Monday June 11th - early morning.
Last night my daughter woke up crying a few times and asked me to come and cuddle with her. Now this in and of itself is not unusual, it was her state of mind that was different. She was beside herself with fear and sadness, fear that I was going to die, fear that she would be alone, fear that no one would cuddle her like I do. What can I say to that? We lay together until she was calm, and I was falling asleep in "her" arms, then she gently woke me to say I was all twitchy - falling asleep I said - and I tucked her in and went off to my own bed.
Then it hit me. I am helpless. I am standing here on the shoreline looking out into the ocean at the biggest wave you have ever seen. I know it is going to come crashing down with such force it may possibly kill me in the process. However I cannot move, I am transfixed. I have the knowledge "you have IBC", I know some of the facts "you have to go through chemo", "you're going to lose your hair" etc. but to know it and fully live and embrace it are two completely different things.
No wonder I am so calm now (well mostly), I have no reference point for this, nothing with which I can measure what is about to hit me. I mean yes, the pain at the incision in my breast from the biopsy hurts, but how does that compare to the pain of having both breasts removed and all the tissue along my ribcage and in my lymph nodes? How painful is that going to be? Not just the physical pain but the mental anguish too. I have always identified myself as a sexy cute little thing, not that my breasts have ever been spectacular, but they were part of this fiesty little package that drew people to me. My hair too, my hair which is now finally all I want it to be, long and soft and beautiful, will all be gone. I'll probably have a crew cut then be bald. The ultimate little punk chick, bald and with no breasts. I am not sure that I will embrace that? I cannot even imagine that right now except in the far off impossible sense. I suppose I could bring out the funky clothes and attitude to match - who says I'm too old to dress like a punker.
And then there is Chemo......now this I am terrified of. Again, I cannot even imagine it. I have read some blogs about what it feels like, but to actually put my body and soul through it and to sit watching my husband suffer as he holds my hands to help me go through it, the thought is too much to bear. I hear that your body burns up for days and that the nausea is like having a burning acrid rock in your stomach. I am afraid of this. No I am terrified, but I'll have to go in for months with my hankie on my head and my body getting skinnier and greyer and sit with this poison dripping into me all so I can fight this stupid ASSHOLE who decided to shit on my parade. I am so scared! I am going to be such a burden to my family and I hate that! Don't get me wrong, I love being catered to, when I am cute and sexy and can smile back and say "thanks for the coffee honey", not when I can barely lift my head off the pillow and I smell like disease and medicine, no, this I do not want.
My father always said "Michelle, life isn't fair" and he was right, as he always is, but hell this just SUCKS and I know I'm supposed to learn something from this, or that there is some reason why I have this, I just can't seem to find that! What good does it do giving a mother of two young children a devil like this to fight off. Have I not loved my family enough? What should I have done differently? It's all so pointless to ask or think these things because it's just RANDOM. My number just came up and I have to stand tall and take the shit that's going to come, and that massive wave is getting closer and I still have no idea how I will manage to fight my way back to the surface and live through it, but bloody hell I'm going to swim and fight and try with every fiber of my being.
Today is Monday...today I can still work, today I might hear from the Oncologist, today is another day not really knowing - and I am glad for that.