© Pat Irwin Lycett (firstname.lastname@example.org)
(There is a PDF of this entry which has supporting footnotes not available in a blog. If you would like a copy of the PDF version, click here:CANCER MEDICINE – Summer Haze 1994 Chapter 1
“I’m not going to die, I will see them grow up!” my smiling eyes say to the camera as I hold cousins Jake and Keara, now five months old. It’s the end of August, and we’re celebrating Emma’s second birthday, her uncle Matt’s too. My doctor said to lie down, avoid jolting, and we could make the drive. I’m wearing a green summer top with both plastic boobs in place, and a loose fitting skirt, as my abdomen is very sore. My sons are all watching me; I smile straight into the lens – spirited and determined – I will see these babies grow up.
But, back to July 13th, the day of my second mastectomy. My buddies are in the waiting room, sending reiki healing. Post-op there is very little pain, but a nerve was severed on lymph-node excision – easily done, the nerve a tiny hair-like thing – closing sweat glands, a major escape route for waste. I’ve spent months learning the lethal connection between disease and the body’s inability to dump waste, and now have an even greater need to explore all means of detoxification.
The following day, a routine ultrasound shows a ‘shadow’ in my left ovary. I’m not too concerned; a trusted massage therapist, months before, discovered a cyst in that area. But Pac-Woman Transformer 3, protecting our interests, slides into place.
My doctors, fearful of deadly ovarian cancer, promote a total hysterectomy, and send me home to recover from the mastectomy. I call Dr. Rogers to book an appointment in Syracuse – need to get to the heart of the matter. I’m learning as fast as I can, and I know almost enough to re-train my body to wellness: organic foods, meditation, gratitude for all the good things in my life including the calm, ever-present support of my dear husband, Kay. I can almost see my way clear to avoiding surgery and I’m reasonably sure that the shadow is just a cyst. But then, I’ve come to view cysts as lymph tissue harboring built-up of waste; I’m scared and demoralized, can’t take a chance, so I go for the whole ball o’ wax ¬– and we schedule early August. Continue reading