Who Moved The Floor?

It's been a rough couple of days.They scheduled me for surgery at 4:00 yesterday, where they removed the implant and placed a drain tube.  We won't be able to consider a different reconstruction plan for several months.  This devastated me more than you could possibly imagine.

I have cried for two days straight.  I cannot sleep, food doesn't sound appealing, and if anyone says anything encouraging to me, it makes me cry harder.  So many have told me that this would be no big deal because I'm so strong, and that makes me feel like a failure because this is getting to me more than the other stuff did.  I have had two days of a deep depression that is worse than I felt when I was diagnosed with cancer.

I had it in my mind that I was on the downhill slide.  I went through 13 months of the tissue expander to prepare for the implant.  The first one failed, but he placed another.  I wore that sling at all times, other than in the shower.  I have slept in the recliner for two solid months, trying to make this work.  And yesterday, in a 30 minute procedure, the implant was removed and I look worse than I did last April, post-mastectomy.

It's an evil leftover from an evil disease.  As I'm trying to get myself together and figure out how to return to work, I cannot sleep.  I got about an hour this morning, but that was it.  My mind races and I sink back into pity party mode.  I don't want to eat, I don't want to do anything.

Mom and Dad suggested bringing me a Subway sandwich, and that actually sounded good!  They brought it around noon and it tasted as good as it sounded.  I was still sad, but I had eaten something substantial for the first time since Sunday evening.  I thought I must be on my way to getting better.  That's when I decided to try to nap again.

I went to the bathroom, took out my contacts, emptied the infernal drain, and as I got done, I was looking into the sink and everything started swimming.  I could tell that I was going down.  I processed it and decided that the best thing to do was to get to the floor before gravity put me there.  I was about halfway down when I passed out.  I was only out for a few seconds, but I had to lie there on the floor for a while before I could move.

Finally, I crawled slowly into the living room, got into my chair, and sent Kevin a "don't freak out, but..." text.  He said he was leaving work immediately.  He wasn't happy that I pushed him to go in the first place, but I honestly felt I'd be OK.  I was wrong.  Various parts of me, including my head, hit the doorway on the way down, but not really hard.  I don't have a knot or anything.  I do have a headache from the lack of sleep, crying, the fall, and probably medication.

The nurse called in some Valium for me, and Kevin is gone to pick it up now.  He has me surrounded by anything I could possibly need so I won't get up until he gets home.  If I don't sleep tonight, I'm going to take an elephant tranquilizer.  Eventually, exhaustion will have to take over.  I hope.