Drugs and reality

Hmmm. I am not sure how powerful pain killers and blogging mix, but they have been for a few days. I am writing directly here in blogger instead of using Word to try to make sure all mistakes are caught before the "publish" button. When I am sober again I guess I'll review these posts to see just how much I have embarrassed myself!

More seriously, I got a look at myself in the mirror the other night when I showered. The view from above is nothing compared to the full frontal look from the mirror. I couldn't believe the horrible visage there in that mirror. The scar is terrifying and nauseating. I knew it wouldn't be pretty, but I was not prepared for how bad it is.

Once again, my strength is shaken. I want to retreat to a corner, ball up and cry. There is not the strong visage I have tried to keep. I don't see how any reconstruction could ever fix what I have in place of a right breast.

Right now I am tired and scared. I cannot get a good night's sleep because there is no way I can roll to my right side. The drains are in the exact place where I would lay. They are so sore because even though I try to be very careful, there is a tug at them almost hourly. The little stitch that holds them in place hurts so much. I cannot find a way to make sure there is never any tension on them.

I am scared because I have no idea of how many little tumors have escaped and cruising around my body. I won't see the oncologist for a week. I do not know where my future is headed on that front.

All I know is that my body has been mutilated. My left chest is a mass of scars and bumps. I never thought this would be the concern that it is for me. I never thought I identified with my body like this. I thought I was above that kind of thought. I thought I believed that the body is just an imperfect vessel. I guess I just didn't want it to be this imperfect.