The last year has left me with scars. Both ones that are visible to the eye and ones that are invisible, but are there lurking none-the-less.
Some scars are fun to talk about - when we get them from fun things. My daughter has a scar from when she tried to jump over a concrete bench. Which makes us all laugh when we think about it now. I know people who have such fun tales to tell about their scars. I have one on my chin from jumping on furniture. It serves as a warning to my children (okay, okay, not to my son. Nothing will convince him to not jump on furniture it seems).
But these new scars, are different. I have two scars from getting the port put in. Oh they are healing. But we will reopen them when it's time to take the port out. And of course, there is that angry scar line that goes across each breast. It's not a scar that's fun to talk about. It's not one I want to show off to anyone. It comes with no funny tale. One has done some healing and isn't as bright as it used to be. But the other, is new again, and still angry looking and has much healing to do.
But much like my post from Friday, this has been difficult for me to emotionally deal with.
See, here's the thing. Parents all over tell their kids it's not what's on the outside that counts, but what is on the inside. But, we lie. We know that people are constantly judged by their appearance. We, especially women, are bombarded with messages to be thin, have perky nice boobs, white teeth, hair with volume, the right clothes, hell - now we have to have long eyelashes. And oh, don't like those scars you carry? That's okay. Plenty of people are willing to sell you creams to help them disappear.
But some scars can't be erased. They can fade over time. But they will always be with you. And herein lies the problem. I can't lotion these scars away. I can't magically wish them away. They are there, and will always be there. And therein lies the problem. I desperately wish I could get rid of these scars. That my body would be back the way it was 9 months ago.
But I can't go back. I can only go forward. One moment at a time. Some moments are easier than others. And some are very dark and difficult to move through.
The other day I ran across this though "A scar simply means you were stronger than what tried to hurt you." (via @DrBeckerSchutte on twitter). I thought what a beautiful sentiment. And for a few blessed moments, those scars went from being something to be ashamed of and embarrassed by to something to be proud of.
Monday, January 09, 2012
Friday, January 06, 2012
Maybe I'm crazy ....
maybe I'm not. Either way, I have a lot going on in this head of mine these days, and a lot of it is trying to get out, so I'm letting it out.
When I had my surgery on December 23, the hardest part was not the surgery itself. It's not the recovery (that is still happening) or the physical pain (that is still lingering). No. The hardest part was knowing I'd come out of surgery with my right foob (fake boob that was put in during the original surgery in May) gone. I felt like there was no time to prepare - not physically, not mentally. One minute it was in my body, and the next they were saying "we need to pull it out." And yes, we did need to pull it out. But that hasn't helped me in the emotional department one bit.
My first gut-wrenching moment came Christmas morning. You see, every year we all get new Christmas jammies. It's our thing. And so I went to put on my new pajamas and instantly had to take the shirt off. Here's the thing ... the top was fitted. And I was missing a boob (and still had the drain and the wrap thing they bandaged me with for surgery). So basically, I looked, ridiculous and strange and not exactly the look I was going for. And I had to instead wear one of husband's t-shirts. And then a few days later, we had a party to go to. And I had the same issue. Most of my tops are fitted. So I went in a large t-shirt and put a bulky sweater over because thankfully those hide lots of things.
But, still. It's hard. It's hard to feel like you can't wear your own clothes without looking strange. It's hard to feel good inside when your outside has changed. And let me add in here - I'm surrounded by wonderful people who assure me I'm still beautiful. That's nice to hear. But the truth is, in some moments, it's just not enough. I wish it were. I also know that I am much, much more than how I look on the outside. But that's really easy to think when the outside is looking fine. It's much harder when you are struggling with how you look on the outside.
Today I'm feeling a bit brave though. Last night I asked Eric to take some pictures of me (clothed though - I'm not that brave) to try to give you all an understanding.
