Trying to find the words for this post is difficult.
I fear that i'm going to be paranoid about my body for the rest of my life. Paranoid because I ALREADY have scars. A big one on my back. A pretty sizeable one on my left breast. Now fake boobs. All from cancer. I know I should feel beautiful, but when I take of my clothes, I want the lights off or I want to place my hand 'just so' so I can't see my scars.
When I came home from the hospital after the mastectomy, that first night i got into the shower, I was afraid to look at my chest. I had mentally prepared myself for the ugliness, but I just wasn't sure how well. I have mentioned before that I took off my nasty, 1920's-era holster they had me in, and just looked at myself in the mirror. I didn't feel like crying about it. I wasn't shocked at what I saw. It was ugly. Just like I expected.
And, now that i'm mobile...now that i can get dressed and I can put on makeup and I can fix my hair (because i couldn't for a long time), I thought that would fix it. I thought my mind would catch up, and I'd go...woo! I'm beautiful. But I don't feel that way. I don't look in the mirror very often. If I do, I'm scrutinizing these lumpy rocks on my chest. I'm checking out the skin peeling away from the 5.5" scars I have across each side, or the bright pink holes I have on my sides where the tubes were. I see the dark, purple ink that stained my skin and is being protected by the glue that still hasn't been shed. It's not pretty. At all. There's nothing pretty about it.
The hurt from it is ugly, too. The pain of it...it just makes it uglier. I've never in my life been through anything this painful. Somedays, I seriously just want to lie in bed and cover up. But lying down hurts. I know it's temporary...but this is a long temporary, and it starts to weigh on you. I've been taking baths at night, because the hot water helps to relax my chest muscles. I keep a wash cloth over my chest because I just don't want to look at it. And I get out, and i dry off, and i get dressed. Because I don't want to look at it. I'm not trying to ignore it. I know it's there. But sometimes, if I don't look, I forget. And I feel normal. For just a minute.
The girls stare at me. I try not to get dressed in front of them...not because I don't want them to see what cancer is, but because I don't want them to hurt any more from this. Jenna's getting better, but just seeing my chest...you can tell it makes her uneasy. Clairey did a Family Tree for Girl Scouts. Underneath each person, she had to write something about them. Jenna's: "She loves Monster High!" Mine:
"She has cancer."
I want them to see me like they did before. This is awful for them, just as it is for me.
I know i'm beautiful on the inside. I am a fucking badass. But for the love of all that is good and holy. I'm so ready for this shit to be over with.
Cancer. It's such a pain in the ass. And can you believe, after ALL this crap we've gone through, it STILL feels surreal???
I'm ready for this summer...when this will all be behind us, and I'll be floating in my pool with my SPF 500+, and foobies in place of these stupid tissue expanders.
1 comment:
Maybe not the right comment but I am glad you are getting past it. You are the toughest women I know.
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