Out of my Hands

Last night I couldn't fall asleep. I had done some yard work and my muscles were mad, my mind was wandering, and I couldn't find my Kindle (CB had "relocated" it). I wanted to stay in bed, so I just messed around on my phone, making the rounds on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, etc. But around 1 am, my mind wandered a little too far and I started browsing You Tube for surgery footage -- mastectomies, reconstruction, etc. I found some good stuff, opting for the edited 5-10 min versions with the audio turned down as not to wake BHE sound asleep next to me. This stuff doesn't bother me. It's fascinating and it helps me make sense of things.

I used to be a control freak. There's a history behind it (as always) and maybe I'll write about that another time. Sometimes I look back at how I treated people in the past and cringe over the priority I placed on completely unimportant details. Having towels in the right place, the right brand of drinks at a party, the right look on my kids, and on and on. I credit BHE with saving me from that. He's the opposite and has modeled a better way of living to me over the past twelve years of our marriage. Certain events & situations will prompt that side of me to come roaring back though. 

I would have expected this whole cancer thing to send my need for control into overdrive, but so much is inherently out of my hands that I've been forced to just let most of it go. I've definitely had my moments -- and KAS, who gave me her cell number, can probably attest to that. Over the past few weeks though I've had this nagging feeling that I can't shake -- total loss of control, the unknown of both the crucial and the mundane. It's the surgery. The time under anesthesia. The loss of body parts. I cannot even begin to reconcile it. I realized last night that it's why I keep reading that damn surgery report. My brain is trying to piece together a cohesive picture of that day but it can't. I want a video. An account of what was done and said. Who did what, who said what. I want to see my intubation, the node biopsy, the mastectomy prep, the first cut, the final cut, my tissue placed aside and sent to pathology. I want to see and hear my time in recovery. BHE was there with me and I asked him what things were like during that time but he didn't say much. I'm sure it wasn't easy for him and that's not how he operates anyway. I just don't remember anything and it's unsettling. I want to remember the trip from recovery to the hospital floor. I want to remember my friends who came by, my sisters and my mom. I don't know why it's all bothering me so much.  

The reality is that there is no account of that time other than the surgery report I already have. There's not a video. There's no one in that place that would recount anything other than what they've done and said for any other patient. Why? Because I was just their first surgery on that one Tuesday a few weeks ago. They'd been there and done that and that's why they're good at what they do. I'm not saying that the docs, nurses, techs, etc. are uncaring. I've already written about what I do remember about that day and they were caring, just as I'd expect they are with every patient. At some point my brain will wrap around the truth that the surgery saved my life. The pathology report attests to it. There was more cancer than we knew about -- DCIS (ductal carcinoma in situ) -- cancer that hadn't yet spread outside of the ducts. It eventually would have. It would have reached the lymph nodes. It would have spread to other parts of my body. This surgery had to happen and I'm grateful that I found the mass when I did. It saved me from what could have killed me later. Rationally that all makes sense. I really shouldn't need to know anything more than that.

I suppose that these feelings are all normal. Processing emotional trauma is a difficult thing. Friends keep asking how I'm doing and they mean it. They really want to know and I so appreciate that. I just don't know how to answer. Logically, I know I'm fine. As far as we know, my body is healthy and in several months I'll feel more like myself again. My regular trips to the cancer center will taper off and I'll feel less like a patient. Those are all great things. I guess my answer to "How are you?" is that I'm doing fairly well...considering the muscle tightness and pain, considering the image in the mirror, considering my lingering fatigue and restless emotions.

I've been constantly posting and tagging and checking in on Facebook. It looks like we're living it up over here. I've seen three new movies in the last week. We've been eating out at our favorite places and taking advantage of the sunshine and fun spring activities. Cancer recovery looks great on my Facebook timeline. We're doing those things because it's easy for me to walk into a movie theater, sit in the dark, and zone out for a few hours. When we're eating at our favorite places I forget for awhile. When I post pictures of our fun on Facebook it gives me something to go back and look at and think about when the darkness creeps in at 2 am and I can't sleep. I read the comments of friends and family and it encourages me. It reminds me of how lucky I am that my cancer was caught early, that surgery options were good, that the medicines are effective, that all I have are a few temporary aches and pains, and to stay positive that the cancer won't return. So I guess that's how I am. I'm still emotional, sometimes moody, and ready for the time when the pain will be gone and I won't think about this all the time.