tBlog - Steps One and Two

Steps One and Two

12.13.07 (1:39 pm) [edit]

" Man performs and engenders so much more than he can or should have to bear. That's how he finds that he can bear anything." ~William Faulkner

After physical therapy, my day is almost gone, even though I've been at Crazy Land since 6:15 today. (Purely accidental, I assure you.)

Step one of the new plan has already been implemented. I've been listening to Christmas music and wearing my jingle bell bracelet. Okay, I confess. I always wear my jingle bell bracelet from Thanksgiving until Christmas. I make it tinkle whenever I walk around the office. I do what I can to annoy the natives in Crazy Land. Of course, they'd never mention it to me if they found it irritating, but it's bound to get under somebody's skin.

Step two of the new plan is to sit with the sorrow, to maintain some inner silence while I feel the loss. It's hard to write or talk when I'm listening to the sadness, so I've gone missing this week from everyone.

When Dr. Ross told me that I had to have a mastectomy, his physician's assistant told me that a year from treatment, no one would know anything ever happened. I held onto that prediction as if it were a lifeline. I don't think I ever really dealt with the loss of my breast. I didn't have to; I believed her.

It dawned on me last night that Dr. Ross actually talked to me about the problems I would face with reconstruction. He said he would discuss them in conference with his colleagues and try to find the best way to deal with them. I assumed all would be well.

The type of breast cancer I have is not the kind most women have; only 10 percent of diagnosed breast cancers are like mine. There were cancer cells throughout my entire breast, extending very close to the chest wall. After the breast was gone and chemo endured, there was an enormous amount of radiation to the area. My doctors feared the proximity to the chest wall and the neck. We were unable to save any skin, which would have made reconstruction easier.

I'd rather be alive than dead. I'd rather have this breast than none. Nonetheless, I'm angry and frustrated. And sad. So, so sad. I'm present with the heartache; I'm silent as I mourn.

The new plan will continue to unfold and, inevitably, I will be better. As Julian of Norwich said, "...all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well."

Tinkle tinkle.

posted by: rosietulips (reply)
post date: 12.13.07 (2:34 pm)

I love jingle bells!

posted by: mineral blue (reply)
post date: 12.13.07 (4:21 pm)

You wrote:
"Step two of the new plan is to sit with the sorrow, to maintain some inner silence while I feel the loss. It's hard to write or talk when I'm listening to the sadness, so I've gone missing this week from everyone."

You expressed this so very well. Indeed it's true, is it not - we are not able to write or to talk much, when we are "listening to the sadness". Beautifully said. And I am so glad you are listening now. That's your Soul talking. ;-)

You have had so much trauma in your childhood and background. It seems very understandable that you would assume all would be well, even if Dr. Ross told you there would be aspects of the reconstruction to face. To lose a beautiful, functional & expressive body part is difficult for anyone. To need to do so to save your life is.....well, in a way, it is a re-living of your traumas from long ago, I think.

I am glad, under the circumstances, that you told yourself it all would be just fine. One trauma at a time, you know? You had all you could do just to get through the surgery, chemo and radiation. I daresay it likely helped you to survive emotionally, to 'lose' your breast in 'stages'.

I'm so grateful you survived. And I'm so grateful now, that you are able to listen to the sadness. And the surgery, the chemo and the radiation are over.

One trauma at a time. I love you. ;-)

posted by: FinalyFree (reply)
post date: 12.13.07 (6:01 pm)

I think now is the time to grieve for several losses. You didn't have to really face the fact with the promise of reconstruction so now maybe you have to 'allow' yourself that time.

FYI I feel so incredibly stupid when I try to offer you advice, lol. Ok, I'm not laughing but rather giggling nervously. It's just hard to offer any 'advice' to someone who I think is just the epitome of courage :)

posted by: LadyG (reply)
post date: 12.14.07 (1:07 am)

You are very stong and God has brought you through so much, I am so grateful that you are here and that I found you. Remember that the morning cometh.

posted by: ggirl (reply)
post date: 12.17.07 (6:51 am)

Reply to: Mineral Blue
Of course you're right on all counts. There could be no grieving when every ounce of strength was being used to put one foot in front of the other. One trauma at a time is exactly correct. My mom says that to me all the time.

God was holding onto my heart, my mind and my hands throughout that terrible journey. I called out to him more times a day than I can count. He was always there to pull me back from every brink of disaster. Otherwise, all of the traumas might have been too much.

Grief and gratitude. Thank you for sharing both with me.
Love you.