Falling to Pieces

The last couple of weeks have been very hard. As I mentioned in a previous post, I had a bad reaction to contrast dye (we believe it was the oral contrast, though I also had IV),  which caused a cascade of problems that were extremely difficult to rebound from. I was physically sickened, which escalated my anxiety (to levels I can’t even describe). The anxiety made my stomach issues worse, completely killed my appetite, and caused me to lose nearly 15 pounds in a couple of weeks. Each thing played off the next in a miserable, vicious cycle. I forced myself to choke down saltines, bananas with peanut butter, and high protein Boost. They said if I didn’t eat/get healthier then I wouldn’t be able to have surgery. It was a lot of pressure, on top of everything else that was/is going on, 

I made a lot of calls to doctors, and had to do a lot of strategizing around medicines I already take, plus ones that they wanted to give me. Finally, my PCP basically forced me to go on an assortment of anti-anxiety meds. I am on lots of them now, to be honest. I didn’t like it the first few days because I felt pretty “high”, but it has leveled off enough to function. I joked that I’m the only person I know whose family, friends, and medical professionals had an intervention to insist I do MORE drugs! 😆 That said, it did get me back to eating and sleeping, so I guess if I become an addict we’ll just have to deal with that later.

I realize that this isn’t really the kind of update that people come here for. I think I’m supposed to tell you what tests/surgeries/treatments are happening and when. I’m supposed to let you know how all of those things turned out when they’re done. I’m supposed to be strong and stoic, and maybe have some inspirational words of wisdom. That last one is especially important in the event that I die. Leaving people with a good quote that makes it seem like everything is ok makes them feel a lot better about things. I gotta tell you, though, that ain’t me. I’m not a hero or a “goddess” or a goddamned warrior. I’m a terrified mom with a particularly fragile child and every moment of my life is consumed with fear and worry (even while on the meds). I am afraid that if I do survive this, I will never feel safe again. My own body is trying to kill me, FFS! It’s all messy and terror-filled and we’re still at the very beginning of this process. It’s a long road, and I have no idea what the future holds, or if I even have one.

Anyway, I guess I’m just trying to say that I’ve held on to trying to make all of this palatable for other people- at least to a certain extent, but I don’t intend to do much of that anymore. I don’t care if it makes other people uncomfortable. Sometimes I’m angry, and sometimes I’m sad, but mostly I’m terrified. It’s weird that cancer is portrayed in a lot of ways, but this rarely seems to be one of them. If you, as a reader, can’t handle whatever realities are about to come as my treatments begin, I recommend you GTFO now because my double mastectomy, sentinel node biopsies, and phase 1 of reconstruction all happen Wednesday, and I intend to be honest about all of it. 

If you are interested, the video at the top of the screen is a little “about me” of my surgeon. She will be responsible for removing all of the cancer and breast tissue, so she’s pretty important in my life right now.

If you’re still here, here’s a cute picture of my very wonderful, grown-ass kid, who is sweet and happy and has no idea what’s been going on.