Fear itself

I’m scared.

No, really.

Very, very scared.

These past few weeks since my diagnosis, I’ve had some moments of fear, among other emotions. Anger, of course. You read that one.

But without having met with an oncologist or breast surgeon yet, it’s been kind of easy to almost pretend nothing’s wrong. Sure, I get tired very easily. Sure, there are the occasional bouts of aches in my breast and my underarm but they don’t last more than a few moments and they’re not terribly painful so it’s easy to brush them away.

And people have commented on how impressed they are with the way I’m handling this diagnosis. Sure, it’s easy. There’s nothing going on yet to handle, other than making phone calls and chasing pathology reports and fighting with bureaucracy to actually get an appointment with someone who can tell me what the fuck is going on.

But other than that…

It’s been easy, sort of.

Last night, the Filmmaker came over. Haven’t really spent time with him for almost two weeks. I should have been working on paintings I have to do for one of my classes but I thought, you know what? I’m going to choose to live my life and enjoy time with this lovely man and figure out the paintings later. I knew I had some time today to paint in class so I chose to be with someone who makes me happy and who gives me great comfort.

And as usual, as we fell asleep, I once again couldn’t help but think about how great it feels to just lay there in the crook of his arm, listening to him snore and occasionally mumble nonsense in his sleep. I could do this every night.

And that’s where it began.

Now, I’ve had nights previously – especially when we first started dating – where I would quite literally cry as we fell asleep, so absolutely afraid that I was going to lose him for any number of reasons. I think every woman feels that way when they find someone they care about a lot. Normal, realistic fear about something that won’t happen for a long time, probably. Something in the future, something fictional, something easy to ignore and push away.

But it wasn’t just that fear last night. It was the fear of so many other things. The obvious – will he still want to sleep with me and make love to me when I’m scarred and raw from radiation treatments and maybe losing my hair from chemo? What man would want that?

But it went beyond that.

I’m afraid of what he’s going to go through as I move through treatment. I know he lost his father to cancer and I can only imagine what this might bring up for him.

And the way I feel snuggled up in his arms as we sleep is such an obvious metaphor for so many things in my life. My artwork. My school work. My directing. My life overall.

I finally pushed aside the fear, chalking it up to just a normal, regular visit from the clowns in my head, trying to stir up shit just to take away any joy I have.

And we got up this morning and he kissed me and went off on his day. And I went to school, did my two classes. I was supposed to finish two paintings today but I kind of gacked on the first one. I don’t like it. It’s not as good as the other two in this particular series I’m creating for class. I had a very long moment of fear – fear of losing my artistic ability. Fear of what the surgery is going to do to my ability to paint (the lumps are on my left side and I’m left-handed). Fear of losing this amazing gift that I have so recently found.

But I pushed it off as regular, normal clown shit and pushed through the day.

But tonight, sitting on my couch, real, true fear crept into my heart as I went through what little information I have on my diagnosis as I prepared for a meeting I have in the morning. I’m going to a cancer support organization here in Los Angeles called WeSPARK (wespark.org). They offer a variety of support groups, seminars, therapies and even yoga work outs for cancer patients, all for free and all to give us the support we need.

And as I gathered some papers together, just in case I need them, it really, REALLY hit me.

I have breast cancer.

I know I’ve been blogging about it and saying how it’s hit me. But moving forward on something concrete, where I will have to go in tomorrow and talk to someone about exactly what’s going on, about my diagnosis, and actually discuss the reality of the disease suddenly makes it very, incredibly real.

I have breast cancer.

And there’s no more pretending and ignoring and playing at normal. My life from now on will be about breast cancer. No matter what I do while I move into treatment, treatment is going to be at the forefront and will force me to consider it in every decision I make.

And my life suddenly narrowed down to a teeny, tiny point.

I have breast cancer.

And nothing will ever be the same.

And I don’t know how many easy, lazy nights there will be now with the Filmmaker, where it won’t be about how I’m feeling or can he touch me there or does that hurt or…

And I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to just pick up a paintbrush and paint to my heart’s content. Already, I can only paint for significantly shorter bursts than I’m used to. And I’ll have to think about conserving my energy or whether or not I can lift my arm to paint or…

And no matter who’s at my beck and call, it’s still going to be a very lonely ride. Reading the posts on the discussion board I belong to, they are full of “my husband” and my partner” and “my significant other”. Someone who’s there all the time. Someone who is just an arm’s reach away.

I have a cat who’s an arm’s reach away.

And I’m so absolutely terrified tonight about what’s next. So absolutely terrified.

Because, starting now, nothing will ever be the same.