Ok..So I'm still talking about My surgery!

Every time I deal with something that tests my patience, I think, this is it. This is my final exercise in patience. And it never is. Well  I can honestly say that recovery is truly a journey of patience. As I began to feel better and look better, I wanted to do so much more.  6 weeks after surgery I walked 3 miles for Breast cancer awareness and I felt great!

Me with my toddler right by side. I wore my compression belt and yes my face was pale from anemia

That was one of the many up and down moments. Down times like hating the feel of the compression belt, but loving it after trying to clean the house without. It was my comfort and my anguish. This was the same with the sports bra. My mind wanted to wear a nice underwire bra, but my body (and the doc) said hell no! Then there was the body dysmorphia. With so much going on physically, like that tingly  achy feeling in my foobs, who has time to be concerned with them being perky  and having  a flat tummy? Leggings have also offered a solace that jeans or pants with buttons couldn’t offer. My wardrobe was limited.  I was more self-conscious than ever with nipples foobs, great abs, an 18 inch scar, and pale skin my energy was limited. Every time the visiting nurse came my pulse was extra high, like 108. Apparently normal resting is between 60 and 100. Turns out I was anemic from losing so much blood during the surgery, nothing steak and eggs couldn’t handle.  What was most daunting was awaiting for that moment where I would be 100% (which by the way, still hasn’t happened yet).  Whenever I was about to hop on my pity train, I’d write on a pink slip something I was grateful for and put it in a jar one of my good friends got me.  It kept me focused to think about small things like, finally being able to bend over and pick up something off the floor, or to put a shirt of over my head. My awesome visiting nurse would remind me constantly that this was a journey and it would take more than 6 to 8 weeks for me to truly heal. I was forced to listen to my body, to sleep on demand, to eat on demand (apparently you can sometimes become ravenous as your body uses its energy to heal).

                 But then I returned to work, and I once again I had to adjust. No more sleeping when I ready, resting when I was ready. I was back and there was work to be done…lots. Teachers don’t sit behind a desk! We stand and walk (about 3 to 4 miles a day… I wore a pedometer just to test), we speak a lot and loudly (which requires oxygen).  We get excited, angry, and disheartened, sometimes all in one class period. And because you “look good” people think you are 100% both at home and at work! So it’s back to housework, and mommy work, and errands and and and  and.  AND…I’m still healing. Sometimes I get achy, some nights I return to my couch for a better night’s sleep. Sometimes I have to opt for my chaise lounge over attending social events (which really sucks). Or, and this just happened last week, I can return to boot camp and kick ass only to have awful, extraordinary soreness and pain two days later.  It’s times like these that I can quickly spiral into a funk. Especially knowing I’ll have to go one more surgery right after Christmas. Thankfully, most times I am able to pull myself out of this negative space. I have to remind myself, this is a choice. Always, a choice I had that other women in my family didn’t. With that being said, let the countdown to FIPPLES begin! And another lesson in patience as well.