The new report didn’t say much more than the first one.
- It’s still probably melanoma.
- They don’t know how big it is because of the original shallow shave biopsy.
- I’m going to have a hole cut out of my leg.
Since there is not much information to go on, I will probably be given the option to go ahead with the sentinel node biopsy. This means I will have several shots of radioactive ink (or something?) inserted in my thigh. This will then “highlight” the sentinel, or first, lymph node in that area. It will be removed through a separate incision in the groin.
- So I’m going to have a cut in my groin as well……….
I’m totally not excited about that. But I guess that doesn’t matter.
I’m pretty much in the state of mind of “it doesn’t matter” right now. Because it doesn’t. It doesn’t matter how I feel, because it’s going to happen anyway. Regardless if I’m nervous, sad, angry, depressed, or confident. No matter what feeling is involved, the life-event is happening without my opinion of it.
That being said, I am definitely affected.
My work has severely suffered this last month. I cannot stay focused or organized and have no concept of time management. Our concert date is crashing forward and we are nowhere near ready. A date change may be order, I haven’t decided yet.
I’ve gained at least 10 pounds stress-eating, and I don’t want to do any sort of exercise most days. Food has always been my crutch and what better reason than cancer to need a crutch? I have no desire to bust my tail exercising either, as I know I’m going to have to start all over again after my recovery period. Doubt I can get a good sweat on when I’ve got incisions all over my left side….. Groin…
Just sit there right now and think about somebody cutting into the area around your leg crease. Yeah. Makes me cringe too.
So that’s where I am. At a numb standstill, growing fatter and weaker, and therefore hating myself more and more each day. I sit here and remember where I was last year at this time. A strong and much more fit running machine with the world in the palm of her hands.
I’m losing the image of that girl in my mind.
I sit here and think about what I wanted to accomplish this year, and see the calendar days slipping by relentlessly. I’m tired of waiting. I want this to be over. I want to move on and I can’t.
So that’s how I feel. Frustrated.