what's it like to be you?

Yesterday in chemo, I had a chance to talk to my oncologist for a few moments. We weren't scheduled to meet, but he was at the cancer center during my chemo time... so we chatted. He had communicated with the plastic surgeon and had news for me.

It seems that the plastic surgeon is very concerned that I will need to have radiation after my mastectomy. If that is true, then I am not a candidate for immediate reconstruction after my mastectomy. The hitch is... they won't know if I'm a candidate for radiology until they perform the mastectomy and they perform the pathology exams on my tumors.

So... I won't know when I'm wheeled into surgery if I'm going to come out with one breast or two. I can have the reconstruction immediately only if I don't need radiation; only if they can remove all of the cancer with surgery alone. I meet with the general surgeon on Tuesday; hopefully he can better explain to me what will happen when I go into surgery.

I did not want to ever wake up and have to look at myself with one breast. I never wanted to see my body deformed that way. This process has been so hard to handle and the one thing that I could hold on to has been taken from me. Hearing months ago that I could go into the mastectomy surgery and come out with a replacement breast -- made me feel that this would be okay. But once again, my stable ground has been shaken and I just don't know. Of course, I came home from the hospital and crawled into bed; curled into the fetal position and cried myself to sleep.

So, that brings me to my question this morning... what is it like to be you? I know how crazy and emotional and sad I am... but what does it feel like to be a friend, or a relative... or even a passing stranger with a friend who is going through something this devastating?

I read an interesting message last night on a cancer newsletter where someone was praising the cancer caregivers (that would be you) for having the strength to be there beside their loved one through all the ups and downs of cancer treatment. The person actually wrote that they would prefer to be the patient to being the caregiver because at least the patient is (in some way) able to "do" something about the situation whereas the caregiver is basically helpless and resigned to sitting on the sidelines.

Is that how you feel? I have to ask because my mind cannot focus right now on the possibility of waking up in a couple of weeks with just one breast.

Was I so looking forward to the reconstruction because I still cannot fully accept and believe that I have cancer? I think so. I wake up often and think that I'm living someone else's life; or I'm in a dream. I look at myself in the mirror and I still am not comfortable with the bald head that looks back at me. And so on. I just want to know if you feel as unsettled and weird as I do.

Leave comments and tell me what it feels like to be you -- in this part of my journey.

~Nic