This week I went for a bloodwork check with the oncologist. All was well. All numbers were in their recommended ranges. This was a relief, if a bit short-lived. The celebration was overshadowed by the knowledge that I have a pre-op mammogram at the end of February.
The mammogram will be on my left breast (I can’t have mammograms on my right breast because there’s no ‘mamm’ left to ‘gram’) to make sure there’s no sign of cancer in the left breast before the surgeon cuts into it.
The general reconstruction surgical plan is to lift my left breast to (sorta kinda) match the reconstructed right breast. My breasts will never match exactly. My right breast has a giant scar in place of a nipple, but at least I’ll be rid of the super-hard tissue expander. Besides, no one but Justin and the doctors are going to see me with my shirt off anyway, so I can live with those differences.
And, bonus, I’ll be rid of the chemo port after surgery. I’m not going to miss that blasted thing one little bit.
But, even looking at the bright side, I’m still nervous about surgery. My workout routines and writing practices have fallen to haphazard shit. A fact I am reminded of each and every time I try to button my jeans.
(Not gonna lie, some days I just wear a long shirt and walk around with the top button undone. Because that’s just how I roll.)
I can’t seem to find a rhythm. It’s hard to stay motivated when I know I’m going to be forced into sitting around for . . . I dunno . . . a few weeks? Maybe six weeks? Way too fucking long in either case.
That sounds backwards, I know.
I should want to work out more right now since I’ll be on a forced hiatus. Except, I don’t.
I want to sit around and eat chocolate and drink wine and forget that a year and a half later this shit isn’t over yet.
I think of all the miles I ran during treatment and I wonder why it’s so much harder to stay motivated this time around. After much contemplation I determined I’m just tired. Tired of being poked and prodded and cut into. All I want to do hide in my chair under a blanket with a book.
In fact, I think I’m going to do that now.