With Crisis comes clarity.
I've gone back in forth in my mind a million times as to whether or not I should even write what I'm getting ready to write. When I think really hard about it, the truth is, I need to write it. I need the essence of who I am to be preserved somewhere. How I came to the decisions that I did, where my mind was at, where my heart was at in it. I need something that my children can look back on and try to understand me, or at least the essence of me. This tale begins about a month ago. I found a lump in my left breast while I was in the shower. I always do my breast exams in the shower. I'm pretty faithful about it too. About once a month or so, I check around and make sure I don't feel anything weird. That isn't easily done, you see, I have lumpy breasts, so I really don't know what I'm looking for. Lumpy breasts run in my family. This one particular day, about a month ago, I felt something that felt weird to me, but I was unsure about it.