On May 8th, I’m running in my first race! And for what better cause than to fight ovarian cancer, which is the deadliest and hardest cancer to detect in women. After five relapses, my grandmother passed away from this brutal disease in June 2007. And I have her genes.
I could feel the tears coming on. I tried to fight the urge to sob, because I was in the middle of the metro during rush hour. This is no place to have a water works show. But I was reading Why I Wore Lipstick to my Mastectomy, and it just hit me as hard and fast as the trains breezing past me on the platform. While doctors won’t be cutting off my boobs, they’re cutting them out. I’ll wake up from surgery with two large wounds where my rack used to be. What will it be like to wake up from surgery and look down to see them gone? Within weeks I’ll have them back. But they’ll never be quite the same. The thought of saying goodbye to my girls, especially in those last moments, is all too painful sometimes. The thought of all those scapels is even more painful.