An Emotional Mess

I'm not really sure what my deal is with being an emotional mess.

I've had some personal things happen with my family in the last few days, which I am sure is contributing to the emotional mess, but I was feeling like this before all of that.  I don't like talking about those personal things, just know that it is not the kind of thing I need to be dealing with after all of the things I have already dealt with just with my health.

I know when I posted the other day, I mentioned doing a whole bunch of crying.  It just seems to be getting worse.  I'm not really sure if my regular meds are working as they should be.  Probably should say something to the doctor about that.

I know that my expectations of people are pretty high.  In fact I would expect them to show me the same kind of courtesy that I have shown them during difficult times in their lives.  This is where I have started to realize how many people that have been in my life really don't give a damn, and frankly they never have.  I see that now.

Granted I posted how I was doing on Facebook, but since the surgery, I have had 1 friend, ONE call me to ask me how I was doing.  I then had 1 other person shoot me a message to ask me how I was doing.  Do you know how lonely it is to realize when you don't really have friends?  I'm not talking about the 54 amazing ladies who have been there to listen to me and be there for me through this.

I am talking about people who I have met in person.  People I have spent time with.  People who know the real me and not just the me they see on the computer.  It's pretty damn lonely that these people who have pretended for years upon years to be your friend, only to show that they don't care.

Granted I beat a cancer that was pretty easy to beat because of finding it as soon as I did.  Of course because I didn't have to do chemo or radiation and lose my hair, it's not a bad enough cancer to have support.  In fact, it's a cancer that most people wouldn't consider cancer because it doesn't require the harsh drugs.

I've heard reactions from people who have laughed about it.  It's no big deal.  You'll get over it.  Mind you, these are people who swore were my friends.  I've had people make comments about me not looking like I have endured all of these surgeries.

Just because I am not deathly ill from chemo and such doesn't mean that this whole process hasn't been painful.  Sure, 3 surgeries in a 6 month time span sucks, a lot.  I have watched anesthesia cause me to lose big chunks of my hair.  I've watched my scalp starting to show right in the front unless I have my hair all scrunched up into curls or pulled up in a pony tail.  I have gone from having my own breasts that I liked, to having no breasts with nasty scars, to weekly injections that hurt and caused excrutiating pain, while looking at misshapen objects that were put in place of my boobs.  Then I go in and have the implants put in.  They look beautiful, despite the nasty scars that are on them, but they really aren't mine.  The pain from the lipo is more than I can deal with.  I can't hold my kids, I can't lay how I want to.  Sleep is avoiding me.  Frankly I am miserable right now, and just wish that the healing were over and I could go on with my life.

That's just the physical aspect of it all.  The emotional aspect is even harder to deal with.  I've spent the majority of this time making jokes about it.  I laugh about having wanted new boobs, but I sure didn't want to get them because of cancer.  I laughed about the perk of lipo so that I could at least lose some of this weight, but that is just another mask.  I still hate what I see when I look in the mirror.  I honestly hate myself and what I see.  Obviously this is how others see me as the personal issues just continue.  I obviously have very little value, or people would stop making things in my life more complicated than they already are, especially 5 days after a major surgery.

I am constantly putting a smile on when I really don't want to.  I have to put this facade on so that people won't question my ability to be a good wife, daughter, mom and friend.  Inside I am dying though.  I can't be the real me without people making comments like previously mentioned.

This has not been an easy journey.  This is the ugly side of this disease.  I can't speak for everyone else out there who has dealt with breast cancer, but I'm sure the consensus would be that more often than not you just have to fake it to make it.  Reality is, people don't want to see the truth about how this disease tears the person apart.  Sure, in the long run you can hold your head up and say that you beat it, but just muddling through it day after day is the hard part.

Sorry for such a long post.  I have a ton of thoughts rolling around and I'm trying to get them out while I'm waiting on the pain meds to kick in and just make me pass out.  If some of this doesn't make sense, please refer back to the statement of me being on heavy duty pain meds.

While I may be struggling right now, I wish you all a beautiful and blessed day.

I Hate You and Then Some!

