Recovery is a funny road. You want to be better, you need to be better, but sometimes you just are not. Being honest with yourself now that is the tricky part.
As I get on with daily life and the prospect of returning to work my last 8 months seem like a blur. One diagnosis, two surgeries, four rounds of chemo and now five years of Tamoxifen. Seems daunting doesn't it? Life has a way of continuing, it keeps going. People have to work, or go to school. The dog and cats needs to fed. The laundry needs to be done and suppers need to be cooked. You gotta buy groceries to do that don't you?
XMAS IS COMING! XMAS IS COMING!( Picture me screaming this like Eddie Murphy in "Delirious" in his sketch about the ice cream man coming) I think I need a concierge. Where to put my energies. Finding balance in an already crazy year.
Emerging from a crisis back to somewhat of a normal life is challenging . Your not who you were a short time ago. I am not even sure at this point I know who I am yet. I had a moment to pause this week as I remembered my dad, a WW2 Veteran. A man who wore his Veterans jacket proudly, but spoke very little about what he saw in action in Europe. His crisis, kept to himself for only him to remember. I certainly did not get that trait from him. I am like Julie Andrews in the Sound of Music screaming from the mountains. My anger, frustration and sadness for the whole world to see. That is just me though, the way I am. I always find it easier to process my feelings when they are reflected in the faces and words of others. I have learned though that not everyone is comfortable with my take on my illness and that even with all my education in helping people I still have a lot to learn. I always try to treat everyday as a school day. Learning from those around me. Happy to be humbled no matter how difficult.
I was once again given perspective this week as I went around Sears looking for nothing in particular and a woman with two children walked by. I could hear the kids talking and turned to look. The toddler in the cart had a medical mask on and had her hair was gone. There was the mom just pushing along in Sears like any ordinary day. Life needed to continue for them even though its probably the toughest it could be. That gave me what I needed right then and there. My heart sank a little this week as my aunt learned her breast cancer has returned and she must have a mastectomy at the ripe age of 81. My brother called to tell me that his biological father just died. The world keeps giving and taking.
I did however admire myself in the mirror this week. Happy with my one left boob. A girlish anticipation of having two someday. I look more like the long range mountains right now but hey I will take what I can get. I eagerly await my next injection of saline. Even if its not a real boob, its mine. Self esteem coming in many forms these days. A pretty dress to be worn this week and problem solving how to even my chest out is in the works. It has to come from inside me, its always been like that. My energy buoyed with self acceptance
I am happy to say we are starting to get some interest in mine and Malin's idea of taking portraits of women with breast cancer. I glad to know that there are more women ready to share their joy and pain. There are women already showing courage through pictures here in Newfoundland, and we hope we can get more Newfoundland women to do the same. For me it was a sense of acceptance and healing. The gifts can be bountiful when art and emotion come together. A story told, no words spoken. If you know anyone please let me know.
I just want to thank everyone for continuing to read my blog...you have no idea the impact.
And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy.