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Throw The Loofah Away!

Every blog, portfolio, and job application requires a swimsuit shot, right? I wanted to post mine before I’m skin and bones from my chemo diet. Thankfully I’m far from that! My appetite has been the opposite of what I’ve expected. Trust me, this girl has not been going hungry. I jumped aboard that meal train, toot-toot!

This is not just a picture to show off my new Aerie swimsuit (although it’s cute right?), it’s a PSA for all women and yes, men too. Throw the loofah away! I’m sorry in advance to the loofah companies, this is not a fair breakup, I know, but neither is my new relationship with cancer. I found my lump because I happened to drop my loofah in the shower. Imagine this: one armpit to clean, drops loofah, doesn’t feel like bending over to pick it up (I know this is only quarantine and not prison, but still), applies a dollop of body wash in palm, rubs body wash over chest, and boom…a little marble sized lump at the 11 o’clock area of my breast.

At first I thought it was a swollen lymph node because it happened to be near my axilla (fancy word for armpit) aka lymph node land. But after I felt it once, I felt it 1,000 more times and then did a full breast exam. In the past, I’ve felt weird about self-guided breast exams but the mood was set and it needed to happen. I immediately jumped out of the shower, ran down my hallway leaving puddles of water for Louie to lick up (you’re welcome) until I reached Erik S (for all of you Outer Banks watchers, last name initials are in…John B, I love you.)

Before I get into what happened next, you must know a little more about me. I’m a little health dramatic...perhaps hysterical at times. At one point, Erik kept a list of all my ailments and physical complaints in a week. Let’s just say the list was loooong. I was the girl who cried cancer too often but only to Erik, never to a doctor. Even though he knew my medical tendencies, he felt the lump and said, “call your primary immediately.”

At this point, I knew it was serious. It was 6:00pm on a Tuesday night during the quarantine. It was out of the cards to see a doctor at that very moment. Side note, I haven’t seen my primary in a couple years. The last time I went in, my doctor and I were Google searching a medical diagnosis for short eyelashes so he could prescribe me Latisse. The medical term is hypotrichosis if you were wondering. After being diagnosed with hypotrichosis I hope people don’t think I have an STD. Once a diagnosis is in your chart, it’s forever. To my pleasant surprise, I was able to schedule a virtual visit for the next morning. I’m going to leave the suspense of what happens next to another post.

If you take away anything from what I wrote here today (do not use hypotrichosis as a diagnosis to get Latisse), please do self-guided breast exams with your bare hands, not a loofah! It only takes a couple minutes and it can save your life.

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