral mastectomy without reconstruction (since 20-30% of women will get a recurrence), but there are many opinions and I am trying to learn about them. None of them really seem okay to me, but then, it seems I don’t get to choose none of the above. Some of the options: surgery followed by implants, either by gradually expanding the tissue with saline and then using some kind of substance to mimic the feel of breast muscle (it’s not like cosmetic implants); surgery with immediate reconstruction, usually from abdominal fat or some other kind of fat; surgery with later reconstruction that involves taking muscle from some other body part like your abdomen or back/buttock; nipple sparing reconstruction (that seems to involve keeping your nipple, provided it isn’t involved in all the nastiness); oncoblastic reduction (that’s taking out lots of flesh around the mass and then reducing the other breast so it isn’t considerably huger and more pendulous) and probably some other things. All these have different drawbacks (longer recovery, a second surgery, implants and the inevitability of having to change them out), and of course one does not know if one is a candidate. The local hospital works with plastic surgeons in Asheville, but the options there look more limited than those available in big city medical centers.

Mastectomy also improves my odds of not having to have chemo and radiation, but only if they don’t find a lot of trouble with the nearby lymph nodes in surgery; another factor is my onco-dx score, which I will probably get after surgery. (I don’t know what that is, but again, low is better.) A surgeon and an oncologist have palpated the mass and nearby node places; the surgeon was a bit more reassuring than the oncologist, but hopefully that’s just a matter of bedside manner. Or not–OH GOD NO! And every new doctor terrifies me until I can sleep it off and get perspective. So I am not good company right now–especially if I talked with a doctor today.

As some of you know, treatment for breast therapy starts with the surgery, though it’s sometimes preceded by chemotherapy. Afterwards, you can have some combination of chemo, radiation, and hormone suppressing therapy if you have the right kind of cancer (I do), in that order. Then, you need to find out if you’re secretly pre-menopausal, even if you think you’ve crossed that drawbridge and are suffering the consequences–J’accuse, hot flashes! If you have, you can take aromatase inhibitors for about 10–count them, 10–years; if not, they have ways of making that happen, too. But all this is cheaper than it used to be, because generic drugs are available in many cases.

I stopped by the hospital to get my films, so I saw the offending monster for the first time. In honor of “Hug a Medievalist” week, I may call it Unferth (you have to say that with your lip curled all the way back, and put an umlaut on it). I share for the fun of having an illustration to accompany this post but also if you’re curious. If you have a mass in your boob (246,660 women and 2600 men will get breast cancer in 2016–and it seems like most of these people will have some tie to Jackson County NC), you want it to be smooth, like a jellly bean,with hard edges. You do not want it to look like something out of The Andromeda Strain. Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere, Unferth! Hmm–that may need work.

Also, a note to those friends who do not like to find out your weight at the doctor–good luck with that! If you get breast cancer, you must fill out over 162,801 forms a day. You will have to quit your job to fill out forms. And all of them either ask your weight or seem, unaccountably, to already know it and want you to know it too (unaccountably, since every other thing about yourself must be repeated in different words three times per form). How often, for example, must I confess my guilty love of wine? Ah, wine. Perdition catch my soul, but I do love thee! and when I love thee not, Chaos is come again.

I have already drafted many friends into service. Thanks to the entire goon squad and Kaleb Lynch in particular, who has come to every appointment, alternately fielding ARF emails, handing me doughnuts, and jotting down factoids about sentinel nodes.

This may sound like a litany of complaints, but this is how I cope, a little, while keeping you informed (or not, if by now you’ve clicked on some new link about Donald Trump or NC HB2, hoping for something to lighten the mood). You can subscribe to this blog if you’re still here and want updates. And thanks, from my heart, for all the kindness and support so far and yet to come.