Estados Unidos Mexicanos por favor...

Ok, a few days have gone by and I have had a good think about all that was said by Scouse on Tuesday, have done some research using an excellent book given to me by a Nursey Bernard and, perhaps more importantly, rationalised my initial feelings on the surgery.

First off, I have to say I have not thought about the surgery element of this whole cancer thing in any great depth. This is partly because chemo was up first and I needed to put my energies and brain matter into dealing with that and, I think, because I didn't really want to. It isn't that I haven't accepted this is going to happen. It was inevitable and definite. I knew this. I wanted to not confuse and stress myself out by taking on too much. Of course, the whole surgery thing was slightly up in the air because of the effects of chemo anyway...

One thing you all need to know is I am phobic of general anaesthesia. This isn't something that has come out of this situation. I have always had it. Always. And luckily, up to now, I have never had to have one! I have been fit and healthy all my life.

I have obviously thought a lot about this over the last few months. This is not a 'I don't like it' thing. This is a full blown 'I am going to leave the country long before my surgery date is up' phobia. This is a 'you come near me with any drugs that'll knock me out and I will get violent' phobia.

Totally illogical and completely irrational.

Best Friend said, when I told her, that she would lock me up and drag me there. I think, when I didn't smile and said 'I would not even be available for you to lock me up...I'll be in Mexico' she took me a little more seriously. When I asked her 'what would you do if I said you were going to be put in a closed box with spiders in a month's time' she realised that I am phobic. She is terrified of spiders. She gets it now.

I know it is not anything to do with fear of 'being awake and feeling pain' because they have screwed up. It is not fear of being poorly when I come round.

No, I know that it is because I want to be part of what is happening to me. It is my body, my tit. These people I don't know are going to violate me and I won't be able to do anything about it because I am not awake. That terrifies me. At its worst, it feels like 'rape'; something being done to me that I have no control over.

I have never passed out. I have never been knocked out. I do not know what it is like to be unconscious due to something more than natural sleep...

Of course, I can rationalise that these people are not 'raping' my breast. They do not intend to harm me anymore than they have to.

I think it is about a loss of control...

Aware that this is a problem, I have made an appointment with a qualified and registered hypnotherapist. I have to try and deal with this somehow and this seems a positive thing to do. I suppose I ought to also speak to Scouse when it is appropriate, not that I think he really cares all that much.

I have read that it is possible to do it the simpler WLE surgery under local, but no one likes to do it apparently. I have read a woman's account of mastectomy under local. She was also terrified of a general. She managed ok but the docs were puzzled as to why she would want be awake!

As to the actual surgery, I have my options and my gut reaction is to go for WLE with radiotherapy. This is what Scouse preferred when I asked him for his best advice, although he obviously pointed out he understood if I wished to have the full tit off too. I appreciate the risks of having to have second surgery and the consequences of this...

Now, I am going to say something that really is not PC. It is not sensitive and I apologise if I offend anyone. I do not wish to offend or upset.

I have now looked at real life pictures of mastectomy. I have purposefully not looked over the last 3 months because I was concerned I would have this reaction.

It is disgusting. It horrifies me. It offends me. It looks completely horrific.

Said it. I cannot express how much these pictures upset me.

It has finally hit me that I am going to be disfigured, whatever happens. No surgery on the breast, even with cosmetic surgery, can make it back to what it was. Even the most elaborate rebuilds cannot do this apparently...

...and I now realise that my right breast is fucked. Whatever happens.

Now, unlike the vast majority of women out there suffering like me I already have something that I perceive to be disfiguring, as you all know. At this moment in time, because of the severe rebound of my psoriasis my self esteem and my self worth are at floor level. Complete self-loathing. The thought of having to deal with this rebound and my right tit being fucked up? I am not entirely sure how much more I can take, psycho-emotionally. Add this to my fear of the general and I reckon Mexico might be an option. Who cares if I die because of it? Bring on the tequila and lets eat burrito and go out smiling, ladies and gentlemen.

At my lowest, I feel like it is all rather pointless. I will be worthless as a viable woman and human being because physically, I will be a mess. Do not think this as self-piteous. I actually believe I am not a moaner or whinger. I do not complain about my situation. I have not once said 'why me?' or 'what have I done to deserve this?'. I am aware there are a lot of people far worse off than me. I think I am rather courageous to write this. I imagine many people feel like this, but they do not open up and share the words with others. In fact, I am sure this is true.

But that is me in a bad minute. I swing a little at the moment. One hour I might feel like actually crying (something I truly have not done since this whole cancer shit) and one hour I just think 'it isn't so bad'.

I imagine this is normal behaviour. For me, anyway.

So there you go, Plaingoldband's thoughts at this moment in time. How lucky you are to see the innermost thoughts of a woman on the verge of booking a ticket to Mexico...

"Fear is a tyrant and a despot, more terrible than the rack, more potent than the snake." Edgar Wallace