Well, the last few days have been rough. The pain feels somewhat constant and sleep evades me. We do this dance, slumber and I, where I come to its brink and she slaps me awake with some dream or some sharp shooting pain. It's been a week that feels like seven. I have been overwhelmed in the best ways by our support system, anticipating needs and filling them before I could even ask. Jesus much? But here I am wishing for a magical wand to be waved where I could fall into a deep sleep and wake up feeling as though I had actually slept. My body aches and my mind is tired. 

I think that reality is hitting more as I want to do things that I can't. Obviously, it's only 6 weeks of waiting, which we have all done for various things, but alas, I am struggling. I probably won't post this as it feels like a giant complaint, but typing is definitely easier than writing and I need to process somewhere. 

It feels like I've joined the circus and have the tight rope act. The rope to the other side, a metaphor for  gratitude, faith, acceptance and trust that things will be okay. Yet, the rod I hold for balance beckons me to feel what I am feeling, to process my loss and my grief, yet if I do, I'll surely fall into the depth of grief of depression.  It teeters and hits me when I least expect it, both the beauty and the pain. The depth of love transitioned to me with bewilderment and surprise, knowing that I don't deserve the care that I am currently engulfed in. The beauty that appears almost as if someone has waived this magical wand where everything in my life is completely anticipated and taken care of, children, dog, home, meals, getting my hair washed, and so many other things not listed. I couldn't have ordered better support if I could afford it! Ha! 

Then, then the  pain, rearing its ugly head that protrudes from the 7 inch wound across my chest. Pain as I try to sleep but it stabs me awake. Pain as my husband has to take care of the stupid drain attached to my body for who knows how long. Pain when I look in the mirror at what used to be a favorite tank top that now accents my loss. Pain at my baby crying because I can't hold her. Pain from my foster daughter having to leave because I can't give her what she needs right now. I could tell when I saw her yesterday that she felt completely and utterly betrayed by me and she wept asking me to bring her home.  There is so much pain. Yet, there is also peace. Peace that our sweet girl (who was never really ours) is being loved, taken care of and now being fostered by my sister and brother in law. That even though I can't hold my my baby girl, I can snuggle her for hours. That even though my stupid drain has to be taken care of, I have someone who loves me enough to do it and genuinely still finds me beautiful, like the scar doesn't even phase him that something is missing. I have peace even as I am not sleeping as much as I'd like because I can rest during the day as much as I need to since my home and my littles are being cared for. 

There is always much to be thankful for. And it's a good reminder to stop and think about those things. I had a post op and a blood draw yesterday to test my genetics to see if another mastectomy will be necessary someday. At the pre op, she said that there were in fact two invasive tumors that they found that moved me from stage 0 to stage 1A. Again and again and again, I am thankful this cancer was caught so early. I've been thinking a lot about that the last few days, the speed at which this has all transpired. It was the first week of June that I found the lump because I had some weird itch, and honestly wasn't even going to go in. My friend who is a nurse told me I needed to. A dr. apt, ultrasound , mammogram, biopsy later it was confirmed I had DCIS- ductal carcinoma in situ, a non invasive cancer in the ducts of the breast. A second day of testing, biopsy's mammograms, MRI mixed with panic attacks, asthma attacks and just EXHAUSTION solidified what we were dealing with. The next visit was with a plastic surgeon. He determined with my crummy year of lung issues, that I was not a candidate for reconstructive surgery at the same time as my mastectomy. He said it would be best to wait, and by waiting that my healing would actually be about a week shorter than if I was combining the two surgeries. By golly I was liking the sound of me having more of my summer with my family back!! After this was my actual surgery. It blows my mind that this all happened from June 8th-July 11th. Just flew by. I am hoping that it's not going to be some crazy long journey, but I know it's not going to be a short one. 

Well, that is definitely all the energy I have for today. My high capacity self is just continually blown away by how little energy I have and how the simplest tasks cause severe exhaustion.