(Stardate: Tuesday, June 24, 2008)
"Yeah, it looks like cancer."
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
(No reaction to my cursing.)
(Notice she didn't say "curable").
"But I want another kid."
"Not right now."
"Is there a chance it's not cancer?"
"No. Probably not."
"How bad is it?"
"From the radiology report and the mammogram films? Stage 3B."
Stage three? What makes it B?
"Am I going to live?"
"You'll need chemotherapy and radiation."
Holy fucking shit.
This cannot be happening.
My OB/GYN told me it was a swollen milk duct.
So did the mammography techs nine months ago.
I want another kid.
Somebody make this stop.
(To be continued)