Home again, home again, jiggety-jig

The Weeble is back. She is banged up, bruised, heavily medicated, super itchy, slightly smelly, definitely greasy (her hair, that is), but hugely relieved to have one major step in this process completed.

I'm going to keep this short, because just walking to the bathroom tires me out - so typing and thinking is a major undertaking. There are so many things for me to write about from the last few days . . . that fateful ride to MGH early Monday a.m., the last-minute surgical surprises that awaited us, waking up in recovery, the vigorous advocating I sometimes had to do for myself, some freaky drug reactions and how I am no longer going to classify myself as a needle-phobe. I have learned more about myself in the last four days than I could've ever imagined. I knew I was strong before - but this experience my friends, was like spinach for Popeye.

But first, I want to thank you guys. I will sometime try to express the joy I received from reading each and every one of your well-wishes, comments and cheers while I was struggling to take it minute-by-minute in the hospital. I honestly thought of you all boosting me up when the going got tough. Maybe it seems like not all that much to shoot off an email, to post a comment on Facebook or to leave word on the blog - but you need to know that each one of those lifted me up in a way you cannot imagine. Your words, thoughts and prayers were like little wings that helped me fly me over whatever challenge I was facing at the moment.

And I also want to publicly shout out to my beloved, my oh! so beloved husband. These are the "for worse" times of marriage. This is our second go-'round with "for worse." My first diagnosis in November, 2001 came just one week before our first wedding anniversary. As we approach our 11th anniversary, DI remains my quiet rock, my coach, my most valuable player. We make such a good team because he is such a great man. Smart, supportive, loving, kind, and helpful - he is ready to jump in and do whatever needs to be done to make things go more smoothly. He will be mortified that I wrote this, so I'll stop now, but let's just say I'm more in love with him than ever. Despite the shitty health hand I've been dealt in life, in love, I've got a royal flush.

So, what's next? Spontaneous sleeping. Watching Ellen and Anderson Cooper and bad chick flicks on-demand. Maybe reading a book, although holding a book right now is still an undertaking. And a little more anxious waiting. You see, the fat lady hasn't sung yet my friends. Although my node was clear, the pathology from my breast tissue's not back. And until that gets sliced into wafer-thin, prosciutto-like slices and analyzed by the great minds in MGH pathology, there is still the chance that chemo or some other treatment might be indicated. My oncologist put the chances at "remote," but they are there, and I won't rest fully 'til I know.

But for now, I'll keep the worry at bay by taking more baby steps, bolstering myself with a million pillows, enjoying the fantastic food that's coming to my back door every day, and reveling in the comfort and love of my family and friends.

xo,

Sarah