My "chosen" treatment:
In about 3 weeks, I will be having a bilateral mastectomy. My plastic surgeon will be there and will place expanders under my muscle tissue for my eventual reconstruction. After I heal from having 2 bits of my woman-hood literally chopped off (approximately 4-8 weeks), I will begin a 12-week-round of chemotherapy. Because of the type of medication, I have been told that I will lose my hair, I will be sick, and I will be exhausted.
After the first round of chemo is completed, I will have my baby (yes, all of the previously mentioned treatment is while pregnant). I don't know when exactly this will be. My hopes is that we can get it close to 36 or 37 weeks for the baby's well being. This baby will be born alive because there are no other choices. I don't know how I will continue on if my Squiggles dies. How can I fight cancer if my child dies?
After healing from delivery for 4 weeks. I begin round 2 of chemotherapy, another 12 week stint. After I finish this round of chemo, I should be able to get my reconstructive surgery although I will be on antibody injections for a full year. For those of you playing along at home, that puts reconstruction around October or November.
The realization is hitting me that I am utterly terrified of what
is going to happen to me post surgery. Mentally. I fear that I am
going to completely lose what is left of my mind. That I will be thrown
back into the pits of grief that I struggled and worked so hard to get
through after my Riley died. That hole is so hard to get out of. I don't want to go in again.
I am trying to envision my time in the hospital. What am I going to do? Just not look down at my chest ever again?? That first time they unwrap me to check the incisions..... Do I just look at the ceiling to avoid mental collapse? I've looked and prayed at that ceiling before, prayed hard that Riley was fine and this was all just a crazy mistake. I don't want to look at that ceiling again. Praying to it doesn't help either.
At first I thought I would be fine in the hospital after mutilation, but now I'm wondering if I should be left alone. Don't worry; I have no plans to slit my wrists with my IV needle (Squiggles takes care of that), but I just foresee the depression crashing in and crushing me under its hopeless weight. I will certainly be unable to ask for help if I need it.
Will I ever stop crying? Good thing about being in the hospital IV saline: no dehydration when you cry like a crushed soul.