"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.
If surgery and a strong drug clear his conscience, but ruin me in the future, then this option will be the first to be rejected.
Do you understand?
At twenty-nine years old, I discovered another fibroadenoma around the same place, a little higher. It was three times smaller and painless.
I was already seasoned and was not afraid. Well… maybe a little. When the ultrasound specialist explained what it was, and the mammologist offered to observe, I agreed.
He added:
– We need to do a puncture.
– But there have been cases where the puncture itself caused malignancy. Don't touch it while it's quiet.
– This is true. But it's up to you.
– I am against puncture. We wait.
And she began to observe herself, palpating herself weekly, listening to see if there was any pain.
Although the main part of my attention was simply directed to work, my husband and other things, which, against the background of a terrible lump of meat, looked brighter, more colorful, lighter, and I even fell in love with work.
My colleague advised me to switch to water.
Do you know what this is?
This is when you replace all drinks with water, absolutely. Well, except for the soup. Juices, tea, coffee, lemonades. I still drank fresh juices in small quantities and without sugar. And so yes, I started drinking exclusively ash-two-o.
This caused lymphodynamics and cleansing of the body from toxins. My tumor has shrunk. Is it true.
The process started so well that when I gave up everything to hell three months later and returned to coffee, it continued to decrease.
Now I’m thirty-two, and ultrasound shows no fibroadenoma. No, and upon palpation, I am sure that this disgusting thing has disappeared.
So remember that the doctor is a very erudite person, but the decision is always yours.
You can use the doctor wisely, namely, ask him to enlighten you to the maximum, or change the doctor if he is silent like a partisan.
Where did the second small tumor come from? – you ask – After all, you swore not to suffer anymore because of guys?
You're right. It's because of a man, a husband. This will be discussed later in the following chapters. We were on the verge of divorce.
But the truth remained the truth. It has never been so powerful that taking Corvalol has never happened again. You see, the tumor turned out to be three times smaller.
Identical triangles: big stress – big tumor, little stress – small tumor.
I smile and shrug my shoulders.
You know, let's do a test. “How to assess whether you are stressed or not”
First: Do you fall asleep easily? If it’s difficult, then it’s a big one. If you don't fall asleep, it's gigantic.
Secondly: How many times a day do you cry or want to cry? Several times – big, constantly – huge.
Thirdly: Do you take any substances: smoke, alcohol, Corvalol, antidepressants, other drugs. I just lit a cigarette – a lot of stress. Yes (some or all of this) – stop urgently, because even if you don’t care now, you won’t care later.
Well, that’s it, actually. These are my criteria for the two cases I told you about.
Now I sometimes laugh at the problems of those times. I am one hundred percent sure that I am happy on my own, and not because there is someone next to me. You know, I wish everyone independent happiness.
This is when you love a person two hundred percent, but you understand that if he leaves, or you, if something happens to your relationship, then you will be alive and capable of happiness to no less extent than now.
Yes, you will cry, but maybe once, well, twice, and that’s it. You will even remain friends and help each other in the future. That would be the height of greatness.
Have I seen such a separation? Yeah. My good friends, a young couple, divorced after ten years of marriage, but remained business partners, he came to her in the evenings for dinner, she shared her most intimate things, as with a friend.
– What, really without sex?
– Yes, that’s why we broke up. They no longer wanted each other, did not want to have children, they just became very close. They helped each other grow. We started with a shuttle business in our tiny apartment, keeping bags of provisions right at home. And now they have a company with a factory. There are leather chairs in the office and they have worked hard on their own goals, growing as individuals within the marriage.
Did I assume that there would be betrayal? You know, a woman wouldn’t be a woman if she weren’t tempted to find out how everything really is. But at the very moment when they were getting divorced, my relationship with my husband was collapsing, so I was not interested. This is rather an exception to the rule.
Although I am sure that there was no betrayal. The guys could already confess everything to each other, which means they simply have nothing to do with it.
So, a lesson about fibroadenoma. Take care of yourself. Don't sweat the small stuff. Do not take antidepressants or other harsh substances if the situation is severe. And may you have a friend who will listen and understand.
Don't forget, you can write to me.
Well, let's move on.
"The man is twelve years older"
A new chapter of my book, this is a new chapter of my life. And it’s harder to view it from the same ironic angle as youth. But still, may my husband forgive me, I will try to speak as it is, without tinsel and unicorns.
