Maybe you don’t know this, and I hope you have no reason to, but mastectomies can leave you looking rather mangled. In my case, I went for the aesthetic flat closure instead of reconstruction. No regrets, because either way, you will not look the same. Why do they call it aesthetic when it’s anything but?
Because lumpy was already taken.
Actually, I rather like my lumpy flat closure and find it freeing to be done with bras and all that. Still, I have a mess o’ scars, and my armpits ended up sort of puffy. Late last year, they seemed puffier than normal, so I thought it would be prudent to have them checked out.
As I was sharing my observations with the doctor, I said the whole thing could be my imagination. I can stare into the mirror and easily see signs of imminent death. She said you don’t have to explain yourself to me. You’ve had some bad stuff happen. It changes you.
I know you cancer survivors get it. The slightest thing can take the wind out of your sails. So, I’ve been a little worried about it. However, I am pleased to report both sides have been thoroughly evaluated, and it appears I have a simple case of puffy pits. I’m assuming it’s related to bulging belly and flabby ass.
The good news is I dodged the bullet yet again. I always say I’m one of the luckiest unlucky people I know!
But, jeez, you hear things. A friend’s husband stood up, got dizzy and fell, which resulted in a traumatic brain injury. She said he is recovering fully, although it’s a long haul. They have a new appreciation for the simple pleasures of life.
Another friend of mine was playing golf with her partner, and he had a heart attack and died. Boom, just like that. She said, well, he died doing something he loved.
Hmmm. I don’t know. Does that make it better? Maybe. Just maybe.
I was vacuuming the stairs last week and almost took a tumble. Perhaps they would say, well, she was cleaning the house. She died doing something she hated. That does sort of suck.
And so I try to make peace with the fact that death will come for us all, but I do hope it’s later rather than sooner. I’m definitely in the die happy camp and humbly suggest the trick is to stack the deck and live happy. Do more and more of the things you love and less and less of the things you hate. Relish the simple pleasures.
I’ve said it before. Dust ages well undisturbed.
I’m not sure which theme to comment on. You can call me lumpy and recently I had bumpy armpit which scared me but it resolved itself so I guess I’m fine. Meanwhile a very close friend walked into the ER feeling funny and died 11 days later from pancreatic cancer. So I guess I’m going to have to get a lot happier. I am going to leave my dust and my clutter right where it lies.
Lumpy and bumpy. We make a great team.
I’m so sorry about your friend. That’s frightening. All the more reason to let the clutter be.
Good you got checked out on your concerns, Donna. I am in that group of pink ribbon sisters, and I know how easy it is to anxiously worry over any little change. Best to always get in to see the doc. I am in total agreement of doing more of what you love because life has a shelf date. The other thing about aging…your eyes don’t really see the dust! Works for me.
I love how you think!
Glad your diagnosis wasn’t more serious and that you ate still hanging in there.
I completely agreed with your assessment to DO MORE of what makes you happy and LESS of what doesn’t.
It shouldn’t be that hard, but I guess we get sucked into doing “what’s right.” And that’s usually not the fun stuff.
“dust ages well undisturbed” Earlier this week, I realised that our apartment had become the living embodiment of this. Except, for some reason I’ve yet to fathom, it depressed me. So I swung into action and now don’t just have the normal aches and strains, I also have a wonky back/pelvis. Does it make sense that to have a clean house, I’d have to schedule regular osteopath visits?
I’m still looking for a cleaner who’ll do a good job and who won’t bore me rigid with chatter. My requirement used to contain the line “and doesn’t cost a king’s ransom” but it’s proving so hard to find someone, the king’s ransom is starting to look worth paying.
Good to hear the puffy pits were just that. There’s too many tales of people we know being struck down without warning, so how can those of us who’ve been struck by the cancer bullet previously trust that our bodies won’t do it again? As you say, living well is the only solution.
I do dust occasionally, but I don’t put much effort into it. A long-handled featherduster is invaluable! I would like to hire some cleaning help, but I have yet to do it. My past experiences have not been good, so I find it easier to settle on a lower standard of cleanliness.
Here’s to living well!