WARNING: This post is depressing and contains gross details you may not want to know about.
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12/28/07
March 2010
Bill & Pam 2/2/10
"La Casa Redonda"
12/28/07
Daughter Juliana
Son Alex
March 2010
Together in Singapore
Bill & Pam 2/2/10
Where in the world are YOU?
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3 comments:
Big Bargaining and Deadly Depression arrived unexpectedly and parked themselves on my chest last night.
I've dealt with Little Bargaining before and thought I had dispached him with ease--while waiting for tests, or trying to plan next steps, and devising busy activities to keep my mind off the big issues during the in-between times. But Big Bargaining is another creature all togeher.
I said from the beginning that I'd do anything, endure any bodily outrage, to beat this cancer and get to live. Brave words, yes. Pragmatic words. The Big B came to see if I'd make good on that promise. We're still fighting about it, and I fear I'm losing.
All week I've been struggling with the visual horror of what my body will look like after this surgery, two weeks from today.
It can only be described as an aesthetic nightmare, a perversion of what the human body in God's-made glory was meant to look like.They will slash my breasts across their equators and scoop them out like canteloupe shells for a summer picnic display, then stitch them up with quarter-inch staples that look like a first-grader's proud-but-sad sewing project.
Yes, I get to live--and I get to look at myself everyday and remember how beautiful my body used to be, and relive this terror over and over again, for the rest of my long, grateful life.
Oh, but there's a catch too. Deadly Depression pops up for the first time ever and reminds me that even after this gross mutilation, I might not get to live after all. Swell.
The first thing I asked MaryAnn when I talked to her face-to-face was my greatest, most tearful fear: "Will my husband ever look at me the same again?" Her honest answer was "No, but..."
My more honest, unspoken question was actually "Will my lover ever be able to look at me again with anything but revulsion?"
And now, I ask myself the same--If even I can't face the body I am about to inhabit, how is it possible for him to look and not want to just throw up?
This surgery OFFENDS me on such a basic level, my fear is that I will NOT be able to "get over" this superficial, vain, nostalgic view of the body I used to have. I will simply do what I have to do, and just continue crying about it until the end of days. That my husband and I will never again be able to touch each other with joy instead of sadness.
Realistically, now my life is going to be all about compromises and rationalizations. The "no, buts..." No more simple, pure emotions. Everything tinged with sadness and loss. I get to live whatever remaining time I've just bargained for as a stoic, tragic, damaged-but-brave-in-spite-of character.
I HATE THIS so much, and I can't do anything about it, and I just can't stop crying about it.
pam, i am so sorry for the pain and fear that you are feeling. i suspect that you will have optimistic days and dark days and that both are necessary. yes, your body will be forever changed and not in a good way,but i think that your sense of self will ultimately transcend that change. when i look in the mirror and see age spots, crepey skin, that attractive hanging jowl-thing, a belly that quite unattractively hangs over my pants, etc, etc, i'm glad that charlie loves me for other things that can not be seen. I believe that Bill loves the essence of who you are and that no effects of aging, surgery, or chemotherapy can change that. When he looks at you, he will still see the woman he has loved for so many years.it is still a terrible and tragic thing that you are going through and i don't want you to think i'm just spouting platitudes. i have known the two of you for many years and your love for each other is stronger than this cancer. after all, did't you make it through the palmer ave. bathroom renovation? love you, babe.
Thanks my good friend. I know this is the work I have to do right now. What I've found is that when I can put it into words, the fear abates a bit. Once I can blog it, I don't have to carry it around inside so much. Thanks for listening (and having the courage to walk this with me). And yes, that bathroom WAS almost the death of me!
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