As I updated my status on Facebook earlier today, I didn't quite say as much as I wanted to.  I simply started out with this:

“I hate you. I look in the mirror and all I want to do is break it that way I don't have to see the truth. The truth is hurtful. Scars that are awful. Lines of the former me. I'm alot fatter than I thought I was. At least you used to be able to hide that for me. You've made me cry. You've made me feel awful, and now you make me feel uglier than I already did. Oh how I hate you.”

I want to elaborate on this more.  Let you into my head a little bit more.  If you can't take the negativity, then I am sorry, but please use the red X in the corner.  I have these things rolling in my head and I can't let them stay there.  I can only hope that my words can somehow help others who are going through the same thing or will be going through the same thing.  My thoughts may help someone to not feel alone in the things they think of themselves after they have started their process.

I didn't have too much of a problem removing the bandages yesterday.  It was freeing actually.  I took the picture not for me, but for others to see the journey.  The beginning of this if you will.  The picture isn't what really bothered me to tell you the truth.

While Renee, Dr. Mess' nurse removed my tape and drain tubes, that is when I got a really good look at the purple lines that were drawn on me.  Those purple lines were put there the day of my surgery.  They were the outline of MY breasts.  I assume that they were put there to help Dr. Mess to know where to put the tissue expanders to make me look as normal as possible.  To look at these purple lines and then to look at the horrific marks left behind is emotionally........I don't even have the right word for it.

So that was emotional, and it only got worse last night.  I was changing my clothes to get into bed.  I was able to take the surgical bra off and put on a camisole which is a bit more comfortable, but still sucks.  So in this process, I was able to look at the train wreck even closer.  Tears started falling and couldn't stop.  Even after I was drug out of the bathroom and dressed.

This morning I was digging through my closet to try and find something to wear.  That's too tight.  That's too low cut.  That's not big enough to hide the ugly.  That shirt will do what I need it to, but I can't get it on because it hurts my arms to try and force the clothing on myself.  So I settled for a t-shirt and my yoga pants.
Oh, let's not forget the moment I looked in the mirror after I was dressed and started to brush my teeth. Wow.....I look about 6 months pregnant.  *Sigh*  I can't fucking win for losing.  Go ahead, bring on the looks from people who want to ask me how far along I am, cause I got several of those looks today.  I know what they look like, I have been that judgmental person and have had the same look on my face.  I have been stupid enough to ask that question.

Maybe this is the lesson that I am supposed to learn from all of this.  Maybe I am supposed to learn to keep my mouth shut.  Maybe I am supposed to be less judgmental unless I know the entire story.  Maybe I am being punished for all those times that I hurt other people and didn't care as long as it didn't effect me.

So what really was the point of this post?  I guess for me to just get some negativity out.  To finally come out and say how much I hate myself and how disgusted I am with myself.  I already didn't feel pretty. Now.....well I feel repulsive and would understand if others saw me that way too.

48 Hours

In 48 hours, I will be on my way to the hospital to get this journey truly started.  I'd be lying if I said I am okay.  I'd be lying if I said that I'm not terrified.  I'd be lying if I said that I woke up this morning in tears when the realization hit me.

Yesterday, the anesthesiologist office called me to remind me of what to do and what not to do.  No eating, drinking, or chewing gum after midnight.  Make sure that I take all my jewelry off.  Make sure that I don't have deodorant or any kind of lotion on.  And of course, they will see me on Friday morning.  *sigh*  Okay, this shit just got real.  I figured that my last phone call before this would be from the anesthesiologist since that's how it was before I had the excisional biopsy.

My mother-in-law is driving in today.  She should be here sometime tonight.  It's a long drive up from Jacksonville, and I appreciate her coming.  My mom will be back on Saturday.  So I have 2 moms that are coming to take care of me.  I'm thankful that they  are going to take care of me.  I just hope that I'm not too much of a burden on them. I know that they will say that I'm not, but there is a lot that is going to be put on them.

Anyhow, I've got things that need to be done today that I can't do until after the surgery.  I hope that all of you have a good day.