Let Me Get This Off My Chest!

I hate cancer. I don't even like to go to the doctor. How can this be true? I'm not sick. I feel fantastic! I have things I need to do and grandkids to play with. Holidays around the corner. I don't have time for this! I don't want this stupid dumb breast cancer, but I'm stuck with it.

I thought I was ready to deal with this. I wanted to move ahead quickly and get this cancer off my chest. Then, the surgeon called me with a date today and I'm not ready all of a sudden! I find myself getting attached to them. . . . . even though they've mostly been in my way for years. Ridiculous, I know! Today was the first day I've cried. I wish I could explain why. Maybe because it just got real. It all seems to be happening too fast.

I'm also sad that I can't take the "bucket list" trip we've had planned with friends for months. We had to reschedule last month with my husband's illness and now we have to cancel it so I can get my boobs removed. I'm mad that breast cancer has screwed up my vacation. Stupid dumb breast cancer, I hate you!

I will no longer have feminine curves. I have the weight gain in my stomach that will be my only curve, and it's not at all feminine. The appendiges that I've "strapped in" for most of my life will be gone. I won't have any feeling in my flat chest. I'm totally ticked off that breast cancer is going to mutilate my body.

I've been on the phone most of the afternoon scheduling my pre-op visits. So, this next week I'll be busy doing pre-op paperwork, getting blood tests, lymph node "mapping" along with some wires inserted into the tumors. (They swear it's not as painful as the biopsies. More details on these later) Of course, there's all the laundry, bills to pay, and loose ends to tie up here in the next week as well. I want to get my bedroom ready for me to relax and recover before I leave too, with everything at my bedside. I'm overwhelmed. Stupid dumb breast cancer!

I find the fear beginning to bubble up inside me and I have to remind myself that I'm not alone. I'm strong. I have courage, faith and hope. I have an awesome support system.

So, now it's time to get this off my chest. . . . I get to keep my boobs for one more week. What to do? How can I kick the fear and sadness in the butt and find peace and joy?

I think I'll throw them a farewell party.