Let me start with the fact that in my fourth year I was on the verge of expulsion. Is it true. At the end of the third, I failed Pathophysiology, and in response to my tears, I was allowed to retake the exam in September.
In the fall, I came to my senses, passed the test and then moved into battle as a good student. There were no absenteeism, no grades, no grades, no failures. I got a job and stopped looking for a boyfriend.
Girls, I finally stopped. She lost weight, pumped up, tanned, glowed both externally and internally.
There were still rare breaks, but they were so well-mannered that I would call it petty stupidity rather than a break.
One day there was a guy lying next to me that I really liked, but he just listened to how I worried about life, admired the beauty and let me fall asleep instead of taking advantage of the situation. When I woke up later, my friend had already seen the guys off and admired my progress in curbing male egoism.
– You didn’t have anything?
– We didn't even take off our clothes.
– Have you even kissed?
– No. He was lying nearby. And his only touch was a gentle lifting of a curl from his face behind his ear. – I smile slyly.
– Wow. You're making progress. I didn't succeed.
By the New Year I was already a different person. Confident, purposeful, shoulders back, chin to the sky, the gait of a brave man.
No guys, no alcohol, no cigarettes, no junk food and no soul-searching.
One day, returning from school, I wanted something unusual. I went on a social network to look for advertisements for small earnings. And I came across a photo shoot for the cover of a business magazine. No payment was offered, but the feeling of one’s own unsurpassability was comforting. I immediately called and went to the “casting”
The art director of this event, of course, cheated in order to force the girls to try and not pay for the work. But I didn’t mind, I wanted non-standard entertainment and a little self-affirmation.
In the then popular club "Territory", empty of visitors, there were only twenty blonde girls, the same art director and cover star – a gray-haired unpleasant man.
I, along with four other models, were placed next to him, the rest were placed on the edges. I looked at this man with the thought: “It’s so important to be likeable when you work in the business world. And how important it is to have a pleasant appearance if you are in show business.”
I considered myself part of the show, because what was it at that moment, if not window dressing. An elderly plump man among young blondes in swimsuits and stiletto heels.
The girls and I chatted happily in the locker room, when it was all over, we were given a contact where we could contact and receive our magazine as a souvenir. I left happy and a little smarter than when I arrived.
After some time, the same art director came to the massage parlor (where I worked), I recognized her. Not the nicest girl, but at least I received my magazine before the others.
Unfortunately, she liked the way I lathered… oh, sorry, lathered her neck: she sent her boss (part-time husband) to me.
Can you imagine my bewilderment and awkwardness when, under my arms on the massage table, lay that same gray-haired, large man with all his folds who wanted to be massaged.
My fragile little hands tried their best. I almost jumped next to her to apply enough effort. That's why Thai girls sit on top of you, they're just trying not to jump.
Do you think I talk so much about this man because he is the one? Am I hinting to you that I took a man away from the family with my attempts that vaguely resemble a massage?
Oh no. Fortunately, no. This sexually mature (or rather elderly) bear turned out to be just a point on the way to meeting my husband. An important point. So fat and sharp.
He left, to put it mildly, dissatisfied. Silently, without thanks and fireworks.
Confused, I was left wondering why on this day it wasn’t Zhanna, our mastodon specialist with hands born to knead the dough of large men.
So what happened next?
On January 3rd, two thousand and eleven, I went to a nightclub alone because I really wanted to, but my friends refused at the very last moment and generally bothered me. This doesn't usually happen. You are right, for me it was a non-standard situation. I am the life of the party. The outrage knew no bounds. However, that didn't stop me from going to the club. At that time I knew a lot of partygoers, DJs in the end, and hoped to find some friendly company right there.
And yes, it was the first time that I was so independent of my friends, of the situation, confident in myself, to go alone to a night event in a city of three hundred thousand on New Year’s holidays.
The very fact of this already indicated that I had changed a lot. I think this is an important moment in a woman's life if she wants to achieve her goals. My goal was to find a real man, strong, smart, handsome, generous, successful, faithful, self-sufficient.
Until now I have not met such people.
And that night I finally found my… destiny? No, I don't believe in divine decree. I met my goal, what I was striving for and for which I grew above myself.
