Myrna's Story - THE BOOBOO IN MY BOOB

(Last December 3rd, 2005, Myrna Alinsod York, who had been diagnosed with breast cancer, underwent a radical mastectomy and reconstructive surgery, all in one blow. The picture on the right was taken in Boracay, one of the homecoming activities we had in February last year. She's holding a watercolor she did of the beach. That's Emi with her. Below is Myrna's story. )

The Booboo in My Boob
by Myrna York

September twenty eight, two years too late
On a day the air was crisp the grass dewy white
I made a quick dash to see Dr. Green, a mindless routine
At fifty two though it seemed like I was only thirty two
“You have a lump” I was told, “Go to the center at Sally Jobe”

The soonest mammo test was seven days hence
Best to return when the radiologist can interpret
I drove home oblivious to the fiery sunset
My eyes welled up while I yelled, “Fuck, this can’t be, I’m so healthy”
Only women with breasts are subject to this catastrophe

For hours I asked what if
For most nights I wondered how bad
Each thought was daimon disguised
I blew it off for God was on my side

No time for myths as I blindly believed
Courage was strength’s sister
I will put up a fight against cancer

More mammograms and MRI’s and ultrasound biopsys
The days were filled with anxieties
Chiaroscuro hovered like a dead skunk in a rose bush
Every way I turned I lumbered back and forth
On a ship in search for the rock of sensibility

I rode along with a huge cargo
Next thing you know I was scheduled with a team of medico
Can I just wait for someone else to get this straight
Its too much weight for a five foot flat chest woman to be in limbo

As a dreamer I spent most days finding ways
To humor life’s challenging situation
I’ve surrendered my fears to the One who hears
And patiently listened to people’s tears
For they bear stories of their sisters and mothers
Oh please, why not laugh at my own tribulation

With a keen eye I watched the caretakers
Like a spy I peered into their lives
Their smiles were loaded with grace
This ain’t so bad I felt their embrace

I joined the e-mail group after much invitation
Wow, you really want me to join the jubilation
Little did I know that it would be my mental salvation
For it became an outlet for my sick boobie imagination

I pushed out the worries by laughing at my boobies
Mastectomy sounds massive for the little hills and valleys
Imagining wearing a brassiere can now be fulfilling
Why grieve when there’s much more to altering

On December third two thousand five, I survived
Six and a half hours unrevived
Bid good-bye to my sweet mammillas
In its place seemed like protruding godzillas
No regrets doing all at once, no loss to fret so easy to forget

No pain? This is insane! My fears were all in vain
Laud to medical science there were tubes placed in all sorts of contraptions
Arranged like I-25 and several highway junctions
All these to make you rest but there’s only one way to lay I detest!

I came home after a few hours in a ward
Best to be in my own room with familiar germs to guard
There were food and flowers delivered, lots of phone calls answered
Oh Lord, thanks to all those who came and cared
This day can be remembered as the day that froze in hell

For the most part the recovery was a breeze
One or two meltdowns came in a flying trapeze
Thanks to Tet, and Dory, and Louie, they caught me by my feet
Instead of by my boobeez, they listened and heard how frustrating
To not be able to do things nor move around with ease

Almost six weeks into full gear, I returned to work thinking
This is it, my dear, I can now get my life back and move on from here
Until last week I heard a big thump, the next step has got me stumped

Oh well, so I’ll lose my hair and I’ll look like death has taken over
What can I say we all have to wait and see if I can still find a way
To laugh this time through chemotherapy…

I now dance to the music, Tah tah tah, tah tah tah…

My friends: Many thanks to all those who encouraged me to hang on and keep my spirits high. Your thoughts and prayers have worked miracles already and I believe there is much much more in store for us. I urge you to do a self-check and have regular breast exams because a cure is available to those who catch it in time. I will start chemo the last week of January 2006 and will continue to write as time permits.

MYRNA ALINSOD-YORK