The Big C Has Met Its Match

“Well, fuck! I have cancer! Fucking Cancer!?!”

This was the first thought I had when I found out just over a month ago that I have Invasive Ductal Carcinoma, also known as Breast Cancer! Actually, at the time, it was just “Invasive Carcinoma”, two words that sound like the world is coming to an end. At least, that’s how they sounded to me. “Invasive” sounds like it’s aggressive and not easily eradicated, and “carcinoma” makes me think of lung cancer. Needless to say that the first day, before I even knew what questions to ask, I went to the dark side and immediately imagined that I was dying and that that death was imminent.

Within an hour of receiving the call telling me that I have cancer, I had already decided that I was just going to tell the surgeon to cut them both off, referring to the girls. After all, they clearly weren’t doing me any good at all; in fact, they were causing me harm. I could have them both removed and get a new set, one that I could pick out! And, BONUS! I have a number of wigs, so if I were going to lose my hair, I could be Tina Turner one day, and Little Richard the next! In other words, I tried to make light of the fact that I had the big C and be positive about whatever was coming. That seemed like a reasonable compromise to me, although I was still scared.

When the VA called me the next day and asked me where I wanted to go for treatment, it was a no-brainer for me – Duke University, of course! They are the best around here!!! Within two weeks, I was at Duke Cancer Center, where Kitty and I spent an entire day meeting with the surgical oncologist, medical oncologist, radiological oncologist, and finally, the geneticist. I don’t know what I would have done if she hadn’t been there. There was so much information, and I didn’t think there was any way I was going to be able to keep track of it all. Before I left that afternoon, I had a plan in place… I was going on my cruise, and I would be at Duke the day after I returned for a lumpectomy and a possible lymphectomy.

I’ve had some time to think about all of this now, and I know that I am too fucking mean for cancer to take me out! Plus, Heaven doesn’t want me and Hell’s afraid I’ll take over, so I continue to say a big “Fuck You” to cancer! I have a lot of places I haven’t been yet, and I haven’t moved to Daytona Beach yet, so I am not going any-damn-where! I also had a talk with Grubby and with Dad and told them that they should remind the powers that be in the Cosmos, in Heaven, or wherever, that Abby has already lost both biological parents, and if she were to lose me then the universe is a sick and twisted power because although she can get on my last nerve, she is still an innocent kid in all of this and it would be downright cruel for this to take me from her too!

As of this writing, I am recovering from surgery at home and awaiting my follow-up so we can figure out the next steps. Meanwhile, I have a belly ring that has a pink ribbon and says Fuck Cancer on it that I am proudly sporting!

Fuck Cancer!