Its 5 AM; I can't Fall Asleep
Updated: May 8
It's 5:00 a.m. in the morning and I can't sleep. I've done some self-Reiki and attempted to meditate (as you can see that isn't happening!) I've slept for 3 hours and I feel compelled to write. Writing calms me.
It's dark out, I'm in my family room and I feel so utterly alone. You see no one can do this for me, I have to do this by myself. It's the ultimate test of me. I'm heading into major surgery today. I will be put asleep and wake up to one less breast. How will I look? How much will it hurt? Will I be able to handle the pain? The recovery? Can I be brave? One of my friends sent me a quote last night about being brave. I can't remember the exact quote but it said it's doing something you don't want to but you do it anyway. I don't have a choice, I have to do this to choose life. I choose life. Does that make me brave? I don't think so. Finding myself here today, leaving my house in an hour, I don't feel brave. I feel fear, sadness, apprehension, lonely and a little lost but I also feel gratitude. Gratitude that cancer is only located in my left breast, gratitude that the cancer is being removed today and gratitude for the journey I'm about to take. Because I know, as I learned last time, it will be filled with abundant love.
You know with cancer it's like riding a roller coaster, peaks and valleys. Last week was a major roller coaster ride. Meeting with the surgeon, finding out my options. I went into the meeting with a mindset of double mastectomy and no other treatment and ended up with removal of one breast followed by chemo and radiation. Not what I wanted. But even though it would be a battle, my prognosis for a long life was great. I then had to have a bone scan and body scan to see if cancer had invaded any other parts of my body. I spent the entire weekend on pins and needles waiting for the results. I couldn't pull the trigger and tell the world until I knew. Good news on Tuesday, I was clear. I came out of the valley.
Now today, I will lose my breast. Once again I'm in the dark. I have no idea how long the surgery will be, I have no idea what stage I'm in, I have no idea if it's in my lymph nodes (though she feels it's in at least one), I have no idea what treatment path I'm going to take. I have no idea . . . Once again cancer is showing me how unpredictable it is. It's showing me how I need to FLOW, that's all - just to go with the flow. I have no control - I HAVE NO CONTROL . So let it flow.
I will go into surgery, into the unknown. I will be in the unknown until test results come back. I will have the WAIT. The wait that every cancer patient knows all too well. I will once again work hard at staying present; staying in the NOW, because that's what you do when you have cancer. You wait and you hope and you cope.
I'm thinking about my cancer right now. My first go around I was stage 0/1a with a 97% cure rate. I had a clear mammogram last year. I was going into 6 years clear and now I'm at least stage 2. How did this happen? Anthony asked me, when he I told him of my diagnosis, why I didn't remove my breast the last time. My response was, at the stage I was in and the cure rate I had - it didn't seem necessary. And I told him, I can't look back, I can only move forward. So I need to take my own advice this morning and realize it just is. Don't ask questions that have no answers and don't serve me.
I'll take my shower in a few minutes and allow myself to cry. I'll hold my breast and thank it for its service. For sacrificing itself so I can live. I will hold it in gratitude. I will try to take my fear and Focus the Energy to Alter the Result. I will open myself up to feel the love and strength being sent to me by so many family and friends and I will face my day. I will try to find some humor in what's happening to me. I will get to know each and every person who helps me today and be thankful for their service. I will feel the love and support from my family. I will do a happy dance before I go into surgery to celebrate my breast. And I will be brave.