Back to Life

A sign that hang on my bedroom wall

Although the double mastectomy was much much better than I expected it to be, it was still hard. Really hard. Somewhere around day 10 I hit this slump - I didn't want to see people, look at posts, or texts, or anything. I felt isolated. I felt, probably, some of the grief this surgery can bring. 

Then I got my surgical drains out and I started to feel like a person again. I went to Christmas Eve and Christmas Day celebrations. I started to walk, slowly, in the local parks. I could wear a bra that wasn't from the hospital.  I could put shirts over my head. 

Recovery is defined as "the return to a normal or healthy condition".  

I knew I was feeling normal when I cared about the news again. When I felt righteous indignation. When I could go and sit in a movie theater and walk out of there making connections between what I saw on screen and how we treat people we perceive as different from us. 

At 3.5 weeks post surgery, I can drive again. I can open doors - not all of them - but ones that aren't too heavy. I can make simple meals and do simple household things. I can do a lot more than I can't. 

I still have to be careful not to lift heavy things, or push myself too far. I would have one great, active day and be totally exhausted from it the next. I've skipped parties and swim meets and all sorts of things just to rest. 

So it's a treat when I take my kid to swim practice and have coffee with a friend. Or run an errand that doesn't relate to the diagnosis that has taken over my life since October. Or when I do things two days in a row.  It's been great to spend so much time with my husband and my daughter, but my life is filled with lots of people, and I missed that.

The other night, my grad school friends came over, sort of a holiday celebration. I was very nervous about this going in. What would I be able to do? What if I couldn't handle it? Was even going to be able to have a non-medically centered conversation? I shouldn't have worried at all. Everyone brought food, helped set up and clean up, and acted exactly like themselves. It was like...being normal. Totally unremarkable but yet I was so grateful for it. It felt like I'd taken a week's vacation. 

That's how good friends make me feel, like I've been away relaxing. A twenty minute phone call from my neighbor can make me laugh and relax enough that it's equivalent to a massage. My friend calling from the airport before she leaves for a business trip buoys me for the day. Even sorting through the tricky stuff with a woman who is like a sister to me feels good. 

Friends are a huge part of my self-care. 

So for the next step in my healing, I am going to see a group of woman I love dearly. We have spent the last few years doing half marathons, and this year four of them are doing a particularly challenging set of races. On Thursday, they will run a 5k, on Friday a 10k, on Saturday a half marathon, and on Sunday a full marathon. I couldn't be prouder of them for this insanity. Three of us will be in the cheering section, handing out mid race snacks and holding up signs.

Before I was diagnosed, my plan was to complete the 5k and 10k with them. Once I knew the dates of my surgery, I asked both surgeons if I could still go on the trip. Even just to sit there. These women have supported me through everything for the last seven years, and I wanted to be there with them, even if I couldn't do the races. Both surgeons encouraged me to go, and my breast surgeon in particular understood the significance for me. She told me I would get on that plane, that I would survive this and be able to celebrate and heal with my friends.  She said the trip was part of my recovery plan.

So tonight I will get on a plane and fly south. I will get to hug my girlfriends and see their beautiful faces. I will get laugh with them and probably cry a little too. I will get to cheer them on and be there. Just soaking up the way that good friends make you feel. Loved. Whole. Healed.