Oh, the vertigo-esque feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Today, I meet the surgeon for the follow up (I always thought it funny in medical shorthand, it’s “F/U”)

Today I hear the news. Are the margins clear? What stage was it? what’s the plan.

Hubby is coming home from work early, and I feel as though I’m floating or falling. I’m afraid to hear bad news. I’m afraid to hear any news, really.

I wish this weren’t happening. This is moronic to say—does anyone ever go “yay, I have cancer!” no…I think not.

It still hurts, two weeks after surgery, I can’t lift my left arm over my head unless I do it very, very slowly, (and make a lot of “ouch” faces) It’s not even the breast incision, but the one on the armpit that is so painful. I’ve read some women report pain 18 months post-op. Fuck, if this is the case, am I ever going to be able to swim again?! This really pisses me off!

Anyway, I’m nervous. That’s the gist.
I’m not one of those “maybe the news will be good” type of people, because I’m one of those “I work in the health care industry, and know the odds” kind of people.

I’ll know more later tonight.
If it’s good news, I’ll probably be right back to say so. If not (like, if I hear the margins aren’t clear and they have to go back in to get the rest) I may be on a high ledge, somewhere.

Or drowning my sorrows.

I dunno.