Three days until my expander comes out! THREE! If I wasn't in the home stretch before, I am now. And I'm way overdue to get this thing out of me. I've BEEN way overdue.
Despite an amazing weekend with my mom and one of my best friends (we went shopping, to the beauty salon, to my bridal salon, the pumpkin patch, and ate at some of my favorite restaurants!), I am still so anxious about Wednesday. My anxiety is far less than it was last week when I first made the appointment on Wednesday to get "checked out" again, one final time before the surgery. That's because I've been actively attempting to see, focus on, have hope and believe everything will go OK Wednesday, and my surgery will go as scheduled on Thursday. I am finding faith (though it takes a lot of work every day) in all of this. That I'll have the surgery and that because of the surgery I'll be able to move on with my life.
The final fence I talked about in a recent post is very clear in front of me. It's thick, tall and painted white. Half of it will come down after Wednesday, the other half after my surgery. And then the healing begins: physically, mentally, emotionally.
Really, the only thing that's making today and tomorrow somewhat bearable is knowing this waiting is temporary. That it will be over in a few days. That I have two full days of work left, and then we head to Hershey on Wednesday, and I'll have my ultrasound. And then Thursday is the surgery. It's here and it's happening and I nave to literally force myself to see it and believe it.
I have so much trouble allowing myself to see the end of all this, but I have to try. I have to get there mentally as well as physically. And this really is the end for now. The big ending. Of this breast cancer. Sure, there will be years that follow of tests and screenings and anxiety, and maybe a preventive mastectomy. But THIS thing, this is the ending. The big ending. This surgery is the final step in my breast cancer journey. And I'm so excited about it. Excited to move on, feel better and slowly get back to normal. I want to envision it but it's hard. That's me trying to protect myself. To not get too excited, or to not look too much forward to the things I want. Well, I have to. I want this surgery so badly so I have to really allow myself to see it happening. Just like the wedding.
I have to believe everything will be OK, and everything from now up until the wedding (and beyond) will go as planned and will be just what I've always hoped and dreamed of. But breast cancer got in the way. But it also got out of the way ... just in time. Now the real question is: can I believe that?
Saturday I tried on my dress and picked out, and ordered my veil and shoes. Obviously, I will not be sharing any details. But I will say, as soon as I put on my dress again (it had been since July) I didn't want to take it off. I literally did the turn-and-swish-around movement, moving my hips from side to side, while looking in the mirror, like a Disney princess does. I have a natural glow as soon as I see my dress, even on the rack. And when it's on, I am transformed into the bride I was always meant to be. And now, my shoes and veil are ordered! We're only a week or so away from the five-month mark. Things, they are a'happenin'!
When I had my dress on this past weekend it was easier to see the wedding actually happening, and I felt closer to it. There's still that big roadblock, though. The big white fence. The final surgery. (And the final "check" of the other breast before the surgery). Really, truly, the only thing that makes these next few days bearable is knowing all of this will be happening within the next few days. I won't have to wait forever for things to happen again. I'm trying so hard to picture myself, on the day of the surgery, in my gown and ready to go. So excited to get the expander out and my implants in. To know, when I wake up hours later, I can begin the recovery process. I'll be able to move freely. Exercise without pain. Sneeze and cough without muscle spasms. Put on a coat without being careful. Opening car doors, and putting on purses, without worry or pain. And have a normal-looking chest again. Not worry about what bras to wear with what shirts, or how my scarves cover up certain parts of me. Feel, and look normal. Heal, from all of this. And it's only a few days away. Time goes so slowly, both when you're waiting to hear how your life will change (waiting for test and surgery results) and also waiting for it to start to go back to normal. Time goes so slowly when you're waiting for the final fence to come down. And when you're waiting to see how you'll be after the final fence comes down.
As much as I try every day to live in the moment and live as normally as I can while I'm waiting, there's no doubt that I'm always waiting. When you're always in pain you're always waiting for the moment when you won't be.
I think the hardest part is waiting for the moment that you'll no longer be waiting.
