I had my appointment with my plastic surgeon today for another fill of my spacers. It’s been 3 weeks since the last fill, so my skin had really relaxed a bunch. It was nice. They felt kinda normal. Now, not so much.

Initially the plan was just to fill the left breast to start getting things evened out. The left side lost the nipple and surrounding skin during my mastectomy, so it needs to be stretched more than the right to get them looking somewhat symmetrical. But when I told my doctor I felt like the right side was close to where I want to stop, he suggested we go ahead and fill both sides, but doubled the amount on the left.

Now I feel huge. I’m not, but the tightness is making me hyper aware of them again. And because they’re filled with saline, they feel solid, with very little give. Ugh. One upside is that the extra stretch on the left has lightened the pigmentation left over from radiation, so it doesn’t look quite as tan as it was.

My doctor thinks I’ll have about 8 more weeks of over filling and removing and refilling until the left aide relaxes enough so I don’t appear lopsided anymore. I guess that’s not too bad. I’m thankful to be back at it. I’m also thankful that I’ll have a couple of weeks before we fill again, so (hopefully) the uncomfortableness has a chance to go away.

I got my booth at the antique mall open today! I’m happy about it, but I’m now tired. Ha!

There’s a big difference between stuff you’re not using at home and stuff you’re hoping to sell. The items at home seem to be taking up a lot of space. My booth seems a bit sparse. But that’s ok. I’m thankful to get it started.

Speaking of getting things started, this new year will be different with my blog. I don’t want to abandon it but I know I’ll be busier now with my crafting. So I’m not going to be posting as I have been. On days I don’t have real updates to write about, I’ll be using photos to do the talking for me. A snapshot of the moment during my day that brought me a smile or joy or made me grateful. I don’t want to stop looking, and I hope you find the moments in your own days that you want to remember.

I went to the dentist today and picked up the mouth guard they made for me yesterday. I’ve been grinding my teeth at night. It’s a long-standing problem, but it’s gotten worse over the last year. Imagine that. My sister who works in a dentist office said that if you notice your teeth touching, then you’re probably clenching your jaw. In a normal, relaxed state, the teeth shouldn’t touch. Hmm…mine touch all throughout the day, too.

I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned this before, but here it goes again. Straight up. If I had to define this past year by one emotion, it would be fear. Of course when you’re given a life-threatening diagnosis like cancer, it’s instinct to be afraid. How bad is it? Is it curable? Will I die? Once those questions are answered, then it’s worry about treatments and side effects and potential risks. Always, there is the fear of making a wrong decision when presented options. After getting through treatments, it’s wondering if everything worked. How do we know it’s not anywhere else? Finally, and I’m sure this will linger forever in the back of my mind, will it come back?

Lesson Three: The side effect of fear is exhaustion. And stress. And teeth grinding. It’s time to let it go. I’m going to work really hard not bring it into the new year. These two quotes will be my reminders. What fear do you need to leave behind?

We begin our last week of this year. Weird. It’s been both the longest and shortest year of my life. Short because I feel like there wasn’t much in the way of accomplishment. I spent so much of the year sedentary, which is not normal for me. And long, well, because of the cancer. The unknowns and treatments and fear just seemed unending for a while. As I think back over the year, I realize that I’ve learned quite a bit, though, so I figured I’d wrap up the year this week with the top lessons that I’m thankful for.

Probably my biggest setback this year is the pain that I got from my cancer treatments. For someone who was used to being physical, I was not prepared for it. Not at all. I mean, in my prime I once moved a loveseat down two flights of stairs by myself. So I had taken for granted that I could lift, carry, crawl, climb, and walk however and whenever I wanted to. (Notice I didn’t say run because I don’t run. I’ve tried and stopped every time. Go ahead and judge me but I’m ok with it.) Then Taxol came along and wrecked my muscles. Maybe you’ll remember my whining about my muscle aches in previous posts. If not, let me remind you–it was pain that weighed on me between my shoulder blades and then radiated from my hips to my knees. I spent a lot of time on a heating pad and planted in the corner of the sectional sofa. And while things are WAAAAYYY better, I’m still not pain free. I can’t jump up from a chair and move quickly. I ache from sleeping. And I have to really think about how heavy something is before I hoist it from the ground.

I’ve said this to Patrick and I’ll now say it here. I wish we could allow others to feel what we are feeling. Like I could touch his arm and he could experience all the aches and pains and fears I have as I feel them. How awesome would that be? It would help at the doctor’s office. And imagine if we could do that with our pets? Game changer. Of course, I’ve thought this through because I have seen Behind Her Eyes on Netflix–the experience would have to be mutually agreed upon and with a limited duration, like half and hour, and then things would go back to normal automatically. Half an hour seems long enough to really get it.

My point is that pain is subjective. Some people can tolerate a lot and others only a small amount. I’m sure with my wish scenario you’d run the risk of someone thinking that what you’re feeling isn’t THAT bad. However, I bet more often than not, most of us would be amazed at what others are dealing with. I think we forget that when we expect someone to suck it up or just get over it. And when you deal with pain a lot, then you learn to mask it just to get through your day. You may never know if the person in front of you at the store is slow because they just had a chemo treatment. Or they have arthritis. Or fell in the tub that morning. Or any number of crazy ailments. And it’s not always physical pain–there’s a lot of emotional pain out in the world that is just as debilitating.

Lesson Number One. Be gentler with each other and with yourself. Compassion isn’t something we should only pull out at Christmas. We should sprinkle it on everything like glitter.