The first night coming home, I slept. I had somehow developed a rash, hives of sorts and the itching was and at times still is unnerving. I started taking anti-anxiety and benedryl. This combination makes the eyelids extremely heavy. Morning came and I attempted to walk out to the chicken coop and check on my gals. This didn't seem to ease any anxiety or bring any joy. I felt out of breath and when gasping could feel the drainage tubes in my chest. To add to this, I couldn't seem to hold any food down. I constantly felt nauseous and dizzy. This began my spiral downward. Thoughts stacked one on top of the other. "You won't be the same." "You've lost your beauty". "Nothing will be the same". "Nothing can make you happy anymore". and over and over. All I wanted to do was crawl back into bed. Silence the negative voices and let my body feel relaxed. I let sleep take over for most of the day and night.
Sunday came. I heard Bill and Elizabeth getting ready for church. I wanted to get up, I wanted a reason to get up and go, but I could find none. I was begining to not care. The anger was building. Why did this happen? Again? Why me? When? When would this end? When could I be done? When would I care. Did God still care? Did He still love me? Why did he allow this to happen? Why didn't He prevent it? I pulled the covers off the bed and found my way to the couch. Maybe if I got away from my bed I could pull myself out of this. I spent the morning watching TV. When Bill and Elizabeth got home, I only found myself angrier. I wanted to be left alone. I didn't want to feel. I think you can see where all this is going.
Monday morning I arose to my dad's voice in the living room. I could hear my Uncle Josh telling him, "Come-on, just go with me." I smiled. They reminded me of teenagers. I got up shortly thereafter, to find the house empty. "Good. This is good, I can do this," I told myself. I fell into my routines of coffee, picking a few things up and general stay-at-home-mom stuff. I was glad to have my kids back at school. They had each missed a few days for the last couple of weeks. When I feel especially ill (physically) I like to have one of them (or both) home to help me. I know, not the best thing for a mom to do, but the best of the situation.
Somewhere in those early days I heard a song, "It's not over yet". The words stuck with me to "everyone who's hit their limit... it's not over yet". I didn't want it to be over. I don't want to spend the rest of my life like this. So yesterday, I made the proclaimation. It's NOT OVER. I WILL MAKE IT THROUGH THIS!!!
Love you, love me, love you, love me!
Monday, October 31, 2016
Sunday, October 30, 2016
10.30.16 Amazing Grace
A song normally heard during a funeral I suppose. But for me, it's a song of rebirth. A rising from the ashes type of song (and I just heard it on the TV). Per my usual, it's very late and my mind refuses to shut down until I type the words running through my mind. I desperately don't want this to be a debbie downer post, but to get to the joy part, the overcoming part, the comfortable part, you have to go through the trials. And if you're reading this, you're going to go through this with me.
It started several weeks ago, another fever, more aches. I could feel this coming on. Another infection. At first I was determined to get this and get it over quick. Then I noticed something. I noticed little good-byes. I noticed I would admire myself in the mirror and say good-bye to these breasts, to this body. I looked lovingly at myself, her smile, her confidence, her outward beauty, and I felt a little sad, like I knew something was coming. I have blogged from the beginning, I knew I was in for a fight. Five years ago, I could feel a calling on my life to a challenge, a challenge to love, to give my all. I'm not saying I'm something special or that I'm proud of this. It's just something, like my story. We all have a story, and I had an idea I was in for another page in this story. Back to the infection, I knew something, somehow. I told Bill how I was feeling and it was decided that Thursday the 27th I would go in and see the doctor. I remember saying "If this is it, if it's another infection, I am done. I can't keep doing this. I want my new normal. I'm tired of not lifting things, not being able to reach, of scared of hurting myself every time I hug or drive or walk on the treadmill."
The wheels turned quickly as they sometimes do, once set in motion. I was sent to the E.R. and it was decided I would go in for surgery later that night. I woke from surgery crying, feeling like something was over, or someone had died. Someone had left me. Bill was there, I chatted on the phone with my dad. I had Bill text one of my closest friends. I told him to call the kids. Check, check, check, check. All there, all there. Then why did I feel as though someone DIED? Bill stayed with me until I had something to eat and reassured me, everything was okay, Kids, Friends, Sisters, Dad, Brother, beloved furry Tree Bear and even chickens all an hour's drive away. I fell asleep.
The next morning I woke, groggy and still feeling an internal pain. It would be 2:00P.M. before I could be released. Bill called and said he would be coming to get me. I slept off and on most of the day. I had forgotten my phone at home the previous day, so I had no way to communicate with anyone and was just so exhausted from surgery. Bill arrived and we had found it would be another couple of hours before I could go home. I still didn't have my phone, and was getting updated from Bill and giving him updates to post for me.
The drive home was long yet it seems as if time were slipping by. I put my hand to my chest and cried. We got home and I headed straight for bed. I just couldn't seem to think, like I was in a fog, trying to clear the air, trying to make sense of what just happened. I hugged my kids and pulled the covers up.... I once was lost...
Tomorrow, the longest week to date.
