This I believe

I think I have cancer in my left breast. I have no reason for thinking this. I don’t even know if “thinking” is the right word. It’s more like a feeling. I guess I "feel" I have cancer in my left breast. That’s a little more accurate, but still not right. The truth is, I believe I have cancer in my left breast. I just believe it’s there.

I don’t want this to be true. I think about calling Dr. Rocco and asking her if it’s possible. I’ve asked her already. I asked my oncologist, Dr. Kennedy, too. They’ve both told me I’m safe. I’ve had a mammogram and a MRI on that breast, they remind me. Even tiny little lump #2, which was invisible on the mammograms, showed up clearly on the MRI. So, I’m safer than most women. I should be completely assured that I do not have cancer in my left breast. Even a tiny tiny little cancerous cluster would have shown up on the MRI. Right?

Except that I also had cancer in my nipple. What did they call it? Crone’s disease? Rhone’s disease? I can’t even remember now. I remember it is also the name of a bone problem…I think. Geez. I really need to brush up on my research.

Whatever they called it…it was a special and rare kind of breast cancer that landed in my right nipple. The mammogram didn’t catch it. The MRI didn’t catch it. They only even found out I had it by poking around in my breast after it had been removed from my body.

These are the numbers I remember: only 3% of breast cancer patients have this kind of cancer and most of those are older than 65. What is it about me that put me in this statistically unlikely situation? What is it about me that will keep me from getting cancer in my other nipple? Nothing that I can think of. I feel convinced that I am going to start growing cancer in my remaining nipple any minute now. That is, if I haven’t already.

I think about calling the doctors and asking them again. “Are you SURE I don’t have breast cancer? What about my nipple!?”

Nipple. Nipple. Nipple. What a silly word. I used to play a game with friends where we imagined a business we could open and then had to come up with a name for it. What would we call the topless hair salon? Snipples.

If I called my doctors and asked them about my nipple, what would they do? What could they do? Offer to biopsy, probably. But, I don’t want bits of skin sliced off my nipple. Really. I don’t. Who can blame me for that? I’m sick of being poked and sampled and having pieces of me removed.

So, I don’t call them.

Maybe I’d worry less if I was taking Tamoxifen. But then, I’d be worrying that I had the side effect, uterine cancer. Dr. Kennedy said uterine cancer is easy to spot, because it makes you bleed at unusual times. Just this past month, my period came a week early, or at least it seemed like it to me. Whenever my period starts I always think it can’t possibly be time for that again already. So I can’t really be trusted. But I had unusually painful cramps, and it flowed dark and heavy. Strangely, it only lasted about a day and a half. I didn’t worry about it. I figure my body knows what it’s doing. But, if I was taking Tamoxifen, you bet I’d worry. I’d probably be convinced I had uterine cancer.

Instead, I’m convinced I have nipple cancer.



Some days I try not to think about it. Other days I let myself. It doesn't seem to matter. Like God and ghosts and aliens, it's always there because I believe in it, regardless of what I think, when I think or whether I think.



Nipple cancer does have a symptom. It acts like something called dermatitis. It looks and feels like dry skin. But nipples are weird any way. How can I be certain it's not dryer than it ought to be? It already looks and feels different than any other skin on my body. Does a nipple even count as "skin?" Do lips? I don't know. I feel unqualified to even have a body. I don't know enough about it.



Mom shared a list with me years ago. I don't know where she found it. It was a list instructions for living a human life. I think there were seven of them altogether, but all I can remember is the first one.



1. You will be given a body.



I guess I'm not ready for lessons 2-7 yet. I'm still struggling with this first one.



Is my nipple normal? Hard to tell. I don't have anything to compare it to, now that the other one is gone.



It seems like such a silly, trivial thing to be worried about. It's a tiny little part of my body, not even as large as my thumbprint. It's more like a pinky-print.



And yet, the standard treastment for nipple cancer, if I remember correctly, is prompt removal of the entire breast. They wouldn't do that if it wasn't serious, would they?

I was reading a book last month called Voices of Breast Cancer I didn't read much of it, but what I read was quite good. I would have read more, except I came across a story that was too much like mine. Some woman in her 30's had been diagnosed with ductal carcinoma insitu. She'd had a mastectomy and been pronounced cancer free. She didn't even need to undergo radiation or chemo. Hooray for her and her loved ones. Then, a few years later, she had cancer in her other breast. This time it had spread to her bones before they caught it. I guess she died or is dying now. I don't know. I didn't read any further.

Maybe I'm dying? I don't feel like it. But I could be. I guess anyone could be. I believe I might be. But, it doesn't seem worth the hassle, humiliation, pain, suspense and despair of having my nipple biopsied. That's why I don't use the word "think," when talking about my alleged nipple cancer. I am obviously not thinking clearly. Given the choice between my nipple or my life...surely I would choose life!

But I'm not being given a choice. It's not that clear! I'm just silently and constantly convinced that my body in busy turning herself against me.

It's sad. We used to be good friends, my body and me.

If some other friend was acting this bad, I would just stop associating with them. I'm not going to put up with this! But this relationship is more like one you'd have with a child. No matter how many poisonous, deadly habits she aquires, I just have to love her harder.