Still catching up on blogging, so pretend this post is late February......
Pregnancy after breast cancer is not for the faint of heart!
Saturday, March 29, 2014
Breast Changes with Pregnancy Part II, aka pregnancy after breast cancer is not for the faint of heart
Cancer and Love
First off, let's just pretend today is February 14, 2014, Valentine's Day, mmkay?
It's finally here. It's been one year since I was diagnosed with breast cancer.
One reason this blog post has taken so long to write is because I would have written very differently depending on even the time of day it was written.
About mid to late January it started to hit me that this anniversary was looming. First anniversaries of bad things are always the worst, aren't they? It's a painful rite of passage. If you can get through "the first [fill in the blank]" sometimes the pain lessens on the other side. Feeling the full weight of The First Anniversary of Diagnosis Day, at that point I decided I would title this post, "V Day? Try D Day!"
But as the week of Valentine's Day hit, I realized a lot of the details were fuzzy. Did I find the tumor on the 12th, call the doctor's office on the 13th and go in first thing the 14th? Or did I find it on the 13th, call first thing on the 14th and they had me come straight over? I know the thin needle biopsy and core biopsy were on the 14th, but when did I have the mammogram and ultrasound? There was some comfort in not remembering. I started to think, perhaps this date will have no power over me.
My husband, Music Man, was also keenly aware of the emotional landmine this day would bring. And, fun fact for those of you who know him, today is also the first anniversary of the last time he shaved. He had briefly grown a beard, shaved it much to my dismay, so he grew it again in a desperate attempt to find anything that would make me happy. Anywho, last night Music Man gave us a little pep talk. Valentine's Day is not going to be taken over by sad memories and cancer. Valentine's Day is going to be Valentine's Day (being the romantic that he is, he's always loved this holiday). We're not who we were a year ago. Our lives are full of joy, and now full of excitement and anticipation as we are expecting twins in just a few weeks. I whole-heartedly agreed. This date will have no power over me.
This morning I woke up and remembered it was Valentine's Day, and therefore it was the anniversary of the day I was diagnosed.......and that was about it. It was a fleeting thought. I had been at works for hours before I thought about it again. But when I did finally think about it, memories came flooding back. The dead silence in the room after the thin needle biopsy didn't aspirate fluid. The look on my husband's face when he arrived at the doctor's office. The nurse holding my hand as cried during the core biopsy. The shock. The fear.
Cue the storm cloud over my head.
I did bawl the whole drive home from work. I cried for my lost breast. I cried for having to worry about cancer for the rest of my life. I cried over the thought of my babies growing up without a mother.
And then my sister sent me the sweetest text, and I hope she doesn't mind my sharing some of it: "One of my favorite quotes is by Eleanor Roosevelt, 'with the new day comes new strengths and new thought.' I think there is so much irony in this day. Cancer and love. When something so unexpected and horrible happened to you, you had the love of Music Man, your parents, family, siblings, friends, random people praying for you, and next year you'll have the twins to comfort you on this anniversary. You are so blessed and so so so loved." She's exactly right.
It's finally here. It's been one year since I was diagnosed with breast cancer.
One reason this blog post has taken so long to write is because I would have written very differently depending on even the time of day it was written.
About mid to late January it started to hit me that this anniversary was looming. First anniversaries of bad things are always the worst, aren't they? It's a painful rite of passage. If you can get through "the first [fill in the blank]" sometimes the pain lessens on the other side. Feeling the full weight of The First Anniversary of Diagnosis Day, at that point I decided I would title this post, "V Day? Try D Day!"
But as the week of Valentine's Day hit, I realized a lot of the details were fuzzy. Did I find the tumor on the 12th, call the doctor's office on the 13th and go in first thing the 14th? Or did I find it on the 13th, call first thing on the 14th and they had me come straight over? I know the thin needle biopsy and core biopsy were on the 14th, but when did I have the mammogram and ultrasound? There was some comfort in not remembering. I started to think, perhaps this date will have no power over me.
My husband, Music Man, was also keenly aware of the emotional landmine this day would bring. And, fun fact for those of you who know him, today is also the first anniversary of the last time he shaved. He had briefly grown a beard, shaved it much to my dismay, so he grew it again in a desperate attempt to find anything that would make me happy. Anywho, last night Music Man gave us a little pep talk. Valentine's Day is not going to be taken over by sad memories and cancer. Valentine's Day is going to be Valentine's Day (being the romantic that he is, he's always loved this holiday). We're not who we were a year ago. Our lives are full of joy, and now full of excitement and anticipation as we are expecting twins in just a few weeks. I whole-heartedly agreed. This date will have no power over me.
This morning I woke up and remembered it was Valentine's Day, and therefore it was the anniversary of the day I was diagnosed.......and that was about it. It was a fleeting thought. I had been at works for hours before I thought about it again. But when I did finally think about it, memories came flooding back. The dead silence in the room after the thin needle biopsy didn't aspirate fluid. The look on my husband's face when he arrived at the doctor's office. The nurse holding my hand as cried during the core biopsy. The shock. The fear.
Cue the storm cloud over my head.
I did bawl the whole drive home from work. I cried for my lost breast. I cried for having to worry about cancer for the rest of my life. I cried over the thought of my babies growing up without a mother.
And then my sister sent me the sweetest text, and I hope she doesn't mind my sharing some of it: "One of my favorite quotes is by Eleanor Roosevelt, 'with the new day comes new strengths and new thought.' I think there is so much irony in this day. Cancer and love. When something so unexpected and horrible happened to you, you had the love of Music Man, your parents, family, siblings, friends, random people praying for you, and next year you'll have the twins to comfort you on this anniversary. You are so blessed and so so so loved." She's exactly right.
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