My Left Foot

When I was very young, about 5 or 6, I got my little toe stuck in the automatic door at Safeway. It was much more traumatic for my mother than me, as I don’t remember it at all. She still tells the story in vivid detail, down to her frantic screaming,” don’t let it cut off her toe!” at the store manager who was trying to release me from the door. I imagine that I was up to some sort of mischief in the first place, and that was how the whole event happened. I have nothing but a story to remind me of the incident at all-no memory, no scar. That is not the case with breast cancer. I feel like I am scarred for life and I’ve realized after wrestling with the mastectomy vs. lumpectomy decision that there really is no good option. I made a pretty long list of pros and cons for each, but in the end, this is a situation where one must make the best choice they can and pray that it all turns out well. I keep in mind that I am one of the lucky ones who found out early, that I have options, that I feel well. I have choices and others do not. Another surgery next week and that is my last shot to keep the right one. I might need that trumpet after all. Laters.