It’s Thursday. There are officially 2 weeks left until my mastectomy. I don’t want to call is ‘surgery’ anymore. Yes, it’s a surgery, but I am not afraid to say mastectomy.
A friend asked me this morning if I was getting anxious. I think I got anxious a while ago. Now I am just fed up. I have known I have cancer since January 7th from that first phone call. That is a LONG time to wait for something to be done. I know I am not getting worse by the second, I know it’s within allowable wait times. But I am fed up. I want it done already. I want to move onto the next phase.
And I know people are fed up to. This is not a complaint, I am NOT complaining in ANY WAY about the awesome support my friends have been giving me. But it’s a long haul for everyone. At this point, I get that nobody wants to ask my how I’m doing anymore. It’s repetitive, it’s boring, there is nothing new to say. Except that I keep getting less and less sleep, and I freak out a tiny bit more with every passing day.
One thing I did notice is how aware I have become of the mass. At first, I couldn’t even find it, and I really didn’t bother looking for it. But now, it’s there and I can’t seem to not accidentally feel it. When i get dressed, when I take a shower, when I touch my necklace. It’s there, I know where.
14 days. Staying focused on all the stuff I have to get done, for my daughter’s bday party, for the auction, for my work. But it’s all just busy-work, keeping me from thinking about D-day.
PS: leggings and long sweater. dangerously low on the Schlumpometer.