I can’t look yet. It’s been 3 weeks and 2 days. I still have not seen it. Caroline has taken photographs, texted them to me, logged into my Brigham portal, uploaded them, and carefully deleted any trace of them from my phone and iPad. For now, I can’t bring myself to see it.
For the first time in 3 weeks, I took a shower yesterday. After carefully removing my clothes and avoiding the mirror, trembling and in tears, I stepped under the warm, cascading water. Nothing hurt. Water flowed over my shoulders, down my flat right chest and it didn’t hurt. Even my raw, right thigh didn’t sting!
There’s something therapeutic about water. Those H2O molecules interacting with skin somehow resets my sense of well being. A hot shower alleviates a morning headache. When it seems like life is too hard, a shower washes away the pessimism.
But yesterday, the lovely warm water did not give me courage to look down at the place where my right breast used to be. For the majority of the 10-minutes, my eyes were closed. It’s inevitable. The time will come when I will have to see it. I will have to make peace, embrace a new normal.
Caroline sees it every single day as she changes the dressing. “It’s looking really good, Mom.”
“Do you mind if Rob takes a look at it, Mom?” My son-in-law saw it and agreed with Caroline that it looks like it’s healing really well.
Dr. Argarwal and his nurse saw it three days ago. “It’s lookin really, really good!” they both said.
The visiting nurse saw it yesterday. “But, we were just at the doctor and he said it looks good,” I said. “I’m so sorry, but I do have to see it and document everything.” I reluctantly complied, reclined on the couch, unbuttoned my new Old Navy flannel shirt, and allowed her to see it. “Wow, that is healing up very nicely!” she said. I signed the discharge papers before she left.
I do wonder when the time will be right as I sit here in my cozy living room on this blustery February morning. Will it be weeks or months? Will I wait until it is completely healed and smooth, pink skin is what I’ll see? And how long until then? I just know I can’t look, not yet.
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