Perspective

It has been six weeks since my foob started leaking, and nearly four since the expander was removed. If there’s nothing in there, I have to wonder – what’s left to leak? My plastic surgeon reminded me of Radiation – a real creeper. With chemo, it flat out, in your face sucks. But Radiation? I made jokes! I wrote a blog about it, going so far as to accuse my radiation techs of playing space invaders behind their double cement doors. I couldn’t see it, I couldn’t feel it, and thought I had breezed right through it. But boy, is it ever a pain in my ass right now, having fried whatever is left of my breast so completely that all the cells can manage to do is weep.

Lee says the hole in my skin has closed up a great deal, and is amazed at the progress. I wouldn’t know – I only looked at it for the first time last week, and won’t be doing that again soon. What I do know is that I have depleted the supply of 4 x 4 medical dressings and absorbent gauze at many area pharmacies, making me wonder – has the Walgreen’s Corporate Marketing team taken note of the increased sales in Central MA? Will they begin to target mailers and medical dressing ad campaigns in my zipcode?

I continue to call my plastic surgeon’s office, providing updates and wondering if I should come in. Apparently, the leaking is “normal”, and as long as the infection is gone (it is), all he can do is drain it. Why would I go into Boston for that, when it’s draining just fine on it’s own? Every day, all day long. You’d think I’d have lost more weight by now.

I’ve begun reading a few breast cancer blogs recently – something I wasn’t able to do when I was undergoing treatment. I had my hands full, and my capacity to ‘deal’ was maxed. Reading others’ experiences was terrifying, and I chose not to, instead writing about my own experience, sometimes feeling very alone in it.

For the first time, I have the inclination to connect with others who have shared my experience, and enough distance from treatment to begin to process my diagnoses. I am humbled when I read stories of other women facing breast cancer, and my rants about leaking foobs begin to seem insignificant. Everything is relative, and I’m sure a stage IV BC patient would say the same thing that I say when told “you’re so strong”. What else would I do, lay down and give up?

I’m glad to have found a community that will understand, if not appreciate, my taste-less nipple and boob jokes (which can really clear a room with the non-cancer crowd). I’m looking forward to meeting people who can empathize – because my therapist never had cancer, and doesn’t have much to say on the matter.

The thing that I’ve realized in connecting with this community is that I have been running full throttle back to my old ‘normal’ – as much as I swore I wouldn’t. I told myself that I wanted to hold onto ‘cancer Trish’… but threw myself into my job and my daily life. I started to get stressed out, worrying about what happens next, and stopped appreciating what’s happening now. Suddenly I’ve hit a brick wall, and realized that I’m only just beginning to process all that’s happened this past year – but I know I’m not alone, and I am renewed in my focus to live right here, right now.