For the past several months or so I have been changing my words around. I don't say things are too hard or that I can't do this or that. I have decided to use the words challenge. Things are challenging, this is a challenge for me. I was challenged to do that. It has really helped in creating a different thought process for me. I am hoping it is helping my kids to understand too, that NOTHING in life is "TOO hard". My mom (by the way) hated when we would say "I can't do...". She would come back with the comment that "Well, I'm BLIND and if I can do it, you can. If I wasn't blind I would be using my hands right now to keep busy. You kids can do anything you want put your mind to" I smile thinking of that little comment.
So here I am. A week or so ago, I noticed a scab on one of my incisions. "Ah it's nothing." "A scab means it's healing". Then another and a small leak. Ah, I don't want to call my doctor, I missed my last appointment, I've forgotten to make another, I don't waaaaaaaant to go back. Then my breast gets red and kinda warm. I show Bill. "Make the appointment." I call and tell my nurse what's going on. She tells me to come in first thing in the morning.
"It's angry and needs some antibiotics to calm it down. The entire drive back to Wasilla I am woozy, feverish, and so very tired. When I get home I tell the kids I'm super sick and head straight to bed. I'm there all day and all night. The next morning I wake with the fever still hovering. I call Bill at work and call my doctor. At some point Bill hangs up with me and the next thing I know he's at home with me ready to take me to the E.R. in Anchorage. I'm walking around trying to figure out what I'm going to need. Will they admit me? Will they send me home? Do I need slippers? Do I take a puzzle book? I just want to crawl back into bed. I look up at Bill and the tears roll out of my eyes. "I don't want to go". "You HAVE to go". "My kids..." "They will be fine."
Less than an hour later and we are pulling up to the hospital. "Great, I have to sit in a waiting room".
I'm soon lead back to an examining room, where I tell my shortest version of my diagnosis to no less than 2 people. (All the time praying they take this information, go home to their wives and someone checks their own breasts that night.) As I listen to myself, I notice, part of my story includes that the night I found my first lump was date night. Today is kind of a date. We are alone in this room, talking, albeit, I feel hot and shivery, nausous and anxious and REALLY tired! After some time I see my oncologist, my plastic surgeon, a radiologist, a phlebotimist and a nurse. I'm moved to a room upstairs.
I spend the rest of the late afternoon and evening getting re-adjusted. Bill is on the phone with family. My first antibiotic treatment along with fluids are pumped in. I eat. Bill bring me nachos and I miss my kids. I send him home to them, I can't stand the thought of them home any later than it is already getting.
Sometime in the middle of the night my 2nd treatment is given.
I awake feeling better, but now this amazing headache. My doctor comes in and tells me, the breast is looking much better and the antibiotic seems to be taking it's course. I can have food again and we'll continue another day and see what it looks like tomorrow. I seriously want to hug this woman everytime I see her. I drink two cups of coffee and my headache, not so amazing. More like gone!
I spend the day in and out of bed, much better and yet not ready to run anywhere. It's Saturday and I tell Bill to spend it with the kids. Not to worry about coming to see me. I take a short walk around the hospital and wonder what my mission is. Why am I here? I keep hearing "Rest. REST. I am with you. I am holding your hand. I am with you, rest."
I awake Sunday. Too my angel doctor standing over me, I hate to wake you, I just need to take a quick peek. "Oh much better, much, much better. This is good we'll continue and see about removing this implant cleaning the area out and putting in a new implant." Have I said I want to hug this woman????
Sunday. Church, I miss my church, I miss my peeps. I ask for a robe and head downstairs to search out a service. Catholic Mass. Hmmm, never been to Mass before. It's like church right? I walk in and sit in the back. I am nervous and tell someone I am Christian and have never been to Mass, can I still come? He says yes and just like the Father said a few weeks ago, Jesus said "All. Come ALL." I am all today. The service is beautiful, the message, just what I needed. About pausing for a moment and being close to the one who loves me, Jesus."
After Mass I head back up to my room. I'm doing fine. Haven't cried in like a whole 24 plus hours. I got this!! Go for another walk and low and behold Bill and the kids finally make it. I am ectactic, sheesh! This is what it's like to get visitors! What joy! Chatting and laughing, joking. It feels like the moments fly. Before too long, it is time for them to go. The tears flood, I cry, "Only a couple of days kiddos, only a couple of days." I know that spending my time here for a few days will result in more time at home with my family. I have chosen not to complain or to cry about going home. Yes, I want to, but this time is for me to REST and to lean into HIM, TRUST in HIM, TAKE COMFORT IN HIM." I am choosing that this time, sometimes, the unexpected is exactly what I need, I just didn't know it. Love you, love me, love you, love me.
Rhonda
