Sunday, May 3, 2009


Again it is late beyond belief and I am torturing myself with visions of needles and my blood squirting across the room. It took so many phone calls that I have a blister on my earlobe, but I have finally got the MRI guided biopsy scheduled for Wednesday. Now the only trouble is that fear has crept in and left me blind. I am not at all worried or troubled about the possible outcome of the tests (or maybe I have just not let that terror twist its way in yet) but am deathly afraid of the procedure itself. Just thinking about it, nausea sets in and I literally shake in my boots, well flip flops! Normally, I diligently begin to educating myself by reading and searching for anything I can absorb about what I don't understand, but in this case, maybe I am better off hiding in the closet. For if I even catch a whisper or a footnote about needles or scalpels I may just get stuck in traffic Wednesday! I can't shake it; what am I supposed to do while they are digging in me?! How can you look away when the doctors are so close you can count the out of place eye brows and smell the cheap perfume that lingered from the hook up they had last night? I know I loathe this feeling of knowing someone is cutting on me because I have been there and revisited it twice before. I once had a mole on my back removed and it was pure torture. I was lying there imagining them slipping even just visualizing that initial slice was agonizing. Passed out cold! The most recent was the c~section with Kennady. I was doing everything I could to divert my attention and keep from vomiting. I do not like not having control over my body; that's why I don't drink. After one drink I get that fuzzy feeling that makes me want to close my eyes and shake my head. And I do just that, pretty embarrassing for Joshua!

I know the thought in your head, this warring fear is pretty peculiar when I am voluntarily and eagerly requesting my breasts to be removed, chopped right off. Of course I know that they will have to cut them off and scoop out the tissues, but maybe I am eased in knowing that I was in control of that decision. Or, I know that I will be asleep and it won't matter anyway! I don't have to worry about watching myself get cut like a large peperoni. Unless, I wake up half way through... oh great!

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