Cancer

I'm not sleeping very long right now.  My brain wakes up after 5 or 6 hours of sleep.  I can't lie still while my brain races into the void.  That's how I feel right now.  I feel as though I'm once again facing the great unknown.

How well can anyone sleep when mastectomy, possible chemotherapy, and Tamoxifen lurk around the corner?  It's especially difficult because I have walk this road before. 

Before I walked the road with my sweetheart.  He was my protector.  At six foot four inches of solid hunk, I knew that he would keep me safe.  My 2nd lumpectomy the nurse fished for 20 minutes (not exaggerating) trying to find a vein.  She was very clumsy in her attempts.  I was not strong enough to tell her to quit.  After all, I knew that she HAD to put in an IV so I was doing my best to be brave.

Nyle finally stood up and firmly said, "Find somebody else!"  He did not speak in a loud voice, but when he spoke in his strong, deep, bass voice, people listened. 

The nurse actually protested.  That shocked me.  She said, "Oh no, I've almost got it." 

He stepped forward, so that he was between the nurse and I.  He said again, "Find someone else."

Desperately I miss my protector.  He died six years ago.  I do feel his spirit ever so close.  I also know that he will still be protecting me in the ways that his spirit can.  I'm ever so grateful for that knowledge. 

Yet I miss his physical presence.  He does NOT kiss as well...just sayin'.  I miss his chest laugh that said so smoothly, "All is right with life in this moment."  I miss the masculine strength of his beautiful voice.  I miss hearing him call me honey bunny, and just honey.  I miss lying in bed snuggling while we listen to our favorite music.  I miss his romance, and oh what a romantic he was.  I miss HIM!

I'm trying to find positive things as I go through this Valley of the shadow of death once again.  I do not believe that I will die.  My cancer is early stage, and so far seems to be limited to the breast.  You might wonder why I would opt for the most radial of treatment options.  This is the second time that my breast has betrayed me.  The other breast?  I don't even want the possibility that it will also betray me ultimately.

Betrayal?  That is how I feel.  I've had breasts since I was twelve years old.  I admit that they have taught me about being a female as a young woman, helped me feed my babies, and made me look  curvaceous in pretty clothes.  The unfortunate reality is that one of them has put me through CANCER, not once, but twice.  I have appreciated the functions that they have performed.  I do not appreciate  having them put me through the cancer process.

Two dear friends have suggested wisely that I need to let myself feel the anger that naturally follows grief.  In my way, I am dealing with my anger.  My anger propels me to dance, to walk, to motion.  It also urges me to towards singing.  Those are good things. 

Unfortunately it also propels me to eating.  Pass the chocolate?  YES PLEASE!  It is very annoying to me that in times of struggle I never once, not even once have craved something healthy, like perhaps brocolli?  (Can't seem to even spell the word, let alone crave it)!

Last time around I made a bit of a scene.  When traveling through the valley the doctors all weigh you.  This is critical to determine if your weight is changing.  Most people can't eat when they are facing this battle.  I was nauseous most of the time.  I couldn't eat regular food but  I craved chocolate chip malts like none other.  Not a shake....oh no, that malt was the most important.  There I stood on the scale, almost in tears.  I said to the nurse, "I might be dying from cancer, and I'm getting fat!"  This emotion seemed reasoned at the time.  Now I think, hmmmm, a little shallow maybe.  I was facing the possibility of death, but I was worried that I'd gained weight?

I can't speak about this anymore.  Most of the time when I write about my newest walk through the valley it helps me to sift, sort, and cope.  This morning it just seems to be making everything more real, bigger than I can cope.