Last week on my social media pages, I decided to go live and speak about some of the struggles I was having. I’m my previous blog post, I alluded to 2018 leaving me a gift on its way out, which happened to be a lump in my right moob (man boob). I was initially scheduled for surgery and biopsy on December 31, but due to technical difficult and miscommunications between medical professionals (heavy eye roll), I had to reschedule for January 3, 2019.

I show up on the day of my surgery at 5:45 am, ready to go and prepped to go. My surgeon talks to me about blood work and the anesthesiologist goes over the plan. I’m just ready to get it over with. The surgery is successful and the lump is removed. My sis picks me up and we go to get some good ole pain meds so I can rest the remainder of the day. I go to work the next day like nothing happened, except I have this gaping hole in my boob from where they sliced me open and didn’t stitch up the incision. I have to change the dressing twice a day and make sure it stays clean and dry, which is an absolute pain in my ass.

The next day, I call my surgeon to schedule a follow up. I call a few times, and no one answers the phone. This is the most nerve wracking shit ever. His office is antiquated and I’m sure everyone who works there was born during the Historical Antebellum Period. I call all day and continue to get the night service and no other responses. I’m so irritated at this point, because I can’t see my primary doctor until the surgeon checks on my incision. I go the whole day with no return phone call and head home after work all normal and ready to rest.

That weekend was super tough. All the emotions of having to deal with surgery, the unknown, worst case scenarios, and what it would look like moving forward, hit me like a ton of bricks. I literally went radio silent on Sunday so I could breathe and sit in my feelings. It was ugly. It was dark. There was smoking, and pain meds, and bourbon, and ice cream, and my feelings. I think this was the first time in my adult life where I actually allowed myself to feel things and experience that level of discomfort, without it leading to suicidal ideations or even an attempt. I’ve been transparent about my mental health struggles so this may not be news for everyone, but for those who are unaware, I have attempted suicide a few times in my past, but those are completely separate stories.

I made it through the weekend, back at work to greet kids on Monday, and dive back into the things necessary to move forwards with my life, but the unknown still weighed heavy. I tried to contact my surgeon’s office all day Monday and no answer. My mind was racing and wondering where the fuck these people were. Tuesday, I called all morning and left messages, and sent faxes (yes, faxes) to get them to return my call. I finally got through after contacting my primary care physician and trying to schedule an appt with her. Her office reached out and literally drove to the surgeon’s office to get them to contact me. Shit was wild. After the cat and mouse, I finally got an appointment on January 10th to see the surgeon, so he could check the wound and get me the biopsy results I had been waiting for. Being in suspense for that long is maddening. I couldn’t keep anything down or in. My stomach was upset for every meal, so I was just fucked either way.

Thursday arrived and I made my way to the surgeon’s office. There is already bad energy there, as a patient in the lobby area is cussing out her former physician’s office about medical records and I just get irritated. He called me to the back and asks me to remove my shirt and the dressing from my incision so he could check. He starts asking me all these questions about how I’m cleaning it and if it hurts, and what am I putting on it.

“Sir. Shut up. What are the biopsy results?” (Me in my brain)

“The lump we removed contained cancerous cells. Your PCP and I have already referred you to some oncologists but we want to do a PET scan to detect any other cancerous cells. There were a lot of abnormalities which are a cause for concern.”

At this point, I’m literally blankly staring at him and trying to figure out what next steps are. The news wasn’t as jarring or triggering as I thought it would be, but my major concern at this point, was how to message this to my family. My dad had just beat cancer and I knew it would make my parents worry, seeing as though they are literally almost 1,000 miles away. If they heard worry in my voice, they would panic and be on the first flight up here. We finished up the appointment and I called my PCP to set up all my future appointments, so that I could see someone as quickly as possible. Everything is scheduled. All my friends know. My family knows. (If they didn’t, they know now.) I’m actually a lot less shaken now that I have an answer and the waiting is over.

So, this is what 2019 has been up to thus far. It isn’t what I expected, but I promise you, it has made me so much more courageous. I’m jumping into things head first and asking for what I want. I’m trying new things and relinquishing fear. It’s a new day bitch. If I act defeated, then I’ll be defeated. It’s time to spice this shit up and do all the things I’ve been afraid to do for whatever reason. This part of the journey was unexpected and I’m sure there will plenty of more bumps in the road, but I make a promise to myself to up the courage. Your thoughts and well wishes are greatly appreciated. This shit is already beat. Cancer free all 2019. 🙂