Stagnant heart

I put my parents on an airplane to California this morning, after three weeks of them tending to my every need. I feel exceedingly blessed that I have parents who are willing to do what they need to be here for me. They took care of me physically and emotionally, from preparing meals, to writing thank you notes for said meals, to cleaning my apartment, to schlepping me to doctor's appointments, vet appointments, and car appointments, to watching TV with me, to letting me process on them... Them being here allowed Michael to care for me when he could, but also allowed him to do what he needed to do for himself in this time of massive transition and emotion.

Even though I felt ready, after three weeks, to send them home and back to their regular lives, it was actually harder than I expected. It's not for physical reasons - I feel strong enough to take care of the basic needs of my day, and I'm perfectly willing to ask for help for the things I can't do. But the plastic surgeon said I no longer have a weight lifting limit or any other physical limitations except, "If you can do it, then do it." I haven't tried driving yet, but I will do this tomorrow, with Michael there just in case I get scared, and Monday I plan to go to a doctor's appointment all by myself. I have not taken any pain meds today at all, and while I do feel some pain, it's not too much. I feel like I'm in pretty darn good shape, physically speaking.

The difficulty was more an emotional one, I suppose. When you have spent three weeks depending almost entirely on others, then you suddenly find yourself all by your lonesome, those daily tasks that are easy with others present suddenly seem much more daunting. For all of my talk about how I can do this or that, please let me try to do it myself, etc., now I feel a certain amount of fear. I'm sure that will pass, just as soon as I see that I am still a competent adult. And Michael can help to wean me back into that belief - sweet Michael, who will drop anything to make sure I am okay. Sweet Michael, who stopped everything he was doing this afternoon to just sit with me on his porch while I was grumpy about who-knows-what, just so I'd have someone to be with me in case I cried.

I do miss my parents already, but I also suspect there is much more going on in this heart of mine than that. There are several layers - let's see if I can pull them apart for you:

First of all, for a go-getting like me, it is really hard to sit idle for two and a half weeks. For me, a "day off" means I clean the house, run errands, pay bills, take care of business. If I sit still all day long, I feel gross by the end of the day. Unaccomplished. Blech. Several days in a row of this gets to be a lot to handle. I have found other ways to feel accomplished - catching up on my reading, finishing a full season of a TV show, all those little triumphs that go with recovery (today's triumph: I wore a real bra all day long!). But these only go so far.

Second, and much more significantly: as I come out of this ordeal, I am grateful, but with this part of the journey moving into the "behind me" position, I find it is harder to ignore my medical future. I have found it easy to put thoughts of the future on the back burner because I have been focused on healing, but keeping it out of mind is getting harder as I feel better. I don't want to get ahead of myself before the tumor board talks about my case, but I also want to start processing the possibilities. Regardless of what the tumor board says, Michael and I (and I think my parents agree, too) both think the right breast needs to go. We have gambled enough, and waiting until after a few years of Tamoxifen and then however long it may take to either conceive children or decide adoption is our best option before taking the other breast off... it's too long. We talked about this, along with my parents, over brunch today before we went to the airport. If I had a right mastectomy the third week in October, my mom and dad would both be able to come out again for a week to help with the immediate stuff. Third week in October. That's like, a real time, almost a real date. A real date when I would have to go through this all over again.

I'm not ready to go through this all over again. I can't wait to be better, and the thought of starting again at square one (but on my dominant side, leaving me only my gimpy left hand to do all the work) is hard to conceive. Do I wish I had just done both sides this time so I could be done with it? Well, the thought of not having to do this again is attractive... but no. I made the right decision for the information I had at the time and the way I felt at the time. I have not regretted the decisions we have made, as they were made with much thought, conversation, research, and prayer. Still, I wish the dice had fallen a different way.

I feel like I've gotten to the end of this post and actually gotten nowhere. Which makes sense, because that's sort of how my heart feels right now. Stagnant. Michael kept asking me today, "Tell me what's wrong," and I could only answer, "I would if I could." So frustrating not to even know how I'm feeling! But that, too, is a part of this journey. Hopefully tomorrow will be better.