There’s meals galore made and in the freezer.
My shoes have been sorted and lined up at the bottom of my wardrobe!
Birthday presents for our youngest have been purchased ready for his seventh birthday on January 31.
School shoes have been bought and all the school uniforms ironed ready for the start of Term 1 on February 1.
This is not about me being a super-organised, super-mum.
This is about control.
From 4.30pm this Wednesday I will be somewhat out of control. Well the control of my life will be in the hands of others at least – doctors, anaethetists and nurses.
So the past few weeks have been dedicated to organisation, planning and controlling as much of my life as I can before I go under the knife for the next step of my ‘journey’ – a second mastectomy and bilateral reconstruction.
I’ve tried not to think about this procedure – there’s not going to be a lot to like about it (at least not for the next eight months or so). But in essence it’s an operation. It’s something that, in consultation with my surgeons and oncologist, we have decided is the most pro-active and sensible way to significantly reduce my risk of another Breast cancer or ovarian cancer diagnosis (removal of my ovaries in a few months time should take care of that)!
And I’ll do whatever I have to to reduce that risk. I’m 42 – I’ve got a long life to live and I want to live it with new boobs so I can feel as ‘normal’ as possible. (I dislike the word normal as much as I dislike the word journey! After all, what is normal? For me, I’ve chosen to undergo reconstruction. My son finds it all pretty fascinating. Especially after he just assumed this is how I would look (lopsided) for the rest of my life. He asked me if my boob would grow back? I said it wouldn’t but a clever man named Tony was going to make me a whole new one and fix the other one!
In the past two weeks I’ve had a friend undergo a mastectomy and another friend had to say the saddest farewell of all when she lost her 23-month-old in a tragic accident.
Life is all about perspective and while what I will go through this week and following months is plain crappy and cruel, it’s what I have to do to save my life and ensure I see my kids grow up. And that’s what it’s all about. I might (well I bloody hope so anyway) end up with a nice pair of boobs, every decision I have made has been about survival – nothing more, nothing less!
Who knows, I might get lucky and score a hospital room with a river view from where I can watch the Australia Day fireworks along the Swan River! Or maybe I can make friends with someone in one of those rooms – if only I could take a bottle of champagne with me!