I am really trying to do this. But, it's hard to see all of it when plastic tubes, sutured under my skin are poking out and draining fluid from my body down to bulbs that are pinned to my clothes so that I look like a science experiment on the loose. Oh yes, this is made worse by my bald head and my caved in chest. I can lift my arms, but I can't press down to open up a safety proofed bottle of pills. What's up with that? I can get the cereal down off the refrigerator, but I can't turn on the water in the shower. I can feed Sadie on a boppie, but I can't lift her to burp her. It's like we need a guide to the muscles in our upper body after surgery so we know what's what. My chest is numb, but in this queer sensitive numb way that I don't want anyone touching it, which means I can't hold Sadie. Her little legs pump and kick and then I have to push her over to somebody else and that makes me feel awful. I just want to pull her close and nuzzle her little neck. But instead, I have to watch other people feed and change her, lift her out of her crib after a nap and soothe her down for another. And it's not like these are bad people. These are the GREATEST people. Like my friend Sharen Brown and Sara Roditi who would rather hold her in their arms while she naps and I have to tell them to put her in her crib for consistency's sake (because my pediatrician told me to) and they reluctantly oblige. And Frida, Frida gets her friend Johannah (who stayed here while we were in the hospital having Sadie) come all the way out to take her on this epic hike up in to the hills of Forest Knolls, even on the hot days. She is getting better love and more attention than when I have nothing going on with me at all. But still, I sit here, hating my weird sagging compressed looking breasts, these tubes, the pain under my arms, my strange dark nipples and am worried. Worried that I won't even want to hold Sadie to my chest, because my chest will be two foreign bags of silicone and not me and I will never feel her weight, her skin, her pressure the way I did before.
Worried that yeah, I beat breast cancer, but it will come back in some other way, in my pancreas like my mom.
Worried that sure, this is all done, but would if my body rejects the implants and I have to go through this again.
Worried that in a few years, I have to make a decision about my ovaries and if surgery on my breasts is hard, imagine the recovery of a surgery that goes through the stomach to get at my reproductive parts and ripping them out?
Worried that all these people, though WONDERFUL people, taking care of Sadie means that when it's finally just me and her, she'll look at me and wonder who the hell I am.
I am spinning.
This is me spinning.
Love,
Rosalie
Happier pre-mastectomy days when I didn't know how much I was going to miss this.
The walking science experiment. About to get my bulbs drained. So much fun.
5 comments:
Sadie always knows who is her mom, from the sound of your voice, the smell of your skin, and the love she can feel through your enitre body. Trust me, chest or no chest, she will love your snuggles unlike any others!
Oh, Rosalie, it will get easier. You have had so many changes this year, and you will get used to these things, but it will take some time. Trust though, that you will adjust to the changes.
You always knew your mom even though other women breast fed you on the Farm. Your mom's your mom even if you call her Linda (or Rosalie). When your muscles are back you'll be squeezing that baby wheather you can feel it or not. She won't know the difference and you will get used to it.
It must be rough having everybody else get to hold and lift your baby when you can't...as loving and amazing as those other people are. So, thanks for sharing those complicated feelings. ps. I NEVER remember to give Caroline her alloted "tummy time" per day-mostly because she seems to hate it!-and because I just forget--but the pediatrician at her four month check up said "She's really holding her head up well...you must be doing the tummy time." Ha!
You are a sweetheart. I appreciate your honesty so much. I will have a bilateral next Monday and I am anticipating what you are going through now. Life is still beautiful. I know life will still be beautiful and magical even when I have no real boobs anymore. Your feeling is proof of that.
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