Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Meditating away the stress ballz

It's now T-5 days until my surgery and feeling a bit overwhelmed at the present, thank you very much.

I got a phone call today from a nurse who runs the breast health centre for the local health authority and tho she's all well-meaning and shit, her quiet little "ooh" and "aaw" responses to my recounting of chemo/radiation/the lead up to surgery made me want to kill a kitten. Pair that with a little crying moment from Stella last night "because of your cancer, mommy!" and I'm a bit on edge with the whole slicing me open, sticking four bulb grenade drains in me, sewing me up and sending me on my way dealio.

Honestly, I know the surgery is gonna hurt, gonna suck, gonna be wicked nasty. But I'm kind of okay with most of that - or at least as okay as I could be. I've got the same vision in my head carrying me through these days that I had before birthing Stella and Frances. I'm strong. I'm a fast healer. I know I'll be out of that stinky joint before you know it. I mean, yes, this is in a different league, but still. Let me have my vision.

What is giving me a major case of the stress ballz is imagining what that tissue looks like in my breast and what the pathology will reveal. These are big fucking tumours in there and I can't bloody well tell what's going on since chemo and radiation. It feels different, but I don't trust my feelings where breast changes are concerned. These are the two things I'm thinking as I get my bod all acidic with worry:

Dr. R., my surgeon (bless her blunt heart), telling me, "When I do the surgery, I don't want to see any cancer. I just want to see healthy pink flesh - otherwise it'll mean I'm cutting into the cancer cells, and I don't wanna do that."

My mom telling me that when she had her surgery (a lumpectomy), she had to go back a second time because in the pathology, Dr. R saw they had sliced through a single cancer cell and she wanted to remove a bit more tissue in my Ma's breast to ensure they removed that half-cell.

Do we need any further indication that we're dealing with a brutal disease here?

I feel good that I don't have tumour suburbs attached to any other parts of my body - I mean wicked good. Like, fuck you that that could ever happen. What I don't feel good about is that the two I have are perfectly neat and far enough away from my chest wall that the surgery will be as easy as tying off the end of a sausage. I will try to meditate on that image, but sometimes I think I'm asking too much to have such a scenario handed to me in a gift-wrapped box.

I have complete faith in my medical team and complete faith that I can make the environment inhospitable for any stray cancer cells roaming through my bloodstream, but until I get the bigger picture, I'll continue to be stressed.

Thank the fucking goddesses I have my unicorn man to rub my feet and turn on Gossip Girl or Glee when I need it.


  1. Ah, but the miracle of finding 1/2 a cancer cell and removing it post-haste! How fffing fantastic was that in this day and age! You have done all your homework babe, you know all you have to know about breast cancer, now, let your wonderful surgeon do her job. She is going to make sure that you come out of this operation tumorless - no more cancer cells!

  2. Carissa, please take some strength in knowing that you have a constant stream of prayers and loving thoughts flowing from all your friends and family over the course of this week. We will be praying for no cancer cells and a speedy recovery from your surgery. -m.xx

  3. Aw Carissa, thanks for opening your heart and mind to us, yet again. You are an amazing person and continue to be through all this. You're nearing the end of this turmoil though, and before you know it, you'll be looking back and thinking how far you've come; and how much stronger and wiser (can that be? :-), you are. It's not long now until there's greener pastures for you.

    Your worries and stresses are valid, but you also have your positive outlook for balance. You are not alone in this; not a day goes by that I/we don't think of you and worry ourselves. You are always on my mind.

    You've done everything you can now (and taught us so-o-o much along the way) have faith in your surgeon......let her perform her task and see the miracle of pink flesh. Think pink, right? As others have said, you have a crapload of prayers and well wishes coming your way........take solace that our prayers will be answered. xo

  4. We're all behind you, babe. Every last one of us is rallying all our strength, all our munitions and all our cancer-cell slaying ninja thoughts, bundling it all up and launching it over to you.

    You're in good hands knowing that, and of course with unicorn man by your side to Glee-fully keep you entertained with Gossip Girl.

    Let it be said however, that Glee is on proby for me right now, after lauding the Beib this week.

  5. You're all making my life right now. For reals. I couldn't get my mind into a better place without the support. That and my undying love for the Beib and his worldly, oh-so-grown-up views on life and love.

    Love and glitter ballz, y'all.