Balancing act

(Sorry, didn't realize my comments were turned off so you can feel free to comment now...)


Today for the first time since my diagnosis three weeks ago, I'm feeling normal.

The past three weeks have been a roller coaster of emotions. 

The first week, I was numb. I won't even say I put my game face on because I couldn't even find a face. Just putting one foot in front of the other was almost impossible. And to every difficult person I encountered, I wanted to scream, "Don't fuck with me! I have breast cancer!" To every difficult parent I had to deal with, I wanted to say, "I'm sorry your child is a brat and you don't know how to handle them but right now, I don't give a fuck because I have breast cancer." Guy at the bus stop who insisted on talking to me, despite the earbuds in my ears and my intense focus on "Doctor Who" on my iPhone,  "I really don't give a fuck which bus you ride and why, I have breast cancer!" Etc.

I moved through the world, telling close friends, avoiding putting anything on Facebook because it would only be about my diagnosis and I wasn't sure I wanted the world to know yet because I still hadn't wrapped my own brain around it.

Luckily, my friends led me through the numbness, taking me by the hand, whispering gently, giving me space and giving me normal while I sorted this out.

The second week is a blank. I have no idea what happened.  Had a lot going on, including WonderCon, a comic book convention I was really looking forward to. And I got to spend time with the Filmmaker and his beautiful, amazing children. And I did an art show that was a two night event, the last night of which the Filmmaker joined me. 

But I'll be damned if I can really remember any of it. I remember feeling angry because my body was stretched beyond its limits. And it pissed me off that my body, which has always been able to manage through days without sleep for production and which has rarely let me down, now let me down constantly as it tries to do battle with itself. 

And I was angry at school because , well, because I set the bar very high and the expectations of my teachers is extremely high, even with this diagnosis. They have cut me a lot of slack but I still have to deliver. And I didn't want to. I wanted to just be average, to just be normal and not have this ridiculous high jump to hurdle while going through this.

And I was angry with my best friend because she was busy. Now, understand, she spent plenty of time on the phone and by email with me but that didn't matter. I was angry that she was out of town on business and that I couldn't reach her. There were other people who I talked to and who helped me out but there's no reasoning with irrationality. I wanted her and she wasn't there. 

And I was angry with the Filmmaker. For no other reason that he is so close to what I want but not ready to be what I want. And he may never be. And that made me angry because I wanted to call him every day and cry and say, come over and hold me and tell me that everything will be all right. But I couldn't let myself because I couldn't let myself be that vulnerable with him. I couldn't let myself admit that I want him and need him and wish... And it made me angry that I let myself get into this place again - almost but not quite. When right now, 
I don't know if I can let myself be in an almost place.

And I was angry at the world. Because. Who else am I gonna be angry with? 

This week, I hurt. I let myself hurt. I let myself cry. Today, looking in the mirror at the studio, making sure I didn't have paint on my face, I pushed my hair out of my face and thought that I have to find a better hair color to cover my gray when I realized, in a few months, I may lose my hair, depending on my treatment. And that brought me to my knees, in the bathroom, in the middle of teaching.

I hurt for all the things I could lose. I hurt for all the pain I've already gone through in my life. I hurt for the fact that, despite the friends and the Filmmaker, I am still basically alone. There is no one at my side day-to-day for this. And my friends are amazing and supportive and incredible. But it still comes down to just me and that hurts.

I hurt for wanting more than almost.

It hurts that I'll be 50 in a week and I'm essentially still alone. This is not where I'm supposed to be. Where's the husband and the family and the house and the life? Where's the success?

Hit bottom. Gave up. Almost decided that I needed to stop seeing the Filmmaker (a weekly occurrence due to the clowns in my head).  Thought about quitting school. Wanted to just hide and stop everything. 

Woke up this morning, still feeling the hurt and pain. Didn't want to teach, which is rare for me because I love teaching art and I love my kids. But I went because I need the money and I need the joy I get from teaching.

And I began to feel normal again. Just for a moment. Hugs from the kids. Working with my program director, who's awesome. 

And when the Filmmaker came in to drop his daughter off for class, I forgot about the clowns and the hurt and the fear and all of that. He hugged me and all I could think of is that I'm so glad he's here. And teaching his very talented daughter is one of my favorite things to do.

I don't know if it's all the outpouring of energy from people this week or just that I'm dealing better or what. But tonight, right now, this second, I can get through this. I've gotten through so many other things in my life, this is just one more thing.

And maybe these past seven years where I've learned to live with myself and figured out who I am and what I am all led up to this. Because despite having a great support group, I do have to do this myself. No one else is going to be there every night. No one else is going to be there every day. It's just me. And it's been just me for almost seven years. And it's been hard but it's taught me how to do this.

