Anyway, the moment she said that, I knew it was breast cancer. I started to feel weak and had to ask to sit down. I had to ask, because my breast was caught in a vise. She flipped the switch, and with her arm around me walked me to a chair. She was so kind. I knew and she knew. But neither of us said "cancer."
Then a biopsy. That biopsy was odd. I had to lie on the table face down with my left breast hanging through a hole in the table. (I wish I had a photo from the doctor's perspective.)
But what showed me something was that when the biopsy was done, I couldn't get up. I just couldn't rise from the table. I asked for them to please let my husband come in. A nurse ran and got him. The moment I laid eyes on him, I simply sat right up. I kept him in my field of vision until I was up. Just seeing him gave me whatever it was I needed to find the power to sit up.
=12pxThen the doctor's office called to tell me I had cancer. I felt sorry for the woman who had to call me. I told her I knew, and then we set up an appointment for a consultation with the doctor. We consulted, then set a date for a double mastectomy.
Jump ahead. the mastecomies was not anywhere as hard as I had thought it would be. I was recovering pretty well and my attitude was happy and I laughed a lot. I was moving slow, but gosh, really, it wasn't bad.
Then I turned down chemo and started on a hormone blocker. That was the hard part. I have to take them for three more years. Some of the side effect have worn off, than goodness. But that drug was harder than recovering from the surgery. Nowadays the worse side effect is insomnia.
I am starting a new plan. It is similar to how I lived before I gave up. After I gave up, I figured I'd eat whatever I wanted, when I wanted it. It's not that I ate 24/7, but that I ate more desserts and candy, etc, than I used to. I just gave up.
I've known people who gave up and simply lived waiting to die. One lived 2 more years, most of which she could have used well, if she hadn't given up. Another lived well over 20 years after she had been told she only had 6 months. But she gave up, and spent those over 20 years waiting to die.
I've decided that is no way to live. I'm going back to living, to my healthy eating to exercising, to getting involved (after I get stronger again.)
And therein lies one of the problems of giving up. I lost a lot of strength.
Part of the whole thing was that drug. I had to rise above it.
Anyway, now I'm on my way to living, really living, the rest of my life. I have pretty good odds, but odds are far from perfect. Whether I die in my sleep tonight, or in a few months, or in 20 years, I want to enjoy the life I have.
I remember trying to build my life back up as I was slowly leaving the JWs. I was younger and stronger than I am now. I did some really neat things. I had adventures.
So now that I'm again leaving something that has held me down, I'm working on getting back up. It was a true physical knock down. But the giving up and not trying was a mindset, and not a healthy one.
I don't think the time during which I'd given up was totally wasted. I believe I learned things. And let me tell you, sometimes people will stand in your way, no matter what you are doing in your life.
My thoughts now? LIVE, truly LIVE. If you can't find a way to simply go LIVE, then plan an adventure of some sort. Do it alone if you have to. But get out there and LIVE.