I told hubby that I was done making decisions. Whether or not he believes me, I feel better.
The truth is that I'm so overtaxed with thinking about treatments, options, non-options, things I think are barbaric. So I meant what I said. If he says to go do the radiation and take the tamoxishit, I'll just do it. If I have bad reactions, we can discuss it then, and most likely, he will not want me to endure Bad Stuff.
I actually felt relief after I told him. Hung with my girl after my day of Zombie Mommy. Started watching Cape of Good Hope as a possible project for Social Studies. She heard the F-bomb and looked at me in shock.
"What rating is this?"
"PG13"
"Um, are you sure???"
"Please babe. I went to school. I know you hear this stuff. I don't want you saying it, but I'm no dummy."
I told her I'd heard way worse stuff at her age, and of course I wasn't in the mood to rattle off a bunch of nasty words and phrases. But I let her know, I know. The real world is there. I'd rather expose her to it in our home than have her hear friends at school say it and wonder. Yeah. I'm that mom. When I'm not a depressed cancer victim zombie. I always told her that she can ask me anything, if she hears stuff at school or on tv (since we don't have tv and I'm here when she watches anything, it's more about stuff at her dad's house) to just ASK me what it's about. I never had that as a kid. I was left to assume. And you know, when you assume...
Anyway, it was nice to feel like me for a while. I'm calling the doc first thing in the morning. I'm going to tell him to continue as scheduled. I'm going to get a hell of a sunburn on my breast. I'm hoping that the radioactive crap won't travel elsewhere. I'm hoping it won't make me tired. I'm hoping it won't make me nauseous (unless that helps me drop a few cancer pounds). I'm hoping that the docs are right, that this will help me. Because I sure as shit am not going to turn into the Incredible Hulk just to get cancer again. Oh, I'm sure she's heard that word too.
Is it the right decision? Who knows. Will it make my life easier? For the moment, yes. We'd never know what the other outcome would be, regardless of our choice. Like anything in life. What if I'd never met my husband for tea that first pseudo-date? What if I'd stopped playing music for real? (I had an absence in my 20's, about 5 years or so) What if I had a double Prophylactic mastectomy in my 20's like I'd considered? I really considered it. I remember one doc telling me it was like getting a boob job and a tummy tuck. Tempting at that age, or any. Of course, they didn't tuck my tummy, I have cartoon boob at the moment, and I'm gaining stress weight. Plus that recovery was hellapainful! And, I was able to pump milk for my daughter for 9 months. So...
Who knows anything? All I know is that I may need to get some anxiety medication through this process. My brain moves fast, so does my heart. I like to research. I like to read. There's a lot of information out there. And I'd rather be informed or not. Even if I'm no longer going to make decisions, I want to know what I'm up against.
Ok, I'm still scared shitless. But, I feel a little relief thinking that it's not up to me. The fork in the road? I have the GPS on now. No more deciding which way to turn. As long as hubby goes along with it all. I know he wants the best for us. All 3 of us. So I should trust.
*wringing hands, obviously still filled with anxiety*
Random thought of the evening: I'm craving mashed potatoes and a chocolate bar. Luckily, I just brushed my teeth.
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