Still Walking

At times it's easy for me to feel like I'm done with cancer.  After all, I'm cancer free.  But then I quickly realize that I am still walking this cancer path. 

I've been feeling unusually down again lately.  I was attending a car seat training for the last three days, and I found myself crying Friday night before bed.  During the class I went to the bathroom, and a woman was in there pumping.  She apologized, and I told her, "Don't worry, I've definitely been there."  We got to talking about breast feeding in general: How we couldn't wait to give our babies regular milk when they turned one, how it's not a crime to feed them formula, how hard it is to keep a supply up at a certain point, especially when you're working, etc. 

I told Eric about our conversation that night, and then I started weeping.  I'll never be able to do that again.  I don't know if we will have another child.  Only God knows that plan.  But if we do, as much as I complained and as much pain that I went through in breastfeeding, I will miss it.  I will miss holding that baby and watching her as she rests her hand on my breast and slowly drifts into dreamland.  Knowing that I was the one who soothed her when she was restless. Just us two, in peace.  I'll never have that back. 

The next day, also at class, I had a conversation with one of the instructors.  She asked if I minded her asking me questions.  I of course said no.  As we were talking, I told her that I noticed one of the other students was wearing a t-shirt that was for a breast cancer 5k walk.  I also had the epiphany that the label of "cancer survivor" now applies to me.  What??  What an odd, strange feeling.  To be quite honest, the fact that I just had a bilateral mastectomy and didn't have to endure radiation or chemotherapy makes me feel as if I didn't have cancer enough, and that I shouldn't have the label applied to me.  I just want to say, "I had cancer one time."  As if I had the chicken pox.  To me, a cancer survivor is someone who is strong, both mentally and physically, and has endured much more than I have.  It makes me feel uncomfortable. 

The next day, as I was driving to class, wouldn't you know it.  I drove past a 5k breast cancer walk.  I saw all these women walking to the race from their cars, wearing their t-shirts, and again, I started to cry.  I don't know why I did exactly, but I did.  I feel that even though I am cancer free, the walk is not over.  I feel incredibly ugly still, and I feel inhuman.  I hate these foreign objects in my body.  I can't sleep on my stomach, I hate sleeping in a bra, I hate that I have to block Julia from my chest whenever she climbs on me, and I miss stretching my arms over my head as I wake up in the morning.  I'm just so over it.  But, what choice do I have?  I just have to keep walking.  Shut up and put up, Malita.