Just a quick note to let you all know, I’m doing fairly well. I ended up having to have a bilateral mastectomy because of results from genetic testing, blah, blah, blah. The first two or three days after surgery were brutal. But each day after was a little better than the day before as each day movement got a little easier and pain became a little less painful.

The doctors are very happy with how surgery went. They tell me I am healing beautifully. They are quite impressed with how well I have done. They tell me it all looks really good. From a medical standpoint they are correct. From a personal and cosmetic view, I’m not so sure about that. Though I have to admit, the result does not look nearly as bad as I imagined it would. At the very least, I didn’t cry out “I’m hideous” when I saw it for the first time. But then again, I was on pretty good pain medicine.

I was categorized with Stage Two of an “angry” cancer (doctor’s description). I guess it was a bit more aggressive than they originally thought. There were actually three malignant tumors — I can only assume that two of them were hidden beneath the larger one. Two of the tumors were the same type of cancer, one tumor was a different cancer. Two lymph nodes tested positive for cancer. Since only two nodes tested positive, the doctors do not believe the cancer has spread beyond that point. They are reasonably sure they got all the cancer.

This week I get a port put in and next week I start chemo. The  doctor told me I can expect to start losing my hair about three weeks after chemo starts. He said a lot of women get their hair cut short before losing it and I thought I’m not paying $50 to cut hair that’s just going to fall out. You know what I’m saying? Anyway, my last chemo appointment will probably be at the very end of July or very beginning of August. If I have to do radiation, it will be some time after chemo. I’m hoping for no radiation.

My husband deserves a round of applause for taking very good care of me. He has been quite the trooper without complaining or hesitating to do whatever I’ve needed. He takes far better, kinder care of me than I do of him. I am grateful.

All I can do right now is keep walking forward through this. I try not to think too much about anything except taking one step more. In the moments that become overwhelming to me, I imagine myself dancing with Jesus on the water because walking on water apparently is not enough for me, she says with a laugh. The thought of dancing with Him brings great peace and keeps me from sinking beneath all the information and news and unending appointments and thoughts and what ifs.

I’ve got a bit of the journey left to go, but hopefully before the year is out, I will be done with the most difficult parts of this particular trek.