DAY SIX

My dad always says, “Things get worse before they get better.”

If you’ve read DAY FOUR, you’ll know that I had an MRI on Friday and why. After waiting all weekend, around 8:20 yesterday morning my phone rang: they’d found something on my other breast and would need to schedule me for an MRI- guided biopsy, which has been scheduled for tomorrow morning. And hopefully, like the last biopsy, I’ll have the results within 24-hours. If you aren’t familiar: a breast biopsy is where they insert a hollow needle into your breast and remove a bit of tissue. It’s not terribly painful, but it’s pretty damn uncomfortable. My right breast is still bruised and a touch swollen from the one I had a week ago.

I’d read somewhere that having bilateral breast cancer is rare, but I really don’t know for sure. I’ve been instructed by every doctor and medical professional I’ve encountered in the last week (as well as by my friends) to stay off Google and so far I’ve (mostly) listened. If I’m anything, it’s a worrier. I’m not quite in hypochondriac territory, but who doesn’t become a hypochondriac when they start googling “cancer”? And I’m definitely not trying to worry more than I already am.

However, it could be nothing. MRI’s pick up everything, they’re ultra-sensitive, or so I’m told. And so, while it could be something of concern, it could also be nothing. Obviously, I’m rooting for #teamnothing, but since this entire week has been filled with bad news on top of bad news, I’m mostly just trying not to think on it. Easier said than done though, right?

My mother is driving in this Friday to be at Monday’s meeting with the surgeon and, to be perfectly honest, I’m probably just going to fall apart the moment I see her. Not that I’ve been keeping it together as it is, but my mom almost always inspires tears in me, be them happy tears or sad tears, something I’ve already touched upon in DAY ONE. I’m also desperate to see her, one: because she’s my mom, and, two: because she’s a survivor. These past few days, one of the few things keeping my head above water while I wait on the ever growing pile of test results, is how many survivors are out there. If you’ve had and beaten breast cancer, you’re currently my life raft, and I’m going to cling to you with everything I have until I can say the same myself.

Speaking of surviving…I keep hearing “mind over matter” and “the power of positive thinking”, and despite knowing that everyone’s intentions are pure, we all deal with things differently. We all process things differently. We all have our own paths to follow. And I’ve never been a positive person, but that’s not to say I’m an outright negative person either. I think I’m somewhere in the middle, and that seems to be how I’m dealing with my cancer diagnosis as well. Yet, because this is just the very beginning of this journey, the tip of the fucking ice-berg, nothing has really sunk in yet, other than some monumental anxiety accompanied by a bit of depression. I’m trying to take it one day at a time, not be positive, not be negative, but just be. Just exist for the time being inside this hellish limbo of waiting.

What I do know, what I can’t help but dwell on, is that everything is going to change from here on out. And that it’s changing entirely against my will. And I’ve never dealt with change particularly well. In fact, I’ve been known to throw a temper tantrum or two. Maybe have an itty-bitty breakdown as well. If you know me then it’s safe to say that absolutely none of these revelations are coming as a shock to you. In fact, you’re probably snorting right now, thinking (not so) fondly back on one of my epic meltdowns. Lol. *shrug* I’m just not good with my emotions. Never have been, and probably never will be. We must accept the things we cannot change, right? And while we are all forever works-in-progress, I’m aware of the fact that I’m always going to be somewhat emotionally stunted.

For example, the other day a good friend said, “Madeline, let people love you through this.” She told me this because she knows me. I like to pop in, let everyone know what’s up, and then disappear and suffer in silence. Proof of this was my initial reaction to her. I instantly recoiled.

I knew why she’d said it: because she (and others) are sad and upset, and feeling much like I am—up a creek called cancer and without a fucking paddle. There’s no quick fix here, there’s no guarantees either, everything is just up in the air and everyone is flailing, and feeling utterly, horribly helpless. And they want to do something that might make the burden a little lighter for the one bearing the heaviest weight, be it by physically helping or being on emotional standby. But, you see, for someone like me, who turns inward instead of reaching out when things get messy, it’s not quite so simple. If I’m hurting, I can hardly accept a hug let alone full-fledged emotional support. My husband, bless-his-bounteous-soul, can attest to this. I can’t even count how many times he’s tried to comfort me when I’ve absolutely needed it and I still couldn’t accept it. Or how many times I’ve shut my best friends out when I should have been leaning on them instead. I feel guilty every. single. time. I suppose I could try and surmise why I ended up this way, but I don’t have a psychology degree. Let’s just blame it on modern day social constructs and call it a day.

…and then there’s the anger. Right now everything is pouring out of me in the form of tears and fear, but the rage is there, too. It’s simmering just beneath the sadness, and I don’t want to accidentally lash out at anyone.
Hurting people is not how I want to handle being sick. Especially not those who are only trying to hold my hand through the scariest thing I’ve yet to experience.

I digress.

I’m just a jumble of everything right now, a walking, talking (mostly crying) flick-book of rapidly shifting emotions and semi-coherent thoughts. Fun, fun, fun.

This time, though, *deep breaths* I’m really going to try to let my family and friends love me through this. Because…well, because I’ve honestly never needed them more than I do right now.