Dreading Tomorrow and the Next Tomorrow

Lots of good stuff happening since I last posted anything about the cancer story. I've been avoiding it. For every interesting fun positive thing that happens outside the cancer story there's a painful or difficult part inside it.

I met great twitter people last Thursday for dinner - and it was so gratifying that I haven't been able to really put it into words to write a post. They came from Baltimore and Front Royal and Hyattsville and closer too. And it was wonderful. So wonderful to meet them and laugh with them and connect faces to people I'd just joked around with and traded comments with before. There's not enough good things to say about it without using the word wonderful ten more times.

So I slept almost all the next day but so as to not have a day with no excitement - - that night I moved the wrong way - apparently, with hindsight - and partially pulled out my drainage tube.

Given that it was out far enough that some of the drainage holes were outside my body and that meant a loss of suction, AND we then had a perfect avenue for infection I had one choice - remove it or go to the ER and have someone do the very same thing I could do.

So I cleaned the skin around it with alcohol, got gauze ready, pulled the tube the rest of the way out, covered the area with gauze, told my husband what happened and  sat down on the bed while he called the on-call surgeon. Didn't faint or anything.

The five days since then have been a lot like that. Some good - some not so good.

I expect today to be like that too. Up and down. Because now that my tubes are out I'm finally able to see the cancer surgeon, Doctor Flax.

I say "today" because it's after 2AM. Yes, I've taken my ambien but I still am not sleeping, It's been three weeks since my mastectomy and the test results are all back and he's going to explain ALL of the labs and ALL of what that means.

Frankly I am just beside myself so say a little prayer. We can't change what all the labs show - but we can handle how I react to it.

I've got to say that my apprehension is much worse than when this all started. Somehow I keep thinking about how this has gone so far - uncertain, painful, lonely, depressing - and that's with all the wonderful things that other people are doing for me to balance that out!

And I know that I've tried to be stoic (I wont say brave) but I haven't been crying or whining - OK except once in awhile - or needy and demanding that my husband just sit around with his arm around me every night.

And I fear what the doctor will say comes next - in addition to the long reconstruction process - but what else awaits me.

And then I wonder how long can I possibly keep this up.

Comments

[Cathryn Hrudicka]

Dear Susan, we're all still hanging in there with you, so you are not alone, no matter what comes next or how long anything will take. Please just do what you need to do, even if it means whining once in a while or crying or getting a little righteously pissed. Your Twitter Village folk appreciate all you've done to help us band together, which may be as great or greater an accomplishment on your part than opening our awareness about cancer—both are vital and go together. My thoughts and prayers will be with you tomorrow and always.

Cathryn

[Roxanne Darling]

Susan - The platitudes suffer a little from un-altitude sickness when the rubber hits the road as it is with you right now. I cannot say how I would feel - I get tears just thinking about the possibility of losing or dog Lexi! Nonetheless, tears do have those stress chemicals the cortico-steroids in them, which means the crying is actually a way to remove stress from your body. I am a big fan of it, though heaven only knows why as a species tend to fight it so durn much. As Cathryn said before me, the village is here for you, just as you are teaching us about grace, humor, and the best life has to offer.

[yndygo]

Hey you - this is the down part of the roller coaster... where your stomach womps back down into the bottom of your ribcage rather than floating up near your heart where it was at the top of the ride... it always sucks.
But the good news is that the ride keeps going forward. And you aren't on there alone. We're with you, and we're not getting off.
Remember that we call them "long dark nights of the soul" because it's much harder to wrap ourselves in misery when the sun is shining.
I know tomorrow is scary - but it's just another step. You can take this... You can do it.

Much love and many good thoughts and prayers headed your way tonight.

Hang in there. Really.
((((((((((((((hug)))))))))))))))))

[tndaisy1960]

I've never had cancer, so I can't really, truly understand what THAT'S like, but I have had those long dark nights when the walls close in around me, terrified of the unknown, and sometimes the known as well. That part, at least, I understand all too well.

Hours may go by when you don't see me on Twitter, but know this: you are ALWAYS a part of my thought process. I just feel so inadequate sometimes, because I can't just jump on a plane and be there, just like I couldn't be there on Sunday when my daughter wrecked. I did what I could over the phone, but I know that's not enough. I know that no mere words are enough to help you through this either, except maybe the words I say to the Blessed Mother, and even that doesn't offer you the immediate comfort you so desperately need right now. But sometimes good things take a while, and I'm hoping that's the case here. I'm hoping that all my "industrial strength begging" (praying) will, in the end, help you in some way that neither of us can see just yet.

In any case, I'll keep at it, and be there for you in Twitter as I am able. You can always call me, day or night. I have ears to listen, even if I can't honestly say, yes I know how you feel, as far as the actual cancer stuff. But I know pain, and fear, and darkness. So if you need someone to share those with, I'm here. And no, you are NOT imposing. Sleep?? What's THAT? lol

I love you.

[Kathryn Jones]

Susan!

Just want to reiterate what the wonderful Cathryn and Roxanne have said. Your village is here with you to the utmost of our ability and you are an inspiration to us all.... and ..... you deserve to cry, you deserve to whine, you deserve and need to have your husband sit with his arm around you all night.... I promise, you will still be loved, cared for and admired. Their is great spirituality in grief and fear, if they are honestly expressed...who was it who said "crying gets the sad out of you"? (and lots of other things besides! Your family loves you no matter what... and I promise, they want you to do anything and everything you need to do to make yourself healthy, physically and emotionally!

You are in all of our thoughts... especially today!

Kathryn

[anna]

Oh, Susan, I can hear your pain and confusion and fear and I'm praying for you today.

Love ya,
@alenardson

ps. don't be brave for us, be who you need to be.

[Jonny Goldstein]

I'm sending you my best thoughts! We are here for you and we are thinking about you.