Coffee heat rising

Had It…

Okay, I’m done.

Last night, reflecting on the MRI maneuver, I realized this ultra-sensitive search mechanism is just bound to find more threatening (at least in the minds of doctors) stuff in my boobs. And when that crops up, as it surely will, I can say good-bye to the scheme to bring the ongoing horror show to an end by having them lob off the damn boobs.

I can feel it coming: Sometime next week someone is going to call from the Mayo with another “good news/bad news” call, and the bad news, as usual, is going to be some scary-looking thing that they want to carve out, carve up, analyze, diagnose, and use as the basis for more slicing and dicing.

A-n-n-n-d…that is not going to happen anymore. If they won’t just do the job without any more jacking around, I quit. I do not care if I die. I’m going to die anyway. We’re all going to die anyway. I’m not afraid of dying.

But I sure as hell am afraid of any more of this business as usual.

If they call me up and tell me they want to torment me in some new or extended way — more biopsy, more testing, more surgery, more treatments whose long-term effect will be to destroy my health, all in the name of “it’s not really cancer” — I’m going to tell them “fine, thank you very much, good-bye” and hang up the phone. That is IT. I’m not doing any more.

If they’re willing to take off my boobs without any more screwing around, then fine, they can do it. But I’m not going to be subjected to anything more than that. If they have some other scheme, I and they are done. If I die, I die. Then we can say it was time.

Enough. Is. Enough.

8 thoughts on “Had It…”

  1. Holy Crud….Happy Thanksgiving to you too!!! LOL….What makes ya think that “the other shoe is about to drop”… “intuition” or have you noticed something new? I gotta tell ya, it has been my experience, women….for whatever reason…know their bodies better than anyone….including the Doctors. I can certainly understand your angst but seems a bit early in the game to be calling it a day. After all….”your wit and wisdom” would be greatly missed … Here’s hoping the tests show no new surprises…..

    • Gut instinct. I just know they’re going to find something in the other boob, or they’re going to find more and much scarier stuff in the guilty boob. This thing has gone against me every, single inch of the way. No reason to expect it to change now.

  2. I”ve got my fingers crossed that you are hitting the Feb doldrums early.

    I am with JestJack, your wit and blog would be missed, and don’t forget the bouncing, baby boy – I’m sure he’d like you to stay around too! Not to mention your friends.

    Happy Thanksgiving and best wishes!!

    • Well. It would take a long time for any untoward entities to kill me.

      When I said the torture has to come to an end, I wasn’t kidding. I’m willing to trade a few years to make that happen.

      Let’s say I only live another five years: At that point I’m 75. Getting along about time to go anyway. Suppose I survive whatever is growing in there for another ten years. Then, heaven help us, I’m EIGHTY-FIVE. By then I’ve probably croaked over from something else — heart attack, cirrhosis (at the way I’m going!), homicide by fellow driver.

      My son is a grown man. He’s doing fine on his own. He doesn’t need the burden of an old woman to take care of as he enters middle age. Letting nature take its course would probably do him a favor.

  3. Hmmmm…..Choosing the age when it seems ….”ok to die”. The blog certainly has taken a turn…LOL. I will share that my Dear Dad recently celebrated his 84th B-day and when I asked him what his “B-day wish” was…he replied without hesitation….”to make it to 85″. He is fighting cancer and still has the will and desire to live. My thought is he has taught us much in his struggle…to not sweat the small stuff…and to enjoy each and every day…it’s a gift…75 seems a bit too early to write “the last chapter” ….

      • Sing it sister! Everybody has a different quality of life. If either of my sons gave a rat’s patootie about me, I would feel different about a long life.

      • Well, it isn’t that my son doesn’t care. He surely does. It’s that he’s a grown man, he has a demanding full-time job, and he has his own house and his own dog to have to deal with. He can’t take on my whole life at this point in his life.

        And it’s also the fact that he’s not a kid who needs his mama any more. By the time I was his age, my mother had been gone for five years. One misses one’s mother in adulthood, but one no longer NEEDS one’s mother.

        Passing through the veil in one’s old age is part of the natural order of things — assuming one is reasonably lucky. So if I go in my 70s, I will not feel put upon. Nor am I afraid of it. I would rather go of natural causes than to accept what I’ve been going through for the past 6 months as the “new normal.”

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