My Self

I know I wrote about perspective yesterday. I know I'm supposed to look back at those words and live them. Lead my girls by example. But right now I feel worthless. I feel angry, empty, lost and worthless. I know we all have worth, and I know that I don't deserve anything better than anyone else, I'm just telling you how I feel.

I keep trying as hard as I can. I got dressed and did my hair today. I went out to the mobile mammography unit to hold someone else's hand while she had her first mammogram in decades. The fresh air felt so good. Yesterday I looked at my chest for the first time without crying. I decided to tell myself to be proud of those lines. Those deep, primitive looking wounds that will surely remain there for the rest of my life. I nodded my head in agreement when everyone told me how lucky I was that "they got it early." I talked about how sure I am that I'll be back to work next week. Back to life. Moving on with my "new normal."

By the time I got home three hours later, my body hurt so badly that I could barely walk into the house. I slept the afternoon away and could barely sit up to kiss my sweet babies when they got home. I can't get their drinks at dinner, I can't pack their lunches, I can't help them with their homework, I can't pick them up and hold them when they get hurt, I can't take them to get their hair cut for picture day. I can't help them clean their rooms, I can't hug my husband, I can't snuggle with my puppy, I can't even bend over to tie my own damn shoe. And it hurts. It doesn't matter how many pills I pop, there are hard plastic shells where I once had breasts and they are being drained by 12 inch tubes and sometimes it hurts so much. Sometimes it feels like fire. If I brush my chest with my hand, it feels like I've just jammed a knife in my exposed muscle. Sometimes I'll even have "ghost pains" like an amputee. I feel like a burden. Like a shell of myself. I feel like a terrible Mom and wife.

While I was sleeping half of the day away my oncologist called. The message said they have the results of the test that will gauge the likelihood of my cancer reoccurring. I had been so caught up in recovering from this surgery and moving on with my life that I think I put the idea of chemo right out of my head. The message said that the doctor needs to discuss the results of the test with me in person on Monday. I think I know what that means. I could be wrong, but you know how I feel about hope, so I'm not going to waste my time "hoping." I know that the reality of my cancer is that most women have to follow up with some chemo, I knew in my head that I'll be going into menopause by Christmas, but I was so proud to have faced my fears over the last week that I completely forgot that my battle may only be half over.

Just as I was beginning to force myself to adjust to the new me, I remembered that I don't even know who the 'new me' is. I don't know how to accept the fact that just as I was beginning to like myself, my self is being ripped away from me- cut out of me- poisoned out of me. I don't know myself at all right now. I don't know how to do this. I know I can. I know I have to. But I don't want to.