And when the Filmmaker hugged me this morning, all I could think is that I'm so glad he's here, whether it's for one more month, one more year or ten more years, he makes me happy and he makes my heart skip a beat when he smiles at me. And for now, I'll take the almost because he's given me such rom-com moments that it gives me hope that there is a more, whether or not it's with him.

And while I wait to meet with the oncologist/surgeon, I will embrace the short period of "normal" before I get on with the business of breast cancer. And hope that whatevr's on the other side of it, I will continue to live the life I've created and find something more over there.

Fear

Today, I am overwhelmed with fear.

I will lose everything. I will survive this but what will be left? 

  I'm a straight A student with a 4.0 GPA. That'll be one of the first things to go.  I'll finish my classes but realistically, a 4.0 will be impossible to maintain.

Financially, I'm not sure how to make it. I'm barely paying my bills and I lose any work at all, I will lose everything, quite literally. I can't pay my rent right now without my student loans and there is nothing left when I get paid after I pay my few other bills. I don't know how I'm gonna do this.

Ironically, my art will probably grow and become something else. That's one good thing.

And the Filmmaker. So much to lose there. Or is there? He said he'd be here and I believe him. But what will we be? And what are we now? Will there be anything left of the glimmer of something or will this always be peripheral until I get through this and he can leave with some dignity and grace? I don't know if we were ever gonna be anything but this, but now I'll never know. And today, I want to push him away because that would just be easier.

And who will I be on the other side? I'm tired already of the "you'll get through this and be stronger" platitudes. I know that's what you're supposed to say but I'm growing to loathe that phrase. I've been so broken by so many things and I always get up and I always get through and I'm always alone on the other side of it. And I just don't know if I can get through being broken again and end up starting again, starting alone, finding my way yet again.

And I know I have friends and I know I have support. And I know they'll be there. But right now, there is just such a feeling of separateness, disconnect. I wish... I don't know what I wish. I wish there was a relationship with a capital R right now. I wish I didn't feel so very alone. I wish to be weak and sad and heartbroken. I wish...

For today, I'll put my head down and my game face on and just go through the motions. And I'll weep for what I'm gonna lose and I'll weep for what I've already lost. 

And tomorrow, I'll get up and start all over again. And I'll maybe feel more optimistic and be all sunshine and puppies and regret I ever felt any of this today. The platitudes will ring true and the loneliness will be less and I'll be fine with the relationship with the little r and life will go on...

Do you think I'm sexy?

Sensual - relating to or consisting in the gratification of the senses or indulgence of appetites

I never appreciated sensuality until I left my marriage. My ex had no appreciation for anything sensual or sexual. In the entire 16 years we were together, I think once I wore beautiful sexy lingerie, only to have him ask me why I bothered. Yep. Sexy.

Even something as simple as perfume, which I love and which makes me feel very sexy, was a constant source of criticism from him. There was a rule that I had to apply any perfume an hour before we went anywhere because he didn't want me getting in the car with fresh perfume. And then inevitable cut down about which perfume I chose to wear.

So needless to say, our sex life was about as sexual and sensual as an episode of "The Golden Girls". Tab A into slot B. An occasional variance but pretty much the same thing all the time. And, yes, I did spend a lot of time going over my to do list in my head while waiting for him to... Well... Ya know.

So discovering the wonder of fishnets and high heels was a revelation. And seeing normal men react to this sensual side of me just blew me away. Yeah, I'm an enlightened, educated, smart woman but I do love it when a man gives me that look from head to toe and makes that appreciative noise in his throat that usually will cause a withering look from his significant other.

And one of the best things about the Filmmaker is his appreciation and affection for all things sensual. He is passionate and sexy and has a healthy appetite for everything that stimulates the senses. And he appreciates that he is the beneficiary of Z's advice to me that life is too short not to wear sexy underwear. 

And then there's sex.

I went almost seven years without having sex. Yup. Almost seven years. I would say I missed it but since my sexual experience is very limited and the last few years of my marriage were so lackluster in that department, I didn't think I was missing much.

But in the past five months, I've had probably more sex than I did in the entire last five years of my marriage. And it definitely is not pedestrian in any sense of the word.

And I'm very insecure about my body in the last few years because I'm not a size six and I'm going to be 50 in a few weeks and I spend half my time covered in paint.

But the Filmmaker makes me feel beautiful and amazing and sexy and sensual and all of those things I never knew I could be.

And now, with this diagnosis, one of my biggest fears is that I'm not going to feel that way again. Right now, my left breast is decorated with a smattering of bruises left over from the biopsy. And knowing that in the coming weeks, I'm going to have surgery and end up with scars as well makes me terrified that I'm going to lose that sense of sensuality I've grown to appreciate as a part of me.

Madame H, my resident sexual advisor, took me out for coffee last night and I talked to her about this a bit. And the thing she said was that sensuality comes from the inside. And that no matter what my outside looks like, I have the capacity to hold on to that sensuality. I just have to know that it lives in my heart, not on my breast.

