“Everyone is different” says every oncology doctor. Recovery from surgery is no different than chemo in this regard. Ask a question, your doctor will give you the no answer answer.
So, I don’t even know how I’m doing because there is no yard stick. How am I doing compared to last month when I could shower, reach the kitchen shelf, drive, and put on my own clothes? Much worse. How am I doing compared to others in treatment who have drains for months, infections, seromas and other complications? Pretty darn good.
I was told a few times, by both folks who have had cancer and those who haven’t, that compared to chemo, surgery would be easy. “Compared to everything you’ve been through...” they said. “Piece of cake” someone said.
Nope.
I think this has been harder for me than chemo. Not in the way most people assume, I don’t feel that much sorrow over losing my breasts. It’s the loss of mobility, of strength, of thoughtlessly living in my body that I grieve.
It’s awful.
I’m hunched forward, the skin and muscles tightened like an arthritic hand. Lightening strikes of nerve pain shoot across my chest and sides. Each movement is a pull on a slot machine of sensations. Not all are pain, but none are pleasant. Fatigue is my new base line, I have maybe three good hours a day. I can’t lift my kids, I can’t pick up anything off the ground. In a house with young children and their debris, in a life usually spent doing and making, cooking, cleaning, working, gardening, creating....this is debilitating.
I’m hunched forward, the skin and muscles tightened like an arthritic hand. Lightening strikes of nerve pain shoot across my chest and sides. Each movement is a pull on a slot machine of sensations. Not all are pain, but none are pleasant. Fatigue is my new base line, I have maybe three good hours a day. I can’t lift my kids, I can’t pick up anything off the ground. In a house with young children and their debris, in a life usually spent doing and making, cooking, cleaning, working, gardening, creating....this is debilitating.
I’m hopeful that physical therapy will help, and my chiropractor, and time. But holding space for all I have lost, and rejecting toxic positivity cancer culture, is important to me now. I will never be the same, and I’m sad about it.