I’m not real happy with my right breast these days. Oh sure, it was never my favourite one. It’s always been the last one to be slung into a bra. It certainly wasn’t the most productive of the pair when I was nursing and pumping, and I still remember how much pain I was in when it developed that nasty case of mastitis 20 years ago. But now it’s harbouring the enemy, and I’m afraid that this is just the last straw.
When I first saw the cancerous area on the ultrasound image, it reminded me of some malevolent Pokemon, like Cloyster
or a meteor menacing the earth, like in the fine film I saw back in the 70’s. But lately, in the middle of the night, when I find myself awake and still in my new sleeping position of having my arms tightly crossed across my breasts, I view the whole breast with suspicion. Is the poison laying low, or has it started its attack though my system? Is it like an ember, ready to burst into flame at any moment?
I am really, really ready to get on with this. Let’s finish getting the answers, let’s move forward with a plan of attack, and let’s kick this cancer’s ass.