Stye in my eye and chemo drip

I woke up to a stye in my eye and my nose bleeding. Nothing says Monday like a stye and a bloody nose. 

Dec 4^th is my last treatment of chemotherapy. 3 weeks until I won’t have poison injected into my bloodstream. 3 weeks until my nose stops dripping and bleeding every time I go outside. 3 weeks until my world changes yet again. 

I’m having surgery on December 21^st. A double mastectomy with reconstruction. 

December 21^st. 11 years to the day that I drove Steve to the ER with excruciating stomach pains resulting in him staying in the hospital for 5 months due to misdiagnosed gallstones. 

I don’t know what to make of this fortuitous date. When I met with my surgical team to select a date for my surgery the scheduler said, “The date has already been decided upon.” Like some kind of fucking fortune teller. The date has already been decided upon? Bitch by whom?? My surgery is time sensitive, requires multiple surgeons and with the stress of the upcoming holidays I appreciate that it has been decided upon but damn that date is upcoming. 

I would be a maniac if I didn’t declare that I’m not nervous, worried, scared. But there is also a sense of gratitude (always) that I am at the point of surgery, that I’m even closer to putting this chapter behind me. And most importantly closer to my new beeeeeewbs.

I shampoo my head. Even if I only have the slightest sprouts, I shampoo them every day. And as I shampoo I say, “Hello little sprouts. I see you and I thank you.” This morning after icing my stye, cleaning up my bleed and while thanking my sprouts I thought HEY! 

Maybe losing my hair isn’t about loss but rather the privilege of watching it regrow. Maybe getting a stye isn’t about the pain in my pink lids but instead the joy of witnessing my eyelash buds lining up to pop through. Maybe getting cancer isn’t about GETTING CANCER it’s about loving yourself enough to let yourself heal. 

But the nose bleeds. Those mother fuckers I can do without.