Better still...

Feeling good today. No weeping, no worrying, just waiting. I feel ok about this and am hoping desperately that's because I'm strong, not because I'm in denial. Figuring out my options, talking to others, making plans. Saline or silicone is the big one now. I think my PS would recommend silicone. Others say saline is safer. More research to do. I think I'm going with expanders, as much as I hated that option before. I think the outcome will be better, and honestly do not think I could handle the massage that has to happen with the straight to implant option. I mean what if I didn't move them around enough and had to start over? No way. I think I'll be ok with expanders. It won't be easy, but none of this is right? Feeling strong. Feeling positive. I'm going to be OK.

Reality

Date is scheduled. November 11th. After all this time, the last few days I have really felt good about this. But the moment she calls with an actual date, I freak. I'm crying. This is real.

Pre-occupied

I am consumed with this. I have a hard time doing much of anything, without thinking about the upcoming procedure. I can't run. I can't work. I don't do much with my kids. It sucks. I'm not all that depressed, just pre-occupied. We'll call it that. One of my previous thoughts was to wait until after the holidays, so I could enjoy them with the family and then start new. Now I can't imagine waiting any longer. It's not like an "I can't wait" for something good, but I can't wait nonetheless.

alien boobs

I am getting better about all of this, I think. Still in planning mode, but also feeling a bit more optimistic. It's a roller coaster. Beginning to have faith that recovery won't be so bad. I keep checking in with my husband, just to know that he's ok with all of this. He says he's good with alien boobs. That's what I call them, alien boobs. We told my son yesterday that I was getting fake ones put in, in place of some bad cells. He was disappointed I wouldn't really be part robot. I have to keep sense of humor about this. In the big scheme of things, this won't matter. I worry that I will forever look at other's boobs and envy that they still have theirs. I look at my own boobs a lot more. They're cute, but not as cute as they used to be and the poor left boobie, that keeps getting picked on is starting to deflate. It's almost as if it's depressed, throwing in the towel and saying, ok, I'm done. Scheduling will happen today. For a while I thought I wanted to wait to do this, wanted to enjoy my holidays and then recover when it's cold and dreary in January, but now, it's like it can't happen soon enough. There never really is a good time, right? Like being pregnant. Somewhere during your year, it's gonna suck. You're either going to be pregnant during the holidays, or fat during the summer, or whatever. Of course the end result is worth every second of sickness and fatness and uncomfortableness. I kind of feel that way with this. When I am past this and can look at my family with some certainty that, barring more unexpected crap, you can guarantee I am going to be around, and healthy, and happy, damn it, then it's all worth it. Boobs. The answer lies in the word. Boob. It's a weird appendage with no further purpose other than to look good. They served their purpose well, very well. And even after all of this, they can still look good, even if they are alien boobs.

Real

This is getting too real now. I know I will be ok, I know things will be fine. But this is big. I've been in planning mode, like making a project out of this... what to get done before the big day, who will watch the kids, when can I run again, when I'll be back at work. I have dates for all of these milestones even though the sane me knows that's not possible. I am a bit of a control freak and I am either putting dates on things because that's what I do, or I'm doing it so I don't have to deal with the reality of what's happening. I can't even say it. I'm starting to cry a little, every day. Trying to deal with the reality of this, but it's just too hard. I'm better at planning and not at facing it. I guess I'm afraid I'm not strong enough, that I'll come through this fine, physically, but that emotionally this may break me.

It's not cancer, but...

I have been dealing with a family history of breast cancer and what that means to me for a very long time now. I somehow knew something would happen, and it did. I have been diagnosed with LCIS. Lobular carcinoma in situ. Of course the first time the doctor called and told me what they found through my oh so uncomfortable core needle biopsy, all I heard was carcinoma. Turns out LCIS is merely a cancer indicator or cancer stage 0, as some would call it. Not a concern in itself. However, given my family history, and the fact that a later surgical biopsy found the LCIS has saturated the entire area, causes more concern, or so my surgeon states. I now have the daunting task of deciding future treatment for myself. At this point I think my options are prophylactic bi-lateral mastectomy with reconstructive surgery and a wait and see approach. Wait and see approach means MRIs, ultrasounds, mammograms and possible future biopsies. In my opinion, seems like a whole lot of waiting and searching for the inevitable cancer.