Not one of my best weeks

Warning: Apparently I am prone to random crying outbursts this week as the reality of surgery looms. 

Let me step back a week or so.  After finally getting through the recovery for my final chemo treatment, I'd been feeling pretty good.  But since this past weekend, my impending surgery on July 23 has me quite anxious and really down about this whole cancer thing.  Here are some random awkward moments I've had:

1. My niece's birthday party on Sunday.  We went to my niece's birthday party and all of the parents were really nice but I felt so self-conscious there.  I'd only met one other couple there, but I felt very uncomfortable.  I didn't know what people knew, if anything, but hello, I was wearing a scarf.  It doesn't take an Einstein to realize that there's something going on with me.  And whatever it is, it's probably not good.  I actually started crying at the party because I was so miserable.  Not a sobbing cry, just a tears running down my face sort of cry.  I wanted to run away from the party, but a bunch of moms were hanging out by the backyard gate and I didn't want to have to walk by them and have them see me crying, so I just sat in my chair trying to pull myself together.  And then I just cried most of the way home.
2. Daycare parking lot on Monday.  As if Sunday was bad, Monday was worse.  I didn't sleep very well, which didn't help my mood.  I was able to hold it together for most of the day at work but basically fell apart as soon as I got to my car.  I ran into a mom that I don't know very well at daycare pick-up that evening.  Even though I don't know her very well, she's been so nice and supportive through this whole thing.  (Some of the parents at day care are quite unfriendly.  That's a blog post for another day.)  Anyway, I ran into this Mom and she asked how I was doing and I burst into tears.  Awwwwkkkwwwarrrrddd.
3. Oddly enough, I was fine on Tuesday.  I think getting some sleep helped.

Since then, it's been a bit of an emotional roller coaster.  I hate my hair loss, I hate my scarves, I hate my wig.  I hate it I hate it I hate it.  I've hated it this whole time but now I really, really hate it.  I wish I could be more anonymous.  I could be, I suppose--it's my decision to wear scarves over my wig most of the time, but that's mainly because I just haven't really gotten used to the wig.  And because I have peach fuzz growing back, the wig's starting to get more uncomfortable.  Yet I refuse to shave again because I just want my hair back.  One of the friends I've made in this whole ordeal told me that she hasn't told that many people about her cancer--she wears her wig all of the time and just told people she got a new haircut.  In many ways I'm jealous of her--there are many days I wish I didn't have to be constantly reminded of my cancer every time I look in the mirror.  The irony in all of this is most people tell me I look really, really good--not like somebody who has cancer at all.  Which I think is meant as a nice thing, even if it sounds like a backhanded compliment.  And people love both the wig and the scarves.  And the crazy thing is, I think most of the people have been sincere, which is crazy to me because you have no idea how ugly and freak like I feel these days.

To clarify, I'm getting a double mastectomy.  Technically I don't need to have both breasts removed, but given my genetic status and my desire/determination to never go through cancer treatment again if I can help it, I've decided to have both removed.  And many women get reconstruction at the same time, but since we already know that the cancer spread into my lymph nodes, I need radiation.  The radiation oncologists prefer a "clean canvas" for their work and the plastic surgeons don't like their work muddied by radiation.  So reconstruction needs to wait until sometime next spring/summer.

My primary solace is I've been told the surgery's not that bad.  A few women have told me that the anxiety is worse than the actual event, as the chemo and hair loss was in many ways.  And I've seen some pictures of women with mastectomies and the women actually don't look that bad.  The chemo's been one thing, but this surgery is a brutal reminder that this whole thing is very, very real.  I'm 37 (soon to be 38) and this has by far been the shittiest year of my life.