Oh my sweet little ladies....if you thought I was nutty about you wearing sunscreen and hats before...you haven't seen nothing yet...wowza. Nothing like hearing "your girls are now high risk because of you" to really get you kicked into high battle mode. The yoga that I have thought of as a"isn't it nice that they are into it" activity, is now a non-negotiable tool for long term holistic health. Much like my obsessiveness for canning, my intent is to dial into every tool that we can find and leverage, to give all of us the best odds in fighting melanoma long term. New normal people. Sweet little family...get ready.
They changed the bandage on my foot today. While I wasn't brave enough to look at the amputation site (Chris was -- he says it looks good...my husband rocks) -- I did look at the downsized bandage that had my four lonely toes poking out. I started laughing. Hysterically. Tears running down my face. Laughing. The nurse asked Chris if I was ok. My foot looks weird. Freaky. And I haven't even seen the actual foot. I've got a road in front of me on this one. I'm thankful the toe is gone. But wow. It got real today.
I realized, after the appointment, while I was waiting for Chris -- that I've never considered myself to be an overly vain person. I mean, clearly, as regularly as I hang out in sweats and tshirts with stains and holes...I'm not that worried about my appearance... (an opportunity area for me...) -- so, in my mind, I had gotten myself to a place where this amputation wasn't really bothering me. Probably not that realistic. It does bother me. But, I also realized that, with a good shoe...a boot even, the average joe won't know that my toe is gone. People won't be staring at me as I walk around. It made my think of my grandpa, who lost half of his face to skin cancer. As a kid, it never bothered me -- it was just what grandpa looked like. But, I never thought about how grandpa felt about it. His kids were grown, he lived out on the farm -- perhaps it was easier to be pragmatic about it? I don't know. I thought about if I'm in the same situation and I lose part of my face. To stay alive -- yep, cut off what you need to. But, my fear in this always goes back to the girls. My toe being gone -- it's a little scary. We talk about it. I'm fairly certain that all of M's new classmates will know within the first week of school that her mom doesn't have a toe. But beneath the fear and the talk about how weird it is -- I'm still their mom. I still look like their mom. Nothing has changed. I realized that my fear is that something changes as they are going through the next decade plus -- the time in their lives when they need their mom, the opinion of their friends will have an impact - and having something weird about their mom (e.g. not having a nose) might leave them grappling with more difficulty than the average teenage girl...and that punched me in the gut. If that is the bridge that we cross, then so be it...but for today, I will continue to be grateful that my toe is gone -- and that it is only a toe.
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