"And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid." "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock," T.S. Eliot
That poem has been echoing in my head for the past couple of days. I am afraid. Perhaps it would have been better if I hadn't known about the invasive nature of the carcinoma. I've even been admitting to people that I have waves of panic wash over me all throughout the day. Sometimes I'm very sad. I'm more reluctant to share that with others. I guess it seems to me that fear is a lot more understandable by people who haven't had cancer.
I managed to sleep past four a.m. today. I gave in and took a Xanax early yesterday evening and I also took an extra 10 mgs. of Elavil so that I could sleep through the night. My stress level is very high, leaving me exhausted even if I do manage to get enough sleep. When I'm sleep deprived, it's hard to even get up the stairs at work.
I've been continuing to work out, though at a much-reduced pace. I did a Bellydance tape for the aerobics workouts and yoga instead of weights. I feel like a slacker and I'm torn between thinking I need the extra rest and thinking that exercise is really good for dealing with anxiety. I don't know.
I decided today that I'm not going to do the mastectomy. The long-term survival rates are the same. I think there may be more potential for infection with the mastectomy. I'm also concerned about recovery--moving tissue around from one place to another has to be extremely painful and probably prolongs recuperation time.
Typing "recuperation time" sent another wave of fear through me. I can't help but hear the tiny voice in my head saying, "Maybe there won't be a recuperation period." I need to remain optimistic about my long term health.
I have next week off for vacation. I'll be continuing to attempt to push things forward so that I can get the surgery over with soon.
