SQUIRM

I gave this blog its name because it's perfect for a rant about breasts. Throughout sixteen weeks of chemo, I was secretly hoping for a lumpectomy since my tumor size is small and response to chemo has been A+. But I'm not getting that break (not that lumpectomies are a piece of cake). I'm in for full demo and reno. Both breasts.
medical staff: "We want to be able to say "cure.""
me: squirm
medical staff: "It's the best option. Otherwise you'll be under constant surveillance."
me: squirm
medical staff (now exasperated): "It's only fifteen extra minutes in the O.R."
me: squirm
I'm not ready for this!
Too, I've been trying to "prepare my mind for surgery," a series of basic relaxation methods which I'm supposed to learn and then put to use when I get scared (which is all the time). I'm listening to tapes which teach deep relaxation, but all I can do is picture my body on a metal table with my eyes X'd out! Then I read that picturing your body on a metal table with your eyes X'd out is not optimal for the pre-surgery mind.
squirm
Still, I keep reminding my catastrophic thoughts that I've made a choice which offers the best outcome -- I'm reaching for optimum health. My medical team is #1! Dammit, I'm going for cure (imagine crowd cheering)!
Yes, bilateral mastectomies. squirm.