FORCE – beatingcowdens

My math mind is full of numbers. It is full of lots of things actually, and sometimes I wish I could get a few of them out… quite a few.

I am pretty good – although not perfect- with dates.

Today marks three months since my father died. Flying free with the angels I am sure, yet I miss him. A lot. A blink of an eye, and an eternity.

Tomorrow is my nephew’s birthday. He will be 6.

I remember his 4th birthday quite clearly, although I didn’t see him that day either.

On March 5th in 2012 I had the “prophylactic” bilateral mastectomy. The one that ended up being stage 1 DCIS. Quite the surprise party.

And while I don’t even miss my old boobs, the new ones get scrutinized a lot more than the old ones. Well meaning surgeons, they say things like “that kind of volume falling away is normal,” or “we can even that out whenever you want.” The thought of someone coming near me again with a scalpel right now makes me ill. They will have their chance – years from now when these girls have to be replaced. Maybe then I will have time to care more.

The last 2 years have been a whirlwind. Well…maybe even before that. The scope of the changes in our lives in recent years require more than I can muster in a 10 PM post. But, being a numbers person…

Between Meghan and I we have had 5 surgeries in the last 2 years. She has me beat 3 to 2. But, I have lost more body parts. I am down 2 breasts, a uterus and 2 ovaries. She lost her thyroid, and a vascular cyst in her hand.

I am still crossing my fingers about my spleen. That one’s up for MRI in April. Hoping the 4 tumors there are behaving.

There comes a point where you have to laugh I guess. People think “Oh no! A mastectomy!!”

I think – “Whatever it takes…” But then again I had a pretty good teacher. (XO MOM)

I guess it’s all about perspective.

Meghan is really into identity, and figuring out where she belongs. This week I bought her a “Previvor” T shirt. She was thrilled to wear it to school today. She takes the opportunity to explain genetic cancer risks whenever she can. While I am happy she is confident I shudder at reality.

This is only stage 1 in her life as a previvor, staying one step ahead of genetic cancer risks looming large. This is only the beginning.

We run from doctor to doctor. We alternate surgeries. We try to laugh in between as we deal with the rest of life. Time is very difficult to balance. The constant running to doctors and the anxiety of waiting for them to find “something” can literally make you insane.