Despite an amazing weekend with my mom and one of my best friends (we went shopping, to the beauty salon, to my bridal salon, the pumpkin patch, and ate at some of my favorite restaurants!), I am still so anxious about Wednesday. My anxiety is far less than it was last week when I first made the appointment on Wednesday to get "checked out" again, one final time before the surgery. That's because I've been actively attempting to see, focus on, have hope and believe everything will go OK Wednesday, and my surgery will go as scheduled on Thursday. I am finding faith (though it takes a lot of work every day) in all of this. That I'll have the surgery and that because of the surgery I'll be able to move on with my life.
The final fence I talked about in a recent post is very clear in front of me. It's thick, tall and painted white. Half of it will come down after Wednesday, the other half after my surgery. And then the healing begins: physically, mentally, emotionally.
Really, the only thing that's making today and tomorrow somewhat bearable is knowing this waiting is temporary. That it will be over in a few days. That I have two full days of work left, and then we head to Hershey on Wednesday, and I'll have my ultrasound. And then Thursday is the surgery. It's here and it's happening and I nave to literally force myself to see it and believe it.
I have so much trouble allowing myself to see the end of all this, but I have to try. I have to get there mentally as well as physically. And this really is the end for now. The big ending. Of this breast cancer. Sure, there will be years that follow of tests and screenings and anxiety, and maybe a preventive mastectomy. But THIS thing, this is the ending. The big ending. This surgery is the final step in my breast cancer journey. And I'm so excited about it. Excited to move on, feel better and slowly get back to normal. I want to envision it but it's hard. That's me trying to protect myself. To not get too excited, or to not look too much forward to the things I want. Well, I have to. I want this surgery so badly so I have to really allow myself to see it happening. Just like the wedding.
I have to believe everything will be OK, and everything from now up until the wedding (and beyond) will go as planned and will be just what I've always hoped and dreamed of. But breast cancer got in the way. But it also got out of the way ... just in time. Now the real question is: can I believe that?
Saturday I tried on my dress and picked out, and ordered my veil and shoes. Obviously, I will not be sharing any details. But I will say, as soon as I put on my dress again (it had been since July) I didn't want to take it off. I literally did the turn-and-swish-around movement, moving my hips from side to side, while looking in the mirror, like a Disney princess does. I have a natural glow as soon as I see my dress, even on the rack. And when it's on, I am transformed into the bride I was always meant to be. And now, my shoes and veil are ordered! We're only a week or so away from the five-month mark. Things, they are a'happenin'!
When I had my dress on this past weekend it was easier to see the wedding actually happening, and I felt closer to it. There's still that big roadblock, though. The big white fence. The final surgery. (And the final "check" of the other breast before the surgery). Really, truly, the only thing that makes these next few days bearable is knowing all of this will be happening within the next few days. I won't have to wait forever for things to happen again. I'm trying so hard to picture myself, on the day of the surgery, in my gown and ready to go. So excited to get the expander out and my implants in. To know, when I wake up hours later, I can begin the recovery process. I'll be able to move freely. Exercise without pain. Sneeze and cough without muscle spasms. Put on a coat without being careful. Opening car doors, and putting on purses, without worry or pain. And have a normal-looking chest again. Not worry about what bras to wear with what shirts, or how my scarves cover up certain parts of me. Feel, and look normal. Heal, from all of this. And it's only a few days away. Time goes so slowly, both when you're waiting to hear how your life will change (waiting for test and surgery results) and also waiting for it to start to go back to normal. Time goes so slowly when you're waiting for the final fence to come down. And when you're waiting to see how you'll be after the final fence comes down.
As much as I try every day to live in the moment and live as normally as I can while I'm waiting, there's no doubt that I'm always waiting. When you're always in pain you're always waiting for the moment when you won't be.
I think the hardest part is waiting for the moment that you'll no longer be waiting.
Best of all good things to you, Marjie. You've been an inspiration to many of us. That you see this hurdle as a "white fence" says a lot about you ... not a huge dark wall, but a white fence. That you can see through, get over, surmount, break through, and see light. May you find peace and painlessness soon! Fondly, ~ Ellen ~
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