First, because I have not mentioned this before, since the biopsy, The Lump has remained hard and angry. My boob is tender on the whole bottom side. The bruising is pretty much healed, but The Lump, oh, that lump, it’s harder, hurts, and feels so much bigger now. I can’t tell if that is because it’s angry from the biopsy or if it’s growing. I cannot wear my normal bras anymore. They hurt too much. I ordered some compression tanks and doubled them up to help hold both my breasts in place during the day, but it’s not enough pressure to keep the weight off The Lump.
By the end of the day, it’s achy, and movement or the wrong position is painful. Even sleeping can be irritating. I’m a side sleeper, laying on my left side, my right boob drops to the left, and that creates tension, and The Lump hurts. I try propping it on a pillow to help hold it up, which adds a new kind of pressure, and The Lump hurts. I lay on my right side, and again, no matter how I tilt myself to relieve pressure either from the bed or from the droop, The Lump hurts. I am sure this probably does not help my sleep.
I only take Ambien every few nights, trying to let my natural sleep cycle return normally. I am still waking up in the middle of the night and up before dawn, but my awake periods in the middle of the night are getting smaller. When I take Ambien, I sleep through the night and a little longer into the morning hours, but I am still awake before I would normally wake up, before the biopsy. Today I woke a little after 6 am. I lay in bed and didn’t give up on trying to sleep more. I stayed there until 9 am and did a semi-doze a few times.
Today was the day I had my hair cut. My husband was a little shocked when I got home. He knew I was going to do this and supported me doing this. I finally felt like I had some control over all of this, which helped release some of that gray and red anxiety fear curled in my gut. He has been reluctant to say that I will look just fine without any hair and, at first diagnosis, said I should probably get a wig—anything to help me feel beautiful.
He started losing his hair in his 20s. Hair is an issue for him. He accepts his hair loss, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. I love his head. Bald has never bothered me. And I’ve seen pictures of him when he had hair. I like him so much better without hair. But I understand his hair issues and his reluctance to say he thinks I will still be beautiful without hair because he does not like his looks without hair. I know this is a sore spot for him.
His reaction to my hair when I got home was not the best. He asked me why I got my hair cut like my mother’s. He’s never liked my mother’s hair. He has always wanted me to be healthy and fit, and my mom, well, she’s obese, and that scares him. Scares him that I will be as well. To have me come home with hair that reminds him of my mother was hitting a little close to his discomfort zone.
I tried not to let it get to me, knowing everything I knew. But it cut a bit. Started all those fears that when all is said and done, my husband will no longer find me attractive. So, he said what he said, and I asked him what he needed me to do to make this better for him. Take it shorter? I sure as hell can’t put any of it back, and quite frankly, with what was happening next week and the following three, I don’t want it back. I want to be able to wash my hair with a washcloth. Plain and simple. He backtracked and tried to make it OK. Realized his reaction was biting.
We left earlier for Disneyland today, and we parked with no issue. It was still crowded. Even Cal Adventure, which usually finds fewer people at this time of year, and you can walk with almost no problems. We stopped to eat at La Brea Bakery. Talk always turns to The Lump. My husband actually felt it for the first time today. He had touched me before, but there was no exploration of The Lump, only light caresses like he was afraid to feel this physically; it might make it more real, and he was afraid he might hurt me. I couldn’t take being the only one feeling this, physically feeling this and wondering if every time I do, is it bigger. I asked him to feel The Lump. Please feel The Lump, that way, he can tell me I am just imagining things. I could tell he didn’t want to do this, but he did it for me. I saw his eyes, and this made it more real. He felt it. Of course, he was feeling the angry Lump, which was so different from the pre-biopsy lump. That one was soft and rubbery. It almost felt like an extension of my rib. Even though it was big, it didn’t feel so sinister, so menacing, so real.
I try not to dwell on the size. Dr. Sikaria said the chemo will shrink The Lump. Chemo starts in ten days. What if all this growing I am trying not to imagine spreads… goes to my lymph nodes? I keep pushing that thought to the back. Nope, I’m not allowed to go there.
As I was saying, of course, talk always turns to The Lump and how this will change me physically. In the past few years, I have been battling chronic and, at times, extremely painful bursitis in my hips. I had to stop wearing heels. It hurt more to try to exercise, and all the stretching I would do throughout the day did little to alleviate the pain. I gave up after a while, and I gained weight at an astonishing rate. I finally felt so uncomfortable with myself that I went to my doctor and asked for help. I’ve been on an eating and exercise plan for almost six months now, with phone calls and office visit checkups. Our goal was 4 pounds a month, and I have been meeting that goal. I am still worried about being attractive to my husband, not knowing what my metamorphosis will be throughout this entire process, and having a hard time believing he will find me attractive on the other side.
He keeps telling me to lose weight and be healthy; that is all that matters to him. He will love me no matter what else happens. After his reaction to my hair, I’m not so sure. I keep this to myself. I don’t want to acknowledge that I am afraid to trust him to love me even if, on the other side of all this, I am no longer attractive to him.
I am not willing to confront him on his failures to be healthy. His now morning Pop Tart addiction. And how I am not the one buying them, nor the cookies. He asked me to stop providing the sweets he had been asking for, so I did. Now he goes and buys them. It’s OK for him to flip off his diet and ignore his elephant in the room. It’s always been OK for him not to have an annual physical, to keep tabs on his heart health despite his family history of heart disease. But I feel there has always been a double standard there. It’s OK for him to die earlier because that is his family history. It’s OK for him to ignore his health, but it’s not OK for me. I’ve tried telling him how this hurts me, how it makes me feel like I don’t matter, but he turns that as if I am being selfish; how could I demand of him a quality of life that he would not want, just to live how much longer? He is very keen on ignorance is bliss regarding anything to do with his health medically. He avoids going to the doctor. It makes me mad sometimes that I feel his expectation of me is to “fight”, make sure I stay healthy, be well, be fit, but he can just do as he pleases. What I would like doesn’t matter.
The disagreement is not worth it. I drop the subject. I know what I want for me, so to hell with him. But there is always that little spot of hurt, an ache in the corner of my heart, that he doesn’t care enough about himself to do whatever it takes to make sure he is doing the best he can for himself. A little brown spot of sorrow. The hurt contains a little spot for me within it, blue, red, and green, and he doesn’t respect me enough to hold himself to the same expectations he has of me. Oh, he will say he doesn’t hold those expectations of me, I am free to do as I please. But I know that is a lie he tells both of us. So I live with this little spot of brown sorrow that has a little spot of hurt, anger, and frustration for me in the corner of my heart. Occasionally one of us will pull it out, we will disagree over it, argue, and then it gets put away to be looked at again some other day. In the grand scheme of things, it remains a tiny spot. But it is a tiny spot that can cause an ache in those few instances when we talk about it and never resolve the disagreement to my satisfaction.
We went into Cal Adventure to see the holiday decorations. Really only in the front of the park, when you first enter, and then Cars Land. That is fantastic. We LOVED discovering all the changes and how they lit everything up once it was dark. We headed over to Disneyland specifically to see the Fireworks show. It’s changed since the last time we actually stayed to watch, and we have not seen the new display with music and lights. After waiting for an hour and a half, the fireworks were canceled due to the winds. We didn’t stay to see the light/music portion of the display. Next time. All in all, it was a good night. Despite my current insecurities and that little sore spot in the corner of my heart, I love spending time with my husband. Life is still hard, but it’s very slowly getting better. Life will be better someday.
Life is picking your battles
You look great Kim!
Thank you Christie!