In another popular establishment in those days under the name “Contact”, consonant with the fashionable social network, I, as expected, met my acquaintances. We drank, danced, and then I saw a very bright man in the crowd.
The wine-colored shirt with the button undone on the chest told me this was a hot man. And his relaxed movements on the dance floor convinced him that he was definitely brave and much more confident in himself than everyone else present here.
This means that either he has lost his head, or he is rich and can afford to play around as he wants.
I took the kind expression on his face as a safe sign, the guy is not hiding anything.
And then I saw with him, you know who? That same art director. Without hesitation, my legs carried me to her.
– Hello. Do you remember me?
– Yes. – after a pause, my rather drunk “friend” answered.
– Happy New Year! Glad to see you there!
– Me too! Happy New Year! – the drunken girl was sincerely delighted at my presence – This is my brother Vladislav.
– Nice to meet you.
I went to see my friends, but a minute later Agnes caught up.
– Stop, come to the next photo shoot, there will be a cooler magazine and a small fee. In general, let's go to my table, I'll treat you.
Girls, of course I agreed. There was no doubt about it. My thoughts were purely predatory. It was impossible to miss the moment and not pick up this guy.
– You know, just don’t fall for Vladislav. “He’s a womanizer,” Agnes whispered.
Shock. Pause. Rounded eyes. And again the imperturbable look.
– Don't worry, I'm a grown girl.
Do you know what it was? Manipulation. As I found out later, they are not related at all, and Agnes was looking for a good girl for him. Did I sense a catch then? Undoubtedly. Women feel this way. It is men who do not know how to distinguish women’s cunning, unless they are taught by experience. And women know the full power of the deceit of their fellow tribesmen.
But I didn’t care, it became even more interesting. And I went to dance a slow dance with him. Everything is very easy and without hints of sex. I tried to move at ease, didn’t lead in any way, I’m a girl, I let him completely control the dance, and I won.
As I found out later, it was my obedience that won him over. This is a woman’s trick, to give a man what he wants, power.
I didn’t lose my power and self-sufficiency at all, I just hid it away for a while until he fell in love.
That's why we needed a meeting with Agnes on the set, then a second one in the salon. By gaining the necessary connections and acquaintances, you find what you want.
Would I then be able to conquer Vladislav without chatting with his girlfriend that evening? Unlikely. At the club there was my good friend Nina, a petite blonde half-dancer, whom, as my husband later told me, he was going to pick up.
You see how important initiative and the ability to present oneself are in such matters.
That night I was still scared, how would such an uninhibited thirty-year-old man with a ponytail like a simple, poor student? For the first time in a long time, I climbed deep inside myself and asked: “What will happen if he doesn’t call? Or will he leave you after some time?”
“Then I’ll just forget about him now and let him decide for himself.”
We returned home with a friend, her husband and her husband’s friend. Our yards were two hundred meters from each other. Coming out of the taxi, without recognizing myself, I kissed a guy to whom I had not even given any hints. He was taken aback, but did not resist. The friend and her husband stood in no less shock. And I just cheerfully waved my hand at them and ran home.
Why was this necessary? To stop panicking. The desire to maintain independence.
The next day Vladislav called and invited me to dinner. We talked for hours, he found out in detail my worldview, goals, thoughts. This is how men who want a serious relationship behave, and not just sex for one night.
Now I’ll tell you another funny situation.
On the morning of the fourth, I trudged to work in a terrible state without makeup and with a headache.
And suddenly he calls at lunch and says that he will pick me up after work.
– I can't
– Why.
– I'm not ready to go out. I'm without makeup, you won't recognize me.
– It's not a problem.
– I feel sick, I drank too much yesterday, after work I’ll go home to sleep.
– You just need to go eat hot soup to reduce intoxication.
– (…pause)
– All. I decided. I'll pick you up at six.
He hung up, and I was in horror going through pictures in my head of how I could look at least passable by six.
In due time, having overcome embarrassment, I decided “it’s hit or miss” and proudly got into the taxi.
And you know, there were basically no ratings or comments. My gentleman turned out to be a gentleman. He fed me soup with asparagus, told me some cosmic ideas at that time about his dreams, tasks, goals, business, family. I even forgot for a moment that this was a first date. It seemed like we had known each other forever. And this was just the effect of Vladislav’s use of Alex Leslie’s pickup techniques.
I naively assumed that we were close, and he was simply actively creating the illusion of this.
