Bilateral mastectomy has been scheduled for February 7th at 7:30am and it feels like the end.
Like a countdown to.....something ending. I'm preparing like a nutcase. Making and freezing food for my family to eat, buying pillows for my recovery, trying to get my son's doctors appointments taken care of, getting him new glasses, rearranging my room for a hospital bed (maybe...?), cleaning the crap out of my house so no one else has to deal with it, stockpiling food and supplies.
I feel like I'm preparing for my death. And in a sense I am. I'm preparing for me not to be around anymore. (Don't even get me started on the risks of general anesthesia....) The fact of the matter is, I have NO idea what the next year holds for me in terms of ability to function. I am counting on being unable to do much for the rest of 2013.... that feels like an eternity. I am having a hard time seeing the light at the end of this tunnel.
I know it's not the end of everything (although, it is the end of "the girls"). I know it's the beginning. But it's the beginning of something I don't want to do. Something I am terrified of. A fight I don't want any part in. It's like the beginning of delivering my sleeping baby girl. It's
something I am being forced to do. I don't want to, but it's
inevitable. And every moment sucks. It is the beginning of awful.
Though that doesn't seem really true either does it? Losing my babies has been awful. I've been living in awful. But this time I'm getting a heads up.
"Heeeey. Just so ya know. The next year or so for you is going to be shit. You're going to be sick, exhausted, and incapable of doing much. Hopefully you don't completely miss out on the birth and growth of your baby and hopefully you get to see some of your beautiful son grow another year older. Maybe you won't miss everything..."
I know I'm being pessimistic. I know some people do well on chemotherapy. I just can't imagine that a pregnant someone is going to do that awesome on chemotherapy or recovering from major surgery. See? No light at the end of my tunnel. Just dark scariness.
I can't even think about my Baby Squiggles (that babe is always wiggling away when it's time for her close up). This baby HAS to be okay because I don't think I can handle a-n-y m-o-r-e.