Flow

I went for lymphatic massage today, and the physiotherapy coordinator finally called me to confirm my spot in the post-op support group next week. Despite the way things seem to be looking up, I find myself in a funk. I suppose it's understandable to become philosophically morose (or morosely philosophical, whichever makes more sense to you) during times like these, to be down about being numb--emotionally and physically. When I was having the massage done today, I felt particularly numb when the therapist worked on my breasts, and other than feeling light pressure, there was no sensation whatsoever. She could have put a flame to my flesh, and I wouldn't have known the difference. I've been reassured by nurses and doctors that this is only temporary, that I will regain some feeling back in my body. But they can't guarantee that.

It makes me think that the body is so needy for touch (think of babies, for whom touch is the only true form of affection), and at the same time, the body itself really doesn't matter at all. I have almost forgotten what my old body looked like--the size of my nipples, the way my breasts drooped, the way they felt. I don't have phantom limb syndrome that people sometimes get when they lose a part of themselves. I'm glad--I think it would hurt to the core to ache like that.

During my second follow-up appointment today, I asked the nurse when I would have nipple reconstruction. She laughed and said I'm too eager. Well, who wouldn't be? I don't exactly enjoy looking like a FrankenBarbie doll. But yeah, I have to wait until the new boobs "settle" first, which is hard for me to imagine right now. I just feel like they're two stiff mounds that are hardly a part of me.

I'm grateful for all the comments about how strong I've been through this ordeal, but my typical reaction is that anyone would do it if they had to--to go through all this to live. Well, most people would, I assume. But tonight, I had a moment, reflecting on what I and my loved ones have been through since July 2007, and I'm like, "Fucking hell yeah, I've been through it all. My body's been through the ringer, and it's sucked ass." But I'm healing. And waiting to be felt again.