I'm torn... I LOVE being off work and being able to do whatever I want. Believe me, I know just how lucky I am that, for the most part, I HAVE been able to do most things that I want to do. I recovered well from the mastectomy; I haven't been flattened by the side effects of the chemo treatments; I have been surrounded by wonderful friends who were there when I needed them but who backed off when I needed to be alone. (Okay, I haven't been able to do absolutely everything that I want to do but that's only because I'm not a multi-millionnaire. But my limitations have been financial, not physical.)
So why am I torn? Well, in just over a week I'm going back to work half-days. After a month or so, we'll reassess and I expect to go back full time. On the one hand, going back to work means a huge new step on this journey; it means that I'm well enough to take part in "normal life" again. On the other hand, I'm not looking forward to losing the free time to do what I want; I'm not looking forward to feeling that I have to live up to my boss' and co-workers' expectations. The pressure will be tremendous - pressure to deliver quality work, pressure to "be okay" and not remind people that I'm a cancer survivor, pressure to be happy. How much of that pressure will be self-imposed? Well, that's the $64,000 question, isn't it? It will be up to me to go easy on myself, to relax and take it one day at a time.
Some people say I'm going back too soon. I really don't agree. I'm truly feeling great. I'm feeling strong. I'm feeling well. However, full disclosure - the main reason I'm going back now it that if I don't, my salary will be cut drastically because I'm running out of short-term disability. As the sole breadwinner in my family, I need to make enough money to pay the bills. Don't get me wrong, if I wasn't feeling well, I wouldn't be going back to work yet. I'd find some other way to make ends meet. We all have to figure out what's important to us, not to others, not to our bosses, not to anyone us. In my case, that is being able to support my family and pay the bills - as long as I'm well. My health comes first.
So, what's next on my journey? First, I'll see how well this gradual return to work works out. If I need to go back on sick leave, I will, but I don't expect that to happen. In addition, I still have to go to the hospital for Herceptin infusions every 3 weeks. That will continue until next November or so. Because of the Herceptin, I will be monitored closely as time goes on. I'm on two drugs that both have potential impact on my heart (Herceptin and Arimidex) so I'll have Syma scans done every few weeks.
Then, next year, after I'm off the Herceptin, I'll undergo breast reconstruction surgery. Now, THAT's major surgery. I'm going be off work for several months (again) when that happens. Why do it, you ask?
Part of me feels that I shouldn't need to have two breasts, that it's only because our culture has convinced me that it's important. For a long time, I thought that it's not important. I said that I would only need to get a prosthetic before going back to work but only for others, not for me. Well, prosthetics are expensive (several hundred dollars) so there was no way that I was going to get it any time soon. Well, a friend called me out of the blue and told me that she had a "boob in a box" for me. I had to wait for a few weeks before she had time to bring it to me (I live about 20 miles from the office). Not only was it the right size and shape, which as astounding in itself, but she also brought three bras (with the pocket to hold it) and they fit, too. But as soon as I put it on, I felt different. I remember going to see close friends (at church, for example) and saying to them "look, I have two!" I guess it was more important to me than I thought.
(skip the next paragraph if you don't want to hear the gory details.)
So, that's why I'm going to go ahead with the reconstruction. It means something important to me. Besides, in order to build me a new breast using my own tissue (the least likely to be rejected) they'll probably take it from my tummy. For the first time in my adult life, I won't have a soft, mushy, bulging gut. That alone, makes is almost worth it. I'm also going to have them reduce the healthy breast to a more average size. So, when it's all over (in a couple of years from now), I'll have two nice sized, perky breasts and a flat(ter) tummy. And it will all be paid for by my government health insurance. What more could I ask?
I also need to be monitored for the Lymphoma. Remember that I'm one of the lucky ones who got a two-for-one deal in the cancer lottery. Not only did I have breast cancer (for the second time), I also have a low-grade Lymphoma. Lucky me. Monitoring for the Lymphoma will actually be done less frequently; it's almost secondary to the monitoring related to the breast cancer. I know that eventually I'll have to undergo chemo treatment for the Lymphoma and eventually, I expect that I will die from it. But hopefully, I'll need to be monitored for the Lymphoma for many years to come (unless, of course, God decides to spontaneously cure it and remove it from my body completely). Wouldn't that be simply amazing?
Stay tuned for the next installment. I'll let you know how works goes.