Flying Solo

Today I visited with my wonderful therapist (psychiatrist, to be more precise) Dr. Baer for the last time. Dr. Baer is moving to another state, and I for one am sad to see her go. She has been instrumental in helping me to learn and grow and come to new levels of acceptance about my path, and I am extraordinarily grateful to her.

I am going to miss her.

I am trying to reach the acceptance stage of my grief over the changes in my life that have occured since my diagnosis. I am trying to move on, recognizing that I am forever changed, and accepting those changes.

Some of those changes are physical. I am coming to terms, very slowly, with the fact that my reconstruction is not going well, and may never go well. Perhaps if I did another ten surgeries I could get to the place I thought I'd get...but I don't have it in me. I am making the choice to stop having surgery after the next surgery, however flawed my results may be. I am not going to be whole, complete, and pieced back together physically. In order to become mentally whole, I am going to have to learn to accept these physical flaws.

I can no longer delude myself that "one day this will be better." I promised Tessa that one day Mommy would have new nipples, but I forgot to say "in the right place" or "nipples that actually protrude." I thought I'd have a matched pair of breasts - sisters, if not identical twins - but instead I have distant cousins who don't even appear to know one another. Of course, the next surgery (October) might improve those things, but I am no longer counting on that. Anything that goes right in that regard will be a bonus, not an expectation.

And the physical symptoms that go along with treatment....I am learning to accept them, too. I have hot flashes so bad that I soak the bedsheets and find myself shivering in my sweaty, wet pajamas, unable to sleep I'm so cold. I'm accepting that a normal part of my life needs to be changing my pajamas once or twice in the middle of the night, just to be able to sleep. I am accepting that I am permanently fatigued, requiring MUCH more sleep than I used to (10 hours a night no longer refreshes me). I am accepting that I can not lift my arm straight up in the air. I am accepting that whenever I lift something, I get a simultaneously dull-sharp (don't ask, I can't explain it) pain in my chest where the surgeries have occurred. I am accepting that my menopausal skin is dry, flakey, and prone to acne (you've gotta be kidding me! - wait, I'm supposed to be accepting here....). I am accepting that I am well on the way to osteoporosis.

Or am I? I'm not so sure. When I write about this list, I realize I have to stop before I remember the rest of the list (achy joints, thin eyebrows, new facial hair NOT in my eyebrows, a keloid (?) scar on my eye from the surgery to make nipples, difficulty opening jars or doing other simple tasks because of lost upper body strength/damage.....shall I keep going? there's more!) because I don't really accept it. Who could? But I'm trying. I am really, really trying. And I"m closer than I used to be.

(I can not yet learn to accept or embrace my forgetfulness. Mid-sentence, I lose track. I am told things, and I forget them. I have a harder time following complex ideas, or tracking lists of ideas, or even managing my calendar. This, I do not accept. "Chemobrain" implies chemo, and chemo ended 2.5 years ago for me. I am horribly disappointed in my lack of brainpower since chemo.)

People ask me, regularly, "How are you doing?" with that look of concern in their eyes. I try to answer truthfully, and I also try to be positive. I AM grateful to be alive - more grateful each day. I have overcome so much. I am grateful to be out of the worst parts of treatment. I am grateful to have whole weeks pass without doctor's appointments. I am grateful to have enough energy to be involved with things other than cancer.

I am grateful to be Tessa's mother, and to be Ryan's wife.

It's been almost three years. I am ready to move on to something new, and to take on different challenges, and to set aside the old challenges.

I am trying to be compassionate at myself, and to not judge myself too harshly that I have learned so little in three years. I am trying to be patient with myself that three long years have passed, but I still (mentally) reside in Cancerland. I am trying to be compassionate with myself so that I do not feel ashamed of my failure to escape Cancerland when so much is going well. I am trying to focus on the positive.

Tough stuff.

I am learning, though, and proud of that learning. My work on my personal environmental impact, my work in charity, my spiritual explorings, my involvement with community...all are part of finding my new normal.

Tonight Ryan's out having a bit of down time, and Tessa and I baked together after dinner: banana bread with chocolate chips (gotta use those bananas!), herb garlic bread (a nice change of pace from the whole wheat flax bread we're so used to), and strawberry jam popovers. Tessa helped to measure, stir, and blend, and got to sample the popovers for dessert. We had PEPS in the morning, and this afternoon Tessa went to preschool while I visited the doc. After preschool, we had some friends over for a playdate (and they brought their puppy, who looks just like Shep did when he was small).

Lots to be grateful for. I have moved ahead; despite my frustration with fatigue, I couldn't have managed this one day two and a half years ago.

I will miss Dr. Baer; she is bright, articulate, and compassionate, and she has helped me so much. I wish her well in her new adventures with family.

Wish me well without her - I've done so much growing in the past six months, I hope that I can keep momentum without her guidance.

Kristina

(PS Yes, I'll find another therapist. But those who follow me know that I've had TERRIBLE luck with therapists. They're expensive, and some have been harmful more than helpful. When I have to, I"ll find a new one. But right now it's too much effort.)