But I would be lying if I said I wasn't terrified that after the surgery and when my hair falls out from radiation, that this beautiful, sensual man is going to look at me and not want me anymore. I could handle it if I were just a natural evolution of the relationship. After all, that happens. 

But it's not just about this relationship. It about any relationship after this. Despite the fact that, as far as I know right now, the surgery should be minimally invasive and leave very little scarring, will a man find me attractive if I have scars there? Compound that with my age and my weight and the baggage of abuse and I'm can just see the dating profile I could post.

SWF - 50's (I hear stampeding feet already), voluptuous (aka overweight), breast cancer survivor (ugly scarred up boobs) with a history of abuse. Oh, and funny and smart and artistic. Yeah, they'll be lining up.

I've just finally gotten to the point where I wanted to be out there, wanted to be with someone again. Finally risked putting my heart on the line and jump into this relationship with the Filmmaker, which terrifies me on a regular basis because I really have no idea what I'm doing and am convinced I'm gonna fuck it up somehow. But after he's gone, for whatever reason, will someone else want me again? Will someone see me as beautiful and sexy and sensual with not only "natural" imperfections but the scars from surgery and the always-present fear there could be more?

I could go without sex, I'll be honest. Though I wouldn't give up any of it from the last few months. But what I would miss more is the afterwards. The spooning, the cuddling, the way the Filmmaker wraps around me, both consciously as we fall asleep, and unconsciously, in the middle of the night, when he's asleep but still manages to find me and hold me. The loss of that would be more heartbreaking than anything else.

But it's not the Filmmaker's responsibility to make me feel beautiful and sexy and sensual. It's something I have to really embrace and hold on to as I go through this journey and make sure I don't ever let myself lose how great I feel in high heels and sexy underwear. Because one thing I have learned through the past few years is that, ultimately, I am responsible for how I feel. Period. And I have to hold on to that as I go.

And hopefully on the other side of this, I will still see myself as desirable, no matter who's in my life.

Don't know if I can do this...

I was diagnosed today with breast cancer.

I have no quippy blog to post, nothing funny and clever to say.

Luckily, it’s the most common kind of breast cancer, Invasive Ductal Carcinoma. It’s highly treatable and it should be all right in the long run.

It started about a month ago. I was talking on the phone to my heterosexual life partner, Z, and for some reason, put my hand under my left armpit. There was a lump there. I had an appointment at the free clinic a few days away so I thought I’d bring it up to my doctor when I got there.

She checked it out and did a breast exam.

And she found another lump - this time on my right breast. Very tiny. I couldn’t even feel it.

She immediately gave me paperwork to schedule a mammogram and told me to schedule it immediately. And then set up an appointment for a month later.

This week on Tuesday, I went for the mammogram. Didn’t think much of it. Wasn’t too concerned. There’s no history of cancer of any kind in my family and my mother has had a lump or two herself.

Took the bus - two hours to where the mammogram place was. Figured I’d be in and out. After all, there’s no history in my family. I should be fine.

They did all the regular mammography films that they usually do. I was then sent for an ultrasound.

And that’s where it got scary.

The ultrasound tech started at the lump under my left arm and then started to follow something from there to the side of my left breast. As far as I knew, there was nothing there. But on the screen, I could see a dark area she was following with the ultrasound. She focused on the side of my left breast for a while, printed or sent some images and then said she wanted to go and confer with the doctor. She came back and had me go for another mammogram film at a different angle. Again focused on my left breast. Went back for more ultrasound.

About then, I started to panic. I could tell there was something wrong.

Finally, a doctor came in. And that’s when the world shifted.

They had found two more lumps, on the left side. Nothing was showing up on the right side, where my doctor had palpated something. But they were concerned about the two on the left side.

So I went from one lump to four lumps. Fuck.

She told me they were going to do a biopsy. I thought she meant I’d have to schedule another appointment and come back. But instead, they did the biopsy immediately.

Holy fuck.

I texted my two best friends in a panic, saying I was getting a biopsy. They were amazing and texted right back for me to breathe, be calm, all kinds of wonderful reassurance. I was still freaked out but felt better.

Then the doctor prepped me for the biopsy. She explained what she was going to do - they were going to numb the side of my breast and then use this big-ass needle to pull some cells from the one lump in my breast. She numbed the area and then put in the needle. The first sample was fine, didn’t hurt. But the second sample felt like she stabbed me in the heart. And I have a very high pain threshold and I had to hold back the tears. Then I started to shake. The doctor even acknowledged the pain and apologized. They were avoiding one of the lumps because it’s right on the chest wall and she was afraid that one would be very painful.

After she finished, I realized there was no way I could take a two hour bus ride home. I was shaking, I was in terrible pain and I was freaked out completely. I tried to think of who could come over and pick me up in the middle of the day without having to take off work.

