Yesterday was Jen’s birthday -- she turned 42 -- just a wee bairn. Tomorrow is her big scary-ass surgery. So yeah, we’re eating a lot of cake this week -- birthday cake, anniversary cake and, of course, surgery cake.
Jen’s having a bilateral radical mastectomy and reconstruction (We can rebuild her!) or as she refers to it a “boobectomy.” No, there’s not been a recurrence of cancer -- this surgery is for making sure there isn’t one.
No one goes into surgery truly, utterly calm or happy but Jen and I both try wickedly hard to remain upbeat and peaceful (you know, for us anyway), with a our respective senses of humor in Olympian form. It certainly helps that we’re married to transcendentally tranquil, wonderful, hilarious men -- dudes who totally get our twisted view of life. Honestly, how can you not grin when you hear ”boobectomy” (or lipread that in my case :-)?
Me, when I’ve been in her pre-big-hairy-ass surgery place, I’ve promoted the idea that Barker and Ojemann (neuro-surgeon fellas) are just going into my freakish paisley cranium to see if I have a brain there at all. To date, I believe all they’ve found, is marshmallow fluff, stale chewing gum and a dead mouse or three.
Maybe there really isn’t a way to fully prepare, cushion yourself, for this level of invasion. Perhaps especially not when you’re getting a sizable chunk of your very personal bits removed and then replaced.
I’ve spent my prep times trying to wrap up as much work and studio crap as possible -- that and I fuss endlessly over poor Bob (you know, because he could NOT possibly cook for himself while I’m out of commission! snort). Jen’s been doing the same except she seems to trust Oni, AKA Grill Wizard, to cook for himself.
Brightest Bulb is not one of my nicknames here at home.
Jen and I have both been called brave by some of our dear friends. We just shrug and say “it’s what I have to do -- it’s not bravery. I mean, what’s the alternative? Death? No thanks.” Is it brave to embrace reality and dive through all the hoops needed to stay alive? I don’t know -- I’m asking.
Oh great, now I have the Bee Gees stuck in my head and no one to blame for this but my own self. And I’m rambling -- something I do when I’m nervous? Nope, something I do when I’m breathing.
Stayin' Alive -- Bee Gees
Jen’s having a bilateral radical mastectomy and reconstruction (We can rebuild her!) or as she refers to it a “boobectomy.” No, there’s not been a recurrence of cancer -- this surgery is for making sure there isn’t one.
No one goes into surgery truly, utterly calm or happy but Jen and I both try wickedly hard to remain upbeat and peaceful (you know, for us anyway), with a our respective senses of humor in Olympian form. It certainly helps that we’re married to transcendentally tranquil, wonderful, hilarious men -- dudes who totally get our twisted view of life. Honestly, how can you not grin when you hear ”boobectomy” (or lipread that in my case :-)?
Me, when I’ve been in her pre-big-hairy-ass surgery place, I’ve promoted the idea that Barker and Ojemann (neuro-surgeon fellas) are just going into my freakish paisley cranium to see if I have a brain there at all. To date, I believe all they’ve found, is marshmallow fluff, stale chewing gum and a dead mouse or three.
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| Nf2 Woman and Cancer Girl -- we ALWAYS win! |
I’ve spent my prep times trying to wrap up as much work and studio crap as possible -- that and I fuss endlessly over poor Bob (you know, because he could NOT possibly cook for himself while I’m out of commission! snort). Jen’s been doing the same except she seems to trust Oni, AKA Grill Wizard, to cook for himself.
Brightest Bulb is not one of my nicknames here at home.
Jen and I have both been called brave by some of our dear friends. We just shrug and say “it’s what I have to do -- it’s not bravery. I mean, what’s the alternative? Death? No thanks.” Is it brave to embrace reality and dive through all the hoops needed to stay alive? I don’t know -- I’m asking.
Oh great, now I have the Bee Gees stuck in my head and no one to blame for this but my own self. And I’m rambling -- something I do when I’m nervous? Nope, something I do when I’m breathing.
Stayin' Alive -- Bee Gees
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