I’m not sleeping well. Somewhere between 2 a.m. and 4 a.m. I wake up and can’t get back to sleep. My brain starts spinning and a million thoughts go through my head. What can I control? What can’t I control? What can I do to get organized (this coming from someone who already has color coded files and binders for every client and finishes her Christmas shopping in November)? I call this the witching hour. It is the point where sleep eludes me. My Mom and I laugh because she can’t sleep either. We wish we lived closer to each other. We come up with codes that we could use if we were within sight of each other’s house. Porch light on means I’m up. One flash of the porch light means call me. Two flashes means come over. Three flashes means “Oh crap I’m busted. Gene is up too.”
I think there is going to be a point where I turn into a blubbering idiot and won’t be able to stop. I woke up about 2 this morning thinking about it and want to tell Gene that there is going to be a point where I need to cry and I don’t want him to feel like he needs to fix it. Just let me cry. I have images in my head about what this is going to look like, then I just shut it off and tell myself to take one step at a time. But I’m a planner and I want to know what is coming.
The funny thing is, I would have told you a month ago that I had no emotional attachment to my breasts. I don’t think they define me or make me more or less of a woman. I thought that losing a breast or both would be much the same as losing a uterus — one less thing to maintain. But the reality of what losing one breast or part of a breast is daunting. It affects style and size of clothing. Symmetry. If I do reconstruction, I don’t want to be the same size, I want to be smaller. Does that require surgery on the other side. And let’s talk about location, LOL. Why would I want another saggy breast. I want some lift! But shouldn’t they point in the same direction? I laugh at the thought.
Then I back up and tell myself that there is still a chance that this may be nothing. I know it isn’t a good chance, but don’t skip over that possibility.