Originally Posted by starfish
and honestly I would hate to see them in iit.

When I got so sick with the first chemo, my middle child was banging on the locked door yelling, "please mom -- let me help you."

I don't think so.

After that, I called my husband who was hunting. We have differing memories of what happened next, but I was on the freezing bathroom floor all night, and at some point I became so sick that that was it. It never crossed my mind to call anyone besides my husband for help.

My gravest fear about being ill or old is becoming dependent, but if that is to be the case, I will be dependent on people I am paying. I'm lucky that I can say that. Most families can't.

Am I really deserving of the effort my family will put in surrounding this latest? I'm not so sure. I think you could make a strong argument either way, and either way I don't want their effort. I just want to live my small life as a supportive wife and mother. I know they will all accomplish great things.

I sort of threw up in my mouth when I wrote that but I suppose somewhere along the way it became true. I always thought I would lead an interesting life and it turns out I did not. I led a privileged life in many ways, but really sort of dull and predictable, right down to the affair right after I had my eyes lifted. They need another pass by a good plastic surgeon, but at some point I think it starts to look weird and ridiculous and I want my grandkids so see kind wrinkled eyes.

Intergenerational angst caused me to do my eyes when I was 49. My husband took a selfie of us and I thought, "my eyes remind me of grandmama's eyes" and I was terrified of my grandmother. Just being different isn't enough. Looking different is now part of the calculus.

So I look grey and tired and have droopy everything (but will apparently have really perky boobs with new nipples!). I'm still showering and walking my big dog every day and the new puppy makes me laugh but someone has to house train her soon. My husband went back to Houston and I have an appointment with a reconstruction surgeon tomorrow and a breast surgeon on Thursday and it all feels so familiar and ordinary that I'm truly not upset.

I think a lot about death because who wouldn't. I don't think it is a bad thing for me to sit around thinking this is going to kill me unless I stop living in paralytic fear which I have sort of done because I refuse to think past the mastectomy, final diagnosis and oncology/radiation plan, if any.

Just between you and me, there is a hell of a lot of stuff I haven't ever done because I was going to do it "when...." I've had some "whens" in the last months and years and am flat out of "whens". I'm going to the Holy Land, a bucket list item of mine. I'm going to do a non-religious tour of the Greatest Hits.

After the mastectomy......(see how this works?)

Bidden or not bidden God is present.