Slice Morning

I'm not very excited about this day. I wish I were off enjoying Spring Break on a warm beach. Operating Rooms, to my fuzzy memory, are not particularly warm, nor do they serve margaritas. They do have narcotics and bright lights, though, so I guess that's something.

I suppose that it's fair to say that I have been in a bit of denial about this surgery. I worked a full day yesterday and had my brother over for dinner. I haven't packed a single thing. I haven't even cried ... well, since they told me no kids. That day, I cried enough for the rest of the month.

The mastectomy/wire placement/lymph node bisection/reconstruction was so scary and so involved that I dreaded it, but I felt ready. Suck it, cancer. I wanted the cancer out of my body. I wanted to fight it. I wanted to be in control and I felt blessed to be the one chosen to lead the charge. (I know that sounds strange, but I really did feel kind of honored. Out of all of the people in my family who could have been afflicted with this battle, I'm glad it was me.) Plus, I knew that I was going to get a nice new figure out of the whole disaster.

Today is different. Today, hopefully, we aren't removing cancer. We're just throwing an earthquake into it's path. That's a bold step, I guess. But I can't help feeling that I have to go through another major surgery and all I get out of it this time is three scars, hot flashes, abdominal weight gain, and osteoporosis.

That's not nearly as exciting as a new rack.

Sigh.