A Pillar of Strength

That was my only option. After hearing Dr. T tell me and Brandon it was malignant..we cried in his office, listened to his recommendations, took the pieces of paper with names of new doctors to meet and left. I think that was the only time I cried until almost two years later. I had a 4 year old son who needed to see I was okay, a husband who already looked at me as though I was a ghost, a mother who had already lost her baby sister to this disease and dealt with my fathers diagnosis and of course my father who knew what I would be going through with treatment and would always tell me it would be alright but I saw how much it pained him. No, I just had to do what I had to do. Never did the thought that I wouldn't survive cross my mind. I would have the surgeries and cocktails and make the best out of it. What choice did I have. I could go through it miserable and feeling sorry for myself..would that make it easier for me? For the people around me? The surgery I opted for would leave me with a flat tummy and perky boobs. The chemo would give me a chance to get funky with wigs...wow this was almost looking like fun. I'd convinced myself..this is going to be a breeze. Even with the surgical complications..I'd had many from excessive fluid build up, necrosis, abdominal hernia to giving myself a third degree burn with a damn heating pad..it was no big deal. I remember my dad going through chemo..he always went to work throughout. I pretty much did as well..taking only one day off..the day after treatment. I never got sick..just a little tired. My onc kept telling me my bloodwork was coming back not only good for a chemo patient but good for a normal person..thank God for Zofran..my daddy's recommendation.

My cancer was always good for a joke at work..if someone was really mad and demanded to speak with me (the manager) right then and there and I wasn't in..my bookkeeper would say to them very matter-of-factly "Well she is probably right in the middle of her chemo treatment..I could give her a call and let you talk with her". It would usually calm them down a bit. I would wear different wigs on different days and have people come up to me and ask to speak with the manager. I would say yes I am the manager..they would say nooo the red head. I would excuse myself go back to my office flip on the red wig..walk out and ask them if this was better..I guess in hindsight it was kind of mean..but a laugh for the office. One day a woman had heard I had had reconstruction and decided to share the story of her friend who had her nipple fall off after areola reconstruction..HEY I WASN'T THAT FAR ALONG YET!!! I told my co-workers about her story and it was decided that if that should happen to me that maybe the maintenance department could wire it to be the office bell.

I really felt that if I didn't take it so seriously no one else would either and it seemed to be working..for everyone but Brandon. He was terrified, felt left out...I had an incredible support system who was always there for me...he had no one. I was always happy and alive..he always saw me as dying. Since he had no one to talk to..he would talk to me. I know now after that what my husband felt is what every husband of a breast cancer survivor probably feels...would they tell their wives..probably not. Was it selfish of him...maybe...can I fault him for it..absolutely not! There is no real support system for husbands..in a support group for families of bc survivors..how could my husband express the fear of his loss of sexual attraction and the fear of looking at his wife naked during reconstruction that it would always be embedded in his mind and leave permanent scars of his own..while the grieving mother of another bc survivor listens on. He became resentful and angry. We fought alot. We both knew our marriage was something that may not survive. We have since began finding each other again..we have set backs..we work back towards each other again. I love him..but he so sensitive..but I think initially that is why I fell in love with him.

Nothing was hidden from my son..I would explain to him on his level (which is nothing short of genius..lol) what was going on with me. He went on occasion to doctors appointments, saw my scars, he knew I was sick but that I would be fine in time, he even emptied my drains. My in-laws throughout treatment were my saving grace, the voices of reason and they were able to take Joshua during rough patch times..surgeries, sleepy chemo days and times when emotionally things weren't the best at home.

Then all of sudden..wham!! A year came to a close..no more surgeries..no more treatment..what do I do now. I'm not doing anything anymore to make sure the cancer is gone. I look at people that haven't gone through this and I am so very different. I want things to be back to normal but I know they won't. What is normal anyway? Was I ever really normal? Would the cancer come back? Is that pain in my back mets? Is that headache a brain tumor? All of a sudden I needed someone to talk to..I was kind of thrown in a panic. That is when I found an on line support group for young women..Sisters in Survivorship. I realized after a couple of days reading posts on the boards that I am normal...in some circles, anyway..

This is Sammy

This Is Where It Ends

I don't buy everything I read, I haven't even read everything I've bought
I don't cry every time I bleed, my eyes are dry, but they're bloodshot

I have faith in medication. I believe in the Prozac Nation
You play doctor, but I've lost patience

But this is where it ends. This is where it ends..
Call the police and call the press
But please, dear God, don't tell my friends
This is where it ends. This is where it ends...

Where's my pride? Where's my self-esteem?
Does it show in the drinks I've bought?
I don't hide every time I'm seen, but I try not to get caught

Make excuses for behaviour
Can my illness be my saviour?
Hid my heart while you still gave yours

But this is where it ends. This is where it ends...

He says he wants to live in a movie
I say I want someone else to stand behind me
And write it all down'Cause I can't be bothered doing it myself.
And I don't want the responsibility of proving it's importance.

I have loved and I have waited
Been picked up and been sedated
mental health is overrated

But this is where it ends, This is where it ends....

~Barenaked Ladies