Before we got to the second quarter of this game of life and death, we had a time out. It lasted almost two years. It was marked by a certain return to normalcy. I think everyone; Jackie, myself, friends, etc. all tried to put CANCER out of our minds. The treatments were over. It must be gone -- whew -- glad that's over with.

Jackie did, and while for many around us there was a return to normalcy, that feeling of being out of phase with the rest of the universe continued for us. Not only did Jackie have the constant reminder everytime she undressed, but the monthly doctor visits brought it home as well. Please do not try to escape into false normalcy by not going back to the doctor once treatment is over. For Jackie, there was always something to be checked out. A lump in the breast, a swollen node in the neck, some sore spot somewhere. Some of these I could feel and some I couldn't. Some the doctor felt, some he couldn't. However, they all disappeared. From one visit to the next or from her finding it from one shower to the next shower -- they would disappear. I've heard it said "Paranoia -- big destroyer." I don't know if Jackie's constant checking and worrying was detrimental. I do think the checking was good and the worrying bad. I tried to help check these lumps out, but as before I had a hard time telling one lump from another, particularly in checking her remaining breast. While I wanted to help I felt that she could tell best. Perhaps a doctor in checking these lumps day in and day out can do better, but no one can do it as well as you can.

During our "time out", Jackie overreacted in two ways. The first was to remove her Port-a-Cat within 5 months of ending chemo. To her it was a reminder of the cancer and the trauma of the chemo. In all honesty, I guess she wasn't only reacting to the port, but to its uncomfortable placement. I think she should have kept it. She wouldn't have had to get stuck each office visit -- it would have made her life easier. But, she wanted that reminder out -- so back under the knife.

The other time she started to overreact was when she decided she wanted to have her right breast removed. The fact that she decided to do this was partly my fault, due to the fact that I had so much trouble checking it for lumps. Well, after several heated discussions, she decided not to do this.

I argued that it was unreasonable and that no doctor had suggested it (although we knew they would do it if we asked). I may in part have selfishly not wanted her to lose her second breast. I liked it, and we still had some hopes at this point that we might, after a suitable waiting period, reinstate our original plan to expand our family. After all, by now the addition to the house was FINALLY done, and it turned out pretty nicely. I knew how much she had enjoyed breast feeding our daughter -- she did it for two years, teeth and all. I knew how much she would miss doing it if we had a second child.

At any rate, I don't know the results of our decision not to have a second mastectomy. I don't think it would have done much, except wear her down even more.