But within a year, the nightmare pains returned and it was almost too much to bear.
Not to worry, there’s a lot of scar tissue and that’s likely causing the pain, I was told. I couldn’t get another MRI since the mammogram came back negative, so I was advised to wait six months, keep an eye on it and then come back. Perhaps there would be something detectable then.
The next six months of stabbing, debilitating pain was rivaled only by the agony of wondering if the cancer was metastasizing. Homeschooling my two children was a welcome distraction, but every day felt like a year.
At the end of my rope, and after a lot of contemplation, I told Franco I’d decided to have a mastectomy. I wanted to make sure the cancer would never come back again. My ever supportive husband said,
“Whatever you decide, I’m behind you. I just want you to be well.”