Not Thinking About the Hard Part

As the heat and humidity of the day begin to cool, all is calm. My youngest stepson has come to live with us 3 days out of the week, starting this past Wednesday. It's nice to have him around. It's nice for Violet to have a sibling under the same roof, even if it is only part time. At 13 years old, Zack is now a big brother. He seems to be okay with it. He's a good kid. They're all good kids.

My hair finally started coming out. Not that there's much of it anyway, but it grew back enough for me to notice it happening. It's much better knowing that I struck first by shaving it. Last time, I pulled it out in the shower, which was definitely a traumatic event.

My second round of chemo kicked my ass for about 4 days. I'm starting to feel much better, now. Next time will be worse, I'm sure. The last treatment will also be tough. I look forward to the month off between chemo and the mastectomy. I'm not at all looking forward to the surgery, though. I keep telling myself to join a support group, and I really should, but I've been so busy. Perhaps I've been hesitant, too. Maybe a part of me is avoiding the part where I have to lose my breasts. Everything else I can handle, but that part...that part bothers me. I know I'll be getting new ones after radiation, but that couple of months with no breasts frightens me. I don't like to think about it. I need to start thinking about it. I need to stop hiding, because I know it's going to happen. Why is this so hard?