Finding time to write has become a
little more difficult as of late. Part of this has to do with making
jewelry and redoing the Etsy and Facebook pages. I'm not sure if it's
going to take off the way Bri and I need it to, but for now I'm just
enjoying the craft. It has been keeping me sane and calm.
I've had a surge in anxiety since the
removal of my ovaries. This along with brutal hot-flashes has made
sleep difficult. Being post-menopausal at 36 is really quite strange.
It's not all bad though. No more monthly “visits” from Mother
Nature, and eventually things will even out and maybe I won't need so
many medications.
I have a dark secret. I was ashamed to
admit it for the longest time, having survived cancer twice. I used
to be a smoker, which in itself isn't the worst thing I could do.
I've been officially cancer-free since my breasts were taken off, and
the radiation made sure it stays away. However, I've only been
smoke-free for three weeks. I felt like such a hypocrite! I tried to
hide it from everyone, save my husband and a few friends. I just
couldn't stay away from the cigarettes for some reason. I've been on
welbutrin for a while now. I've heard people say it doesn't work, but
I seem to be just fine! No cravings, or anything! So I've shed the
shame, I'm owning up, and I'm moving past it.
Moving...moving...moving forward. Even
though it often feels as though I'm stuck in stagnation, I realized
as I was digging through the dryer for pajama pants, that there is no
stopping the progression. It's a little frightening, but also a good
thing. Breast reconstruction starts in July. I almost burst into
tears in Dr. Gabriel's office because up until now, it has felt like
a distant dream. As I was standing there, the day after I quit
smoking for good, in an open hospital gown, it began to really sink
in. I'm entering the home-stretch. I've walked this dream-scape for a
year, now. The cancer is gone, but I still don't feel complete. Some
days I feel like a broken doll awaiting assembly. But there I was, my
barren chest exposed, as he explained the procedure. There I was,
shaking like a leaf. It still feels too good to be true, but perhaps
the reality will sink in as the date gets closer...July 3rd.
I really don't mind spending the 4th in a hospital. It's
never been a big holiday for me anyway.
Reality. The realness of this. I've had
so many people praise me on how I've handled this. I've had people
ask me how I've stayed so positive. I'm honestly not sure why it
hasn't crushed me emotionally. Sometimes I wonder if it will all hit
me long after it's over. Maybe I'll look back and be reduced to
tears, maybe I won't. Sometimes I stop and examine last three years
of my life; the death of my brother, the disfigurement of someone I
care about, the financial fallout, the cancer, and some other things
that are too personal to talk about. Once in a while I realize that
I've really been through a lot, and it's so strange when I consider
the scope of it. In the midst of all this however, my beautiful
daughter came into the world. Cancer meant painful and weakening
treatments. It meant doctors, surgeries, feeling weak, sick and sore.
It also meant that I got to stay home and watch Violet grow. I've
been there for almost all her firsts: laughing, sitting, crawling,
walking, and talking. Her personality is really showing, and I marvel
at her beauty and mystery every day. Even at this moment, as she's
riding her rocking horse backwards, I can't help smiling. Cancer
sucks, but it allowed me to be with my most cherished treasure and
greatest joy. I wouldn't trade this experience for anything.
Look, HAIR!!! Excuse the color. Lol!
