19. Looming

7 days and counting. 

When I think about the actual hospital admission, I get scared.  I'm NOT scared of having the lumpectomy.  I HATE the lump being there.  I feel sorry for my poor boob but while the lumps there, I don't want to touch my breast, to see it; I try to forget it's there.  It's slightly bigger than the healthy one and this pisses me off too. 

What is weird is that despite having cancer, having my relationship with my daughter wrecked (hopefully only temporarily) and losing the structure, identity and sense of purpose that goes with my work, not to mention the fear of a mastectomy (and ultimately, despite trying to ignore it, of dying) I STILL keep having moments of sheer happiness.  I have NO idea why.  Maybe I appreciate life a bit more now. 

Yesterday, we went on a boat on the Tyne.  At one point it was really sunny; hot on my skin.  It was blissful.  Later, I was reading on the bed and the sun came through the window, creating that intense orange light that you usually only get abroad (magnified by the glass of course) and I absolutely revelled in it. 

I think the really scary bit is going to be the 12 days between the lumpectomy and hearing whether or not I need a mastectomy.  I really should be dealing with this possibilty now because otherwise it will hit me like a ton of bricks and I won't have long to process it.