Reconstructive Surgery Countdown

I went to bed really frustrated last night. I planned on working today to help to be sure that I can finish all my work tasks before my last day of work .... and I was frustrated. It was a Sunday. All I wanted to do was have a normal day with my family and do normal stuff and help Steve clean out the garage. That is all I wanted. Instead, I was going to work, in preparation for a surgery that I never wanted to have in the first place.

Do not get me wrong, I always knew I would have reconstructive surgery. I have been jokingly referring to it as, "They are going to put me back together." My sensical way of telling referring to the fact that in eight days I will have "boobs" again.

This whole cancer thing is what sucks. And I am mad. I try to stay positive 90% of the time, but as the surgery day approaches and I think of the suffering  that I, and my family right alongside me, will have to endure, my frustration peaks.

Of course, I tell people a lot of different things to mask my fears. I tell people that I think I am a better person after going on my breast cancer journey. I tell people that things could have been a lot worse: I could walk out on the street and be hit by a bus-at least cancer was something I could fight. I tell people that we all have our issues, mine just happen to be life threatening. I tell people all these things, and I mean them.

However, today, my anger that will not be soothed by any of my previous statements.

And what I have come to realize is that being angry is OK.

For the past several weeks, I have had numerous instances that I have been meaning to sit down and write about. Document my feelings and the events that contributed to them. Sharing through my blog has been both my joy and my therapy. A hectic schedule is really to blame for my never getting it done...but a small part of me knows that I just have not wanted to deal with my surgery.

And that is OK, too.

So now, it is crunch time. Pre-ops are done. Blood work, not yet. I have started making arrangements for the kids. I talked to my daughter today about being brave and helping around the house, telling her that a couple months from now, it will all be over, mostly.

And I will get my brain wrapped around what I have to do. I will be in a positive place come next Sunday night. And I will be OK, with perky boobs to boot.