One year ago today….


Where were you one year ago today?

June 1st 2012… I was having a mastectomy.  It was the time that I needed my family and friends the most.  The ones who were there for me throughout the entire surgery and the after was my mother, my older sister Christal (had the same surgery),  my partner, my cousin Lisa and my awesome, understanding kids. I know there are more, but these are the ones who were always there and saw the entirety of it.  They all loved me through it. The tears the happiness, the anger, the sadness and oh my gosh the fucking PAIN!  I say all of these things because they all happened. I was a hot mess. I was so happy to be given the opportunity to have this surgery to save my life. But also so incredibly sad because my body was different. I wasn’t me anymore. Or so I kept thinking. My kids kept saying that they didn’t see me any different, that I was still mom and still beautiful. That it was just a moment in time that we would get by. (My oldest now wants to be a nurse because of all of the things she helped with during this time)  But still, I felt so gross, tubes coming out of me and having to record drain fluid (could you imagine having two drain tubes coming out of your chest/under your breasts for 72 days?! YES 72 days!!) … not being able to walk or shower due to the pain throughout my chest. It hurt to lay down, it hurt to sit up. It hurt to eat. It hurt to sleep. I hated it. Hated it.  For a little over four months I dealt with this and it  but it did get better. Although now it’s more of  a burning pain that comes and goes along with nerve pain and constant jumping boobs. Kind of embarrassing… but definitely not the way it was. I am trying more and more to cope. Seeing a new psychiatrist soon. Hopefully better than the one I had for over 10 years. He was just strange… a doctor, but just strange.

Now that it’s been a year I ask myself if I would do it all over again. Well, yes. But I won’t lie, it has done a ton more to my already screwed mind. It’s been so hard on me to deal with, sometimes I have really good days where I don’t think about it and other days all I can do is cry. I can’t think straight, and get frustrated because of the scars. However I know that scars tell a story of where we have been. And I am stronger now for having gone through it.


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