Fear

Today I looked at the pictures I'd taken of my arm over the past several weeks since the surgery to remove the lipoma. It was very emotional to see the transformation, watching as I went from a drainage tube to being free of that. Looking at all the open cuts under the staples and then how things looked without them. There were the weeks where I had stitches spitting out, causing sores and cuts and infection. Now, for the most part, I just have a giant scar with some skin that flakes off of it on occasion. I could still have some stitches spit out at some point, but for now, none of that is happening.

Today it is a month since my hysterectomy. I wish I could have walked today, but it was raining heavily and that wasn't possible. Instead, I folded a million towels and used that as my work out. I also did some belly stuff while I was in my room, but it wasn't as intensive as the towels. Mock me all you like on that one. Towel folding involves a lot more movement than you realize.

Now on to the other stuff.

FEAR AND LOATHING AT 40

You know, I wanted 40 to just be another number for me. Or rather, if it was going to have meaning, I wanted it to be in some positive, I change my life in good ways kind of thing. That didn't end up being the case. My 40th year has been one of the most harrowing and frightening years of my life. In January, I almost bled to death. I had to go to the ER and let people see me naked. I bled all over the ER. My roommate had to see horrifying things come out of my body. I would lay in bed and wonder if I was going to wake up the next day. There was pain. There was exhaustion. There was humiliation. More than all of these, there was fear.

When I went to see the gynecologist, I went because I wanted to have ablation.  I hate going to new doctors, but I had no choice. Every second, even though the depo shots had stopped the bleeding, I was still fearful they would return. While I was in her office, I had to have a uterine biopsy. It was deeply painful and it DID make me start bleeding again. Even to this day, I remember that pain. Oddly enough, when I left her office, I wasn't as fearful as I should have been. I would be later.

When she told me I had uterine cancer, it didn't sink in right away. That took time. It was a slow, slow reality that dug into my soul like someone pushing needles slowly under my fingernails. And once it was there, it never left my mind. I was always, on some level, facing the fear of the idea of cancer, of the idea of surgeries.

Every surgery was walked into with fear. Every time they would push needles into me or put me on a surgical table, I was scared. I wondered what would happen. I wondered if I would survive. I wondered if things would be worse than they were before I started this. There has been the fear of being rejected for treatment, either by insurance or doctors. There has been the fear of being judged for my size and situation (which did happen from time to time). There was the fear of not making appointments, of getting lost, of peeing on strangers.

This has been 40 for me so far. Have I faced these fears and lived through them? Yes. Yes, I did. It wasn't fun though. It has tasked me in ways I didn't think were possible. There is no ALONE like the moment before they open you up. There is no ALONE like knowing your body is growing cancers inside you. This fear has changed me. Facing the fear as changed me as well. I guess, as things progress, we'll see in what ways these changes will manifest.