I texted the Filmmaker. He knew I was going in for a mammogram but I had assured him it would be nothing. There’s no history in my family so it should just be routine.

He responded immediately that he would come. I burst into tears at that. I needed some comfort and I needed some care and that was on its way.

The doctor explained to me about taking care of the biopsy site but I barely heard her. All I could think about was that they had to do a biopsy and that the amount of lumps had doubled. Scared the shit out of me.

The Filmmaker made record time and picked me up. I could tell by the look on his face that he was very concerned but uncertain of how to handle this. He asked a lot of questions, let me talk as much as I needed to. I put my hand on his leg the whole time he was driving because I just needed connection. I really wanted him to take me to his place and just sit on the couch and have him take care of me. But part of me really just wanted to go home and process and be alone. As we drove towards my place, he asked me if I needed to eat. His solution to most things -- good food or good booze.

He took me to Barney’s Beanery, a staple in Hollywood that I had never been to. By that time, I was exhausted, starving, worn out and emotionally spent. We sat in the booth and I just let him talk. I asked him about his week and let him just talk. I just needed some normalcy. Every time I flinched or frowned, he immediately stopped and asked me what I needed. I just wanted to hear him talk. Not to think about what could be.

Fully fed and feeling a bit better, he drove me home. I had been telling him how incredibly broke I was, that I wasn’t sure how I was going to get to work because I was completely out of money. He asked me if I wanted some “walking around money”, which made me smile. He’s something like somebody out of the 1940’s, which is one of the things I absolutely adore about him. He’s old-fashioned and charming and darling and he really came through for me.

But I could see a bit of panic under his smile. We’re supposed to be casual. I didn’t want to ask too much of him because of the loose nature of our relationship. But I was just glad he was there and he took care of me.

I’ve spent the past few days just holding my breath, waiting to hear about the results.

And I got the call today at noon.

Invasive ductal carcinoma.

It means the cancer is in my milk ducts or lymph nodes. Most women who are diagnosed with cancer are diagnosed with this type. The doctor said it’s highly treatable. I will hear from someone at the clinic next week who will help me figure out the paperwork to get all of my treatment covered since I have no insurance. They will also let me know what the treatment plan is. Sounds like it’s going to be surgery -- a lumpectomy -- first and then some radiation after that. Hopefully, that will get all of it and be done.

But all I can think about tonight is that I have cancer.

I have cancer.

And I don’t know if I can do this.

I have dealt with so much in my life. Highly dysfunctional family, abusive marriage, starting my life over not once but twice. Finally feeling like I have my life together - going to school and getting straight A’s, loving my teaching job which will probably evolve into running my own studio this year, and the relationship with the Filmmaker.

And now…

I have cancer.

And knowing it’s treatable and knowing it’ll probably all be good in the long run doesn’t help tonight.

Tonight, all I can think about is -- I don’t know if I can do this. I’m tired. And I’m worn out. And I’m tired of dealing and handling and being strong and all of that bullshit. And I don’t know if I can be strong again and handle again and deal some more.

I know I have an amazing support system and I have friends who will absolutely be there for me. Anna even offered to drive down from San Francisco tonight if I needed her here.

But I don’t know if I can do this.

And all I can see tonight are the things I could lose. I’m not sure how the treatment is going to affect my schoolwork and my time at school. I’m not sure how it’s going to affect my job. Although my scheduler assured me today they will work with me and take care of me.

And I’m afraid I’ll lose the Filmmaker. He’s an awesome guy and he’s very sweet. But he didn’t sign up for this. He has made it clear he wants a “casual” relationship, that he wants something that isn’t terribly serious, something that is fun and easy and comfortable.

And now, this is going to be none of that, at least for a while. And that scares the shit out of me. I’m hoping he continues to surprise me, as he always does. I kinda know he’ll be there as a friend but I hope he’s there as more.

So for tonight, I’m overwhelmed and terrified. And I’m going to weep and cry and mourn all the things that are pouring out of my heart. And I’m going to let myself think about the worst case scenario and I’m going to let myself be sad.

And then tomorrow…

I’ll get up. I’ll go and teach. I’ll see the Filmmaker briefly as he brings his daughter in for art class with me and I’ll have to figure out how to deal with him in that moment. And then I’ll come home and go to bed and get up Sunday and continue to live. And I’ll figure out time to sit down with the Filmmaker and lay it all out for him and let him decide what he wants to do.

And I’ll deal with it, whatever his answer is.

And I’ll chant with my Buddhist friends on Sunday and hope that that positive energy infuses my body and helps with the healing.

And I’ll do what I always do - put one foot in front of the other and right it out to the other side.

And I’ll have days where I can’t do it and that’s just the way it is.

And today is one of those days.