— We are happy for you. Thank you. Sit down.
You see. This little scene is here to show you that it's up to you to decide how you look and whether you like to feel that way.
I also have an opposite story from my life. A good friend of mine, fifty-five, lived for twenty years in a marriage with a military doctor younger than herself. She has psoriasis and has difficulty depilating/epilating. She herself is a dark-skinned and woolly girl, like a teddy bear, but at the same time very charming.
For her husband this was not a problem, but for her it was.
After twenty years of family life, she was tired of her husband’s jealousy and aggressive sex, packed her things and for three years now lived as she liked, namely without psoriasis and hair.
A friend of mine found a way to reduce the manifestations of the disease (crusts on the body) and finally learned how to remove hair, at least from her legs.
You know, it turns out that she needed it, not her husband. A man doesn't care if he's in love and wants to possess you. How do you feel?
Like this. We women can be like yeti, with the condition that we are happy at the same time.
A curtain.
"Breast fibroadenoma."
My breasts once scared me so much that I couldn’t think about anything else.
I sat in line to see the mammologist at the oncology clinic, and with my thoughts I chose the path that I wanted to take for the rest of my days.
Yes its true! Nothing worried me more. Not the ex, not the studies, not the money. I was preparing to shoot for the last time, so that the fountains would sing serenades. I wanted to live the rest of my days so brightly that they would write about me in the newspapers.
Well, let's start from the very beginning. Around December two thousand and seven, I woke up on my bright red bed linen with my hand on my chest (yes, I loved this set then, it somehow reflected my inner state well). By that time, I already hated the ex who left me and longed to live.
So, as I remember now, I’m lying on my right side, my hand on my left chest: “Give me — I think — I’ll remember.”
I’m also curious, does this happen? I think it happens, I think that the body sometimes communicates with us.
Using my fingers, I carefully felt a small oval-shaped lump of one and a half centimeters, soft and slightly painful.
My heart sank with horror.
You know, even sweat appeared from panic. I ran to the shower to look in the mirror, everything was smooth, there was no discharge.
I palpated both glands in sectors, as I was taught in college.
Everything is clean, only this thing, there are no others. She exhaled a little. Then she tensed up again: “How long have I had this? Didn't it grow overnight? Is it all due to stress? Is it Dima’s fault?”
I ran to the surgeon. They made a puncture.
For about a week, while waiting for the result, my legs could barely carry me. It’s good that I studied in medical school; my classmates instilled confidence that nothing bad could happen to me in their society. Whether I was a philologist or an accountant, it’s unlikely that anyone there would calm me down as much as they did here. Nadezhda’s friend assured: “You will be cured, one hundred percent. Even if it's cancer, we'll figure something out. There are a lot of professors here who know a lot.”
Now I understand that it was about Nadezhda. A smart girl with the right words.
In general, the results were good, but the doctor insisted on surgery.
— If it already hurts, you have to do it. It's better not to take risks. It can become malignant at any time.
— Fine.
The operation was performed under local anesthesia. In the cold preoperative room, they only injected me with painkillers, and trembling, they wheeled me on a gurney into the room where there were other patients. In total, there were three awake people on the operating tables in this room, on whom the surgeons were working.
They fenced me off from my chest with a screen so that I couldn’t see the scalpels and scissors. They asked to communicate, joked.
The doctor announced the progress of the operation at my request. Otherwise, I would have gone crazy, as it seemed then. Scary, but not painful. I felt tension, crunching, some kind of swarming on the ribs, but no pain.
As a result, I was given a two-centimeter suture and released immediately.
In the hostel I rethought my life.
Dima, this young psychopath, depressed alcoholic, adulterist and overall loser made me doubt myself and become so emotional that my hormones grew a glandular tumor in my chest in a short time.
Then I swore off worrying about men. Since then, I have never suffered so much in my life. Even when my husband left me, I held on.
Girls, breasts are our pride. Health is a tool for achieving goals. Of course, there are also sick people, like Stephen Hopkins, who have learned to control the world without a body, through strength of character and mind. However, if he were physically active, the world would know much more of his creations than it does now.
So, female hormones must be kept in balance. Try to achieve harmony in any time, difficult or easy. Then there will be no tumors.
Right now I will be donating blood for female hormones in accordance with the day of my cycle. On the second to fifth day and then on the twenty-third. And I’ll tell you everything in other chapters.
I’m thirty-two, but slight fluctuations in my health made me take care to find time and get examined.
Ultrasound of the mammary glands, genitals and thyroid gland is all clear, echocardiography and daily monitoring are also there. I gave a hundred dollars to find out that I am healthy. Plus I'll give you another two hundred dollars to be one hundred percent sure.
But I will enter a new phase of life confident that my body is not preparing a surprise.
You know, when you're about to reach the next level, where there's more stress, problems, money, happiness, love, work hours, movement in general, you prepare like an astronaut.
The body has to withstand such stress, I can’t afford to go gray or bald just because I spend fourteen hours a day on the set.
Yes, I’m really going to Hollywood this or next year, and the job of an actor is not to look at flowers. This is a colossal amount of work, you get exhausted, work hard for months, and then enjoy the premiere for a week.
And again into battle.
This life is for me, I want it. I like to work hard where I realize myself, but my exhausted body can say at any moment, “Adies, amigo. I went to bed." So, in order not to torment anyone, it is necessary:
— take vitamins and minerals daily.
— eat right
— sleep 7–8 hours
— keep drinking regime
— play sports, or at least run, do gymnastics
— check periodically with a gynecologist. But you don't have to do everything he asks. Only based on your logic.
For example. I was prescribed SERIOUS hormonal treatment for a minor malfunction in the body. I'm asking:
— What other options are there?
— Well, you can still do this and that.
— OK, what else?
— Well, you can also take this and that.
— Okay, write it down.
And so on. The doctor is obliged to tell you all treatment options, all alternatives, all risks, complications, contraindications, side effects.
The decision is yours. I always choose the best solution for myself, not for the doctor.