PREVIVOR: A person who is not diagnosed with cancer, but has survived the predisposition, or higher risk, of cancer due to a genetic mutation and/or strong family history. After being armed with this information, a previvor can make informed choices prior to a cancer diagnosis.

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Work in Progress

Once again I feel like time is moving so slowly. This anticipating and waiting for something to happen SUCKS. Every day when I hear my cell phone, I cringe thinking it's my PS's office telling me that the surgery will have to be put off.

I feel like I'm stuck in limbo. Like I'm incomplete. And I swear my self-esteem has bottomed out. I don't think I've ever felt this bad about myself. No boobs + extra weight from being a lazy slob for a few months does not equal a positive self image. I feel like it's hurting me in a lot of ways, like in my relationship with Mike. I just almost wouldn't blame him if he moved on to someone else, complete with real boobs and nipples and a little less weight.  I mean, I know he loves me and I don't think that would happen (?)...see there I go doubting myself again. I need to be just locked in a room until my exchange.

The scary thing is, I don't even know if this feeling will go away when I have my exchange. What if I'm like this forever? Should I just send Mike on his way and join a convent? I mean I AM Catholic.

I imagine in a few years, once the scars have faded, the implants have settled, and the phantom pains have ceased I'll feel a lot better. Whenever I start feeling upset, I think about what prompted me to have the surgery in the first place. I've never lost sight of it, but I'm realizing now what I didn't realize then. The impact that it would have on my self esteem. I dodged the breast cancer bullet, but at what cost?

I think I'm suffering post traumatic stress disorder.

I feel almost bad burdening people with how I feel. I've been going on and on about this for over a year now. People I've talked to that are over and done with, in the "all done club" say they never think about their mastectomy. I'm getting there...but whenever I change clothes it's a grim reminder.

I promise to stop complaining, to try to snap myself out of it. God help me, I'm even anxious for school to start. At least then I'll have a whole new set of things to worry about. And I'll try to keep all of the reasons that my PBM was a GOOD idea in my head, and that I'll at least be around for a long, long time, boobs or no boobs.

Before I wrap this slightly depressing blog up, I wanted to direct my reader's attention to another blog. I'm not adding this to my blog roll, because it's not a "fellow previvor" but Rachel's story is inspirational nonetheless. Check her blog out at:

And from here on out I promise- nothing but happy blogs :)

Happy New Year!

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