I’m supposed to be writing a column on kindness right now. There are so many stories of kindness floating around in my brain, but I can’t seem to catch hold of any of them long enough to actually write about them. I just keep thinking about tomorrow (my pre-op appointment) and next Tuesday (my mastectomy).
I’ve called The James twice to ask why we aren’t doing a double mastectomy. I’m sure the surgeon told me before, but I can’t remember. And right now it seems really important to remember. I don’t want to go through this again and if taking both breasts at the same time means that I will never have to deal with breast cancer again, then I want to know why we can’t do that.
The clock is ticking…
On a happier note, I decided the other day that I want photos of my breast before it’s gone.
That may sound freaky (it kind of does to me), but luckily I have a photographer girlfriend who cannot be shaken by something as trivial as a boob. Ann is fierce and brave and beautiful. And God gave her a gift that she loves to share with others. Alas, I now have pictures.
You can actually see the discoloration of the tumor in some of the photos, but I’m going to keep those private for now. Maybe someday I’ll share.
Ann insisted on taking “pretty” photos of me, too. She said she wanted to remind me that I’m beautiful.
Gosh… I wish every woman could have one hour with Ann. I have no idea what she was seeing through her lens, but for a few moments, I wasn’t the lady with breast cancer, the one with bags under her eyes because I sometimes can’t sleep at night, the one who has gained a pound a week since this stupid diagnosis.
For a few moments in my living room yesterday afternoon, I was the most stunning woman on the planet. 
With just a little bit of crazy added in for good measure…
