If you ask me these days I will tell you life is good. I feel good. I often feel GREAT, even. The fatigue still pokes at me once in a while, but that's just a good excuse to take a nap, right?
Living daily life without shades of chemo hanging over me is really really nice. Still have a few side effects, but considering what I've dealt with in the past few months, these are truly minor. Just an annoyance. Kind of like a gnat.
If it wasn't for the mastectomy racing toward me, I'd wonder what in the hell happened to me last spring? But the mastectomy, not to mention the scars I see daily, mightily remind me that I am a cancer patient. Like a brick over the head.
My mastectomy is one month from today. One month from today I will be a different woman, in a million different ways. Physically, emotionally. You'd think that post-mastectomy would be a joyous time for me. I'm DONE with cancer treatment and can truly move on. I survived. Right?
Whoa...not so fast, Cowboy. My oncologist wants to see me every 3 months for the next 5 years for blood work and CT scans. Then, every 6 months for 10 years. The doc and I are going to be very long-term friends. She reminded me last week that I won't be "done with cancer" for at least 3 years. Then, for 5 years. Then, for 10 years. In fact, I won't EVER be "done with cancer". It will be part of me forever.
My sub-type of cancer generally recurs within the first 3 years, if at all. Here's what goes through my head when I hear that: You'll barely have time to recover from the trauma of the past 7 months or so before you'll have to gear up for the next life trauma. When I think of having to do chemo again, in the event of a recurrence, my heart sinks.
So...yea. No matter how great I feel today or how much I am appreciating these beautiful North Carolina fall days....I'm not done. This is just a temporary reprieve. Seems a little cruel.
In the weeks leading up to my boob-ectomy, I'm keeping the roads hot. Going to the beach. Yeah! Heading to the Outer Banks on Friday and planning to drive the entire length of the banks and visit every lighthouse and art gallery along the way. That's long been on my bucket list. May visit a different part of the coast the following weekend...a blast from my past. And the next weekend, I'll be in my beloved mountains visiting my son and watching the WCU vs. Southern Georgia homecoming game following an afternoon of tailgaiting. How awesome does THAT sound??
Not letting any grass grow under my feet. Have to make hay before the surgery.Cause who knows what life will be like post-boob-ectomy? Will I be so depressed I won't be able to L-I-V-E? Will my Frankenboobs scare me every single day? Will I be in pain? Will I completely flip out and walk dangerously close to the edge? To the edge of what, I'm not sure.
I find myself touching my breasts a lot. As though I'm saying goodbye to a couple of loyal friends. I'll miss the chicks. They've seen me through thick and thin. I'm not sure their replacements will ever truly replace my gals. But they'll have to do. After all, I don't want to be a cancer patient FOREVER. Just for the next ten or so years...
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