I hurt everywhere. Everyone has been amazing but I still hurt.
I've been watching this season of "Parenthood." The writers are doing a great job depicting the unpredictable emotions and feelings surrounding this horrible disease called Breast Cancer.
Everything is chaotic. No one knows what to do. And everyone tries so hard to be helpful. But at the end of the day, no one actually understands how the main character really feels or what she really wants. Mostly because she has no idea how she feels, what she feels or what she needs. I quote from the main character:
"I feel like a prisoner in my own home. I feel helpless and I wish that things were back to normal. I wish I could curl up in a ball and cry about it but I can't because people are here. Don't worry...I'm fine...I'm just having a moment."
I get it! And I'm having a moment too.
Emotions are running high for me right now. I have just undergone a massive, life-changing, surgery. My breasts are gone. My nipples are gone. I have horizontal scars across my small breasts. I should be pleased to have small (although temporary) breast tissue expanders. I should be pleased to have anything at all. I should be pleased to be alive (and I am!)
You learn to be thankful for the smallest things; the daily prayer cards, flowers, thoughtful gifts, lotions, breast cancer (armpit) pillows, cozy blankets, food...you name it - there is someone out there thinking about us and taking care of us! You learn who your real friends are. You learn who you can count on. You even learn that there are people out there that love and care about you - and you don't even know them. There are angels everywhere. And God will bless them.
You also get tested. The devil lurks and tries to eat away at the good. And there are times where it's hard to not get frustrated and veer over the edge of calm.
Like poor John. In dealing with his feelings of loss of control, distress and frustration, he went shopping at Victoria's Secret. He bought me a sweet little size B pink and red bra (I used to wear a 36 DD) and it looks really cute. But he was so angry that Victoria Secret (VS) didn't have a decent selection of mastectomy or post-surgical bras that he wanted to personally call the CEO of VS and tell him off. I laugh thinking about it now...but at the time, it was no joke! John needed a nice bra for his hurting wife PRONTO!
And my poor mom. They drove the 11 hours to come up here to help and she's now got a bronchial infection. She has to hide in the basement and can't help me the way she wants to.
And me...while I have all these wonderful people loving me and pouring positivity into my life, I am also dealing with this explainable feeling inside me - one that angers and embarrasses me to even admit that I am bothered.
Truth be known, "Voldemort" has never once asked how I am doing. In fact, since he learned of my diagnosis, he has not asked me anything about my prognosis, process, surgical date, recovery, needs, help with the kids...NOTHING. It's not like I need or want his help and sadly, I am not surprised by his lack of concern. How could I be disappointed in someone I expect so little from anyway? But then I realized our shared history with cancer and it all made a bit of sense. It's actually because of him that I know first hand what cancer really looks like and how sad and scary it is.
You also get tested. The devil lurks and tries to eat away at the good. And there are times where it's hard to not get frustrated and veer over the edge of calm.
Like poor John. In dealing with his feelings of loss of control, distress and frustration, he went shopping at Victoria's Secret. He bought me a sweet little size B pink and red bra (I used to wear a 36 DD) and it looks really cute. But he was so angry that Victoria Secret (VS) didn't have a decent selection of mastectomy or post-surgical bras that he wanted to personally call the CEO of VS and tell him off. I laugh thinking about it now...but at the time, it was no joke! John needed a nice bra for his hurting wife PRONTO!
And my poor mom. They drove the 11 hours to come up here to help and she's now got a bronchial infection. She has to hide in the basement and can't help me the way she wants to.
And me...while I have all these wonderful people loving me and pouring positivity into my life, I am also dealing with this explainable feeling inside me - one that angers and embarrasses me to even admit that I am bothered.
Truth be known, "Voldemort" has never once asked how I am doing. In fact, since he learned of my diagnosis, he has not asked me anything about my prognosis, process, surgical date, recovery, needs, help with the kids...NOTHING. It's not like I need or want his help and sadly, I am not surprised by his lack of concern. How could I be disappointed in someone I expect so little from anyway? But then I realized our shared history with cancer and it all made a bit of sense. It's actually because of him that I know first hand what cancer really looks like and how sad and scary it is.
Just 6 years ago, I traveled with him to Oklahoma to care for his Aunt in the last days of her fierce battle with cancer. I was a volunteer EMT at the time so I took over managing her medications, bathing her and working with hospice so that her immediate family members could rest. Just before she died, she said she needed to use the bathroom. As her husband, Fred, and I held her over her bedside toilet, blood gushed out of her. The cancer had eaten her insides and she bled out. We knew there were only a few minutes left for her. Fred and Scott put her in her recliner chair and as she took her last breath; I opened the Bible nearby to a random page and began reading. After she died, I closed her eyes and called hospice and the coroner. Then I helped plan her service, chose the opening music (I Can Only Imagine by Mercy Me) and the bible passage read at her service (the one I read at her bedside - (2 Corinthians 5:1, 2, 4-10 NIV)
That was a really difficult week. Seeing cancer face-to-face like that is something I will never forget. But I also will never forget how much Karen loved God, and that she was at peace with going Home.
Voldemort is probably reciting some "karma" mantra or doing a cancer happy dance, praying daily that I am going to die. That's the devil's serpentine venom trying to get to me. I just have to remind myself that my past is still part of God's divine plan - my Plan A - just like the cancer. And for all of it, there is a reason.
So this Thanksgiving, there's a lot to be thankful for.
I am thankful that this nagging feeling actually led me to think about Karen and spending that last week with her. I'm thankful that it reminded me of her faith in God (she was a hospice worker) and her grace-guided entry into His Kingdom. It reminds me to stay positive and to count the thousands of blessings we have. And to disregard the 1-2 things that attempt to eat at us.
I am thankful for my incredible family. The kids are champions and I am blessed to have the opportunity to raise them in a loving home environment. I am thankful for my solid friends and support network. I am thankful for an incredible medical team. My surgery went fantastic. I am hurting but remain strong. My prognosis is good and I'm not going anywhere so for that I am also thankful.
I've learned a lot in my 38 years. I am thankful that with each year I grow stronger. And now I can add to my list that I am a SURVIVOR.
AND SURVIVE I WILL!
So thank you!
And Happy Thanksgiving.
And Happy Thanksgiving.
