Writing is my escape.
It’s how I get through things.
And yet, it’s been hard for me to write.
You see, when I write, I’m honest, and it’s hard for me to be honest with what I’m going through, with how I’m feeling.
Kyle posted something on my FB today that reminded me it’s okay to feel what I feel, as I navigate through this battle with cancer.
While I’m on hold, I considered going back to work, but to be honest, it’s difficult to even get out of bed, and when I do, I can’t seem to get off the couch.
On Monday, when I found out there was more cancer in my breast, I sank even deeper in sadness because I know what this means.
Last week, the doctor told me that he could not leave my breast on if they found more. It would be too hard for him to get it all cut out and still leave a breast, so I know what this new result means.
On Monday, I had a couple breakdowns. I know I’ll be okay. I know God’s got me. I know it’s “just a boob.” And I also know that it devastates me.
Lately, I feel like every time I talk about how I’m feeling, people try to bring me up, but if I’m always lifted up, I won’t be able to work through what I’m feeling, so I’ve kept quiet because I feel like I need to mourn.
I’m mourning the loss of my breast.
I’m mourning the loss of my muscle.
I’m mourning the loss of who I thought I would always be.
A common thing I hear is “don’t let it change you,” but I don’t know how to stop it. I feel like I’m already changing. Will I get my “me” back? We’ll have to wait and see.
I’m talking with the plastic surgeon.
I’m waiting for the cancer surgeon.
And I’m going to go bug the oncologist today because I want answers.
It’s in those hidden places where fear creeps in. I mean, look at the coronavirus. People don’t know, so they’re freaking out. It’s kinda like what I’m going through. Welcome to my new normal.