This is my first bad day since the surgery. I had successfullly stayed in a daze of denial until now. To give you an idea, it is 9:30 am and I am still in bed. Remember, I have children so staying here until 7:30 would have been a luxury. So, the sun was streaming in on me more than usual, and I gingerly stretched and opened my eyes, as if I was to see a beautiful ocean view. Instead, I saw my femininely-painted pink nails, resting on the special mastectomy camisole I slept in. When zipped, the camisole hides my drains and pads my chest, so I almost feel human. But I suppose I unzipped myself for comfort during the night, as my hand was resting comfortably on the zipper, between two enormous sets of hideous scars and staples. The scars look very much like those on Frankenstein’s head, to give you an idea. But they’re bloody and brown, with a rainbow of bruising surrounding them, instead of a pleasant green that he had.
I’m so down today and don’t know how to get through it. I suppose there’s no real way to “give up” now anyway. Even if I opted to kill myself I couldn’t, because I would look like this in my casket.
Alas, I will get through this too. Something good will come of it, right? I must outlive this cancer to know for certain that the generational mutation I have has been broken and my girls will not suffer from it. I can’t tell you how desperately I don’t want them to go through this. The testing is supposed to be a good thing, because there are things they can do to decrease their chances of the cancer. But, don’t you know, the recommendations are that they have prophylactic mastectomies and their ovaries removed as soon as they are done having children. I understand that as the best-case scenario there are worse things, but right now those are the very difficult realities that are nearly breaking me.
By the way, no pathology report yet but last week I don’t think I updated that my tumor markers came back great. A score of 0-40 is for normal people, and mine was 26.5. Amazing!
Romans 5:3-4, “Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perserverance; perserverance character; and character, hope.”
Excuse me while I go rejoice…