About
two weeks ago, I got up in the morning and went into the bathroom to change.
When I took off my shirt, I was shocked and terrified to find a very, very
strange looking bruise on my left breast. It was nearly a perfect circle, and
had a dark outer area and a lighter inner area. I had no idea where it would
have come from. It wasn’t there the day before, and I know I didn’t injure
myself in 24 hours.
So, I
took a couple of pictures on my phone and messaged my husband. We were both
very concerned, and knew I had to see my doctor as soon as I could. We made an
appointment, but by the time we got there, most of the mark had faded. I still
had the photos on my phone and I showed him. I thought I could feel something
under the mark, and he checked and felt something as well.
The one
thing you have to understand is that the last mammogram I had was in 1999
before I had breast reduction surgery. It took me a year to recover from the
surgery. I had an infection on one side for a while, and I was in an
excruciating amount of pain. I still go through pain frequently if my cats walk
on my chest. Sometimes the area where the infection was will just throb for no
reason. So, quite honestly I’ve avoided the idea of a mammogram for a very long
time. I kept telling myself that I had until at least my 40’s. Even if I felt
something strange, I told myself it was because of the surgery and it was
nothing.
Well, I’ve
been in my 40’s for three years now, and still haven’t made it to get tested.
Now it seems like I have no other choice, and I’m having a really hard time
with it. My mom died from cancer. Both of her sisters died from cancer. My dad
had skin cancer. The chances of me getting cancer are pretty high. Yet, somehow
I’ve avoided getting this test done and even avoided an OB/GYN for many years.
The truth is, I’m ashamed.
I’m
ashamed of my physical appearance. Nearly every single day when I get dressed
in the bathroom, I over-analyze every single detail about myself. I secretly
call it my eating disorder brain. Things were going pretty well while I was
losing some weight this year, but for the last month or so, I’ve been dealing
with so much stress and such horrible depression symptoms, I’m afraid I’m back
to my bad habits.
I don’t
sleep well at night, if I sleep at all. I’m working with my psychiatrist on
this part at least, but we’ve yet to find something that will help me fall
asleep or stay asleep. It doesn’t matter how late I sleep in the day, I never
wake up feeling like I slept. I’m in a constant fog of exhaustion and
depression. So, most days it’s around
4:00 in the afternoon before I realize that I’ve forgotten to eat again. Most
of the time, I still won’t eat anything until I’m to the point of vomiting, and
then I still don’t feel like eating because I’m nauseated. A week or so ago,
Joe and I were talking about what he wanted for dinner and he mentioned a
cheeseburger, and I immediately had to get up and run to the bathroom to throw
up. That has never happened to me before, and it’s baffling.
I’ll
never truly know the effects of starving myself for so long have had on my
body, but I know how it all makes me feel inside. I can’t stand my image in the
mirror. I hate to have anyone look at me. I don’t like being in public and if I
do go somewhere, I’m constantly in a defensive posture. Why is she staring at me? That guy probably thinks I’m disgusting…I
think I’m disgusting, why wouldn’t he?
It’s a giant undertaking to get me up and ready to do anything. So, now
I have to go to several appointments where people will be looking at me without
my clothes on? It’s like hell on Earth.
Tomorrow
I go to the doctor for a mammogram and an ultrasound. I’m terrified. I’m
terrified of the test, I’m terrified of the results and I’m terrified of the
other doctor appointments I have coming up over the next few weeks. I can’t
settle down. I randomly cry over virtually nothing and have no explanation when
my husband asks me why. So, every night before I finally turn off the TV and
attempt another unsatisfying night of sleep, I promise myself the next day will
be better. I’ll eat right, I’ll do what I need to do. When the next morning
(afternoon?) comes, it’s all forgotten. I get up every single day to a raging
headache that decides over the course of the day whether it’s going to become a
migraine or not.
I feel
like I’ve lost complete control over anything and everything. I’m embarrassed to
even talk to anyone. Which is the real cruel irony here. People tell me all the
time, you’re so strong and so brave! Look
at everything you’ve accomplished! You’re an inspiration to me.
All I
can do is say thank you. What am I supposed to say? Gee thanks, but you know, I
never leave my house anymore, I hardly eat, I hardly sleep, I’m paralyzed by
panic attacks, I’m lucky if I get a shower, and I cry at the drop of a hat.
That hardly sounds like a strong and inspirational person.
I’ve
been here so very many times before. I’m always thinking to myself why haven’t you learned how to deal with
this yet? The honest answer to that
may sound like an excuse, but I swear it’s different every single time. There
are different factors that lead up to it, different things that exacerbate it,
different reasons it’s harder to manage the symptoms. I’ve tried nearly everything
to get through it this time. I won’t lie, I do have good moments. When Joe comes home from work, and I’m finally able to
talk to a human being, and we watch something funny on TV, I’m OK for a minute.
Then he rolls over to go to sleep and my nightmare starts all over again.
Recently, there have been some issues with family, and those issues have been a
tremendous burden on my emotions. The nightmares alone are crippling.
So, how
do you keep up the brave façade when all you want to do is disappear? How do
you encourage and uplift others when you’re terrified to even look in the mirror?
How does this “Superwoman” keep flying when somebody is standing on her cape? I don’t
know. I just don’t have an answer, and
that thought scares me more than all of the others. What I do know is that I’m
still hanging on. I’ve come too far to let all of the stress and fears take me
down. I don’t know how I’m going to do this, I really don’t. I can’t even let
myself think that something might be physically wrong with me at this moment.
It’s far too painful to even let it rent space in my head.
I guess
I’ll keep doing what I’ve always done. It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to
be afraid of things that haven’t even happened yet, so I’ll keep telling myself
that. Somehow, I’ll get through the rough patch the same way I always do. With all
the grace and control of a bull elephant with a hernia. I don’t have a lot of
choice. I’m not ready to let go of this tiny shred of hope. I’m not ready to
let go of my husband and my life. It’s going to suck; I will not harbor any
delusions that this will not suck. I guess I just needed to be honest about
where I’m at. If it seems like there are times when I’m a wreck but 5 minutes
later, I’m making a joke, well that’s my defense mechanism desperately making a
last ditch effort to keep me sane. Thanks for listening. Wish me luck.
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