At 5:15 on Monday, I saw a large red area on my left breast, sore and hot to touch. I said, Uh oh, this isn't right, and called my doc's office. My call back didn't come until the next morning - Tuesday - while I was just starting three loads of wash at the laundromat; and because I thought maybe it's just a big spider bite and not to worry (but I knew it wasn't), I didn't rush right in.
They set me up with a surgeon and X-rays and ultrasounds, all to be done right away - and, Oh boy, then I knew: now I have to worry.
You've been there: On the one hand you think, No, it'll be O.K.; on the other, you're putting your affairs in order. You just know your luck has finally run out; it's your turn.
So, by the time I'd finished today my boob had been squeezed by six pairs of hands, X-rayed and ultrasounded and finally, unequivocally, deemed clear of serious disease.
There is no explanation for why this happened. I'll take antibiotics for seven days; it may or may not recur.
Between appointments I went looking for color - and it was a very gray day on the west side of the city. I ended up at the de Young where I found these of interest. (Note: the blown glass fruit is HUGE. That big ugly sculpture reminds me of Reagan. Click to enlarge - back arrow to return.)
I'm still so, so lucky.
And I never forget it.