All done

Now that chemo is over, i’m ready for this business to be done. I didn’t want to get too excited and celebrate last week during my last treatment, with all the hurdles left in store. I need to keep my head in the game, and not go getting excited about the finish line. But now that I’m a week out of chemo, and beginning to get my energy back, I am, as Grace likes to say, “all done”. I want surgery done yesterday, radiation over with, and reconstructive surgery on the calendar. I know I won’t feel like the experience is behind me until the reconstructive surgery is complete, and all i can think about is getting it scheduled. If it’s on the calendar, and I know when it is, I will have an end date to work towards. Somehow, this seems so important to my mental health right now.

Careful what you wish for! I got a call this morning from my plastic surgeon’s office, who informed me they’d like to move my surgery up a week – to December 13th. Yikes! That’s shaving my month of freedom from chemo down a week, but hey, I guess it’s time to get this party started. Who knows, perhaps I’ll even be feeling human by Christmas morning.

My boobs have now become the enemy, which is awkward, since we still share the same quarters for the next couple of weeks. It’s sort of like back in the dating days… there’s this guy that you really like hanging out with, but you know he’s no good. Better to be the rejecter than the rejectee, and give him the boot first. That’s how I feel about my breasts now… I won’t touch them if at all possible, or look at myself in the mirror. If I do, I quickly lose my steely nerve, and begin thinking about how nice it would be to keep them. Granted, we’ve always had a love hate relationship… they were too big, and I was too young. I got teased a lot. They gave me back problems and my bra straps have left permanent dents in my shoulders. But man did they look good in a dress, and when I took the girls out on the town… they were fabulous. *sigh*

Here’s what allows me to keep that steely ‘rejecter’ nerve… Keeping my breasts would be asking for cancer, and removing them brings me one step closer to being free of cancer. If I keep them, those bitches will kill me in the end, so they’ve got to go.