I'm getting better. My balloon face is gone. The wrinkles are in full effect just like a deflated balloon with its stretched out wrinkles. My body is trying to heal the damage done to my breast and the surrounding areas from surgery and radiation. The healing is painful, but I'm thankful it's healing.
I realized, if I let it, this experience of cancer, surgery, radiation treatment and everything else that entailed has taught me to be eons less concerned with perfection than I previously was.
First, I was weak and tired from pneumonia. I couldn't keep up with the house. I was sore and limited from surgery, I couldn't do anything around the house. People would come over and see dirt and clutter when in the past I would have cleaned it up.
Second, radiation and its mandatory no bra, no shaving the armpit, swollen breast era made me way less concerned about my appearance. I dressed in layers, didn't look as thin and definitely didn't have a flattering figure.
Finally, the allergic era, it took away all vanity about my face. When your face resembles a puffer fish, your eyes are playing peek-a-boo, and in the healing process you peel like a sunburnt elephant, one begins to be less concerned about one's looks.
Perhaps after all this, I will be more relaxed, less vain and more gracious with myself. Perhaps I will have learned something if I don't forget my lessons. I feel that I'm at a place where I could easily choose the thankful path. In all things there is something to complain and whine about, but there is equally something to be thankful for. I can always be thankful no matter the situation that my face has not become a party decoration. I can always be thankful I am not in burning, fire-y pain. I can always be thankful for people who love and care for me. I can be thankful for my home, my transportation, my dogs. I can be thankful I can walk, see, hear, speak, and feel. No matter the situation there is much to be thankful for.
I know this has been preached before. I don't think most of us believe it. I think we say, "I know, I should be thankful for . . ." But really, we feel better when we get to complain in the moment. We get annoyed with people who say, "at least you're not . . ." What does that annoying-ness do to our disposition. We become cranky old farts at the age of 40 and all our friends stay away. Or, we find the silver lining and sing about it like a Disney princess making everyone think we've turned into a cartoon character. I don't know anyone who hates cartoons as a rule.
Perhaps being a positive, thankful, whimsical cartoon character is equivalent to having a joyful, light-hearted attitude. I want to remember this. My face itches, but I'm so glad its not 5 times bigger. My boob hurts, but I'm so thankful I have no more radiation treatments. My house is filthy, but I'm thankful my family doesn't really care.
I was told once the word, "but," erases everything you said before it. Usually people say, "I love you, but . . ." I'm going to do it the other way around. I don't have to be blind to reality, I can recognize it and yet, choose to focus on the amazing. For example, sometimes life can be shitty, but I'm glad I'm alive. What a great place to put a "but."
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