The rollercoaster screeched to a halt on Friday but chugged into action again the next day with normal household routines and contacting family and some friends to tell the news. The rollercoaster became more emotional as I was encouraged and cosseted by the love of my family on one hand, then having to comfort and console others who were 'devastated by our news'. I own up that I feel quite gratified that some people will miss me if I die. I told DH that if I die I don't want any of that "celebrating her life stuff" - I want people weeping and wailing and throwing their black aprons over their heads. I took to staring into space and planning my funeral and a memorial service in SA... this is a peculiar kind of self indulgence and I'm quite ashamed of myself, but in a weird way it helped.
It was lovely to speak with family on the phone: Mom and Dad were strong and faithful and as dependable to soothe my troubles as ever. I have very funny sisters who make my stomach jiggle when I laugh. Everyone's biggest desire is to be together, so the family started to think of ways this could be done. W asked if she and S came over would we have enough beds? I said you will have to share the older PS's Double bed and he will share his brother's room. W emailed back "I'm a bit worried about sharing with S. What if she farts? Worse, what if I do?" I'm still laughing.
I cleaned and cleaned like a woman expecting a baby, and then sat and stared into space with watering eyes and a lump in my throat. I looked at the view a lot. I was looking at the river when a tall ship came in for the wooden boat festival. I started to take photos and was waiting for it to appear just past our neighbour's house when the postie arrived with a parcel - it was the Breast CancerAssocaition's My Journey pack of useful information and graphic photos. I burst into tears, and missed the perfect shot of the tall ship (I think they cheat and have a motor, it was gone so fast). Now I really was in the club. Then a friend phoned. She is one who is freaked out by this disease and me having it - I'm really thankful Lord for people who honestly freak out as much as for those who are calm and encouraging. They help me pull myself together.
By Wednesday, the young PS's bravado revealed itself for fraud, and at bed time he was a sobbing wreck, clinging to my arm and saying "you're not coming back, I'll never see you again, you're not coming back" He sobbed himself to sleep with me praying silently, in my bed. The older PS quietly and sensitively took him and put him in his bed. This happened the next night and the next. "you won't be with me " he wailed (he really is very dramatic) I said, " but Daddy is and when two people are married, God makes them like one person, so with Daddy here it will be like havng me. And you've got your bother" He was better after that. When the pack came, he sneaked a look at it, and saw the picture of a big breasted woman who had a left mastectomy scar. Look, he said. Look!" He pushed the picture at me. "you're going to look ugly Mom." I know son.
Thursday was appointment day. Bills and letters from the BSS had been coming steadily (and I'll deal with them next week) but 8am was the call from the hospital to tell me the procedure. My older PS was woken by the call, and came to sit with me for a few minutes and hold my hand while I was talking. I remembered him telling me when he was about 5 - "don't fret Mommy" and those words have always helped me, and not just in this situation.
Later was the visit to the anesthetist - wow I'm a funny one. Allergic to codeine (Myprodol will kill me) and Voltaren makes me faint. I'm asthmatic. "I think I can cope with this" He said. Some of your history is a bit odd, but it will be fine". "it's my birthday that day - you have to wake me up!" "I promise you, I will."
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