It’s Not Safe

A friend asked me whether I’m planning to walk, or run in the upcoming Race for the Cure. She was serious, but I had to laugh because I HATE to run. Hate it. Don’t get me wrong, if say, the house were burning down I would run out. I wouldn’t be moseying through the black smoke and falling rafters thinking, “Gee, I hope the house doesn’t fall down before I get out…I’d speed up, but I hate to run.” However, I’ve never enjoyed that lungs-on-fire, near death feeling that I get from sustained running. Some people run because they actually *like* that feeling, but since I don’t, I’m thinking maybe I need something else to motivate me to run. How about a stick with an iced caramella dangling out in front of me? Or perhaps a square donut?

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Surgery is scheduled for 11:30 on October 9th at the St Vincent Women’s Hospital. They’ll be keeping me overnight. Also, I have to be up there the day before to have some nuclear junk injected into the original site. That will locate the sentinel lymph node so that it can be removed for biopsy. I think in a way I’ll be glad to have this boob gone just so it’s not there to be poked, prodded, injected, impaled, smashed, magnetized, scanned, carved, stitched or stapled anymore. Really, it’s almost ridiculous to think of all the stuff I’ve had done in the past 6+ months. Are they just trying to *scare* the cancer out of my boob? My cancer’s probably thinking, “Dang! This neighborhood sure has gone downhill! Every time I turn around these days there’s some sort drive-by lumpectomy or nuclear injection. It’s just not safe anymore.”

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Proving once again that most breast cancer products are made with older ladies in mind…I’ve been looking online at post-mastectomy camisoles. Basically, what this amounts to is a loose-fitting camisole that opens in the front, and contains pockets on the inside to hold surgical drains in addition to pockets for lightweight faux-boobs. I saw one of these at the boutique a few months back—ugh! It was about the dowdiest looking piece of clothing ever! White with pink ribbon accents it just screamed, “Hello, I’m your grandma’s underwear!” At the time I asked the clerk, “Does that come in black?” Of course not….your grandma doesn’t wear black underwear. In fact, she only wears white underwear, that’s why the camisole only comes in white. Duh!

So, I’ve been looking online and guess what? There are no cool post-mastectomy camisoles, AND, you must pay by the ounce of ugly because these things are pricey! Like $50-ish. I will only need the stupid thing until my drains come out, and I’ll probably feel unattractive enough without wearing an official breast cancer housecoat. I just don’t think I can make myself buy one. But if anyone finds a leopard print version, I’m there!

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