Snake oil, Lorenzo’s oil, oil dependence help me I’m a victim of my culture

New Year’s Eve day I saw the surgeon Manghouri who I like very much. He looks me in the eye, pauses and waits for answers – yes, he asks me questions! After hearing that there was a likely problem with doing a lumpectomy because of its closeness to the surface and proximity to my nipple I have decided to suggest he not try and “save” the breast. I also asked him what he thought of a bilateral and he suggested I think about it, make sure the insurance will pay for it, and that he would support this decision.

I always write things backwards – so, first things first. What was found: He says the tumor is about an inch in diameter and therefore puts it at stage 2 although he adds that could change once someone lays eyes on the thing.

I said it was my intention to avoid chemotherapy and I don’t think this is what he was expecting. He didn’t argue although he later said he was surprised that I said I didn’t want chemo. He asks that I meet with an oncologist to go over the options. When the nurse asked if I had a preference about an oncologist I said, “I’d like them to be approachable, experienced and with some understanding of what alternative therapies are out there”, she looked a little panicked. Virginia who went with me said she also looked upset when I said I wanted a bilateral mastectomy. Virginia’s theory is she a survivor.

Speaking of survivors, I now look at anyone who limps, looks a little gaunt and conclude they are survivors. It’s very strange to see the world through this new filter. Virginia said that that period leading up to knowing how serious a cancer I have (which will continue for a long time – more about that later) must be like someone who has been accused of murder and sits in jail waiting for the trial, waiting to see what kind of evidence has been collected.

The criminal comparison– alleged criminal – whether guilty or innocent resonates. I have either been angry for much of my life and not expressing it, or angry and expressing it too freely, or, I’ve been too melancholy, or poisoned by my thoughts or the thoughts of others, slovenly for not caring for my body, the list of charges goes on.

I am ripe pickin’s for anyone who says they have the answer. And everyone has the answer and they’re pretty possessive and territorial about their answers. If I really thought I’d found a cure for something cancer related I’d give the answer away, not make it into a 12cd set in a collectable box that doubles as a coffee table object de art. That’s just me. You know… the one who gives too much and therefore has developed cancer.

Wow. I am angry!

It comes and goes – everything does.