I wanted to put my story out there, in hopes of possibly helping someone else. I'm sure there's at least a few people out there like me.
It all started when I was a kid. My mother died in childbirth, and my father raised my brother and I. We lived in a small town, but lived a good distance away, so we pretty much stayed close to home. My brother and the other neighborhood kids played in the woods and creek by our house. I thought life would always be happy and carefree.....
I first noticed them when I was 9. I was getting ready for school that morning and I happened to see it in the mirrors reflection. I was confused, but I wasn't scared, yet..
I just kept thinking it would go away. Probably a bug bite or something like it, and it would heal on its own. It wasn't big enough to be seen through my clothing, so I didn't bother mentioning it to dad.
I tried to push it from my mind, and being 9, it wasn't too hard to get lost in school work, and after school play. It wasn't as if I had forgotten about it. But I didn't constantly worry about it either.
It wasn't until a few weeks after my 11th birthday that panic really set in.
I was playing with my brother in the creek, when I happened to notice a slight feeling… as if something was moving on my skin. I looked down, pulling my shirt out a bit, thinking a bug or some animal had gotten in there somehow, when I saw them. I nearly screamed. Instead of just a tiny one, now there were two. And they were larger. Much larger than before, as if they had grown overnight. My brother must have noticed my reaction, and came over to check on me. I quickly covered my growths - that's what I'd begun to think of them as - and we went home, me trying to hide my secret the entire way.
For the next month I avoided wearing tight fitting clothes, and stayed to myself as much as possible.
But I knew the problem wasn't going to get better, not on its own. I would have to tell my father. I planned to tell him one night after dinner. But the words were stuck in my throat.
I helped him clear the table, waiting for the right moment. I waited until my brother took the dogs outside, and then as my father washed and I dried, I told him. I still remember the look on his face. He had been washing the salad bowl, and at the moment I said the words he nearly dropped it. My fear suddenly became overwhelming. Fathers weren't supposed to be scared. He must have seen my reaction and set the bowl in the sink, and knelt in front of me.
"It's ok. Don't worry about anything." He said, and he smiled but it wasn't like his normal smiles. It was the same smile he had when he told my brother and I our dog, champ died and would be in heaven with Mom.
"But .. they got bigger. What if they keep growing?" I asked in a scared voice. "Am I gonna die?"
Tears started falling then. He hugged me tight, and after a moment he said, "Of course not. We'll take you to see the doctor. Maybe tomorrow if he's able. Don't worry."
I felt better that night. It was finally out in the open. It wasn't my secret to hide anymore. We did go see doctor Hadley. He was about 100 in my 11 year old mind, but was probably more like 65. He had gray hair and gray eyebrows that always reminded me of the caterpillars I used to find in our garden. He smelled like peppermint toothpaste, and the stinging smell of alcohol, that reminded me of the shots he gave. My father left the room when it was time to show the doctor my growths. It was like he was embarrassed by them, or afraid he'd catch them…..
The doctor only looked for a second. Then quickly looked up at me, his eyes worried like my fathers had been. Had they grown? My panicked mind raced. I couldn't be sure. The doctor tried to smile, but even at 11 I knew when someone was pretending.
"What's wrong?" I had asked him. My blood pounded in my ears. He cleared his throat, and went into a long speech mainly consisting of medical jargon that I didn't fully comprehend. When he finished and asked if I understood I nodded, but I really only understood one thing.
Untreatable. No cure. No way to stop it. And according to doctor Hadley, the growths would most likely continue to grow. I ran from his office, tears staining my face, my father running after me. I didn't eat that night. Or the next morning. My father tried to talk to me, but I heard nothing. I was going to be a freak. Forever.
I begged my father to let me stay home, but he refused. I rarely left the house except for school, and always wore loose fitting clothes.
The kids didn't seem to notice, at least until one day during break. Mr Bolger let us go outside to play kickball after Math, and I was completely into the game, forgetting my growths, when Franky ran into me knocking me down on my back. It knocked the wind right out of me, and I lay there on the grass trying to force air into my lungs. When I finally began to breathe normally I opened my eyes to see Franky and the others standing over me, their eyes like saucers. I looked down at myself and felt the air sucked from my lungs for the second time. My shirt was ripped and a growth was clearly visible.
I struggled to cover it, and get to my feet. "Holy shit" Franky said, his voice low so Mr Bolger didn't hear. The others joined in, some laughing, some just staring at me with open mouths. I guess I can't blame them, looking back. But at the time I was furious. I ran as fast as I could, their hollering, and laughter following me. I didn't stop even when Mr Bolger called after me. I didn't stop until I was too far away to hear the laughter.
The years went by with me keeping to myself. I rarely went anywhere except school, and when I left the house I was well covered, even in summer. I got used to the staring, laughing, pointing.
I just pretended I couldn't hear them.
When I moved away for college I hadn't been happier. I didn't have to share a room with anyone, thankfully. I still avoided friends, opting to keep to myself.
I had access to computers at the school library, and spent all my free time searching for cures or treatments, and talking to people like me in support groups. Some had their growths in other places, growths that looked much different than mine. Those people became my true friends. They also helped me find a doctor who could remove the growths.
I met the doctor one morning, and was so excited I barely slept the night before.
But unfortunately he looked at the growths - which had grown considerably since I was 11 - and said he wouldn't be able to perform the surgery unless they were causing health problems. He gave me a useless referral to see another doctor, and sent me on my way. I never went to see the other doctor. I came to realize that no one could help me.
If I wanted to be normal and growth free, I'd have to help myself.
And that brings me to now. I locked myself in my room with a few supplies. One of my friends from the support groups sent me instructions on how to remove the growths myself. He did it a few years prior and said it worked wonderfully. He warned me about the possible dangers, and of course, the pain. But I wouldn't be swayed.
I got all the supplies listed, and locked the door in case I screamed too loud.
I put a few trash bags on the floor to stand on to catch any blood, and pressed the sharpened knife to the growth, sawing through it. I'll admit, it took a good while to get started, but it didn't take long to realize how much pressure I'd need.
I bit down on a washcloth, but despite the warnings of pain, all I really felt was relief. Relief and excitement.
There was some pain, and more blood than I imagined. But when that hideous growth fell to the floor all I felt was pure joy.
I'm still bleeding pretty bad, and nearly loss consciousness twice so I had to stop before starting the other one.
But I wanted to write this while I wait, for anyone out there like me who thought they were doomed to live life with their growths, their dark secret.
It's possible to find a cure. You just need to want it bad enough, and a sharp knife. You'll also need a lot of towels to stop the blood. I'm already on my sixth one.
I have to go now. I may need to take a nap before I start the last one.. I feel dizzy, but it's all worth it. Remember, you're not alone. And despite what doctors say, the growths can be stopped. I smile when I think back to Dr Hadley telling me I'd have the growths forever. He even tried to tell me my growths were normal. Except he used medical terminology, and called them "breasts"
But whatever the term, my growths are nearly gone. I just pray they won't grow back...
Comments