good-lace's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I understand now The birds are singing. The sun is shining bright. The temperatures are in the 60's. The day is absolutely beautiful. I can't sleep. I have to keep reminding myself that it's over, and I'm one of the lucky ones. I'll have to be vigilant my whole life, but for now, I'm so lucky it makes me cry. When the doctor said the word "tumor" I actually felt like I had just taken a gut punch. I felt physical pain in my stomach. I lost my ability to speak. I saw black in front of my eyes with twinkling stars. I mean literally. The doctor was speaking, but all I heard was "blah, blah, blah," sort of like the adults talk in a Charlie Brown cartoon. I never cried. I couldn't cry. I couldn't focus enough to relieve the pressure inside of me. For the last two weeks I walked around in a fog. No matter what I was doing, or what was happening around me, I had 100% focus on the word "tumor." I can't even explain the feeling. I also can't explain the weight that has been lifted off of me. It feels like a literal weight is gone from my chest. It's so hard to put into words. A little while ago I unwrapped my chest bindings to get a peek at the damage. (They put clear bandages over surgery cuts.) Right now it looks about 2 inches long, but there's too much blood under the bandage, so I really don't know how big it is. In all honesty, I really couldn't care any less about how big it is and what it looks like. I'm thinking about how much a pimple on my face used bother me. What a ridiculous thought that is now. I think my perspective has actually changed. I don't think anyone who knows me would call me shallow. I have my share of faults, but that's just not one of them. I've pretty much always been able to see the forest for the trees, but life, in general, just seems to be even more clear now. When my sister's breast cancer was detected, it was so advanced that they immediately gave her a radical mastectomy. She chose not to have a fake breast implanted. I couldn't understand how she could accept living without that breast. (I was under the spell of wishful thinking that she had been cured.) When I asked her why she didn't have them rebuild the breast, she said that at that point, she could care less about what she looked like, and she didn't want to have to deal with the added pain of the implant. Her focus was elsewhere. Now I understand. 6:21 a.m. - 2004-03-10 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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