Just completed my first year out of treatment. The entire thing is still very surreal. I go back and forth between normalcy and my world being upside down. When I first stopped treatment I had this idea that everything is over and that’s it. I can just go back to the way things were. But I quickly realize that is far from the case. There are so many transitions to go through. I have just spent the last year being told where to go and what to do, people encouraging me and treating me like I was going to break. Then it all stops and you are left with a bunch of broken pieces and what to do with them. I wanted so badly to just put it all behind me and just forget that it ever happened. I mean if I take this approach then things will go back to normal faster. And for a bit, it went well. I just pretended that it never happened. I would not bring it up because if I didn’t talk about it, it wasn’t real. Then I had to go to a doctors appointment. I was getting Lupron shots every 6 months and I had to sit in the infusion room with all these sick people. I would do fine until the infusion machine beeped. This brought everything back down to reality and I had to face the fact that yes, this all did happen and you have a lot to deal with. I would come out of these appointments a total mess. I would sit and cry for days confused not knowing what the heck to do. Besides the emotional aspect of this, there were the physical side effects from this shot I had forgotten about. It’s amazing how short my memory has become to certain things lately.

This last appointment was kind of the straw that broke the camels back. (odd saying) But I was just an absolute mess afterward. Could I deal with this up and down rollercoaster of emotion for the next 9 years? Could my husband deal with all this for the next 9 years? No. So we talked about what we could do to avoid this. And we decided that it would be best to just take the ovaries out. This way I wouldn’t have to deal with these shots anymore. In one way I felt like maybe this was a cop-out.  Instead of facing all this treatment and what had happened, I was running from it. After many conversations with the doctors and my husband, I came to realize that it was not that at all. Why go through this torment every 6 months for such a long span of time? But yay, another surgery. I promised myself under no circumstances would I have surgery unless I absolutely needed it. Well, this was one that was in the best interest of myself and those around me, so surgery was scheduled. There were concerns about how my body would react, but co

nsidering the shots were keeping my ovaries from doing anything anyway, there would really be no change. We are already depleting my body of all estrogen anyway, so why not.

On the anniversary of my, one year out of treatment surgery was scheduled. What a way to celebrate. It wasn’t going to be a major surgery in the sense that I would go home the same day. It would be just like when I had the hysterectomy but not as bad. I could

deal with that. Surgery this time was very different. Maybe because they got me in and out super fast. But I wasn’t nervous, I wasn’t freaked out like I usually am. I got to do my wave to the OR and the song that was playing that I sang until they knocked me out was “Whoop! There it is!” Which was perfect! I had been a little freaked the night before since the last surgery was a bit traumatic. But I woke up in recovery, then got dressed and went home. Sat my ass on the couch for a week (still there part-time). Can’t lay down flat for too long yet, so I’m still sleeping on the couch. Which beats the chair I was in for 3 months last surgery!

So as I’m sitting here in recovery, I have a lot of time to ponder. But you know me, I’ve been working the last week…I’m sure that’s not necessarily a good idea! I start to feel normal and then something triggers me and makes me remember all the horrible things. I look at my body and it’s a constant reminder. There are some days when I just don’t want to deal and I can’t wrap my head around all of this. I still ask why. Then there are other days I can totally cope and I’m going to conquer the world. I suppose looking at all this I’ve come a long way the last year. But I realize I still have a long way to go. When you are in treatment everyone is engaged and you have that support behind you. When you finish treatment you are left to figure it out on your own. Now I know some people are thinking…no you don’t! Lean on friends or go talk to someone…you don’t have to go this alone! Well, yes and no. Unless you have been through it you may not quite understand what I mean by “figuring it out on your own.” But ultimately that’s what it comes down to.

Now on to the next stage. I would say last stage, but I’m pretty sure that there will be more after this one. I have to try to not overthink. I really do get caught up in the “WHYYYYY… WHYYYY MEEEEEE????” (Nancy Kerrigan reference real quick) There is my logical brain that says, shit like this just happens. You didn’t do anything specific. There is nothing you could have done differently to avoid this. But there is the other side that doesn’t buy it. Maybe had I….(fill in the blank). Well, one thing I do know…is I’m back at a rebuild and start over stage. Yay! I’m getting good at this part.

I just have to mention something real quick here. When I started writing this I automatically write in the 2nd or 3rd person. Which I find very interesting. For me to write any of this in the first person these days is a step towards acceptance. May not seem like a big deal to some, but for me, it’s an emotional barrier that I have crossed. I’m allowing myself to admit that this has happened. I’m giving my permission to myself that this is who I am. And it’s okay.