u/KillTheBoyBand

I think I'm in my feels because I started pole dancing last year in April, at the age of 29. I had just moved to a new city with an abusive fiance (he's gone, thankfully, last time he hit me I finally hit him back and kicked his ass out) and I was just all over the place. Pole helped me reclaim my sense of self, helped me feel more sexy and confident, humbled the SHIT out of me (in a good way!), and find friends and community. Then life kicked my ass two months ago--I have breast cancer. I think I'll be okay, I had surgery, doctors think it's small and curable, but treatment will alter my life and my body in ways I don't have time to get into right now.

I'm thirty and still feel *so painfully young*, and yet this random, inexplicable disease (I have no family history, no genetic markers for it, led a healthy lifestyle)​ is here fucking up my life. I just had surgery and can't pole dance for at least two weeks, minimum. I don't know how I'll feel through radiation and chemo. I don't know if I'll feel energized and well enough to do it. The journey of getting back on my feet may be longer than I desire. Not to even mention the crippling fear that my disease will come back, be worse than we thought, etc.

So please stop taking your body for granted. Unless you're dying tomorrow, no, you are not too "old" to start. It is never too late to start.

/rant​

Hi all. Diagnosed at 30 over a month ago with ER+, Her2- IDC, likely stage 2. (Tumor is small but was confirmed to be on at least one lymph node). Lumpectomy was today, 3 lymph nodes removed and the primary tumor.

Just wanted to do a cute post but I got out of surgery today and this whole week has been my friends and parents really checking in on me, following up, asking if I'm okay, sending me flowers, asking to visit. My boyfriend sent a group message to everyone that I was okay coming out of surgery and I got all kinds of texts saying they love me and asking how I'm feeling. He took me home, went grocery shopping, made dinner, cleaned up, and set me up to play video games while he fed my cats. Also the OR nurse was so sweet. Apparently when I woke up I asked her if she likes her job and she talked at length about it and then told me about her experiences with her own cancer treatment. She gave me a hug before I left the hospital.

I was surprised by all the love because I've been apathetic about surgery (just got a lumpectomy) and more worried about the possibility of chemo or potential future recurrence or wondering about side effects from the endocrine therapy. Surgery seemed the easiest part. So to get all that love poured in was unexpected and yet the best thing ever.

I really, really hope all of you also have good support systems. ​Just feeling unexpectedly grateful right now. ​

TW: DV discussion.

I'm still in the middle of testing. All I know is that it's ER/PR+ HER2- IDC and stage 3. At least one lymph node is affected. I'm still pending an MRI to check out the rest of my boobs, and I'm told you can't really know the stage until after surgery sometimes so who knows.

But weirdly the first thought I had while going through this is I AM SO GLAD that I broke up with my abusive fiance last year. That fucking dickwad exploded into violence the year we moved in together, though he'd been violent and emotionally abusive in past (and then effectively fooled me into thinking things were better with a year of therapy and no violent outbursts). He'd done things like fling me out of a moving car, push me to the ground, twisted my fingers blue when I tried to cover his mouth because he was making fun of me for crying. Called me a cunt, bitch, and justified abusing me to his family who fully supported him. The last time he hit me, I hit him back and effectively kicked his ass until he left our apartment. He moved out the next day.

I just *know* if this diagnosis had happened while we were together I'd be suicidal. That man would have probably yelled at me or gotten angry at me and I would have sat there trying to explain why it's wrong to yell at your cancer patient fiance. I'm so glad I got him out of my life before any of this happened. I have a good boyfriend now, and things are new, but he's already rushed over to cook for me, cry with me, put in time off to stay with me.

Anyone else have something they're weirdly grateful right now?

I get that it's good and valid to feel all my negative emotions. To be angry, upset, to be crying hysterically, especially in between all this testing (which I am told is the worst time. We'll see). My therapist said "you found out three days ago" and that she thinks it's healthy that I'm processing it so openly. I cried all through my biopsy because the BI-RADS score was already so high (5) and they were worried about my lymph node. The doctor showed me the image and this lump is so goddamn misshapen by the time I got the call, I knew it'd be cancer. What else could it be?

So it's IDC ER/PR+ and HER2-, grade 3. I'm only 30. I won't know how truly fucked I am until after the MRI and potentially a pet scan and genetic testing. I told the nurse with definitive clarity that I first felt the lump in March, and that it wasn't there six months ago, ​and she said that's a good sign because I really did all I could. At 2.1 cm, it's unlikely i could have felt it any point prior.

But uh. Did I catch it early? Who fucking knows. Who knows where it is. Who knows on what many lymph nodes it is. I'm in limbo. And I want so desperarely some reassurance *now* that we caught it early, that I can do a lumpectomy without issue, anything anything anything.

My boyfriend keeps telling me it's going to be okay. It's a bump in the road and I'll be okay. I want to see it that way. The lack of hope is crushing.​

I'm really new to this and sort of overwhelmed by the information, so I feel like I'm constantly thrown off by stories of partners who are on specific meds, and even the *right* medicine combo, and yet still have really severe episodes.

I've only been dating my boyfriend for a few months. He's type 2, he's on medication, and has been in treatment for his mental health something like well over 20 years ago in his late teens. He's told me he's tried different meds and these seem to work the best for him. So far, nothing too intense has happened and I feel at ease with him. Maybe sometimes he's had a depressive episode that came and went, but nothing severe, and it was because he was on another medicine to treat something unrelated.

So like. ​Am I wrong to assume he'll always be this good? Reading stories of people who were together for 10 years and then something happened is very confusing. Is there always a reason for it or can it happen out of nowhere?