Breast Cancer

Following getting the news about my breast cancer diagnosis, I first called my good friend Gretchen. It hadn’t occurred to me to call my father right away. I’m still not used to having one. Calling my estranged mother was out of the question but I have one parent in my life so I called him. He told me to take it easy. My dad also texted all of my siblings with the news and told me that there wasn’t much breast cancer in the family with the exception of one of his grandmothers. There isn’t any on my mother’s side either that I am aware of. I’m sure that it’s environmental. I’ll be ok, dad. And I love you very much.

I also put in a call to my pharmacist, Paul and I am glad that I did. He has become a really good friend. When I told him that I wasn’t sure if my insurance would cover reconstruction or not, he told me not to go out and get double Ds, lol. I told him that I already have double Ds. My concern is that I get huge implants and then lose 50 pounds. I’ll look like Dolly Parton. Paul laughed and said that he had some paperwork for me to take to the surgeon that will make everything easier for me. He also said, “Don’t give up on me.” I told him that suicide wasn’t an option but I wouldn’t complain if God struck me with lightning. Cancer may just be that lightning strike. Paul then thanked me for trusting him with this information. No, thank you, Paul.

Once I posted my last blog with the news and told my girlfriends in the Charlie’s Angels group chat, Cheryl reached out. What she said was that an illness is an illness and she supports me whatever I have whether it be physical or mental. Others offered their support like Patty, Colleen, Amber, Lloyd, and Laurie. Gretchen proved most helpful by taking multiple calls from me yesterday. Then there was And. It gets it more than anyone. What And said was that it says a lot about mental health treatment when I am more stressed out about that than a cancer diagnosis. I really am.

Last night I was in bed by 9pm and I cried myself to sleep feeling sorry for myself. I’ve had a difficult life full of trauma and now there is a chance that it’s coming to a sad end. I was envisioning things like people finally accepting me now that I have an affliction they can understand and aren’t scared of. Maybe there’d be a big celebration of life and my best friend Chad could write my obituary. I want him to say that I lost my battle with mental illness. Not that I passed away from cancer. I did this to my self. And almost intentionally. I have smoked like a chimney for nearly 30 years. I chose this. I knew that it would kill me and I really didn’t care. Living with bipolar disorder truly sucks. Robbie did a wonderful job as an emotional support animal by kissing my tears away. I cried for her also. If this cancer kills me, she will be heartbroken. We are so connected to one another.

When I awoke this morning I felt like absolute shit. Like I had the hangover of a frat house pledge. Not sure if I am still recovering from the biopsy or if I am just over-medicated with psych meds. Or just overwhelmed with everything. Mostly those psych related appointments. I’ve always said that my mental health has taken precedent over my physical and I can’t take care of the latter because of the focus on the former. Then I got more bad news. The water at the campground is being shut off for the season. It’s been freezing.

Hopefully I can move into Laurie and Jim’s basement sooner than expected. Then there’s the matter of winterizing my camper. I have more hope. That Cheryl and her husband can help with that. I will do my best to get things ready but it’s very overwhelming especially when I have to figure out how to get my bed to Laurie and Jim’s on top of it. Something that Cheryl always says is that everything will work out. I’m sure that it will but I need help. Tony showed up at 10:00.

I told my therapist the plan for the day. I needed to get to the grocery store in Muscoda to buy water. But also that Robbie and I desperately needed a walk. We went to the Avoca marsh where we clocked almost a mile on Tony’s pedometer. It was really great for Robbie and I but I only wish we had time for twice that amount. It had also warmed up to 60 degrees and the area was quite beautiful. Tony and I talked about my breast cancer and he felt overwhelmed that I consider what may be my death to be suicide. My unhealthy lifestyle was a means to end of living with mental illness. I told him that I likely had cancer in my entire body and it probably started with my lungs. Cancer can be treated but mental illness really can’t. I don’t think so anyway. Not effectively. I’d rather see a cure for the latter. It’s would be a gift to humanity.

I got what I needed from Bender’s and I also got a phone call while I was shopping. UW Health was calling with another follow-up. I can expect more calls from them including ones from a social worker. Great. Just what I need. Another social worker. My conditional release case manager Sydney also texted this morning. I have an appointment with my PO on Wednesday. My death may be the only way that I can escape all of this. God would be doing me a favor. The thing is, I am still grateful. I have what I always dreamed of. A camper. Whether I am terminal or not there is only one other thing that I dream of. To spend the rest of my life with my dogs. The double whammy of bipolar and breast cancer has a great irony. One took my family away from me. But the other may bring them back.