no real news except that my mx got moved from 7:30 am to 11:30 am, which is good i guess because it means that i don't have to be there at 5:30. i seriously hate being up that early.
8 days, wherein i go ape shit on a lady at the farmers' market
last weekend at the farmers' market i was talking to my friend peter about my upcoming surgery (he was asking if he could do anything to help) when a woman in her 60's walked up, gave us both nasty looks, muttered under her breath, and walked away. peter and i commented that it was weird and went back to talking.
today i was standing at the booth helping a couple (they were inquiring about wedding favors) when i noticed the same woman hovering around. she approached the table, scowling, and interrupted me:
60: were you here last weekend?
me: yup. we're here every weekend.
60: figures. i'm never shopping here again.
me: excuse me?
60 (walking away): you heard me. i was coming to spend $50 but this is ridiculous.
me: ma'am if there's a problem i'm happy to talk to you about it.
60 (gesturing to the couple i was helping): last weekend i was here and you were here FLIRTING WITH SOME OTHER MAN about a BLOG. *pshaw*
me: that man was my friend.
60: whatever, that is SO UNPROFESSIONAL. LEAVE IT AT HOME, LADY.
me (at this point i came completely unglued): unprofessional? not that it's any of your business but i am having a DOUBLE MASTECTOMY in two weeks and my friend was offering help.
60: i don't care, this is ridiculous.
me: RIDICULOUS? I'M GETTING MY BOOBS CUT OFF WOMAN. RIDICULOUS?
the woman retreated, screaming things at me that i don't remember but i looked up, completely shaking and near tears and the poor couple getting married was standing there slack-jawed. the woman reached across the table and rubbed my arm. 'oh my god, that was really really weird.' i kept it together-ish and apologized profusely for the fact that they had to witness me being actually unprofessional. they bought their chocolate and left. the woman at the booth next to me (in her 50's) came over with tears welling up. turns out she's recovering from breast cancer. turns out the DUDE in the booth on the other side confided in mara that he'd had the same surgery that i'd just shouted i was having to the whole market. man with breast cancer or gender reassignment, we aren't sure.
anyway, people are dicks.
today i was standing at the booth helping a couple (they were inquiring about wedding favors) when i noticed the same woman hovering around. she approached the table, scowling, and interrupted me:
60: were you here last weekend?
me: yup. we're here every weekend.
60: figures. i'm never shopping here again.
me: excuse me?
60 (walking away): you heard me. i was coming to spend $50 but this is ridiculous.
me: ma'am if there's a problem i'm happy to talk to you about it.
60 (gesturing to the couple i was helping): last weekend i was here and you were here FLIRTING WITH SOME OTHER MAN about a BLOG. *pshaw*
me: that man was my friend.
60: whatever, that is SO UNPROFESSIONAL. LEAVE IT AT HOME, LADY.
me (at this point i came completely unglued): unprofessional? not that it's any of your business but i am having a DOUBLE MASTECTOMY in two weeks and my friend was offering help.
60: i don't care, this is ridiculous.
me: RIDICULOUS? I'M GETTING MY BOOBS CUT OFF WOMAN. RIDICULOUS?
the woman retreated, screaming things at me that i don't remember but i looked up, completely shaking and near tears and the poor couple getting married was standing there slack-jawed. the woman reached across the table and rubbed my arm. 'oh my god, that was really really weird.' i kept it together-ish and apologized profusely for the fact that they had to witness me being actually unprofessional. they bought their chocolate and left. the woman at the booth next to me (in her 50's) came over with tears welling up. turns out she's recovering from breast cancer. turns out the DUDE in the booth on the other side confided in mara that he'd had the same surgery that i'd just shouted i was having to the whole market. man with breast cancer or gender reassignment, we aren't sure.
anyway, people are dicks.
9 days
down to the single digits. emotionally exhausted and ready for it to be here already. trying to do all kinds of stuff i won't be able to do after my surgery, for a while at least. driving. dancing. pedicuring. canoeing. i'm sort of hoping that the weather is either rainy or oppressively hot soon so that i won't feel trapped in bed. lots of people are offering meals, which we're gladly accepting. continuing the funny little dance i've been doing with danny. can't tell if he's nervous or on disconnect.
10 days
Portrait
11 days
when i was going through chemo i had a hickman catheter. basically two tubes hanging outside of my body for several months. instead of hiding them inside of my shirts i hung them out the top. i also never wore hats or scarves after i lost my hair. when i finished my treatment i got a tattoo on my arm, a caduceus and gold ribbon for childhood cancer. i guess i wasn't one to hide the experience. i've always talked about it freely.
i'm okay with the fact that i'm getting big fake breasts. of course, i want them to look balanced to my body and feel as natural as possible and god forbid, they look like those awful half cantaloupe things. but it's okay with me if they look fake-ish. because they will be fake and i know that. and i assume that other people will know that too. and i intend to deal with this previvorship thing like i dealt with the cancer thing, by saying something first.
12 days
right side
i somehow haven't considered until just now, uploading this photo, that these breasts are going to be gone soon. there will be breasts, but not these breasts that fed my children for so long. they've never been particularly important to me in terms of how i identify myself. i was flat in middle school and high school. then i got cancer. there was a lump in one at one point during chemo and since stanford is a teaching hospital, several med students joined my oncologist and nurse practitioner in feeling me up. i remember lying topless, dissociated, with chains on my wrists for some procedure that related to preparing my radiation blocks. radiation killed virtually all sensation i had in my breasts before i ever really got to enjoy them. when i was 19 i got that tattoo between my breasts (somehow that hurt like hell) and over my original tumor to remind me to stay balanced. then, i got pregnant and my breasts got huge and were suddenly very useful for quieting screamy babies. they did that for oh, five years. i liked nursing, had some struggles which were probably made easier by that lack of sensation. but going from a small B cup to a large D in a matter of months has left me lopsided and droopy. and honestly, pretty embarrassed of them. so in that sense, now that they're mine (as in not belonging in any way to my kids, or future kids which i will not be having) i'm looking forward to maybe enjoying them for once.
13 days...oy, shit.
feeling a little wobbly seeing 13 days up there but maybe it's a the sinus infection effing up my balance. i'm diverting all my nervous energy into worrying about the kickstarter project. :)
i've been thinking about how long i've been on anti-depressants lately. 13 years or something. all through my pregnancies and nursing. without more than a three day cessation for that many years. i think when the mastectomy and reconstruction stuff is all wrapped up i want to explore the possibility on not being on anti-depressants for the rest of my life. i feel like while it balances some things the continuous use is throwing other things out of whack. hormones. hair. stuff.
i've been thinking about how long i've been on anti-depressants lately. 13 years or something. all through my pregnancies and nursing. without more than a three day cessation for that many years. i think when the mastectomy and reconstruction stuff is all wrapped up i want to explore the possibility on not being on anti-depressants for the rest of my life. i feel like while it balances some things the continuous use is throwing other things out of whack. hormones. hair. stuff.