Author of Breasts Don't Lie

Archive for the ‘breasts’ Category

Express to Crazyland

angry-woman

Two weekends ago, the red oil pressure light flashed on in my Fiat, a Barbie Doll of a car. Trying to get the car off a major avenue swarming with traffic before it stopped. The car said, “Arrivederci.” Too late. Ugh. I rolled to a stop fighting the urge to push the car into an intersection putting everyone out of their misery but good sense prevailed. I had “my miserable dung heap of metal” towed to the only dealership for miles around.

Thinking that I would call the next day, I walked to my office to have a friend pick me up. Not a hardship but not exactly love in the afternoon with my limp. Double ugh.

Thinking maybe some kind soul would have sent me a funny email to divert my mind from what I was calling “a cluster of magnificent proportions,” I opened up my inbox. My sister had sent me a message. Her email was short and pointed. She had tested positive for BRCA1. Crap. She told me to get tested STAT. Double crap.

Unable to get up with my sister, I searched the internet for information trying to avoid the doom and gloom predominant on the web.

My Russian Peasant Fatalism, first step to HuffyPuffyCrankyPerson, took over my being. If I am positive for the gene mutation, my chance of developing breast cancer by the age of 70 goes from the national 12% to 55-65%. Fuck. BRCA1 increases my chance of ovarian and peritoneal cancer too. I do need to get tested. Double Fuck.

How do you tell people about this? Did my sister sit on this for a while before telling me? No she sent the email after she found out that morning. Spunky gal.

I didn’t have that kind of fortitude. I sat on the secret for a week until I had tied my intestines into such knots that they went on strike. No intestinal movement until I told my doctor and my friends.

The doc’s return note said, “Make an appointment this week.”

In the mean time, I was dealing the Fiat fiasco. Renting a car in a snow storm. Calling the service department and getting nowhere. I wondered if their silence meant they had lost my car. I left a message asking if they had lost the car. No return phone calls except for a vague message of your car needs a “major engine overhaul.” How can a car need a major engine overhaul with only three years and 36,000 miles on it? Were they covering up losing a big appliance with the silence and vague message? Now, HuffyPuffyCrankyPerson was driving down the expressway to Crazyland.

Last weekend, I bit the bullet and told a friend about my sister’s note and the doc’s terse command. We worked through the possibilities to come to the conclusion – I get to decide what and when to do tests and procedures. I am driving the car in Medical Decision Land.

With my mojo back, I focused on having fun with the MIA Fiat. I covered all Fiat FaceBook pages and a couple of car internet forums with an ode to my car, Todd Rungren’s:

“Hello, it’s me

I’ve thought about us for a long, long time

Maybe I think too much but something’s wrong

There’s something here that doesn’t last too long

Maybe I shouldn’t think of you as mine … “

Before 9am on Monday, I had messages from a SOCIAL CARE SPECIALIST (what’s that?) at Fiat USA and a call from the service department. I like the SC Specialist and will use her as a go-between with the Fiat service department. Parts are ordered. I am driving a rental car from Surreal Customer Service Land.

I am working on the “gracious” indignation. Good grief. It has not been easy. But it is empowering.

On issues of cars, computers, and health, I feel like my only choices are HuffyPuffyCrankyPerson or caving in to other people’s opinions. “Gracious indignation” flies out the window. I forget who is driving the car or calling the shots.

Gotta go …

 

Garlands of Daisies (55 word story)

“I made garlands of yellow posies in childhood.

DSCN4583

All too soon, my mother took me to buy my first bra.   Slyly that night, with tiny, skillful stitches, she altered it. The next day, I decorated my sprouting breasts with embroidered daisies.

Nowadays, I grow luscious gardens of multicolored flowers in the loam of my body.”

This is my little 55 word story I wrote in honor of my mom buying my first bra. Celebrate Breast Cancer Awareness Month – buy flowers, maybe daisies, for the women in your life – mothers, daughters, sisters, friends, coworkers, and anyone else.

Big hug.

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