So my mom called me today to tell me the results of her biopsy. She said, "I have breast cancer." I started taking notes when she was talking about it so I wouldn't forget the details. Apparently it's not the you are going to fucking die kind, but I am still nervous about it. My childhood friend's mother died of breast cancer a couple years ago and I can't help but think about that although the situation may be very different.
Supposedly the lump is so small that you can't feel it with your hands and the biopsy actually took most of it out. The surgeon she is seeing has a 99% cure rate for this type of cancer (compared to a 95% cure rate nationally). She has the choice of a lumpectomy with radiation therapy or a masectomy with or without reconstruction surgery. The masectomy means no radiation therapy. Since she is nearly done with menopause, chemotherapy is not required. Apparently estrogen levels have something to do with spreading the cancer. So that is good news...
She is thinking she will do the lumpectomy with internal radiation therapy. This means they wire her tit with these tubes and pass radiation through them somehow. This happens once a day for five days. Then they take out the tubes after the five days. She gets to be a cyborg. External therapy means she has to go in once a day, Monday through Friday, for six weeks. No funky tubes, but six weeks of going to the hospital for 15 minutes is not an attractive option. Obviously, she will go with whatever is the most effective; but if they are equally effective she is going for the cyborg treatment.
This makes me both glad I quit smoking and filled with a desire to go chain smoke somewhere. All the positive statistics in the world don't negate the fact that you can't apply stats to individual situations. She could well be that 1%, and none of us really have any control over that. I guess I don't know that much about breast cancer because I just kind of associate it with a death sentence. Especially after what Denise went through. She was declared cured and then a couple months later she went into remission and eventually passed away. I don't really know when they caught the cancer, or what her chances were. I was too embaressed to ask about it. I figured if Nate wanted to talk about it with me, I would let him choose to rather than forcing it out of him.
Yeah.
Well, we got the kitty yesterday. He is the smallest cat in the world. He is nine months old but much smaller than a normal nine-month old. I believe he is an American Shorthair. He is gorgeous, silver fur with black stripes and a white belly & feet. He was terrified in his old home from a cat and a dog that wanted to dominate him. It will take him some time to adjust to his new home, I think. Right now he is pretty much living under our dresser in the bedroom. I go to him frequently to pet and play with him. He is very sweet and responsive to touch, quickly purring and snuggling with lots of kissing. I put his food and water in our bedroom for now, so that he can adjust to the space without being too overwhelmed. I haven't seen him out to eat or drink but this morning the food and water were both empty. For now I am giving him 3/4 cup food every day, and refilling the water as often as necessary.
His litter box is in another room close by, and I was happy to see this morning that he has been using it. I think I'll leave it where it is if he is comfortable using it there (rather than moving it to our bedroom until he is better adjusted).
Last night after we'd been asleep for a couple of hours he came out & was walking on Ponge and I and even laying down at the foot of the bed & playing with Ponge's toes. He ran around a little bit and meowed occasionally. I think that is a good sign that he will eventually adjust to his surroundings, realizing that there are no other animals here and nothing to be afraid of.
For now I am just trying to be home a lot and give him lots of love and patience. I will rename him when he comes out of hiding & I can get to know his real personality - not his scared personality.