Three years ago today I was told I had a duck. Okay, well actually I was told I had breast cancer. Well, no, I was told both things.
In the days leading up to the actual diagnosis, one goes through many tests (and sleepless nights). And then one waits a few days (and sleepless nights) for the test results. So I took plenty of opportunities to ask my doctor "so you think this is cancer?" You know, pushing for an early diagnosis because I'm an over-achiever. And Dr. Good Karma kindly and patiently said each and every time, "it walks like a duck and talks like a duck so for now we're going to treat it like a duck." (Keep in mind he has a bit of an accent.)
When he had the test results in hand he called and said "I'm sorry. It is what we thought it was." And I said,
"So it's a duck?" He said, "Close. It's invasive ductal carcinoma."
Get it? Duct-al? Duck? Yeah, we can laugh now. (And I actually did laugh then.) That however was three long years ago. The cancer is long, long gone (hold on for that anniversary...January 28th...which is when my right breast had the "divot extraction" ). And I'm doing....just ducky. (Oh come on, you knew that was coming!)