I remember it all...or at least I think I do. I remember the surrealness of it. How time ticked so slowly and yet so quickly. Maybe it was the drugs. Perhaps it was nerves. Or better yet, possibly the presence of something greater and unexplainable. I like to think of it as being surrounded by love, light, peace and tranquility that was sent my way by so many on surgery day.
And even now, it is still surreal...like a fictional story...someone else’s biography. Often it feels as if cancer didn’t really happen to me. (I guess this is a good place to get to when processing the journey). Even when I go to treatment, it is so routine that nothing feels abnormal about it. And yet I am sometimes flooded and consumed with memories that remind me that Cancer did in fact happen...that this truly is my story. MY story which I often reread and thus rewrite. This chapter is no exception.
When I think back (reread) I was absolutely terrified and god-damn driven. This wasn’t going to be the end of me. I wasn’t going to give up. I was just getting started. This fuel fanned the flames to sure-me-up and sequester my anxiety. OK, OK... that last part isn’t true....it was the happy drugs they put in my IV a few minutes before surgery, but I can pretend I had something to do with it. I can pretend I felt brave. After all, it is MY story to rewrite.
I remember waking up from surgery a year ago today (June 13th, 2017) after saying ta-ta to my tatas just over 5+ hours before. I was confused at first before quickly becoming oriented to my surroundings. I remembered something had happened and that I couldn’t really move and I was thirsty. Then it dawned on me all of a sudden...I was alive....breastless but alive. And that is where my recovery from my bi-lateral mastectomy began.
When I left the hospital I felt pretty good. I thought for a brief second that recovery was going to be a piece of cake since I felt so “fine”...sluggish maybe, but fine. Ha! Little did I realize how much drugs I was hopped up on and I soon found out when they started to wear off hours later.
The next 3 weeks are a bit of a blur. I remember having to sleep on the couch for a month for positioning reasons. I remember not being able to sit up on my own and having to hold on to the coffee table to help simply pull myself to sitting. I remember sleeping for most of the day (taking 2-3 naps) and moaning from pain in my half-sleeps (I imagine how unsettling this must have been to hear). I remember nausea and constipation in the beginning. I remember those damn painful drains that my sister and mom helped me “milk” twice a day. I remember the inability to reach my arms high enough to wash my own hair so my mom and sister, Caroline would help me bath. I remember thinking my scars were black because the sharpie line remained under the glue which stayed in place for over a month after surgery. I remember finding an electrode stuck to my hip and trying all sorts of alcohol swabs to remove the sticky residue from all the medical tape covering my body. I remember smoothies and long, long walks (although the first walk I remember I could only make it two doors down to the end of the block).
I remember so many things. And although I sometimes relive the fear, sadness, vulnerability and later anger that accompanied this time, what often sticks out the most in my brain and my heart is the profound genuine love I experienced. With the turmoil and disorganization I found myself in I also found a village. A village of people that I love dearly and who apparently love the heck out of crazy old me (who would have “thunk” it?)...an abundance of sincere love for me...even when breastless and later bald.
My memories (and scars) are what I have to hold on to of this time....something so profound and life altering that I truly do not want to forget a second of it. I work on letting go of what I have lost, practice focusing on what I have to be grateful for, and inviting in the lessons that continuously flow from this hell of a ride. I am beyond blessed for I now truly understand why we must fall in order for us to rise.
“this is the recipe of life
as she held me in her arms as I wept
think of those flowers you plant
in order to bloom” - Rupi Kaur
“it has been one of the greatest and most difficult years
of my life. i learned everything is temporary. moments.
feelings. people. flowers. i learned love is about giving.
everything. and letting it hurt. i learned vulnerability
is always the right choice because it is easy to be cold
in a world that makes it so difficult to remain soft.
i learned all things come in twos. life and death. pain
and joy. salt and sugar. me and you. it is the balance of
the universe. it has been the year of hurting so bad but
living so good. making friends out of strangers. making
strangers out of friends. learning mint chocolate chip
ice cream will fix just about everything. and for the
pains it cant there will always be my mother’s arms.
we must learn to focus on warm energy. always. soak
our limbs in it and become better lovers to the world.
for if we cant learn to be kind to each other how will
we ever learn to be kind to the most desperate