This is how I look right now:
And from the side:
This is me without a right breast. {although I'm still slightly swollen from surgery}. This is how most of my clothes fit me. And I do realize it's not like I've got a basketball on one side and nothing on the other - but still. It's there. And it's obvious. Contrast this picture with the next one:
This is what I look like when I have two breasts. Do you see the difference? Well, I mean, of course you can see the difference. I suppose in my mind the difference is probably enhanced about 158 thousand times. And so it might not feel as dramatic to you as it does to me when I look at myself.
So, here's how we got the second picture. Last week, Eric took me to a store to get "post-mastectomy garments" which is simply a fancy way to say bras that have pockets to hold a breast forms. This is my new right foob for now:
It's stuffed with a fiberfill, that I can add to or take out as needed. It's kind of strange though. I have to adjust things every time I put the bra on. {Oh, here's where I interject, bras are SO uncomfortable. I had no idea. When you are used to wearing them they aren't. But I haven't worn one since May 18. I am very not used to them now}. Anyway, this has helped me feel a bit better. At least I can go out in public and not feel like everyone is going to stare at me.
But it's still hard. It's still a lot to wrap my mind around. I'm still struggling with this issue. I think I will probably struggle with it until the day reconstruction is finished. Which, is the bright spot in all of this. Reconstruction will happen. We may have to use a different option than the original plan. The doctor isn't sure yet. We can't talk about anything until I am fully healed. And as you can imagine: radiation, infection, surgery - I have a lot of healing left to do. Okay, so I have a lot of healing to do both physically and emotionally. I'm just thankful I also have a lot of support to help me through this healing process. Because some days, this healing feels as difficult as treatment.
When I had my surgery on December 23, the hardest part was not the surgery itself. It's not the recovery (that is still happening) or the physical pain (that is still lingering). No. The hardest part was knowing I'd come out of surgery with my right foob (fake boob that was put in during the original surgery in May) gone. I felt like there was no time to prepare - not physically, not mentally. One minute it was in my body, and the next they were saying "we need to pull it out." And yes, we did need to pull it out. But that hasn't helped me in the emotional department one bit.
My first gut-wrenching moment came Christmas morning. You see, every year we all get new Christmas jammies. It's our thing. And so I went to put on my new pajamas and instantly had to take the shirt off. Here's the thing ... the top was fitted. And I was missing a boob (and still had the drain and the wrap thing they bandaged me with for surgery). So basically, I looked, ridiculous and strange and not exactly the look I was going for. And I had to instead wear one of husband's t-shirts. And then a few days later, we had a party to go to. And I had the same issue. Most of my tops are fitted. So I went in a large t-shirt and put a bulky sweater over because thankfully those hide lots of things.
But, still. It's hard. It's hard to feel like you can't wear your own clothes without looking strange. It's hard to feel good inside when your outside has changed. And let me add in here - I'm surrounded by wonderful people who assure me I'm still beautiful. That's nice to hear. But the truth is, in some moments, it's just not enough. I wish it were. I also know that I am much, much more than how I look on the outside. But that's really easy to think when the outside is looking fine. It's much harder when you are struggling with how you look on the outside.
Today I'm feeling a bit brave though. Last night I asked Eric to take some pictures of me (clothed though - I'm not that brave) to try to give you all an understanding.
This is how I look right now:
And from the side:
This is me without a right breast. {although I'm still slightly swollen from surgery}. This is how most of my clothes fit me. And I do realize it's not like I've got a basketball on one side and nothing on the other - but still. It's there. And it's obvious. Contrast this picture with the next one:
This is what I look like when I have two breasts. Do you see the difference? Well, I mean, of course you can see the difference. I suppose in my mind the difference is probably enhanced about 158 thousand times. And so it might not feel as dramatic to you as it does to me when I look at myself.
