Well, here we are. The second Easter since my diagnosis and I’m still riding that bunny all the way to MGH and back. Yeehawww.
On Friday I had my 3 month post chemo oncology check up. I’m not sure if it was my over nerved mental state or because my mother keeps discussing her elation regarding Bennifer’s reconciliation but I threw up as I was waiting for my appointment. Saw my soon to be ex husband and his girlfriend driving with my children, threw up as soon as I got home. Fell asleep from 4pm-9pm, awoke to watch some top grade serial killer documentary goodness, fell asleep from 11pm-6am with a toilet clogging bathroom break at 3am and a dream that I pooped out a 3 foot long turd with a bunny on top. Happy Easter!
Just a total crash filled crashdom. But that’s ok. Dats FINEEEE. We need to feel weakness in order to recognize our strength.
I didn’t get “good” or “bad” news. Just “Ok. You’re doing good? Feeling good? Ok great. Keep going” news. Which I’ll take.
Lately anger has been taking the helm. ANgERR. Roar. I awake mid sleep with seething with anger. Hate isn’t good. But it’s here. Hello and welcome. Is it nice to be ignorant? Ignorance is bliss right? But is ignorant “true?” I can’t shut my brain down. It feels near impossible. Anger fills the void. How do “they” “seem” so happy? So nonchalant. Like a chicken. Mindlessly bopping from spot to spot pecking through the dirt looking for a morsel to sustain their lifestyle and never thinking of the shit stain trail they leave in their wake.
I walk outside in the early morning. I see the sunrise over the ocean. I stop and stare.
Instinctually I rub my chest.
One tit. Yup. I’m used to it. But is everyone else? And I don’t CaREEE what they think but… also why do I? I look to my right and see my unfriendly neighbor glaring. She smiles a half turned head tilt pursed lip smile. An “aww mmm sympathetic but I don’t really know how you feel typa smile. What? CaN I HeLP YoU? Uh… hi..? Ohhhhhhh yeah….is it my one tit? Are you expressing your sympathy via a nonverbal lip purse and head tilt? I don’t reciprocate the retort. I just exchange eye contact and continue walking towards my destination which is the trampoline I put together for the kids. It’s my turn on that bitch.
As I jump I reflect. One tit. Yeah. How DOES that feel? Let’s discuss.
I put a gel like cup in my camisole. Why? To “belong?” To “fit in” to a society filled with supposed societal obligations of the assumed perfect female form? You want to be told you’re beautiful. That you’re “sexy.” You’re beautiful dahlingggg. You “look” like the women we all envision as the mainstay. The women we all striveeee to beeee. Maybe its Maybelline. Maybe you should shut the hell up my lashes are FINE.
We give weight to others telling us our labels. But … nah… no … nope. Today I tell myself, you’re beautiful. You’re gorgeous. And not because of your physical form but for the trials and tributes and tribulations that you have overcome. You worked to save your soul not just your physical state but your soullllll baby. I’ve WERKED. My physical form is beautiful just the way it is. Because of the life it has lived. And fuckitol if that hurts your delicate sociatal standards.
My friend told me today that she has breast cancer. Stage 3. Maria. I think of the journey she’s about to embark upon. Knowing the pain she will endure. No. God no. The solitude. The isolated thoughts that only you can hear. No god don’t. She’s so good. Why her? But is that why? Is that why you chose her? Is it because she’s so good that you know she can do it. She can endure. This is her opportunity to show the world her strength.
Lying in bed. Between my babies. A mama sandwich. Each has their foot on me. One on the right. One on the left. I listen to them sleep. Deep inhales, long exhales. Over and over again. I thank god that I can hear them. I thank god that I can feel their warmth. I stop and realize. This is love. This is what I’m fighting for. What were all fighting for. An instinctual love. An inherent connection. Dogs and babies man. Dogs. And babies. Fo life.
Another Easter. I have one new bewb. Another “space” that isn’t “whole” but for the first time in my journey I appreciate it. I love you little hole. You’re mine. Thank you for choosing me.
