This interlude before I have the final surgery has proven interesting to me. Up until now, things have been happening so quickly that decisions could and did come fast and without a great deal of thinking. That was OK, because even with the two previous surgeries, not much changed. I had a rather discrete 3” scar and basically, it wasn’t much different than deciding to have a callus removed.
First, I just wanted to get it over with.
Then I thought about what I’d do afterward, hoping the scar wouldn’t be a big deal and thinking about whether or not I’d have the courage to get a tattoo.
And now it’s sinking in. A part of me is going to be gone, a part of me that I interacted with every day – even if just to cover with clothing – to never be seen again. Even if I’d have reconstruction (I probably won’t.), a reconstructed breast may look the same but it won’t be the same one.
I’m not good at grieving. I suspect that’s a fault I should rectify. Not that I haven’t had other losses, big ones, to be grieved, but that I don’t think I’ve done a good and complete job of grieving for any of them.
This is something I need to learn how to do.
And maybe that’s at least a part of the lesson here. To learn to grieve. Not to just keep a stiff upper lip or keep my chin up or make light of it or just move on.
So for the next two and a half weeks I intend to investigate that more fully. Just how do I grieve and what will I do?