Elasticity
Poor Me
I know it’s terrible of me to make this joke, but I keep telling people that cancer is the best thing I have going for me right now. Out of all the things to go well, I’m glad it’s that. But the rest of the world either doesn’t know or doesn’t care that I’m still going through cancer; it still manages to slap me across the face.
Not that I enjoy vague-writing, but it’s important to me that I’m honest about what I’m going through. And life doesn’t stop with a cancer diagnosis.
I’ll admit to breaking down a few times this month. I can feel my nerves being stretched thin. I wonder about how much more I can take, as I explained to my therapist. She gave me some tough love, which is why I keep going to her. 😉 I’ll get through this just like I’ve gotten through everything else. But I always wonder why nothing has ever come easy.
Those have been my “poor me” moments since surgery. I’m doing the things I need to do to keep those thoughts in check, which is how I keep going.
“I could never be so strong”
I’ve been hearing this an awful lot. It always makes me laugh because I think that most of you would do what you needed to do, just like I am.
Cancer has been a fear of mine for a long time (I bruise really easily so I always thought it was cancer!). In my mind, I would NEVER be able to get past chemo. Puking is an unreasonable fear of mine. And yet, it’s the first thing I had to fucking face. But it meant life as opposed to a short one, so I was particularly motivated to get through it.
I think a lot of moms experience this type of drive when their kids are going through stuff. Parenthood is fucking hard, but we get through all those sleepless nights and month-long illnesses…
But I will say – now note this, because I believe this is the first compliment I’ve given myself, especially publicly – that if I seem more upbeat than most, it’s because of two things (IMO, that is):
- I did what my doctors and nurses said/suggested
- My mental health history
#1 makes sense, but let me explain #2.
I’ve been tackling mental health issues since elementary school. I’ve seen therapists and taken medications; I have put in the work, year after year, for decades. It has not been easy but it has been worthwhile, and that’s before I had cancer.
Linds & I kept joking at the beginning of this chapter that I’ve been preparing my whole life to get cancer. ???? Even my doctors asked me how/why I was so cheerful and/or calm (depending on the situation) – I credit all that therapy (and meds!).
I’ve already been strong.
I wish I always remembered that, but I do not. Luckily, my friends and therapist remind me. 🙂
Healing
I complained about itching – turns out that was just my skin stretching. I think it’s now done with all the stretch-markings. There isn’t too much “damage.” It’s mostly about getting used to the feeling and doing physical therapy to get it to its new normal. All that skin has to accommodate new movements. There was twinging at first, but for the most part, I have all the mobility back! I am still unable to life anything over 10 lbs. – that is a different stretching feeling.
The scarring looks great. The bruising is gone. It took a while for all that skin to adjust – especially under the arms. The incisions (which look like underwires on a bra) go up into my armpit. And I have some underarm skin/fat that didn’t get removed (it’s not part of the breasts), so they had to learn how to lay. I ended up wearing chest compression for longer than I needed to because it helped with that weird feeling. I don’t really know how to explain it other than it feels foreign.
The numbness from the surgical injection is gone, but I have little feeling in that area – basically, where my breasts were and then a little on the sides, under the armpits. Not sure if I’ll ever get feeling back. It’s kinda like the c-section scar, for those who have had one. I don’t really notice it unless it gets bumped, so sometimes I forget my boobs have gone the way of the unicorn. 😉
I notice it more when I’m looking at myself. It looks different so it must feel different. There’s some mind-game to this, too, I guess. I’ll get there. Every day feels a little bit better! It’s just a lot of adjusting.
Embracing Change
Funny enough, it’s kinda hard to tell that I don’t have breasts! It isn’t as noticeable as I’d imagined. This is excellent news.
The bad news was delivered to me by my children: “mommy, you have a fat belly.” Gee, thanks! I asked them if they thought that made me feel good…the answer is no, btw.
So that’s what sticks out now, but I’m trying not to worry or think about that. I’ve just been through some shit, why would I complain about my body? It did its job.
I’ve always been a t-shirt kinda gal, so most of my wardrobe works with my new body. Also, I discovered that there’s a Facebook group dedicated to “flat fashion,” which I’m excited to explore. Not that I’m looking for fashion advice, but I feel comforted by a large group of folks who are all flat!
Radiation
I head down to Mayo tomorrow – solo. The appointment starts late enough I’m not headed down the night before. It’s my “radiation simulation” day. There are FOUR appointments on my calendar. Two appeared a week ago. I’m not sure what they all are for yet. All I know is that they’ll be positioning the proton beams. I assume I’ll get the little dot tattoos for the positioning…but that’s it.
April 4th is my start date. I’m hoping to stay at the free cancer apartment, but I have yet to solidify that. More items for my task list.
I am excited that I’m getting to the end of treatment, but I also know it’s going to be a slow five weeks. I’m hoping I can get through it like I did chemo.