So, here's how we got the second picture. Last week, Eric took me to a store to get "post-mastectomy garments" which is simply a fancy way to say bras that have pockets to hold a breast forms. This is my new right foob for now:
But it's still hard. It's still a lot to wrap my mind around. I'm still struggling with this issue. I think I will probably struggle with it until the day reconstruction is finished. Which, is the bright spot in all of this. Reconstruction will happen. We may have to use a different option than the original plan. The doctor isn't sure yet. We can't talk about anything until I am fully healed. And as you can imagine: radiation, infection, surgery - I have a lot of healing left to do. Okay, so I have a lot of healing to do both physically and emotionally. I'm just thankful I also have a lot of support to help me through this healing process. Because some days, this healing feels as difficult as treatment.
Wednesday, January 04, 2012
Sad heart ....
The internet has honestly been my life-line this year. All of my friends will tell you, I've been terrible about calling people and seeing people face-to-face. I know, it isn't fair to my friends and loved ones, but I naturally withdraw in bad times and I've done that a lot this year.
Except on-line. The internet, especially twitter, has a vibrant and thriving cancer community. Once you announce you have cancer, the love and out-pouring and the reaching out is amazing. And I can't lie ... it can be extremely helpful and uplifting to talk to people who are where you are, or who have been there. They can tell you that they had the same thing, they can give you tips and tricks and they can commiserate with you.
I love all the new friends I've met. Unfortunately, there is a downside to this. You quickly learn not everyone will go into remission. Not everyone gets a happily-ever-after ending.
And so it is with a sad heart that I tell you one of my friends, Dave Hodgson passed away on December 31 from metastatic melanoma. Dave was a great guy - always he had warm and caring words to share with me. Even when he was struggling, he was there to be a great friend. I never met him in person. I only shared 140 character tweets back and forth with him, but I consider him a wonderful friend. The world will indeed be a sadder place without him. My heart and prayers go out to Dave's wife and daughter. I will miss seeing him around twitter. It just won't be the same without him.
And I can't help but wonder how many more wonderful people must we lose to cancer? And also, do not be misled - Dave did not lose this fight. Science lost this fight. Medicine has lost this fight. We have failed to find a cure.
To learn more about Dave, you can read this interview he did. His wife is also on twitter, and if you are too, feel free to send her some love here.
Except on-line. The internet, especially twitter, has a vibrant and thriving cancer community. Once you announce you have cancer, the love and out-pouring and the reaching out is amazing. And I can't lie ... it can be extremely helpful and uplifting to talk to people who are where you are, or who have been there. They can tell you that they had the same thing, they can give you tips and tricks and they can commiserate with you.
I love all the new friends I've met. Unfortunately, there is a downside to this. You quickly learn not everyone will go into remission. Not everyone gets a happily-ever-after ending.
And so it is with a sad heart that I tell you one of my friends, Dave Hodgson passed away on December 31 from metastatic melanoma. Dave was a great guy - always he had warm and caring words to share with me. Even when he was struggling, he was there to be a great friend. I never met him in person. I only shared 140 character tweets back and forth with him, but I consider him a wonderful friend. The world will indeed be a sadder place without him. My heart and prayers go out to Dave's wife and daughter. I will miss seeing him around twitter. It just won't be the same without him.
And I can't help but wonder how many more wonderful people must we lose to cancer? And also, do not be misled - Dave did not lose this fight. Science lost this fight. Medicine has lost this fight. We have failed to find a cure.
To learn more about Dave, you can read this interview he did. His wife is also on twitter, and if you are too, feel free to send her some love here.
Tuesday, January 03, 2012
A new year ...
Well, 2011 is now behind us. I can't lie. I don't miss it one single bit. I was more than ready to begin a new year and to let 2011 be in the past.
I suppose this makes me sound a bit bitter about how the last year went. Well. I am. I feel cheated and robbed of the last 9 months. I am upset about the physical state of my body. I am angry that it feels we are in a constant 2 steps forward, 1.5 steps backwards pattern. I'm pissed I had so many side effects. I'm tired of pain. I hate how exhausted I feel so much of the time.
