Icy Fear Through My Veins

Recently I made quite a splash around my town and e-town when I announced to the world (well, just my friends and clients) that I was cancer-free. I was kinda loud and proud about it actually. Friends from high and low were full of congratulations for me. Then we all did what we all do, got back to work.

I've been healing nicely (officially 2 1/2 weeks after surgery as of today). My horse's patoot of a surgeon did a very fine job by leaving only the teeniest of scars straight across my chest. Apparently this isn't always the case with mastectomies according to those in the know. So, even though I don't like the guy, I will say that he did a really good job on me, and I have enjoyed the lack of complications.

All is well then. Or it was until I looked in the mirror this morning and saw a lump protruding from my rib on the left side. It's true that I've been feeling some pain there since right before my surgery, but dismissed it as nothing. Now, I could clearly see it protruding, 1/4 inch out, maybe 3 inches straight down from where my tumor was located before it was removed.

ICY. FEAR. SHOOTING. THROUGH. MY. VEINS.

That is the only way to describe what happens to your mind and your body when you think it might be possible that you have discovered more cancer. Or that the original tumor left a little present. Or a baby. Or whatever the hell it is.

I had heard of this icy fear thing happening to other cancer folks, but didn't think I would be the type to fall into the I-once-had-cancer-so-now-every-little-thing-might-be-cancer-hypochondriac pit. But in I went, and fast. There was no stopping it. Balls to the wall full out fear. It definitely wrecked my day.

I have a followup with my stink-ball surgeon tomorrow and I will ask what it is. Hopefully ... well, I don't know, why speculate? I'll keep you posted.

As always, I couldn't do it without you. But if you could hold my hand for a minute, that would be great - Love, Jen B.
http://www.jenniferbunker.com/