Posted in health

My Worst Fear

Growing up in the 90s was the best thing that ever happened to me. I got to witness the year 2000. What more could you ask for knowing I might not live till 3000 unless a Hezekiah miracle happens!What confuses me though is why they decided to include us in the millennial generation bracket! How are we even the same? They are tech savvy, we weren’t. We played games they have no hoot about. Our friendship bonds have lasted, theirs don’t. We are opposites that have refused to get attracted to each other. Parallel we remain.

However, I wish in our era everything was open in that information was readily available whenever needed but there were no smart phones. Moreover, the only moment I saw an internet connected computer was in my high school computer lab where the rules screamed “DO NOT OPEN UNAUTHORIZED SITES.” We were so used to Kabambe/Mulika mwizi that the excitement of getting one after high school (because our parents never and will never fathom why buy a child a phone while in school) was all we craved for. The internet ones you had to hustle your way to buy one.

I vividly try to remember menustral classes during PPI back in primary school. The only thing that puzzled us was that we were to bleed for God know’s how long and something like a diaper would be used. Our boobs would grow but no one knew the direction they would take. Some defied gravity, others became so pointed while others took forever to even fit in a sports bra. Plus no one mentioned that inward nipples was cue for worry.

What was never taught but thank goodness for friendly aunts who utter anything and everything was the south side bush hair. Of course we were told ‘hair develops in your pubic parts’ but were we to know it should be shaved? I think mine would have been a jungle. So I was introduced to Veet, shaving razors but as researchers increased it was said you should not shave, others said you should not shave regularly while the rest insisted on using scissors. My conclusion especially for those who love the art of cunningulus like me according to TI’s Mediocre song

I never fuck a bitch if she don’t do her hair, no more; You won’t get no dick if it’s a bush down there Girl, I should see nothing but pussy when I look down there.”

What I wish I knew was that bleeding for almost a week was not normal, cramps were a thing but those that attacked your body was a rare condition as well as lumps did not mean your boobs were growing. This would have in one way or the other helped some girls plus me while in high school. A lump started developing but I thought it was normal.

Cancer talks started popping up a decade ago. That is when data, screening was readily available but still majority like me were still naive. It took the intervention of my mum and brother who returned home one day with a brochure. I keenly looked at it and asked my mum to look at my left boob. There was her shock. She interrogated me and the next thing I was booked for an appointment with her doctor.

It did not scare me then but after thorough research, now it scares the hell out of me. It turned out mine was benign, just a hormonal phase. I was told it would disappear but it didn’t. 10 years later, everything multiplied. I have several lumps on both boobs. I even lost count. I wake up and as if to say ‘yuhuu anybody home. We are back. We brought along our cousins’ another has popped. “Do they hurt?” They ask. No.

Undressing before male doctors has become a mastery now. At first having male hands kneading my boobs like dough was not something I liked. Having machines screening me and injections in the name of FNA have gotten rid of needle phobia. As a matter of fact those injections are damn painful let no one lie to you. The thought of blood oozing on some side of your boob is no joke. I always end up getting nauseous accompanied by a severe headache.

“Multiple homogenous hypoechoic lesions…multiple bilateral breast masses…fibroadenomas…negative for malignancy,” are the type of results I keep on getting. That’s a relief. Tears have been wiped, prayers uttered, stress kicked in and the thought of doing this every year lacks energy. This year alone I had appointments once a month from January-March.

It seems hormonal imbalance is a life sentence but for me am hanging on the side line. It is said breast cancer enamates from lumps and I have to be keen whenever any pops up since it cannot be concluded to be hormonal.

Are there options for me to stop all these? Yes there are but risky to say the least. To be continued….