But I also know this is a phase - a normal one by the accounts of others who have walked this same path. And I know that eventually this will pass. That there will come a day when I can look back and not only see the forest, but the sun shining down on it. But when you are stuck deep in the forest? It's hard to see that.
I really hope that 2012 is a better year. We have some fun things planned for this upcoming year that we are all excited about. But I also know that I need some time to just heal - both physically and emotionally. And during this time of healing, I need to remember to be kind to myself. I can't do it all tomorrow. I won't heal overnight. I will go through periods of anger and sadness. And that is okay. This cancer thing was rough. And it took it's toll.
But it's a new year. And I'm ready to start afresh. And here's hoping 2012 is a fabulous year. For me, for you, for everyone!
I suppose this makes me sound a bit bitter about how the last year went. Well. I am. I feel cheated and robbed of the last 9 months. I am upset about the physical state of my body. I am angry that it feels we are in a constant 2 steps forward, 1.5 steps backwards pattern. I'm pissed I had so many side effects. I'm tired of pain. I hate how exhausted I feel so much of the time.
But I also know this is a phase - a normal one by the accounts of others who have walked this same path. And I know that eventually this will pass. That there will come a day when I can look back and not only see the forest, but the sun shining down on it. But when you are stuck deep in the forest? It's hard to see that.
I really hope that 2012 is a better year. We have some fun things planned for this upcoming year that we are all excited about. But I also know that I need some time to just heal - both physically and emotionally. And during this time of healing, I need to remember to be kind to myself. I can't do it all tomorrow. I won't heal overnight. I will go through periods of anger and sadness. And that is okay. This cancer thing was rough. And it took it's toll.
But it's a new year. And I'm ready to start afresh. And here's hoping 2012 is a fabulous year. For me, for you, for everyone!
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Our Holidays ....
were absolutely fabulous. First, we were just so happy to be together. Because there were a few moments we weren't so sure that would happen. But I was home, and we were together. And thanks to the surgery, I was not only home, but able to get out of bed (which hadn't happened much the week or two before Christmas!).
And of course, the kids were adequately spoiled. Which, frankly, this year, I think is great. They earned it. The best part of course is they were very thankful for all they were blessed with.
Eric and I were also spoiled this year. Our entire family was shown a lot of kindness and generosity, from so many places. It just really deeply touched us. Some of this kindness came to us from complete strangers and again, I keep saying it, but the love we are receiving is just overwhelming.
I'm so thankful we had such a lovely Christmas. I'm so thankful to each person who helped make this Christmas so lovely too - our families, friends, strangers, doctors, everyone who sent out a prayer and a good thought for us.
And now Christmas is over. And a new year is almost upon on (just 6 hours away as I type this!). I can't lie. I have no sadness seeing 2011 end. I don't know what 2012 has in store for us, but I am hoping that 2012 is much less boring, requires many fewer doctor's visits, and is a year in which our family can continue to grow stronger and closer.
I really hope all of you had fabulous holidays as well. And I pray that 2012 is a year filled with wonderful things!
And of course, the kids were adequately spoiled. Which, frankly, this year, I think is great. They earned it. The best part of course is they were very thankful for all they were blessed with.
Eric and I were also spoiled this year. Our entire family was shown a lot of kindness and generosity, from so many places. It just really deeply touched us. Some of this kindness came to us from complete strangers and again, I keep saying it, but the love we are receiving is just overwhelming.
I'm so thankful we had such a lovely Christmas. I'm so thankful to each person who helped make this Christmas so lovely too - our families, friends, strangers, doctors, everyone who sent out a prayer and a good thought for us.
And now Christmas is over. And a new year is almost upon on (just 6 hours away as I type this!). I can't lie. I have no sadness seeing 2011 end. I don't know what 2012 has in store for us, but I am hoping that 2012 is much less boring, requires many fewer doctor's visits, and is a year in which our family can continue to grow stronger and closer.
I really hope all of you had fabulous holidays as well. And I pray that 2012 is a year filled with wonderful things!
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