The MRI dispensed with, all that remained was the wait.

Well, that isn't strictly true: alot more remained than waiting, but I needed to wait for everything that remained. I don't know whether it was the funky gunk that they had injected into me or not, but I definitely felt a bit de-railed after the test: my lips blistered a bit and the inside of my mouth felt lumpy and swollen, like I was having an allergic reaction of some sort. I felt squidgy enough that I gave the Middle School dance a miss, as well as the faculty bowling afterwards, and instead found the bottom of a couple bottles of wine with a friend.

The next day was the Jeju trip. Lovely. A group of fabulous eighth graders and three very lovely colleagues on a sunny weekend away with minimal supervision effort. Very restorative. Only ended up coaching one game (during which the girls were totally annihilated) and kicked back for the rest of the weekend.  Did the grocery shopping on base on Sunday, and then went back to the grind.

What I did notice was some discomfort where I hadn't registered it before. I wasn't sure whether it was all psychosomatic or not: I'd had quite a few pokes and prods and samples taken by this time, so maybe the aches were because of that- or maybe it had been there for a while and because I'm a CHICK and we don't always acknowledge every twinge, I just hadn't credited it. I also have a tendency to carry too much in awkwardly managed bags, so it was hard to say whether it was real or just in my now-foetid imagination. There was definitely discomfort, though. I got growled a bit by the doctor when I mentioned it on the Tuesday that the MRI results came in because I hadn't said anything before the test:
Doctor: we'd have checked everything and not just the breasts if we'd known!
P: Yes, but I didn't know it myself.

I'm not deliberately being awkward. It just kinda happens.

There is nothing like a full boob scan to let you know just how pathetic they really look. The lump did seem to be pretty localised, and he didn't think that it had spread. They needed to run more tests as part of the pre-op process to be sure, but he was feeling pretty confident.

The treatment options were now outlined:

1- Three courses of chemo to try and shrink the tumour, then surgery, then radiation.
2- Surgery, then chemo, then radiation
3- Mastectomy.

Option 3 still seems rather dramatic. I shall think about that later. Option one sounded nice- less invasive, and it was clearly his personal favourite. However, when I asked about how long it would take, it sounded interminable. Nine weeks, then the op, then another nine weeks before additional zapping treatment? How long are we talking about, here? He could not/would not say. Hm.
The second option would be more dramatic, but could possibly be finished earlier.

So here's my thinking, and I accept that it all may change after the appointment on Thursday:

I'd rather get it done. I want to be strong when I have the surgery, and I am strong-like-bull at the moment. Who wants to go to hospital when they're sick??
I know that removing a two centimetre tumour is more dramatic than removing a one centimetre one, and that there would be the possibility of it disappearing altogether, but it might be quicker, and I really don't want to miss any more time from work than I have to.

Connie: Are you crazy?

P: Maybe.

But the thing is, I need to work. Not just to pay the bills, but because not working makes me get a bit squirrelly- ask anyone who remembers my knee operation three years ago.

Yes, I know, I need to get better. But I will not get better if I cannot see that I can return to business as usual. There has to be a 'when I am healthy' result in this, and that needs to include normality and productivity. Besides which, I have these crazy school fees to pay for Annie, and going to Seoul Foreign School has been SO good for her. Really don't want her to go somewhere else, especially not after everything we sacrificed to get her there. Timing has, for once, worked in our favour: I have four months on full pay, apparently. Perhaps I can get the worst of it out of the way over the summer, and can get back in the saddle soon, while she starts the new term.

Yes. I know. I know nothing about how bad this is going to get. Well, I will just jolly well find out, won't I? So, damn the torpedoes. Let's storm in.
And, nobody is lining up to check out my bosoms at the moment anyway, are they? A great, ugly hole in one of them won't make any difference.