It was a weekend of firsts. Some more successful than others. And while I’m already five weeks post-surgery, I am equally surprised by how good and how terrible I feel.
There are so many things I think I can do. When I am feeling strong, I tell myself I will run X number of errands, do X loads of laundry, treat myself to a little retail therapy. Anything to feel normal again. But then I get sidetracked by fatigue or discomfort and, since my last PT session on Saturday, pain. Not unmanageable pain, but enough so that I wonder if something has been dislodged or bruised or torn apart. I am healing better on the right side and maybe that makes sense since the left was where all the cancer was.
I live for those few hours a day when my husband is at work and my son is at school — hours when I don’t have to be up or on or hide the grimace that comes from reaching for something with my left hand. I am so close to being okay, and yet really not there yet. It must be difficult for them to see me at times so fragile and vulnerable. Even I want to scream enough already.
I know this is particularly hard on my son. He seems okay most of the time, but I can tell he feels a tremendous amount of stress. He comes running every time he hears or sees my discomfort. “Are you okay?” he screams, his voice and his body language just this side of panic. And so I try, we all try. It’s all we can do.
It has gotten easier. I am doing things now I couldn’t imagine doing even two weeks ago. Overall, my progress is good. I know this. We all know this. It seems wrong to complain, or draw attention to what isn’t…But that’s what we do, isn’t it? Human nature.
I see both surgeons again this week and am scheduled for two PT sessions. I won’t see the oncologist until Monday the 23rd. In the meantime, I am doing my best to ignore any thoughts about chemo.
Again, it’s all I can do.