Anne SG and the Big C

This quote struck me tonight because I have been thinking about my own losses and I suppose I’d like to justify my dwelling on them a bit. Frequently when feeling sorry for myself, I kick myself (mentally) in the rear and remember the losses in Africa to AIDS, or perhaps the innocence lost to child-soldiers in Sierra Leone. I feel so small grieving for my losses….but I do like Mark Twain and like to think that perhaps it’s ok to feel a bit sorry for myself , or at least a bit sad, now and then.

I’ve lost sensation. My breasts-that-aren’t-really-breasts have no feeling in them. It’s the most indescribable experience to not feel skin on one’s own self. I keep thinking about the loss of sensation, and the loss of “real” working breasts and what other amputees must go through. I have heard that some people experience phantom pain or sensations where arms or legs once were. I, on the other hand, feel nothing where skin is. I have a lot of pain still in my sides and surrounding the numbness, and under the skin where I guess I’m still healing. But on the surface–nothing. An absence in presence. Remarkable.

And to really reveal my shallow side, I’m dreading most of all the loss of my hair. Pathetic, I know. There are children starving all over the world and here I am dreading not the nausea or weariness of chemo, but going bald. And I already have that great Santa hat waiting for me in case the FL “cold” chills my scalp. I have considered getting a head tattoo.

A couple of people have mentioned to me my comments about my new “A” sized figure, and I had to laugh–because it certainly isn’t as though I’m upset about it. My joke all along is that I have found a fiendishly clever (if roundabout and labor-intensive) way to get my insurance company to pay for the reduction I always wanted. I’m thrilled to be a normal size–I might not feel anything, but I’m going to get to wear strappy dresses and tank tops at last! I can purchase bras purely based on prettiness!

Then I realize, my kids will probably never remember the “old” me, and might be a little upset at how they look when they grow up. Imagine if I went all the way and got butt implants and a new nose!