By Tammy Gunn
Tammy Gunn, an original prairie girl, grew up in Saskatchewan and for the last decade plus has been a Zumba fitness instructor working with youth and people of all abilities in the Greater Toronto Area. She currently lives with her husband Nino and their toy schnauzer Senna. Tammy has two stepdaughters living out West that she loves like her own! Tammy has a gift for finding the humour in any situation, including a cancer diagnosis. Her passion is to share her personal journey and to be the trusted tour guide for all of life’s unpredictable adventures that get thrown our way.
Copies of her book Dancing Through Diagnosis – Navigating Breast Cancer; the good, bad, and surprisingly funny can be purchased through her website www.tammygunn.com
Chapter 1
Oh Hello—That’s New
July 7th, 2021
“Pour me a glass of wine. I will be right down. Just got to shower!” I holler while shutting down my laptop and running upstairs.
It was a Wednesday night and like every Wednesday night before it, during the pandemic I was teaching an online Zumba class followed by a yummy dinner with a glass of wine and a movie with my husband. Even through the pandemic I had continued to teach hot, sweaty, dance your heart out Zumba classes, albeit online. But still going strong five days a week!
After a decade plus of dancing five to six days a week easily doing anywhere from four to seven hours a day, I still cannot get enough! Not even a pandemic can stop me from shaking what my momma gave me!
Only this night would change the trajectory of everything; simply by toweling off after a shower.
“What is that?” I said to myself... or maybe out loud. Probably out loud and it was more like “WTH?!”
As my towel brushed past the bottom of my right breast, I couldn’t help noticing that something didn’t feel right. Broken glass? It felt like broken glass. Is that possible? Could I have broken my boob? Can you break a boob?
My mind began to swirl toward real questions then to ones that were clearly insane and made no sense... and yet, I asked them out loud... to myself... in the mirror.
Is this one bigger than the left?
It’s not itchy... should it be itchy?
Will lotion smooth out those glassy edges?
Nope... what is that??
Quickly, I finished drying off and got dressed. My mind was still racing. In that moment, I KNEW something wasn’t right, but it couldn’t be what my brain was now racing at full speed ahead to... the C word. Noooooo.... I am way too young for that!
No, you’re not. Forty-four is not too young.
Thanks brain! You always know how to make a girl feel good and calm!
I ran downstairs to find my husband scrolling through Netflix looking for our movie of the night.
“Give me your hand!” I said as I ran toward him with great concern.
He gave me his hand and before he knew it, he was in full doctor mode (and not the fun kind) feeling my breast.
“Do you feel that?”
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
“I am not a doctor, Tammy. You should get that checked.”
“Right?! I should. That is not normal right?”
“I think you need to get it checked.” He repeated the words and continued to scroll through Netflix with his other hand.
I needed him to feel what I felt and confirm for me that I was not losing my mind. And that it needed to be checked, even though he had already said it twice. I felt like I couldn’t trust myself anymore because my brain was already hurtling me into a coffin by tomorrow.
I was at the beginning of a mental hurricane that whips its way through any rational thinking and had begun planning my funeral. Does this ever happen to you?
The brain takes over all common sense and suddenly you are making mental lists of who gets what when you die and wishing you hadn’t been so crazy when you were younger. Of wanting to take back so much of what you had done but, in all honesty, it got you to where you are today. And beside the broken boob and needing a doctor, you think your life has actually been pretty awesome. Just not at the moment because you still have a broken boob.... Please tell me I am not alone in this!
That night, I called and left a message for my doctor. The real one... The one who could help. Because with Google only a click away, I would be making my own full diagnosis if I couldn’t reach my REAL doctor soon!
The next day I did speak to my doctor, thankfully, because my brain was still on fast forward. And my doctor knows me well enough to know that if I am calling like this, I am in panic mode about something.
Yup, everything felt like it was moving at the speed of light and yet at a turtle’s speed to get answers!
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