Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Robin Deadbreast

A collective shout-out to everyone who has contacted me in the last two days. I have responded to precisely ZERO of you because my mind is reeling and I don't really know what to say or think.


It's hard to hear news like this when you feel, look, and seem 100%. You just keep shaking your head and furrowing your brow. "How could it BE? How could something grow from NOTHING?" You look at your abdomen, disgusted something so evil could be lurking, even flourishing, inside.

After my last foray into the upside-down chemo world, it took me a while to get out of the "sick" mindset and return to "old Shelly". Where you start to look around at life and feel like, yes, this could all be yours once again! "A new car!" You almost don't dare to hope such a thing could really be true. Around 3 a.m. last night, an image entered my mind of a bird soaring freely in the sunshine, lost in its reverie. Then suddenly it slams into a glass window. I could practically feel the dirt under my own back as I blinked up at the sky, confused, clutching my own broken body.

And I did not take any drugs last night.

It's going to take me a while to get used to being a patient again. To get back into the chemo groove, of being sick and tired and hobbled some of the time. This time, too, I'm going to have to let my savvy little daughter (and son, I suppose) in on the story. It's got to come from me, so I'll deal with this soon.

I feel a lot of things: discouraged, confused, scared, furious, indignant, sad, shocked, wary, exhausted. And moderately hopeful, but sometimes not.

So the way I chose to deal with it today was just do my best to forget about it. To take the kids to see the Caspar Babypants concert, meet Neil for lunch, cook dinner, water the plants, look for homes. Maybe later we'll take the kids up to the pool, though I know Neil is utterly exhausted.

This post may seem a little indulgent, yammering away about my muddled feelings, but I figure some of you are wondering how the ol' gal's doing. I think the answer is: Fine. Dealing with it. Letting it sink in. Trying to figure out what's next. Fully aware of how sucky this all is.


  1. Let us know how best to support you. Sucky, indeed, but I know you will rise up and face it all head-on and come out the other side of this an even better person. XOXO Libby

  2. the prayers havent stopped being said....and they wont. you can do it shelly! sending love, hugs, sterngth and determination your way! xo