Different Drummer

I know I said that I didn’t want the blog to be about the cancer thing, but bear with me, it’ll be over soon as I will continue to forego any follow-up treatment. My surgeon had called me the night before my post-op appointment with him one week after the surgery. He didn’t want to wait to tell me the good news, that he got everything and that the post-surgery testing of the two tiny lumps and the two lymph node samples he removed, in one incision, mind you, came back negative and we didn’t need to do any additional surgery. I already knew that. However, yes, I was impressed with the one incision, as he was exceedingly proud of it. In fact, I hope what he has learned from slicing me open will benefit others.

When I told him how good I felt after the surgery and how I made Gilda take me home via subway, he replied “Well… you’re different.” Yeah, I guess that’s true, but I can’t believe he’s not met anyone like me in his many years as a breast cancer surgeon (and he’s no spring chicken), someone who questions the recommended treatment, and takes my own circumstances into consideration when making a decision that just doesn’t seem logical to those in the medical field. I choose to roll the dice, right now, and who knows, if this happens again, which it just might, I might make a different decision based on a different set of circumstances.

BTW – It is my strong belief that once you come out on the other end of a less than pleasant event, you should do some self-pampering. You don’t actually have to wait, but my surgery kept getting bounced around due to what I now deem as unnecessary tests and way too many mammograms, that I had to keep rescheduling my monthly facial. And you know I love my facials. I finally went on Friday and feel so refreshed. Then on Saturday, after letting all the lowlight accumulation grow out passed my earlobes and letting my hair grow down my back, I decided it was time to go for the lowlights again. It was nice to have that natural feel of my hair again, but it was too grey and not grey enough to sport the long look without my looking like a nutty old lady most days of the week. My Italian/East Indian/Mystery roots cause my hair to frizz in the summer and lay flat in the winter.

On previous visits to my new hairdresser, we discussed what I envisioned, what she could do, and yesterday we did it. She kind of nailed it, too. I now have a lovely head of salt and pepper hair with a natural skunk strip down the front. I would call it perfect if I believed in perfection, but for a 60-year-old broad, I look pretty damn good. In fact, I was so upbeat about it that I put on make-up, watched Trainwreck for the umpteenth time, and drank hot sake on Saturday night. Yeah, that’s kind of sad, but considering the meshing of the three activities, plus the new hair, I was more than fine with it. I would have taken a selfie, but I’m still vain and shallow enough to think I’m better looking than in my pictures, particularly those I take from my phone. Actually, I did take a selfie and proved my point.

Happy Fourth to all!

To my friend in Hoot ‘n Holler – Check your mail this week.