Negative is actually a positive word

I do NOT have breast cancer. Yay. I'm still considered high risk for it, so I have to see my doctor again in two months. I also have to see an oncologist and get an MRI.

My doctor today still suggested that I at least consider a mastectomy and/or taking Tamoxifen. Um, hell to the no. I have no family history of cancer, not even PRE-cancerous cells, WHY would I hack off both my boobs?! And taking a drug which will induce menopause at 40 years old? No thanks. Grrr...

Anyway, I'm glad the tests were negative for cancer but I already knew they would be. I honestly wasn't worried about it one little bit. The thing I was most concerned about today was getting a half-day substitute for my class--not my test results.

My surgeon said that she was a little worried because my mammograms looked so bad. The radiologist called them the strangest films he'd ever seen. The pathologist had two colleagues double-check his report because apparently my microcalcifications look like none they've ever seen. Instead of little pockets of them, I had a diffuse area of them. Right. Hello? My name is T-E-B-L-E. Unusual is my middle name. I've always been one of a kind, right down to my breast tissue.

The surgeon said it looked really bad on the inside too because of all the bruising and scar tissue from the previous procedure. I told her it didn't look like much from the outside either. She said that she removed a significant amount of tissue, so the results are conclusive. She also said that when the swelling goes down I might want to consider reconstructive surgery. Yeah, uh, NO. I've been cut on enough, thank you very much. If I'm lopsided I'll stuff my bra.

THAT is Victoria's true secret.