written by Nicole aka Throws Like A Girl
I have to admit I have been avoiding posting on Mothers with Cancer. I’m having a hard time with my reconstruction and I don’t want any newbies who might happen by to think that this is going to happen to them. (THIS IS NOT GOING HAPPEN TO YOU.)
One of my expanders has failed due to infection and it’s still possible that the left side could fail if we can’t kick whatever infection it has. The doctors are cautiously optimistic, but frankly, I just can’t go there with them.
I would love to say that having had cancer has made me stronger, a fighter, whatever. But to be frank, I can’t get my hopes up on this. If it happens, it happens. I might get boobs for Christmas. Or I might not. I’m not sure how far I’m willing to go for a nice rack. All these surgeries and doctor visits that are in addition to the regular cancer doctor visits are starting to seriously affect my life. I see my plastic surgeon more than my husband. In fact, next week will be the first week I DON’T have an appointment with him since July.
I can’t make plans to volunteer for anything but bringing food at the kids’ school because I never know when I’m going back under the knife. Especially when you’re dealing with infection. Sometimes it’s got to come out. Right then. I’m tired of having to ask my friends and family to watch my kids (which they do without ever complaining. Love them.) But I’m so tired of being the high maintenance mom. And for what? A pair of Barbie boobs with no feeling in them.
And yet I still want to try. When you’re a girl of (ahem) a certain size, shirts are cut for a nice size rack. I have 10 different neutral colored tank tops I have to wear under my clothes because the necklines don’t work when you’re missing part of your chest.
I always said that I was not defined by my chest. I’m thinking that I was wrong. I’m not necessarily defined by them. But I miss them.
This was all a whole lot easier before they tried to kill me.