Tomorrow is my double exchange surgery. One thousand, one hundred and thirty three days after my first mastectomy. Finally.
Tomorrow has the weight of three years of expectation behind it.
I’m at sixes and sevens. Not sure how to feel, not sure what to expect.
Im scared. I’m scarred. My mind is scattered.
How will I look when I wake? Will I have surgical drains? How long till I can drive a car? I forgot all the details.
How long till I can hug my kids and my husband properly. Like one of those hugs where you squeeze so tight and don’t let go. Where it feels like two people might just possibly melt into one.
Will I be able to move forward from this breast cancer world I’ve been immersed in for three years and two months?
What would happen if I give myself permission to let go of this whole journey and try and forget about all this?
This will be surgery number five. It won’t be the last if I want to correct my disfigured breasts and nipples. What will come of the sixth? Will there be a seventh?
I’m a physical and mental mess today. See you on the other side of it.