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Let's Talk About Decisions

Today has been a super rough day for me. First, aside from Thursday turning out to be Monday's ridiculously ugly sister in terms of all the random crazy that happened,  I lost someone who has been a dear friend of mine for 20 years on Sunday. He died from cancer. Kind of funny in a "haha life is giving us the middle finger" kind of way, isn't it? He started out as a pen pal and became one of my closest and dearest loved ones.

On top of my super emotional week (please forgive my excessive use of the word "super". It's apparently made it's way without fail into my vocabulary lately.) I am now plagued with doubts about my 12 year in the making decision to have my prophylactic mastectomy. My doctors all agree that it's the best course. Even the doctors who aren't making money off of me agree. So all in all, being the logical "separate your emotions from your brain" person that I am, I should be fine. But I'm not.

You see, no one tells you about this decision making process. Of course, it's a no brainer. I'm one of the lucky ones. I still have my mother. But many of my fellow previvors (those are ladies who choose to take the route I am taking before they get a cancer diagnosis) have lost their mothers. Or loved ones. My mom is here. With me. To hold my hand and comfort me on this journey. Or yell at me. Whatever is her pleasure. What people don't tell you though, is that most of the time, by the time you make this decision, you've learned to love your body. And like everyone else, TRUST me when I tell you that my body and I have been through it. But despite the crap it's given me, it's mine, and I'll keep my parts, thank you very much.

Unfortunately, while that is an option, it's not a great one. The decision to have a prophylactic mastectomy for many is super easy and has no conflicting emotions. I thought I was one of those people until I realized that I now have boobs. This is a new development. Some of us ladies don't get our full boobs until we're in our mid-thirties. That would be me. And they're fantastic! And new! And how how I love to cuddle them. Which is great, because they are mine and I can. But now I'm faced with having to have them amputated and replaced with a device that will hold their place until I can have my reconstruction (which is NOT anything like getting your boobs done. We'll talk more about that later).

Honestly, while I know I am logical and I will do the logical thing, I don't want to. I want to grab my boobs and hide in a corner somewhere. I tell you all of this because I promised to document EVERYTHING in my journey. Tonight has been rough. This WEEK has been rough. I feel alone, unsure, a sense of doom and despair and that I'm on a roller coaster than won't stop, put in motion by yours truly.

If you are in the middle of this process - that is- making the decision -let me assure you that everything you are feeling is normal and just because most of us have gotten on with the business of choosing our happy and moving on (and in essence not talking about this indecision) doesn't mean we didn't feel it. Yes, you'll read the blogs where women knew right away and they did it and they were so happy! This is not that blog. Heck, it took me twelve years to see another surgeon after my first consult scared me silly. So this is a slow process and it's okay to take your time. I've decided instead of just posting on my blog to also be very vocal about it. I talk about boobs everywhere. And it makes many people uncomfortable. But I'm sorry. If a presidential candidate can discuss penis size, I can discuss my boobs. This is much more sedate, I assure you.

I don't want cancer. I don't want anyone I love to have to watch me deal with that and I don't want to either. But I also don't want to lose my boobs. I'm so damn conflicted. My appointment is the 20th of April. And I'll go. And in the morning I'll feel better. Whatever you are feeling as you read this is normal and we've all been there, at some point. Just know that.

Also, this is Luna and the husband. She posed perfect for a selfie. It's not the whole family, but it's still cute.


Now we know you were cuddling pregnancy boobs!!

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