Surgery

I just got the phone call, my surgery date has been set for July 9. While I'm glad to finally know when the actual date will be, I'm also very scared. For some reason, the reality of it never really sunk in...I kept telling everyone that I had been diagnosed with Cancer and they all grasped the concept well but I didn't. For some reason, it's always been like that. Whenever I've heard any disturbing news, I've gone into some sort of protective mode...I guess that's what they call shock.

I don't know why it always takes a while for things to really "sink in" for me, especially when they involve me. Now that I have the date it makes it very real to me. I just looked at the calendar and that means I only have 21 days left with my body in a whole state...to have my body with my "boobs." I can't imagine not having them. I mean, I was really angry when I started developing them when I was in my early teens. I was such a tom boy and only thought of them as nuisances that would get in the way as I played football with the neighborhood boys. As I grew older, I realized they were an asset. They certainly drew attention from the boys and although I wasn't large chested, I had enough to signify my femininity. When I started having my children, they were a necessity to breast feed them with but now, they are broken...sick...diseased.

Is it wrong to mourn the loss of body parts? Does it matter that they're not as noticeable as a lost arm or leg would be? No, I don't need my "boobs" to function in daily life, but they are part of me and I'm going to feel lost without them.

And what do they do with all the breasts that are removed in daily surgeries? I know the pathologists divide and mutilate and take tissue samples. They slide pieces and parts of them under microscope lenses and marvel at the complicated intricacies they find. But when they're through with them, where do those appendages go? Are they just thrown into a huge red bio hazard bin? I'm not trying to be morbid here really.

So I have 21 days to feel like a whole woman and then, I won't. That's being pretty cut and dry, I know but let's be honest here, none of you are reading my blog because of the exciting Breast Cancer stories I tell. There's nothing wonderful or exciting involved with Cancer of any kind. You're reading it because you care about me, because you know me now or have known me in the past. Or maybe it's because you know someone who knows me. Maybe it's because you have already been touched by Cancer in your life or the life of someone close to you and you understand how difficult the journey will be. Maybe you're just reading it because someone pointed you my way and you're curious and glad that it isn't you with the diagnosis of Cancer looming over you. You're probably reading this because you want to try to understand all of the insanity associated with Cancer. More than likely you really want to help but don't know what to say or do. You want to make sure I am not falling to pieces and that I am not defined by my Breast Cancer.

Don't worry about me, really. I'm not going to sugar coat this. I'm going to cut to the chase. I won't be feeling optimistic all the time. It's sad to say, but we are multidimensional and Cancer throws a huge monkey wrench into the lives of the ones it chooses. I may not always write from my head with careful consideration for the thoughts of others. I may not write from my heart with love and compassion and caring. I may just throw it out there and let the chips fall where they may....whatever I decide to do and however I decide to do it, I'll share with you but be forewarned - I'm learning to be brave through my own beautiful mistakes.

Am I nervous...no! I'm scared to death! I've had many surgeries before so I know how it goes...all the bloodwork and tests...all the forms to fill out...redundant questions...poking, proding...yeah. I've been there and done that. This time I'm older and wiser and no, I don't know what the days ahead will hold, but I do know that I have 21 days of normalcy before the insanity begins. I intend to savor every second of the next 21 days. I'll probably do a lot crying. I know I'll do a lot of praying. And after it's all said and done, I'm going to wear a new badge of courage and I'll join the many other women who are surviving not necessarily because they had to, but because they WANTED to! I really, really, really do want to live.

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