time

Time is a complicated concept. It’s a give and take of wishing it away and needing more.

There are certainly stressful and conflict-stricken circumstances where I internally pray for time to fast forward and bring me to the resolution. But there are also days when I feel like I need 5 more hours added to the clock to successfully complete a project or when I’m begging for the additional five minutes of sleep in the morning.

I’m coming to the end of my recovery week post-exchange surgery and I’m struggling because I find myself caught in a mix of emotions towards time. I certainly want to hit a magic button where I’m far enough ahead to feel back to myself but I’m also not sure how I feel about this chapter coming to an end.

I’ve been looking forward to my implant exchange since my double mastectomy. My temporary expanders were torture. They were heavy, thick and stiff. I offered for friends to feel them because I knew that my description didn’t properly explain how ridiculously hard (literally) and uncomfortable they were. It was something you had to feel to believe. 

Over time, I definitely adjusted and sadly they started to feel normal. It’s fascinating how the body adapts. I went from waking up with the sensation of bricks on my chest to learning how to somewhat sleep on my side. I went from being hesitant to look at my scars to examining every stitch as they dissolved. And I went from not being able to lift my arm above my head to working out 4 times a week, and even doing a (not recommended by my surgeon) plank. 

Luckily (or maybe not) chemo made me forget about my expanders. I remember going to my first support group at MSK post-mastectomy and pre-treatment and thought everyone would be venting about their surgery, pain and discomfort. Instead each woman was speaking to hair loss, fatigue and brain fog. It was a wakeup call that my current state was not my biggest challenge. 

So, since the end of chemo and as I’ve been trying to get back into a “normal” groove, my implant exchange was something to look forward to. I heard from so many women that the implants feel incredibly better and different from the expanders. And, to be completely honest, I was looking forward to the time off work to recover. Time to focus on myself and really digest everything that’s happened. 

The day before surgery, I looked back at photos I took of myself pre-mastectomy and felt hopeful I was one step away from being that confident feminine girl yet again. 

When I woke up from surgery, I was honestly surprised at the level of pain I felt. I so desperately wanted the expanders out of my body that I blocked out the idea of pain prior to surgery. It was by no means the debilitating discomfort that I felt about the double mastectomy, but it was a bit of a shock to the system. It humbled me in a way that it required me to rest and not fight through it as I did through chemo for four months. I gave in, took the meds and slept a much as possible, without guilt. 

Once the drains came out, the pain subsided quite quickly and about 24 hours later, I was cleared to shower. It was one-week post-surgery and after months of procedures and treatments, I saw the final product of my body in the mirror. I saw the stitches, the scabbing, the wounds, the new breast shape, the slightly faded nipples, the swelling and the bruising. I’d seen it before, after the first surgery so it was by no way unexpected but it’s still a jarring experience. 

I stood in the showered and I cried. I cried because my new breasts aren’t going to magically make me feel whole again. I cried because they aren’t the teardrop shape that would remind me of my old body (which I knew they wouldn’t be). And I cried because I’m never going to get the natural feeling back. I cried for the torture I’ve put my body through for the past seven months. And I cried that it’s over. 

And that’s where time plays tricks on you. I remember scheduling my implant exchange back in May and wondering how I will ever get there. I remember wishing I could fast forward time and just tap over the months on the calendar as if they were stepping stones. And while I’m so happy it’s over, I’m even more grateful for each day that I experienced because this time made me appreciate where I am now even more. 

So, this past Thursday as I went through the emotional rollercoaster of digesting the last half year, I realized that I was also hitting another milestone. It was November 7th, nine months since my father passed away. 

How do I explain this? I have been wishing time away but by doing that I’m leading myself further away from my dad. My own self-preservation has caused me to miss out on months of proper grief and mourning. At exactly nine months since I lost him, I can now start to slow down and appreciate time rather than pressing through. 

We can’t stop time and we also can’t turn it back. All we can do is cherish each moment, whether good or bad. I would never wish the last year of my life on anyone, but I also know that it has helped shape me into the person I am today, and each day in between made me even stronger.