I can't believe I have breast cancer. It's been one of those days. I've been saying this to myself off and on all day. Tonight I was wrapped up in Tony's arms crying and said, "I don't want this to be me." I wouldn't wish it on anybody else, but I don't want it to be me.
On Monday I heard from my plastic surgeon's office that my surgery had been scheduled for next Wednesday, February 2nd. Thank goodness! We have been waiting to hear this news. We couldn't wait to have surgery scheduled so we could see the end of this side of breast cancer. I was so relieved to know my surgery date and at the same time felt like I was going to throw up. Anxiety has set in and I expect will become a little more everyday until next Wednesday. I am feeling very comfortable with my decision to have a bilateral mastectomy, but having a date scheduled for surgery makes it very, very real.
I was thinking today while I was driving around enjoying my happy place latte that I have never had a big surgery and here I am getting ready to have huge surgery. This isn't your everyday make an incision, fix something up and sew you back up kind of surgery. This is cut you open, throw away that piece, remove all of that and throw it away and then shove something foreign in its place to fill it back up. Oh, yeah and come back three months later to add a couple more parts and then stop back in for a little ink. This is huge surgery that I have not choice, but to be ready for. I am kind of feeling like my body is going to be defaced and pieced back together. Frankenstein boobs that will hopefully turn into pretty ones when all the reconstruction and healing are done.
I have two things going on in my head. Glass half empty . . . I have a sense of dread about the other side. I don't want to see my breasts after surgery or the following 12 weeks. I'm seriously going to try my best not to make eye contact with my new girls post-surgery. I don't want to see them unfinished and not pretty as they heal. I'm afraid of choosing implants that are going to be too big for my comfort even though I am not trying to go big at all. Glass half full . . . I am trying so hard to be okay with how my body is going to be. Afterall, there is nothing I can do about it. I have no choice (cancer does that, takes away your choices), but to make it my new normal, my new me. I am getting a "free" boob job on my insurance and that is making good use of those insurance premiums! Most importantly I will be cancer free. I'm trying hard to hang out in this part of my brain. My head and heart wants to be okay with this. I don't want to dwell on this afterwards. My goal is to move forward.
Moving forward. Having surgery is going to allow me to do this. Right now I am in a holding pattern, there is nowhere to go. I was given a surgery date and all of a sudden I could see the lights on the runway leading me to the end of the first leg of this little cancer flight. A little layover in the hospital and then catch my flight to my cancer free destination. I'm so ready to be there. I was there before but truly didn't appreciate it. I never thought that I would be a statistic, 1 in 200,000 women that get breast cancer every year. I guess most people don't appreciate being cancer free until they no longer are cancer free and have to fight their way back. I am thankful everyday that my fight is going to be shorter and "easier" than fights that many others have fought, but it is still a tough fight. It is still cancer and I am tired of hearing medical professionals say, "Oh, you have the good kind of cancer." Really?! Is there really a good kind of cancer? I think that is the stupidest thing I have heard in the past seven weeks. And what is stupid that I have heard it more than once. "Oh, you have the good kind of winter boots." Not stupid. "Oh, you have the good kind of perfume." Not Stupid. "Oh, you have the good kind of cancer." Stupid. You get it. That statement doesn't make me feel any better about losing my breasts to this evil disease. It takes a lot from you no matter what kind of breast cancer you have. It leaves you to pick up the pieces to start building yourself back up. Physically and metally. But, I'm guessing on the otherside is a stronger and better me. I know I can build myself up. It is going to take patience and time. Time I have, patience no so much, but I will learn! I have amazing support and people that are willing to help me build myself up, encourage me and pick me up when I have a bad day. I don't know what people do that don't have a strong support system. It saddens me to think about that because I couldn't have done this without my friends and family behind me. I'm truly blessed and hope that everybody that is faced with cancer finds one person to support them and hold their hand when they need it. Just one person can make a difference. Thank you everybody for making a difference in my life!
Enjoy one of my recent messages from a friend. It made me laugh and I love anything that makes me laugh. :-)
"For what it is worth. February 2 is a strong mojo day. Not only is it ground hog day, but it is also the anniversary of my divorce which is a sacred day in our house. This year I bequeath you all of my 2/2 good mojo so don't be surprised if you are a bit light headed as a result. You can also borrow what ever strength you may need from me."
I know that you are strong and will make it through this hard long process. I have seen all the crossfit work you have done and am very impressed with your courage, strength and drive to compete in the crossfit events. I hope and pray all goes well for you. You have a very supportive family and friends to help you through all of this. Take care and we will be thinking of you.
ReplyDeleteThinking of you today, Trina. I'm sending nothing but good thoughts to you. I just wanna reach through and give you a squeeze! Stand strong, my friend.
ReplyDeleteThank you for reminding me to be grateful, I can be pretty hard on my body. Instead of resentment I want to focus only on what it does that is amazing! I hope you have a peaceful day today! Loves ya bunches!
ReplyDeleteAngie, your body is amazing and you should be grateful! That body of yours is growing another person! :) That is the coolest thing us ladies get to do with our bodies. I love you and thank you for your wonderful friendship!
ReplyDeleteTrina~
ReplyDeleteIv'e been following your blog for awhile, mostly cause your best, and family ;) I am truely shocked about current battle with breast cancer, but from all i know about you and what ive read, you are a stong momma, and cancer has picked the wrong person do rumble with. I just want you to know that our family is thinking of you all the time. Good luck on the 2nd, talk to you soon.
alison
"Weebles wobble but they don't fall down." Cultivate your weeble mentality, Trina, 'cuz nothing's gonna keep you down!
ReplyDeleteI agree that "good kind of cancer" is stupid. But I'm sure they have to give so much bad news that when they see someone who is going to survive and thrive, for "them," it is a good thing. I think people in these fields who see suffering and struggling - they forget that it's a whole new experience for the rest of us, one we wouldn't choose. They've seen the worst. So it's a seemingly insensitive comment meant to comfort themselves more than you, would be my guess. (My perspective is of one whose seen a lot of different funerals. When a 15-year-old dies, it's different than a 93-year-old. But the family of the 93-year-old is no less sad. You can't minimize that.)
ReplyDeletePlease, please oh please let us know if you need anything. If we can help you or Tony in anyway...it would be blessing to us.