Have you ever been doing something and come across pictures of someone who’s died and feel that overwhelming gush of grief? That was me today – only the picture was of me. I’m alive. I’m in remission. I have so much to be thankful for and grateful for and I’ve learned so many lessons about how the outer coverings of a person aren’t worth a single cent, yet I still yearned for the me I was a year ago.
I stared at the woman in a head covering and told myself I should be happy. I have so much more hair today then I had in that picture. I looked at the me that looked sick and tired. I should celebrate chemo is over and be thankful for this new me. I cried instead.
I became overwhelmed with grief. I didn’t care if my breasts had been small. I’d do anything to have them back today if only they could be restored without the tumors, of course. I ran my fingers through my short hair and longed for my long, thick hair. And what I wouldn’t give to have the slender body back I worked so hard on. Instead, I sat at my desk with my foot in a post-surgical shoe, with only one semi-fake boob, and more extra pounds than I care to make public and I selfishly mourned for my old self. Stupid really. I don’t know what good it accomplished at all to be honest.
In two weeks, I’ll go through yet another surgery. I’ll have another scar over another scar. It’s not a tatoo with a better story though. The story is really crappy actually! The ending is awesome though. Who I’ve become because of it all is amazing to me. If you would have told me the me I am today is who I would have become after being told I had cancer at this time last year, I would have laughed at you. God had great plans for this and so …
The hole in my foot will heal. The new incision will become another scar, and I’ll be alive to tell the “crappy story”. I still have days left in my life to get rid of the extra weight and replace it with a toned body. And fake boobs will at least look better than having a flat side and a deformed shaped mound on the other side. I will continue to stretch, grow, and change and become a better me. But it’s still difficult to walk by a mirror and catch a glimpse of myself and wonder who that person is in the mirror.