I’m actually starting to feel normal again…my brand of normal. I listened to my doctors and rested for the most part. Over the last few weeks, I gradually started doing housework, cooking, getting organized, primping myself with mani/pedi’s, and have completed a week at the office. I’ve been exercising for a week via DVD’s from my vast exercise DVD collection. The desire to do more things has been a sign that I’m getting better…stronger. It’s been 4 weeks post breast reconstruction and I am healing beautifully. I have to admit that I am beyond pleased with the results…stitches and all. My breast cancer is Stage 1 and I’ve gotten test results indicating that chemotherapy would not impact my survival rate very much. Therefore, I will not take part in that treatment. I’ve since met with the radiology oncologist and had a CT scan last Monday. It’s just a matter of days before I get a call to discuss my treatment plan which will determine how many radiation sessions I will receive. After radiation, there’s a minimum 5 years of hormone therapy since my cancer is responsive to estrogen and progesterone. I’m anticipating living at least 30-40 years once all of my treatment is over. To think that three months ago, I wasn’t even thinking about my life expectancy. I couldn’t be at a better place considering the circumstances.
I intended to write a sarcastic comment about how all of this has been a breeze, but who am I kidding? I don’t want to bring anyone, or myself, down for that matter, but I want to tell the truth. My strategy has been to do what I have to do to get better. Period. It hasn’t been a traumatic experience, but it certainly hasn’t been easy. After the first surgery, I thought “this wasn’t so bad”. A few days later, I began dreading the second surgery (scheduled a week later), and rightly so, because that was the more intensive one of the two. Post op, I felt like Frankenstein because of the drainage tubes sticking out of my body for a full week. My husband emptied the tubes for me every day, twice a day, helped me take a shower, gauzed up my breasts daily, opened my pill bottles, uncapped the pen (amazing what strength you lose after surgery) so I could log the fluid amount, brought me food, etc…all because I could not. The anxiety of waiting on test results, especially those that take 2 weeks to get back, can be overwhelming. There were forced adjustments such as sleeping on my back, dealing with the pain and discomfort, not being able to shower for a period, logging the fluid from the drains, having to expose my breasts at every appointment (still doing this), and not being able to exercise (my preferred form of therapy). This is the reality.
The reality is also that I received a flood of support from my family, friends, coworkers, and acquaintances. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m on a few prayer lists. People who I don’t know personally, yet know me through my family (i.e., my mom) have sent kind words. In an age where texts can be impersonal, I’ve appreciated them all because it means that someone has been thinking about me. I received a lot of texts. Even a text requires some level of effort, and honestly, at times, I didn’t want to speak to anyone anyway because talking made me tired. The calls and visits to my home with food have been a blessing. One dear friend from Chicago surprised me with a visit. Another dear friend sent me some coping tools.
I’m thankful that my children have witnessed people being kind and personal in a world where it doesn’t seem like such people exists. My doctors and medical team have been wonderful as they’ve eased my mind so many times. I appreciate their expertise and care. When I worked as a mental health rehabilitation specialist, I thought about how my client’s lives were in my hands (figuratively speaking) and I didn’t take that lightly. I do believe that my medical team has the utmost respect for my life and are vested in improving it so that I can have the best prognosis.
I’ve been told that I look great, whole, and healed. I’ve been told that I don’t even look like what I’ve been through. Sometimes, I can’t believe that I have cancer. I’m usually focused on plugging through my day, yet every now and again, the thought hits me that I have this disease, or I think about my children’s risk, and tears stroll down my face. For the most part, I feel great physically, mentally, and spiritually, albeit a little tired since going back to work. I don’t want to let how I look get to my head. I think the way to get through something as life changing as this is to: 1) take things day by day; 2) be open to receive the love that people (even 1 person) are so eager to share; and 3) to listen to your body.
I’ve had people remind me to take things one day at a time and I needed to hear it. Overachievers like me have issues that can impair progress. Also, if it were not for me being vulnerable enough to share my diagnosis, I would not have had so many people expressing their concern, love and support. As I’ve indicated before, 10-15 years ago, my pride would have prevented me from being so open, but I’ve grown since then. One of my coworkers wrote in a card to me to let the love that others have for me carry me through this journey. That resonated with me so much and I followed her advise. I do understand that some people are private, but I still recommend entrusting a select few with what you’re going through. God puts people in your path for a reason. And listening to your body is so key. I have overdone it at times. For example, yesterday I did 2 tracks on my exercise DVD instead of one. At the time, I felt energized and thought that I could do more. I should have known better since I didn’t sleep well the night before, but as I indicated, overachievers like me have issues. As the day went on, I started to feel it in my hips, and therefore, we decided not to go to the Austin Trail of Lights because I didn’t think I could do the walking required.
Something so fascinating about sharing that I have breast cancer is that I’ve discovered that there are so many people who have cancer. When you share, you give others permission to share. I think the prevalence of cancer is an epidemic. I don’t know…that’s for another post, but what I do know is that people…people you may know are going through all kinds of challenges. It’s not easy to judge a book by its cover. My face is of a person who has breast cancer and although it has made a significant presence in my life at this moment in time, it’s doesn’t define me. It hasn’t taken away my joy. It’s not who I am. However, it has certainly taught me some things that will ultimately make me a better, kinder, more loving and thoughtful person.