It started several weeks ago, another fever, more aches. I could feel this coming on. Another infection. At first I was determined to get this and get it over quick. Then I noticed something. I noticed little good-byes. I noticed I would admire myself in the mirror and say good-bye to these breasts, to this body. I looked lovingly at myself, her smile, her confidence, her outward beauty, and I felt a little sad, like I knew something was coming. I have blogged from the beginning, I knew I was in for a fight. Five years ago, I could feel a calling on my life to a challenge, a challenge to love, to give my all. I'm not saying I'm something special or that I'm proud of this. It's just something, like my story. We all have a story, and I had an idea I was in for another page in this story. Back to the infection, I knew something, somehow. I told Bill how I was feeling and it was decided that Thursday the 27th I would go in and see the doctor. I remember saying "If this is it, if it's another infection, I am done. I can't keep doing this. I want my new normal. I'm tired of not lifting things, not being able to reach, of scared of hurting myself every time I hug or drive or walk on the treadmill."
The wheels turned quickly as they sometimes do, once set in motion. I was sent to the E.R. and it was decided I would go in for surgery later that night. I woke from surgery crying, feeling like something was over, or someone had died. Someone had left me. Bill was there, I chatted on the phone with my dad. I had Bill text one of my closest friends. I told him to call the kids. Check, check, check, check. All there, all there. Then why did I feel as though someone DIED? Bill stayed with me until I had something to eat and reassured me, everything was okay, Kids, Friends, Sisters, Dad, Brother, beloved furry Tree Bear and even chickens all an hour's drive away. I fell asleep.
The next morning I woke, groggy and still feeling an internal pain. It would be 2:00P.M. before I could be released. Bill called and said he would be coming to get me. I slept off and on most of the day. I had forgotten my phone at home the previous day, so I had no way to communicate with anyone and was just so exhausted from surgery. Bill arrived and we had found it would be another couple of hours before I could go home. I still didn't have my phone, and was getting updated from Bill and giving him updates to post for me.
The drive home was long yet it seems as if time were slipping by. I put my hand to my chest and cried. We got home and I headed straight for bed. I just couldn't seem to think, like I was in a fog, trying to clear the air, trying to make sense of what just happened. I hugged my kids and pulled the covers up.... I once was lost...
Tomorrow, the longest week to date.
Thursday, October 27, 2016
10.26.16 A year ago...
I waited approximately 4 years. I waited until the dust settled and I thought I could see a bit more into the future. I thought I could see beautiful gowns and clothing that would show my strength. For all that breast cancer had taken, I would show it who came out on top. Who became the swan. A year ago I dreamed of long strong arms and a torso that would match my hips. I dreamed of a chest full and yet not so full as to walk around with a back ache. It wouldn't be a body to show off, just a body to be comfortable in. I struggled with body image in my teen-age years, but as a young adult and then a young mother, I was proud to be who I was in the body I was given. About a year before I was diagnosed I noticed weight coming on. I had a wedding to be a part of and working towards a dress I knew I would love and would show that I truly did love this body. And then the diagnosis. CHOP them OFF. SAVE MY LIFE! I'D RATHER BE ALIVE!
And so the process began. I had been on Herceptin for over a year and felt my body had healed significantly from the chemotherapy, radiation, and 9 surgergies behind it. A year ago I looked forward to pretty bras and shopping with my teenager. A year ago, I looked forward to surprising my husband with a shirt that fit. A year ago I looked forward to wearing a skirt to church, to just being able to get dressed each morning without grabbing ahold of sweatpants or an oversized sweatshirt.. In some weird way, I think those implants were killing me too. Infections, not healing, pain, unable to lift or reach or hug. So they were removed. My body is racked with emotional pain. Hurt. I am hurt. I see a huge concave area in my chest where a woman's breasts are suppose to be.. Then below a belly full of anger and bitterness, eating anything it can see. I don't want to get up. I have two drains hanging from tubes inside my chest. Draining out what beauty and life was once there. I am uncomfortable to move, to sleep, to walk, sit, or stand. I can feel the tubes moving in my chests, begging to be pulled free from this ugly body and dis-morphed skin. It's late and I am tired. The one thing I hold to. The one thing, is this, tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow the drains will be pulled and then I can go for a walk and clear my head. If this day were to last any longer, I am afraid I would grab the clippers and shave what beauty I see left of me.I don't even want to know what it will be like a year from now.
And so the process began. I had been on Herceptin for over a year and felt my body had healed significantly from the chemotherapy, radiation, and 9 surgergies behind it. A year ago I looked forward to pretty bras and shopping with my teenager. A year ago, I looked forward to surprising my husband with a shirt that fit. A year ago I looked forward to wearing a skirt to church, to just being able to get dressed each morning without grabbing ahold of sweatpants or an oversized sweatshirt.. In some weird way, I think those implants were killing me too. Infections, not healing, pain, unable to lift or reach or hug. So they were removed. My body is racked with emotional pain. Hurt. I am hurt. I see a huge concave area in my chest where a woman's breasts are suppose to be.. Then below a belly full of anger and bitterness, eating anything it can see. I don't want to get up. I have two drains hanging from tubes inside my chest. Draining out what beauty and life was once there. I am uncomfortable to move, to sleep, to walk, sit, or stand. I can feel the tubes moving in my chests, begging to be pulled free from this ugly body and dis-morphed skin. It's late and I am tired. The one thing I hold to. The one thing, is this, tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow the drains will be pulled and then I can go for a walk and clear my head. If this day were to last any longer, I am afraid I would grab the clippers and shave what beauty I see left of me.I don't even want to know what it will be like a year from now.
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