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  • luan

Thank-fu@k-ful

Updated: Aug 24, 2020


Cancer-versary, D-Day, Shitshow premiere ... Yep, I’ve just marked the 2 year anniversary of my breast cancer diagnosis.

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13 November 2017 a very serious Dr broke the news to me with all the gravitas that it warrants. “But it is breast cancer?” I asked. “Yes” she replied gravely. “Right, good!” I said with a nervous laugh. She looked at me like I was completely bonkers.

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It was my first thank-fu@k-ful moment.

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At my biopsy 3 days earlier I’d been told that it was most likely breast cancer (after I’d asked). I’d had 36 hours/2160 minutes/129600 seconds to mull it over and Google the shit out of it. I was worried that it could have been a secondary cancer so to be told it was primary was a massive relief.

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I hadn’t noticed anything suss about my boobs, but had taken myself off for an early mammogram as part of an overall health overhaul because I kept being ill.

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When I was called back for biopsy I adopted a bastardised Schrödinger Cat logic: until I knew the results, I both did and didn’t have breast cancer, therefore I did have it. Clever huh? Yeah: nope.

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Waiting for my biopsy results I realised that my fuzzy quantum logic was gonna send me doo-lallier than the proverbial cat lady, so I had to try and re-frame my thinking. I started looking for treasure, the upside, the “thank fu@k for that” angle.

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I wouldn’t have been called for a mammogram until I was 50; another 1410 days/33,840 hours/2,030,400 minutes/121,824,000 seconds for the disease to seep from my breast through my body.

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So I thank the very fu@k that I got my diagnosis that day. Cos if you’ve got the cancer, you want to know about it, right?

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I’ve been fortunate to have many thank-fu@k-ful days since then. Most recently when a pre-cancerous polyp was found for which I had no symptoms and which would have become cancerous if it wasn’t removed. If I hadn’t had my breast cancer diagnosis I wouldn’t have been sent for the colonoscopy that found it.

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It is of course a Sliding Doors kidology, and doesn’t necessarily stand up to close scrutiny.

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But, hey, it’s better than being a Mad Quantum Cat Woman.

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