Forgetting horror

Occasionally I forget I'm supposed to be terrified.  I'll be just enjoying some time with my husband and little girl laughing and having fun like we did before "You have breast cancer" and suddenly I'll get that weird feeling like I'm forgetting something.  Then I remember.  Oh yeah - I forgot the horror.  And in one sickening wave it all comes back to me violently - so much so that I think for a second I think I'm going to throw up.

Got more bad news.  I'm not posting it on my Carebridge website.  What's the point of depressing everybody further?  I know they are trying to help me, but I hate my doctors because none of the can give me a shred of good news or even hope.  Every time I talk to one of them the news gets worse.  First it was this itty-bitty teeny weeny thing they saw on the mammogram.  Then it was breast cancer.  Then it was just a tiny 1cm tumor.  Then it had spread to the lymph nodes.  Now another doctor thinks it has spread throughout both breasts and is not confined to the parameters of a tumor.  They don't even tell you what that means.  They just say things like "It will strongly affect your surgical options."  Which translated into civilian speak means "You're going to need to lob off both of your breasts."  At age 38.  With a new husband and baby.

I cut my hair.  I didn't want my baby to be scared when mommy showed up bald.  So I went to a salon and told them to cut it all off.  It's about an inch long now all around.  I look like a man.  I hate it, but it was definitely quicker in the shower this morning.  My husband is so sweet.  He says I look cute and he likes it.  I know he's being sincere. And it's funny I still feel like me.  Nothing has changed, except now when I look in the mirror I don't know who that person is.  I've spent so many years with long thick black curly hair that I see a stranger looking back at me.  I wonder if I will see a monster in a couple months when all the hair has fallen out and the other effects of chemo have set in.

I definitely turned a corner the other day when they told me about the double mastectomy.  I've gotten so in the habit of getting bad news that I'm convinced they will lob off both my breasts and when I wake up flat chested with two big scars on my chest, I'll see that disappointed look on my husband's face again and the surgeon will tell me they "found more cancer."  So I'm not dreading chemo anymore.  In fact I can't wait to start.  I want the stuff to go in and burn out the cancer and save my life for my little girl.  Probably won't be able to have any more children, but I've come to terms with that I think - at least for today.  I want to live - for my husband, for myself, and for my daughter.  I don't want to die.