Latest? I found a lump. In my breast.
And Then? The doctor found another.
Worse? The doctor called in a SECOND doctor for a second opinion.
Can you say "Terrified Much"?!
It was like something out of a movie. My heart dropped. Panicked people usually get hot, heart pounding, hands sweaty, right? Not Kelan! Oh, no, I get cold. I'm always cold. I got freezing. Now, I'm lying there half-naked in an overly-air-conditioned room (which I'm sure felt lovely and refreshing to the doctors, fully clothed working in the middle of summer, but I was hardly clothed and without sight of the sun I get cold, weird I know).
I decided I had cancer. What else would a second opinion be needed for? I then decided to finish my book (It's finished, it needs editing) and sell it and make meeeeeelions of dollars ('cause I'd rather be paid in dollars) and leave it to my family for after I died or something. I also decided that even though people with cancer get very sick (obviously, bare with me, I'm working towards something) and weak and treatment knocks the... drive(? not sure the right word here?) out of someone, I'd be strong and healthy enough to write. I'd also be just sick enough to be in hospital so that I could find nothing else to do, but write.
I'm getting away from myself here. My dad does that. His stories of a simple trip to the shops last well over twenty minutes. We are natural story tellers... Also easily distacted.... I did have a point... mmm... Oh! Yes! So, waiting there thinking I'm gonna die, the second doctor comes and checks me out.
They speak Afrikaans to each other. The two doctors come to read my results.
I think it's a South African sixth sense to know when someone in the country cannot understand our compulsory school taught second language. (Another trait I get from my dad! Let's view this quickly: Mom? Fluent. Older sister? Zulu too! Little sister? Just fine. Kelan? What did you just say and can you say again this time muuuuuch slower and then in English, please. I think my main problem, besides all the learning disabilities, is that I want to write, and in English too, and it's hard enough to master that without cramping my very distracted brain with other things)
With my amazing non-Afrikaans talent I heard them say "Fibroid" and "You can't tell her that, her doctor must." (I'm taking a very proud moment here, because I almost never understand this language spoken! In fact, I've pretended on more than one occasion to be a foreigner in my own country just to avoid the embarrassed of explaining why I can't speak our second language!)
Now, this was a word 'Fibroid' I half-understood. The biggest half of that was that it was not cancer. I stopped being cold. Fibroadenoma is not pleasant but I'm not complaining!
My dad later said I got the expert opinions of two doctors while having only paid for one, that's my dad; always fantastically optimistic!
I have to go again in 6 months to be sure nothing has changed, because apparently it can. It also needs to be removed. Both of them. So I have six months to sell my most-amazing-book-ever and make enough money to cover the cost of the surgery. Yes, most amazing book ever is pretty accurate because I am seldom proud of myself or things I do, therefore my book must be half-way decent.
Hahaha from amazing to just kinda decent, this self-esteem thing's a problem. Maybe that one needs fixing next, after surgery.
ANYWAY, I did some Googling (because really whenever anything goes wrong, what else can you do?)
Right now I'm trying to find you a link, because apparently 30-60% of woman are effected by this!
Ok, I searched for, like, a really long time! And this one I think is best:
http://www.007b.com/fibrocystic_breast_pain.php
Hope it helps someone.
http://mylanguages.org/multimedia/afrikaans_audio_phrases.php - That's some strangely audio-ed phrases in Afrikaans, if anyone wants to listens. Turn your volume down, it's very loud and scary if you don't!
If this helps someone too, cool! Otherwise, that was just for fun.
Kel
Heavy. Very happy you are ok.
ReplyDeleteThank you!
ReplyDelete