Really, I’m fine.
Of course, it’s possible that I’ve said the word “fine”so many times over the last month or so that the word has ceased to have any meaning.
“How are you?”
Fine.
“No, I mean really. How are you?”
Still fine.
“But you have . . . you know . . . breast cancer (these words are almost always whispered). Are you sure?”
Oh, wait. Breast cancer. Let me double check. Yep. I’m fine.
I don’t have a death sentence. I’m not departing this mortal realm. I am simply going to be inconvenienced. And lopsided. Reconstruction will be great, but let’s face it. I won’t be a truly matched set ever again.
But yes, I’m fine.
I’m going about my days the same way I always do. I get up, yell at the kids to eat breakfast and get dressed and stop touching one another and put on their shoes and brush their teeth and get in the $%&^* car or we’re going to be late and stop touching one another. Then I go to work, pick up the kids at school and then yell at them to keep the Oreos in the kitchen and stop touching one another and do their homework and eat their dinner and stop touching one another and take a shower and brush your teeth and stop touching one another and go to ^%&%( sleep. I watch TV with my husband and go to bed.
During all of that, I am fine.
However, thanks to a bladder that has been tapdanced upon by my beloved minions, I have to get up in the middle of the night to pee and that’s when my mind starts to wander and maybe I’m not so fine.
Because, really, what if I’m not fine?
What if it really, really hurts for them to amputate my breast?
What if a reconstructed boob feels like a rock sitting on my chest for the rest of my life?
What if it comes back?
What if I need chemo and lose my hair?
What if someone comes to visit during my recovery and my house looks like a small atomic bomb went off in it and now I’m not the breast cancer survivor but I’m the woman who needs to go on “Hoarders?”
That’s when I have to circle back around to the “I’m fine” mantra. Not dying. Just lopsided. Which kind of matches my cockeyed sense of humor about the whole thing anyway.
Which is fine.
I love you girlfriend. You are amazing, inspiring, and above all….fine. oxoxo They may take your boob but never your awesome sense of humor.
Raising my fist in the air on this one. Love you, too!
I love reading your blog. You are so talented. When you say “I’m fine” that’s your strong faith. Bless you.
Thanks, Laurie! I don’t know how I’d get through this whole thing without faith – mine and those around me praying for me. It’s hard to say cancer is a blessing, but I know I’ve been blessed by others through this.
Your blog is powerful…hopefully very helpful to you….but also really helpful for us, those around you who want to say and do the right thing, but likely end up saying the wrong thing. Know that we mean the very best and that we have you in all of our thoughts and prayers. From now on, instead of “How are you?” we should say “How is your day going today? or “How was your morning?” Any answer from horrible to great are all “fine”. You only need to take one day at a time. Cross them off, each as one step closer to putting this all in your past.
Thank you so much, Stacey. Your words means a lot. I hope no one thinks that I’m upset by people asking. I’m always touched by people asking and I honestly have no idea what to say. I will say that I am so happy we’re at NMS. The moms there are truly some of the nicest people I’ve ever met.