I was furious. Back in January, I said it was cancer in my skin—and I was right. Ten months. That’s how long it took for the system to catch up to what I already knew. Ten months of gaslighting. Of doubt. Of being brushed aside. My breast surgeon didn’t just miss it – she dismissed me. And MRIs weren’t an option because the only tissue expanders available in the US have magnets in them — which make MRIs impossible. When the truth finally came out, the breast cancer surgeon still had the nerve to pressure me into radiation! I played along just long enough to get that skin excised – fast. Then I fired here I never went back after the first post-op. She lost my trust the moment she ignored my voice.Then my original plastic surgeon dropped me. Just like that. Referred me out. Honestly? Good riddance bitch – to both of them. The new PS not only listened—he respected me. We scheduled a second tag-team mastectomy on my left breast with the wide skin incision to remove the ILC in my skin, this time on my terms. I doubled down. I added Ivermectin and every cancer-fighting supplement that was proven with studies to beat down breast cancer. Because no one gets to silence me. Ever.
I am not just surviving—I’m reclaiming everything they tried to take. My body. My voice. My power. My resolve is a wildfire. Still burning. Still mine.