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.