I’m Fine

Three days after surgery, when instead of cuddling further into the couch, I walked into the kitchen and made my son his favorite sunny side-up eggs, he declared:

“Mama, you can make my eggs? Then, you’re fine!”

Having breast cancer with kids adds another facet to the whole process. People have asked me many times, how did you tell your children? How are your children handling this? 

I’ll tell you.

I’ve known this news since September. We had an October weekend trip planned to get some much needed mountain air before this news dropped into our lives. So when my first oncology appointment happened to be scheduled the day prior to said trip, I felt like it was actually perfect timing. I would get some answers and then a break from reality.

Oh, so you told your children on this trip?

No.

We chose to give them one last weekend with their normal mom…their mom who did not have breast cancer.

Because for the rest of their lives they have a mom who has had breast cancer. Forever October is significant. Forever the color pink is significant.

So, while my mind spun out a bit in the fresh mountain air, I gave my children the gift of peace…of fun not marred by bad news. And we dealt with reality when we were back to reality.

They took the news hard, but then life went on as normal. They saw their mom still exercising most days, still working most days, still normal.

I worried so much how they would react to me post-surgery. My children have never really seen me ill. Any cold I’ve had, I’ve bounced back from quickly. 

So I understand my son’s need for me to be “fine.”

Before he declared, in all my egg-conquering glory, that I was fine, my son was afraid to get too close to me. He was afraid he’d hurt me. If you’ve been around him and witnessed his erratic movements and complete disregard for those around him, in many ways this was a legitimate concern.

But, I could make eggs, therefore I was fine. So, snuggles were back on.

Surgery seems like it should be near the end of a journey, but for me, this is the beginning. I’m healing. I’m moving more. I’m on a 5lb max lifting restriction, but I feel pretty good. And now, I have to think about chemo. Based on pathology, it’s a real, maybe even likely, next step. 

So, how will my children handle that? How will I handle that?

I don’t know, honestly. As a mom, I’ll try to soften the blow and keep day-to-day life as normal as possible. I’d love to handle this alone and keep everyone else safe from worry, but this is not a solo journey. They’re on it with me. You’re on it with me.

So, Anna, how are you?

I’m uncomfortable. No bra feels good. My boob looks weird. I have to use a blow-dryer after a shower to make sure all my incisions are dry. I worry a lot. I hide my worry a lot. I’m freaking out about fitting cancer into a retirement and moving plan. I’m terrified of losing my hair.

I’m moving forward. I’m living life. 

If you ask me, I’m fine.