The Sucker Punch

That's what I call this situation. A Sucker Punch. Right in the gut.
"Situation" being my Mom's diagnosis of Invasive Ductal Carcinoma. That's Breast Cancer to you and me. If you came here looking for porn, etc. please just close this window. Because it ain't gonna do jack for your jollies.

This will be my day-to-day (or week-to-week) journal of dealing with all the hoopla from diagnosis to surgery to recovery and all points in between. I will warn you, I can get graphic, and my language is on a PG-13 to R rating. If I hurt your feelings, so sorry-you came HERE, so feel free to leave. This is about my Mom and our family.

It ain't our first rodeo on the Cancer tour. I lost my maternal grandfather to melanoma, paternal grandmother to ovarian cancer, and my stepdad to lung cancer (non-small cell adenocarcinoma with brain mets at time of diagnosis.) My aunt is a five-year survivor of breast cancer.

You damn well better believe I will be getting the girlz squished soon, and see what act of Congress it takes to get BCBS to pay for the BRCA test. There are too many girls in this family who want to keep their GIRLZ! (Yes, GIRLZ will be my code name for breastises.)

I will cut & paste the earlier posts from my main blog on here to update you to this point. We are in a holding pattern until July 1, at which time we will meet the plastic surgeon to discuss reconstruction options. From what I have been told, I should expect surgery the same week. So, right now, we are at T minus 11 days and counting.

Thanks for visiting, and I appreciate any guidance, comments, prayers, encouragement you would like to send my way. Keep the bullshit to yourself.