A year in my life, from the day I was diagnosed and for the full year after. Walk with me.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Day 27 Pitching

May 5th.  That's the morning of my surgery.  I found out two days ago, but haven't been able to write about it.  Today I received the presurgical packet from the reconstructive surgeon and it was full disclosure heavy, very intimidating stuff.  I have to sign every page, there are 7 of them and each one basically says "this might not work or worse."  I am still waiting on the breast surgeon's package, that should be a kick.

I told the girls at work about my date and we started hammering down teachers to cover my classes.  Already they are coming in to shadow me, each one is a relentless reminder that my presurgical days are ticking away and the searing pain of having my breasts cut away is hurtling at me like a fastball pitch.

This is such an edgy time for me, I am snappy and dangerous to be around.  Yesterday I missed a baseball game with my family.  Though I am not a big baseball fan, hot dogs and beer in the moist, simmering southern evening is such a treat.  We are lucky enough to have a local farm team for the Devilrays and games are big fun.  Through our friends, my son was awarded the last minute honor of throwing out the first pitch and because of work I was going to miss it.  I pitched a fit and refused to go to the game at all.  I stayed at home and ate scrambled eggs while everyone else partied their socks off.  Childish.

My anxiety is also making it difficult to ride.  Today I got a lesson on my wonderful green mare who is under training with my friend.  We trotted, she rushed, I tightened and wasn't easy on her mouth, my hip angle kept closing, I sat too hard, my weight wasn't balanced, when I asked for the stop I clenched with my legs and butt.  All wrong, I just couldn't get through the anxiety, the ever present feeling that I am going to die kept surfacing.  Realistically, I know I am saving my life, not dying but fear is irrational and so am I right now.

7 comments:

Diane said...

Life's a Bitch..but you will NOT die! You have far too much living left to do. You have children to get through college..marry off and be the feistiest Gran ever!! SO, by all means...be damned angry and let it out...but then relax into your quiet place for a while. Cherish those around you..who are also frightened and likely, at a loss for words..but want to anything and everything they can to help and show their love. I am sending you lots and lots of hugs..take one or two out when you need them, and wrap yourself up! You are on the prayer list of everyone I know..many who are survivors! Keep writing the blog..is cathartic for you...With love...

the sebaceous funk said...

What kind of counseling are they offering you to prepare? Is there a local group you talk to in person? I hope you get to talk to real world survivors that can put your mind at ease.

Greener Pastures--A City Girl Goes Country said...

I can imagine how scared you must be. If you act childish or cranky, so what?

Darwin said...

What remains appalling to me is that we wait in line for MONTHS to get a mammogram, but then POOF, like magic, off with the breasts. Am I wrong? Is this sense of injustice unfounded?

Darwin said...

P.S. I've never seen you moody, angry or perturbed, accept when you worked at Emulex with me, so many years ago. But look at our bosses at the time! I just stayed all those ways -- you moved on. Be proud. Be your stable self with moments of surprising fear and anger and anxiety, knowing that in the soul of you are none of things, really.

Darwin said...

I meant except, as you know... :O)

zenmama said...

Thanks for the reminders Darwin, except the one's of Emulex, where I battled the Dragon of Inertia and LOST.

Thanks for the encouragement Diane, I can feel your hugs.

Funk darling. Blogs ARE the new therapy, where have you been. Love you madly.