November-January 2015 I have to start somewhere with my cancer story. It started with me thinking that my husband had a failed vasectomy. I also thought I had a failed IUD. Now, I had always wanted kids. Plural. I have the sweetest, most aware, honest, loving and loyal kid. I just always envisioned more kids. At this point, I have already had my stroke. Pregnancy is a dangerous idea. Plus, we had decided for my husband to have a vasectomy as I wanted the IUD out. The nice thing was no period. But, some not so nice ideas were forming in my mind about more strokes. Thusly, my husband was snipped to avoid me getting my tubes tied and the next time I saw the Gynecologist my IUD would be removed.

Jesse had the surgery. The totally permanent one. Which later he would say he was surprised at because I guess he thought he got the reverse one. Why that mattered…he’s a funny one my dear husband. 

Meanwhile, I had started to feel really tired. Exhausted. When I was pregnant with my boy I slept anywhere. It was the best kind of sleep too. Dreamless, and I would awaken feeling satisfied. I was having that same exhaustion, missing that yummy feeling of a good sleep. 

For me there is a disconnect between certain logic here. I’m happily married. I have an IUD. My husband had a vasectomy. Yet, lest you forget, I did have a severe and traumatic stroke. I thought I could be pregnant. My breasts hurt too. They felt heavy and sore in the exact same way as when I conceived before. 

Naturally when you have these types of changes you go to the professional.

“Jesse, do my boobs look different?” I’m feeling strange and off kilter. The new me. Yay.

He looks and wiggles his eyebrows. “Boobies!”

“I’m being serious!” I feel impatient and frustrated with this change. It’s not right. My skin is too sensitive.

“Feel. Do you feel that?” I hover over my husband in his chair. I am intense and pleading. Over the top. 

“Your boobs are hard. That’s hot!” Jesse is happy, but my glare halts his grin.

“It’s weird. It’s like puberty…or I’m pregnant.”

“Ok, you’re not pregnant. Obviously.” 

I know he’s right. I still buy pregnancy tests for the next 2 months. The “pregnancy” symptoms continue. Until the day I reach past Jesse for a drink in the fridge. Both of my breasts had continued to be sensitive and sore. But that day I felt something else. It was a lump.