Next week starts thirty, long rounds of radiation Monday-Friday. So, before I begin spending my days under a fast food, heating lamp, I figured I’d give you an update on how recovery went!
After my surgery I only had to stay one night in the hospital. The next morning I was released the around 9am! Physically my recovery was great! I wasn’t in a ton of pain and the incisions have healed great! The only real annoyance were those awful drain tubes. I had 3 in total. One in each breast and one draining the area where they removed my lymph nodes.
After all of these surgery’s, scans, biopsies, I’ve come to realize I have a pretty high pain tolerance. TOOT TOOT on the “me” horn. I would not have describe my self that way before, but cancer teaches you something knew everyday. But, of course the tubes were uncomfortable, at times down right painful, but the biggest issue, for me, was that these suckers (That pun was not intended but I have to admit, I did make myself laugh. So TOOT TOOT again!) were just ALWAYS in the way. I’m talking cat on your keyboard while you try and write your blog about cancer levels of “in-the-way!”
So all in all physically, I was crushing it. Emotionally was a COMPLETELY different story. This was a low point for me and my psyche.
For those of you who don’t know, the last year of my life, has been a bit stress filled. My husband and I decided to move in to his parents house to save money while we wait on the construction of our dream home! Well that home includes 13 people, 6 dogs, and 3 cats. This was supposed to be for a total of around 8-months, walk in the park, right?
Well, for those of you who have built a home, you know timelines aren’t really such a trust worthy thing. A lot of stuff can push your construction back. Weather, contractors, changes in plans, etc. So once I was diagnosed and my treatment was all planned out my only wish was to be able to be in my house before my surgery. Mind you, this was something we started planning for in March, when the house was supposed to be done at the end of April. And surgery wasn’t until July 9th. Well, April came and went. I don’t know what happened in May. Is everyone sure we remembered to have a May this year? Anyways, here comes June...you get the point. It didn’t get done. STRESSSSS.
Look, to make one thing as clear as possible. As far as living with 22 living beings goes, we had it so so good! We are so blessed that Mitchell’s parents allowed us to bombard their house with not only our little family but also our animals. They also didn’t know I’d get cancer and be a raging, steroid crazed mad-woman from time to time. They didn’t know we’d be adopting a new puppy. They did know that between my sister-in-law and I we’d be welcoming two newborn, beautiful girls into their house, but despite it all they were insanely accommodating and we were surprisingly comfortable.
All that being said, with the surgery, things were about to change. I knew my recovery was going to be very personal and that I was going to be at my most vulnerable. I needed some damn privacy. So once it was clear that we weren't going to be in our new house in time, STRESS, we packed up a few things and stayed in Mitchell’s parents ranch house while I recovered.
Both of my wonderful docs had me on strict orders to move as little as humanly possible for the first few weeks. I was instructed not to do anything if I wanted those dang drains out. And I did. I really, really wanted those drains out, so I took that whole part pretty serious. I mean after the last 8-months I felt like I deserved to do a whole lot of nothing for a change, ha! BUT, as all you fellow adulters (not adulterers, I just mean people who “adult”) know all too well, with doing nothing comes boredom. That boredom brings his friend anxiety. Anxiety and doubt are basically a package deal, so I was doubting God SO hard. I let the enemy pull up a chair next to me during my recovery and I was just not in a good place at all.
I felt like I was STUCK. In all aspects of my life. In motherhood, in my spiritual walk with God, in the fact that I was literally stuck in a chair. The only time I would risk getting out of the chair was for a bathroom break or to go look at my house that was supposed to be done months ago, hoping by some miracle it was now done. I would go in and see tangible progress. STRESS
Before a shower, I would look in the mirror and see someone I hardly recognized. I would look at my sweet husband and wonder how he was still standing after all he’s had to do. A bunch of really hard things I felt responsible for. I just couldn’t see a finish line. A time where everything was going to be back to “normal.” At this point I couldn’t have even picture what normal was.
I think I’ve mentioned this before, but my husband lovingly likes to describe me a passionate. It’s just love-speak for crazy. I was going absolutely crazy passionate about our living situation. I felt like the prospects of my new home I had waited so long for was controlling every single thought, emotion, and action I made.
I was becoming so crazy passionate about this house being done that I honestly couldn’t have told you the last time I prayed. I couldn’t even focus on the fact that I was CANCER FREE in my breast and thriving after my mastectomy. I couldn’t properly love my kids because at that moment in time, I couldn’t even love myself. I was mad. Fighting mad. Mad at the world. Mad at God. Mad at myself for not realizing how I let the enemy sneak in and kill, steal, and destroy. Mad at myself for being mad.
Eventually, there comes a time where it all clicks. Something helps you regain perspective and you start to realize that you have to take responsibility for your actions. I couldn’t even tell you exactly what that moment was but (again) eventually I started to try again. I tried my hardest every day to focus on the good and trust that someday, somehow my house was going to be finished. I starting thanking God everyday for what I have instead of asking him for more. I started reading my bible, devotionals, and having REAL uninterrupted time with Jesus (instead of shopping on amazon, RIP bank account).
When you spend time with Jesus and you start to trust him more and more you start to see His work at hand. He’s always working we just aren’t always paying attention. About a week before we moved into our home I was in a REALLY good place emotionally, physically, and spiritually. I had my God-fueled forcefield back at full strength! And it was a good thing I did.
The FIRST night we slept in our house, like literally the second we put out heads on our pillows for the first time, we got news of a devastating accident that took the life of our second-youngest dog. Our sweet little terrier mix, Ollie. Talk about a whirlwind. The day we had been waiting a year for was finally here and as it turned out it was one of the worst nights I can remember.
Had I not really started to focus on my spiritual lacking I don’t know how I could have handled another crushing blow of devastation. The situation required us to give so much grace and love, and honestly, with the help of Jesus it all came so natural! I just kept praying and praying that the Lord would help me get through this. And our wonderful, loving Father did just that.
God is with you and for you always. Most of the time, I have no idea what he’s doing or why he is choosing this seemingly bumpy road for me and my family, but I do know, without a shadow of doubt, that He is faithful. Just like I know I’m going to look back on this past year and think WHAT IN THE WORLD!??? HOW DID I SURVIVE THAT MESS?!!!! Oh, yeah, that’s right, 'cause you bad, boo. TOOT TOOT.
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