The Last Day

Ok, I know that sounds dramatic, but it feels a little like - maybe not THE last day, but - A last day. A very emotional last day. The day before mastectomy surgery. I can't help but wonder:

• Did I gather enough information?

• Did I make the right decisions?

• What will I look like tomorrow and all the days after?

• Will I ever feel sexy again?

• Will I feel less womanly? Less feminine?

• Will I spend the rest of my life waiting for the other shoe to drop? The day I find out cancer has returned?

• Will I be able to look my naked self in the mirror and feel proud/happy with what I see?

• Will anyone want to touch me again...in a non-doctor/patient way?

• Will I ever want them to?

What if I go through all of this and then find out they missed something in the other breast? Will I find the strength to go through this all over again? Do I actually possess the strength to go through it THIS time?

I know that part of it is the complete lack of control. There is nothing about having cancer that makes you feel you have any - even fraction - of control. The doctors try to give you control over the decisions being made but it's a complete farce. Yes, I chose nipple-sparing mastectomy with reconstructive surgery, but I have absolutely no idea of that's what was the correct choice. Without a medical degree or any type of experience with breast cancer there's no way I can feel confident in this choice. It's a shot in the dark. And no amount of spewing medical jargon at me feels like I've been brought into the light. All I can do is blindly trust that if I were making a grossly poor choice one of the doctors would have spoken up.

And that's a LOT of trust to put into people you don't know well. People who don't know you. And yes, I have a problem with that. Blind faith, absolute trust and lack of control - it's like the trifecta of situations that put me at my most insecure.

So, today, my last day, will likely be spent in a whirling dervish - keeping myself so busy I won't even have the opportunity to think. In roughly 36 hours what will be done, will be done and I'll be in a recovery room where I'll have absolutely nothing to do but think. And that's the part that's most terrifying of all. I have no idea how I'll feel. Physically, I know(ish), but emotionally I have no idea how this is going to hit me. I've been taking it all in stride during the pre-op phase, but post-op, who knows. Perhaps I'll just keep moving forward, chin up. Perhaps I'll crumble, cry, and feel a great loss. Perhaps I'll be bitter and angry. It feels like standing on the edge of a precipice that I know, without a doubt, I must go over. But without anyone to assure me what's on the other side, it just feels scary and overwhelming.

To those who have been here before me, you have my greatest respect. And I look forward to getting through this next day and joining you on the other side of that precipice, because one thing I know for sure: whatever is on the other side must be more solid than where I stand now. And hopefully, I will see it as The First Day.