26 September 2011

The Kubler-Ross Model (The Five Stages of Grief) 

A few weeks back a good friend asked me how I am doing.  She had read the blog and talked to me but I don't think she really believed what I was saying or how I was saying it.  I think she thought I was still in the denial stage.  As I have explained before, I just refuse to acknowledge that this is a life threatening event, not because I'm in denial, but simply because I haven't been told anything different.  My prognosis has always been good, both because of our incredible luck in finding it early and my decision to be extremely aggressive.   I didn't really have a denial stage, (except for that split second that day I stepped out of the shower,) and I didn't have an anger, much of a bargaining or depression stage either.  I went almost straight to acceptance.

I've never once thought "why me?" I suppose this is because with my mom's history and my health peculiarities, I've always felt as though I would have breast cancer, not an 'if' but just a matter of 'when'. And when I looked at the timing, it's actually pretty good timing for me - our life is stable with no big changes on the horizon, I'm in a terrific support system, the kids are able to be more autonomous, I'm in better shape right now than I've been in years, I'm still young enough to weather a major surgery, the big fat honking house projects are almost all done, and what is not can wait without a wholesale compromise to our comfort.  Rather, I've been thankful this didn't happen five years ago when we were in the middle of moving, or seven years ago when Dan was deployed, or ten years ago when I was pregnant.  I actually feel pretty darned lucky.

I didn't really bargain.   It wasn't a case of , if I can just have a lumpectomy, I'll become a vegetarian to offset the future risk.  Or If I get through this, I promise I'll volunteer at a cancer center.  I just decided that I'd take care of this the best way that modern medicine can.  Again, I made the decision as soon as I heard the diagnosis that I would be aggressive.  I never once really thought of saving my breasts, or eschewing chemo.  I've felt right from the beginning that this bout of breast cancer is not going to kill me.  What I've always been worried about was a recurrence, which is why I feel chemotherapy is in order.  We'll find out more when we talk to the oncologist but if it will offer some protection, bring it on.

I am not depressed, although I routinely suffer from it.  But I take my meds and manage it just fine.  Having cancer has not affected my mood, except to make me much more selfish about taking care of myself.  (A change any mom can tell you is warranted.)

So here I am, having arrived at acceptance in short order and preparing to fight the good fight with no baggage hanging on.  I stepped up my fitness routine before surgery, and I'm back walking again.  I had my double mastectomy and am working my way back to strength and flexibility after it.  I'm waiting patiently for the oncology stepping stone to pop up in front of me so I can move forward.  And that is honestly where I am.