Ugly Betty, breast cancer and lost keys...

As if this week wasn’t bad enough… I lost my keys, was diagnosed with cancer, and now come to find out that Ugly Betty has been cancelled! Good grief! Do they need to make a time slot for yet another inane reality show? Come on ABC! Ugly Betty ROCKS! The cast is spot-on perfect (I have a HUGE girl crush on Vanessa Williams, aka, Wilhelmina Slater), the stories are compelling in a “cute-but-I-don’t-have-to-think-too-much” sort of way, and the clothes, the jewelry, the shoes… to die for! I’m crestfallen, to say the least.

What’s that? Oh yeah, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. It’s little cancer, really… I don’t think that’s a sanctioned medical term “little cancer” but that’s what I’m calling it. I went for my yearly mammogram, they saw “something” and wanted to take a closer look – I’m accustomed to people wanting a closer look at my breasts… “They’re real and they’re spectacular”… typically, however, special machinery is not required. Anyway, I was sent to the Imaging Center (not nearly as glamorous as it sounds) and had an ultra-sound and “Lefty” got another ride on the Titty Press. Sure enough, they found I have something to which warranted a biopsy. Now, most people would be fearful at this point, but clearly, I am not most people. I just knew when I received the first phone call asking me to come in for the second mammogram because they’d found something, and that something was not, unfortunately, my lost keys… but I digress. I seriously just knew it.

Steve, wonderful, caring husband that he is, insisted on coming with me, though I was assured it was no big deal and that I’d be able to drive home myself. He was having none of it - of course he wanted to be there! I felt bad for him… I’ve seen those chairs they make the husbands sit on in the hallway/waiting area, and they don’t look comfortable. Plus, their magazines are really lame. He had his book, his iPod, and a constant stream of medical personnel passing by to keep him entertained. Off we went!

I was, once again, asked to disrobe from the waist up and put on one of the attractive hospital gowns and lay on the same table in the same room as my ultra-sound the week before. The doctor and nurse were very nice and explained everything they were doing. They found the “something” that still wasn’t my keys in my left boob, made a tiny incision, shot a grain-sized piece of titanium in the spot, and took 6 samples of that nameless something. “Can I see what you just took out of me?” I asked, curious as to what this supposedly scary stuff looked like… and just to confirm they weren’t a set of keys... hey, they had to be somewhere!

“Sure!” said the doctor, sounding pleased her patient was taking an interest in her work.

“They look like Sea Monkeys!” I exclaimed. They really did. I have personal experience raising the little critters and the stuff floating in that hospital jar looked like my Sea Monkey family at about 8 weeks. The doctor and nurse laughed… apparently none of their other patients had made that observation.

After one more ride on the mammogram – “That’s it, hold still, take a small breath and hold it!” – I got dressed, grabbed Steve and went out for breakfast. Did you know IHOP lists the calorie and fat content of all their menu items? Well, be warned, they do. “What are you getting?” Steve asked after being seated and getting our coffee.
“Nothing!” Cripes! Twelve hundred calories before 11 o’clock in the morning? The little Sea Monkeys they just took out of my left boob would not account for the 18 pounds I was sure to gain from an IHOP breakfast. Thankfully, they have a “lite” menu on the back with a more manageable 300-500 calorie range of choices.

Okay, back to the pesky cancer thing… This past Monday, the biopsy doctor called me to break the news. It’s tubular carcinoma. Tubular, man! Apparently, it’s small and totally operable. “I’m not your surgeon, but typically, they’ll just do a lumpectomy and radiation,” she advised me.

“So, I don’t have to start cutting out the left cups of all my bras?” I asked her. God! I’m such a smart-ass.

There was dead silence, then, “What???”

I repeated my question, “So, you don’t think I need to start cutting off all the left cups of my bras…”

“Oh!” Laughter from the doc. “You’re joking! You’re going to be a great patient!”

No shit!

She told me to expect a call from the “Breast Care Coordinator” at the “Breast Clinic” (who knew?) the following day. Sure enough, a lovely woman, who is an RN, NOT a former bra model as I originally suspected, called me to book an appointment with her and another appointment with my “team.” Wow! I’ve never had my own team before! I must be very important! I mean, my boobs have earned me dates, attention, and envy, but never a team! This is really getting interesting…

More later as my saga unfolds… oh yeah, I found those darned keys! They were in the lining of my purse. How they got there, I don’t know… I had to cut the lining to get them out… and just like the cancellation of Ugly Betty – strange but true…