As the hours have passed, I find humor in small doses: A Groupon came up for laser hair removal and I thought it might come in handy after surgery. The friend who told me to get the reconstruction and we laughed through cup sizes. Another who said that playing the cancer card is a heck of a marketing plan for my book that is coming out next month (said in jest, people!).
Most often, the response is, “I’m sorry.”
Me too. I didn’t want to have to tell any of you. I’d rather tell you about the upcoming book news I have! Or that I found Easter chocolate at half price. Maybe point you in the direction of the toilet paper you can order online.
Why did I start a blog? I’m not looking for sympathy or pity. I certainly will take a chocolate or coffee donation. Usually, I like to keep my personal stuff hidden. No one wants to read about the one time I got a toenail infection from a pedicure. Or the time my hair fell off after a bad perm.
I started writing for me. But I still have to tell people what’s going on. I’m not the old-school 50’s lady with red lipstick and no problems. I may have started this for me, but ended up figuring out that this is for someone else to read.
It’s hard telling people. HARD. Like cry every time I say it. Maybe this will help my friends see my journey and know how to pray for me. Perhaps a stranger is reading this because he or she has just been diagnosed and is in the same state of “I have no idea how to do this” that I am.
My mind has been a swirling vortex this week. Like those cool dirt devils that fling across an abandoned field, kicking up debris and bits of sand. Information is flying around my noggin.
And still through this, God has been gracious. Even though I won’t have an appointment with the local surgeon for at least a month. I kick that worry in the teeth every time it creeps up.
You see anxiety is my long-time companion. My mom will confirm this. I remember waking up as a kid, the morning we were supposed to go on vacation. I heard the van start outside. Certain they were leaving without me, I started yelling and crying, pulling on my favorite yellow pants. They were only warming the engine, but I couldn’t calm down.
Mom gave me a book years ago: Calm My Anxious Heart by Linda Dillow. It gave me a way to chill the heck out. The answer is basically: Jesus.
Did you know that I’ll have to sleep sitting up? Me neither. This is making me nervous because of my back.
On an off note, I’m bummed that tattoo parlors are not an essential business right now. I’d already decided to get one before COVID-19 (a small one, Mom). Whatever, super contagious virus.
My oldest came home from work last night and I was on Pinterest. “Whatcha doing?” she asked, flipping through her own phone screen.
She snapped her head up. “That’s …”
“It’s my life now,” I said. “I gotta have special pillows and clothes after the surgeries.”
Today, I’ll be picking up material for a fabulous friend who has offered to make me one of those special pillows. (Thank you, Kristin!)
Oh! I told the kids that we will be deep cleaning the house a room at a time. Needless to say, they.were.thrilled. Mom power-move using a surgery to deep clean the house.