The Easy Part

Surgery to remove my tumor was last Monday. It didn't take long at all - they started just before 10, and I was home for a late lunch! What the surgeon found matched the scans - the tumor was close to the surface and still well contained. Clean margins were not an issue.

*huge sigh of relief*

I took one heavy duty painkiller that first night, but after that, just needed Tylenol the first three nights to quiet things down once I stopped for the day. Since then, I've taken nothing. (My pain levels have been helped by the absence of nerve endings in that part of my chest from my mastectomy surgeries.) My sister, Julia, had come into town to help me last week, and her biggest jobs turned out to be playing chauffeur and reminding me to follow the after-surgery guidelines, so the incision can heal properly. To no one's surprise, I am not good at sitting still all day.

My emotional journey has been a bit rockier. My coping method of 'Not Yet' was no longer applicable once 'Yet' arrived, and I've been riding waves of sadness and anger and fear all week.

I got a double mastectomy thirteen years ago because I wasn't sure I'd have the strength to go through cancer treatment twice. And here I am. Sh*t.

Radiation will start sometime in June - I'm not looking forward to it, but I'm not dreading it either. I'm no longer trying to hold down a job, so I'll be able to go along with the flow of fatigue (the primary side effect) rather than trying to fight it. 

I talked to my oncologist last week, which is when the emotional roller coaster started. Once I'm healed, he wants me to start taking a shot which will stop my body from using whatever estrogen is circulating in my systems (fulvestrant, it is called). It didn't help things any when I got online and read the descriptions of how the shot is administered. Once a month, in BOTH butt cheeks, and it's painful. Which, of course, brought up the ghosts of that-damn-shot. I have zero good memories of living with the side effects of 'that-damn-shot.

Fortunately, I have a lot more tools in my coping belt today than I did back then. This shot, whatever its similarities, will not be that shot. I am better at advocating for myself now. Rather than just going home and being miserable, I know I can ask for help with the side effects. Not trying to hold down a job will also ease my path. 

I do not walk this road alone. My people have lined themselves up along the course. They are cheering me on and offering support. I don't have words for how much this helps.

I know that, however miserable I am in the moment, the moment will pass. One way or another, there will be an other side to this valley. 

And, I have today. 

Today, I am (almost) pain free. 
Today, my only job is to heal. 
Today, it is spring, the sun is shining, the birds are singing. 
Today, I am here, alive!
Today, I choose not to let cancer take this day from me.

One step at a time.