Breast cancer - support group

I've got stage 3 breast cancer. Or I did. I'm not sure how to talk about it, since I had the tumors removed, but I still have to have a ton of chemo and radiation before I think I'm allowed to talk about this in the past tense...

Anyway, that's my life right now. It is pretty all-consuming, eating time and energy like no job, relationship, or hobby I've ever had. Every day feels about 3 hours long, and I never get everything I wanted to do done. Life feels very short, understandably since it very much might be.

Today I went to a support group for the first time. I still need to go to a specific breast cancer one, so that I can ask them if they have permanent boob cramp over the tissue expander, if they get still get itchy incision pain after a month, if their doctors are so uncommunicative and cheerful, if they were pushed into taking hormonal birth control in the past which contributed to the breast cancer, etc... But right now I have to say, it felt good simply to talk to women who are suffering with me, dealing with life and death in the same way. 

After the support group let out, I realized it has lasted longer than I thought, so I got a parking ticket. Another reminder that money is just fluid as fuck right now and cancer is expensive, gotta watch that shit. All the other women were talking about memory loss from the chemo, but I already have a horrible memory, what on earth will I be like in 4 months?!

A woman in the group advised me to find a way to work through my anger, actually she said "you'll need to drop your anger" (I'd been flippantly telling them about endo mistreatments contributing to me, or even giving me, cancer and I think a little resentment crept into my voice. I also might have said a few times that doctors are arrogant assholes who smile while they murder you, so ya know... yes, I was certainly exhibiting anger.). It sounded sensible, but in retrospect I don't know if I really can simply "let it go", I think it's helping me. At the moment, when I'm not angry about this stuff I'm miserable about it, so miserable that all I want to do is rock back and forth and cry (or run away). It's depressing and terrifying that doctors who I trusted to treat me for endo consistently mistreated it for decades with hormones and drugs which definitely contributed to me developing cancer, all the while making my endo worse too! If only I'd known that surgery was the only effective treatment eons ago, all of this could have been avoided. But I trusted my doctors. This means that now it is difficult to trust doctors now, especially the ones who are definitely treating me with poisons and radiations now! So emotionally, if my choice is fetal-position-fear-crying or strident-angry-ranting-woman, I guess I choose the latter...

I think I'm going to work on visualizing a third option where I'm some kind of awe-inspiring super hero like Wonder Woman or Supergirl and I blaze through my chemo like a champ and come out of this stronger and happier than ever.

Doctors are still bullshitting me now. The surgeons all withheld information (i.e. lied) about the pain involved with healing with a tissue expander in. I'd never have let them put it in if I'd known how it would slow and complicate my surgical recovery. I don't care enough about tits to be in pain for them for no fucking reason, and I made that as clear as I could to the surgeon. But the doctors all had this idea that I needed breasts, and they seemed so clear about it that I thought I should try it. I thought maybe my conflicted feelings about it were based on an assumption that I might not survive, but now that I'm on the other side of surgery I see that they simply did not believe me about my own feelings about breasts. Still, the thing is settling down now and I can't do anything about until I'm done with chemo and that's at least 4 months away, and probably a few months after that to recover my immune system before more surgery. Perhaps after radiation we can figure it out. They are sure they'll be popping in an implant. We'll see...

If I live through all of this I'll be pleasantly surprised. If I don't, I wonder what the hell people will do with all my junk. I'm not clearing stuff up, I refuse to waste my fucking time alive preparing to die so that the lazy cunts left alive don't have to go through any hassle. Nope, let 'em. If it comes to that, it'll be someone else's problem. The days are too short as it is, I have to funnel my energy into taking care of myself, not just physically but mentally and emotionally, it's all one big package. 

Tonight I'm determined to start another painting. I really enjoyed the last water color and ultimately, if I do anything at all with this sliver of time I have, painting has to be part of it. I want every aspect of my life to be like a work of art I perform for an audience of one - me! I think it's what I've always been striving for, but I forgot for a while. If one good thing has come out of getting cancer, it's getting back in touch with this desire (it's a need really) to create art, always.