The lack of drama in my health life at the moment is perfectly fine. The doctors had me delay starting Tamoxifen back up until after my reconstruction surgery. Starting, stopping, starting, stopping… it seemed counterproductive (Tamoxifen has a pretty decent increase in the rate of blood clots, so you have to stop a decent chunk of time before a planned surgery). Which means I am LIVING LARGE on estrogen. It is like a drug when you haven’t had it in awhile… Which is also a bit scary, estrogen is cancer candy.
I am still getting minor dizzy spells (nothing like before). I don’t know if they are stress or fall weather or what. The paranoid part of me drifts into “tumor in my brain” the logical side of me goes “body recovering from lots of trauma.” The battle continues on the inside, but the outside wants to just live without medical drama and not pursue it. I am sure it is innocent, but I will probably call my nurses because I have a new paranoid part of me that ignores medical issues a bit less then I did, say, two years ago…
I must admit, it is purely impossible to buy too many clothes for a vacation. My obsession started with swimming suits and then sundresses… Which should be pure insanity since it has been snowing here off and on. It has been a late fall (but summer didn’t really start until July). I need to stop buying new clothes (that I can’t wear to work)… but part of me is satisfied that now I know how to shop for “the new me.” I know how to hide my scars, but feel proud of how I look (I still can’t quite get used to the hair). Although the “new me” isn’t done until February-ish.
I don’t regret my bilateral mastectomy. I know young women question whether or not it is the choice for them. My surgery was able to preserve the skin and nipples, even though they aren’t what they were (luckily I don’t have a photographic reminder of quite what the breasts used to be). Surgery choice is an extremely personal decision that you make when you don’t have a clear mind. I prefer not worrying about the tissue in there creating tumor cells, instead I just worry about what could be “leftovers,” but everyone hates leftovers, so I don’t have any… I had so many stupid complications with my surgery (which these days I blame on not letting my body rest and heal properly). I wanted to do too much too soon.
Tomorrow I get my first real haircut. I haven’t a clue to do with this mess of brunette curls. I couldn’t decide who to have do the first haircut, but I decided that I wanted to have the hairstylist who chopped it all off cut it. It seems like a full circle that I am ready for.