But I am grateful at least for the fact that there was nothing between us that day. And the next morning he announced that he was flying away.
– How? Where?
– To Krasnodar, my daughter lives there.
– You are married?
– We are divorced, but my parents, daughter and I are generally from there.
– Wow. Are you planning to return?
– Yes, in ten days, probably.
– Maybe?
– Okay, don't make a scene. Better give me a massage.
He came as a client, paid for himself and I silently did everything like a professional. No intimate hints, complete medical relaxation.
– Well, are you offended?
– No, everything is okay. – we girls sometimes speak in such a way as not to offend our opponent, but we ourselves cannot feel comfortable, because we really were offended.
– OK. As soon as I arrive, I will inform you about my decision, whether and when I will return. Fine?
He kissed me and left.
What was all this? How is this possible? Why the hell did I get caught?
I wanted to scream, get angry, rage, hate him, but I couldn’t. There was too good a man in my life to just give up.
On this, my dears, I will interrupt my romance. Let's take a break. Drink tea, eat something delicious.
In the meantime, I'll ask a few questions:
– Are you happy?
– Have you found yourself yet? What is your core that will keep you going in a difficult situation regardless of others?
– What is your goal/dream?
I will refrain from judging. You know everything yourself. There is only one solution, make the answers to the questions positive. Just don’t do it headlong, otherwise coaches and motivational trainers will get rich very quickly. The task: to find yourself, not them.
I smile from ear to ear. Do you know how much money I gave to all sorts of guys to pump up their fighting spirit?
A couple of million rubles, for sure. Fortunately, ninety percent of them turned out to be the right decision. But at ten I was ambushed.
Therefore, first find your guru, test it, then trust.
Well, let's move on.
A day later, when I was approaching work (as I remember now, it was a sunny, frosty morning), I was filled with resentment from within. “Well, call, write, let me know about your decision.”
"Hello. How are you. I will return to Petrozavodsk."
"Oh, thank God." This SMS then made me the happiest in the world. “He will come back and we can become a couple. A real serious relationship."
It’s so exciting, everything is for the first time, everything is new, fresh and at your fingertips. Remember your first real feeling that ended well. What kind of emotions were these?
Why don't you ask about panties? Forgot the first chapters? Okay, okay, I forgive you. It was I who led you into romance.
Yes, I don't remember anything like that. Not because this didn’t happen, but because then we had a platonic relationship. Sheer romance. Not the naive one, like Romeo and Juliet, but an adult, stern, but romantic. We were drawn to each other with thoughts, ideas, hearts, and not genitals.
Later, this criterion of falling in love was also added. At least, later I realized it and remembered it. And in the first couple of weeks there were only love letters, calls, everything was very decorous and well-mannered. He was thirty-four, I was twenty-three. Love began twelve years apart.
I thought about my man constantly: at breakfast, in conversations with friends, at work with colleagues, with classmates, with my sister and mother, with myself.
It was an obsession.
But I still checked something in myself. Doubting whether I could be a good match for Vladislav, I agreed to a date with a handsome young guy from a social network in a black jeep.
We went to a cafe, tried to find common topics, kissed goodbye, and I finally realized that this was not my thing. I can’t think about anyone else except my Krasnodar boyfriend. I don't need anyone else. That's when I stopped searching. Nine years have passed since then, and this was really the last kiss with another man besides Vladislav.
Each of you who has been married and faithful for a long time can remember such a moment. Interesting, isn't it? Unless, of course, your husband is not the first man in your life.
I don't want to kiss any of my exes again. Moreover, I hate to even imagine it. Remember “legs…, ugh!” from What Men Talk About?
It's about the same. We women are very picky for the most part.
There are exceptions, but they are fewer.
My classmate Rimma confidently stated that she likes the smell of male sweat, so strong that.
Or, now I’ll tell you an unpleasant thing, my friend liked the smell of men’s pussy, you know, that tart, bitter hormonal scent. I understand that some people gag. Be patient.
I had a friend, married, she liked (Lord, how can I say this, okay, I’ll say it straight) to swallow. Well, she loved her husband for the taste. I told her: “Hold your horses, you might end up with protein poisoning,” and at least give her a damn.
No one has yet clearly defined the term “perversion.” For some, the frames are as narrow as the eye of a needle, but for others, an entire display case is not enough to fit it into the frame.