First post about my boobies

Let me start by saying... this blog is not intended to be pornographic or sexually stimulating in any way. It is a log of my emotional and physical changes & challenges of being diagnosed with breast cancer at 39.


I was diagnosed with cancer on July 30th, 2008.

By the time a doctor finally uttered the words... "yes, it is cancer"... I had been through several visits with many different doctors (I'll go into details a little later) and had experienced my first mammogram, my first sonogram and my first MRI. Within a three week period.


My breasts have often been a source of anxiety, pain (you try running a marathon with a sack of potatoes strapped to your chest... not fun), annoyance, and they cost a pretty-penny to support. I had to learn/adopt an air of indifference about my boobies as they became too large to miss... because often enough someone would comment or remark about them in a way that would either embarass me or hurt my feelings. In order to bring some balance to the equation, I acted as though they were hardly worth noticing at all.

So... back at Mount Vernon College, I had this amazing professor of political science, Dr. Casamayou. She was one of the best instructors I've ever had in my life. She was also a breast cancer survivor. Dr. Casamayou made sure that her students knew to examine their breasts regularly and she often spoke about her illness and her recovery. To this day, I still have the self-exam shower card hanging in my shower. Everyday I get into the shower, I think of Dr. Casamayou.

I won't exaggerate the truth... I wasn't always faithful and committed to examining my breasts. But I did check them... maybe once or twice every month. Sometimes I would skip a month or a few months -- but even then, I would give 'em a quick squeeze every now and then outside of the shower just because they were there and they belonged to me. Some months that little card shamed me into just making sure. But many days... I closed my eyes and put my head under the water...

Some time ago, I thought I felt something. But then, the next time I went to squeeze 'em... I didn't feel a thing. Figured that it was nothing so I didn't let it stress me. A few months later, I felt something again... but this time I worried a little. So, I promised myself to just pay attention. Nothing hurt, nothing was protruding... I just felt...something.

In May, my father had an aneurysm. I'd go into details but all that matters is that the sight of my dad in intensive care with tubes and IV's and machines everywhere... changed my life. So, any concerns about myself were out the window. I could only think of my father... all day... everyday.

The month of June was a blur... family coming and going, friends inquiring about my dad, about my mom and about myself... I moved on auto-pilot. But for some reason, on auto-pilot, I checked my breasts... and this time, it was unmistakeable. There was a lump.

I asked my boyfriend if I was hallucinating...I needed to know if he felt something. He did. And fear started snaking itself around my arms...