Originally written July 6th, 2006

While I've been dealing with kitty trauma these last couple of weeks, I've also been immersed in my own little drama: I found a lump, and went through the standard exam -> referral -> mammogram -> biopsy to reach diagnosis... which turned out to be stage two breast cancer.

Ouch. Could be worse, of course. I'm supposed to decide by tomorrow between lumpectomy+radiation+chemo and mastectomy+chemo, which I'm finding hard to do.

I'm leaning towards the mastectomy; that way there's no chance of reexision, and I might not have to have radiation, but I'm afraid that without breasts to balance out my tummy, that I'll spend the rest of my life looking like I've swallowed a pumpkin. I'm afraid of being ninety, and having children ask me if I'm pregnant. (And yeah, vanity much, at a time like this? Sheesh.)