Thursday, March 6, 2014
A goodbye letter to my right breast
Dear Right Breast,
You and I, we’ve been together a long time. What’s it been now? Forty-five years? The memories swirl through my mind: Our first bra, nursing the kids, and a zillion other escapades that need not be detailed here... Good times.
But over the past few years you’ve changed. You became unstable and unreliable, making it difficult to discern your true intentions. A sore lump here, a mysterious “calcification” there (or was it DCIS? I’m still not sure). I stopped counting the number of mammograms and sonograms you drove me to, not to mention the tears and anxiety. And things really took a dive this year, when you went rogue on me. Let’s be honest: We both know you’ve been trying to kill me. But cancer? Seriously? And as if that wasn’t enough, you had to drag the nodes into this. Was that really necessary? I’ve always known you were dense, but this is pure desperation.
So it’s over, Right Breast. You’ve had your fun. While I will continue to enjoy life’s treasures for many years to come, tomorrow you’ll meet your brutal end, filled with medical dissection and testing in a cold sterile lab before being discarded for eternity. And you’ll get nothing from me; no sympathy, and no more tears. All I have left for you are five words: Happy Amputation Day. Ta ta!