“Per aspera ad astra”

“through hardships to the stars”

Night after night I can’t sleep. I’m a wreck losing sleep after 3 weeks of injections. In slow motion I staggered like a drunk to the kitchen, shivering, I pull on my good old WMA hoodie, wrapped a soft afghan around me.

Make soothing hot tea.

I just stand there, numb.

My breastbone hurts so much I want to rip out that goddamn tissue expander!

Hurts to drive a vehicle or bend over. Can’t lift my newest baby granddaughter. I long for my grandkids’ laughter.

I know Sashie misses her walks — winter refuses to quit. Fucking cold and wind like crazy.

Yeah, this is my blood and guts on the floor, the nitty-gritty as they say. I have taken in all of the emotional upheaval and the Lord is patching me up, again. I shake my head with doubt.

Small household chores help as sort of home therapy. Only my own determination and everyone’s prayers to rely on for me to return to as close to normal as possible. Would I ever? What the hell am I gonna do now? Just how the fuck am I gonna get through this shit?

Small things like lying down on the sofa to watch some TV or bending over to give my dog her food bowl has been painful. I managed. In those weeks of recuperation, I got weak as a kitten from lounging about resting. E-e-e-v-e-ry task is a struggle.

next night 3:45  a.m.

woke up in tears again, my chest is throbbing pain.

It is constant. I guess it will be till after my surgery in June.

Strenuous activity doesn’t help the ache subside but I needed to work off the stress.

I don’t care if anyone knows or not. The city is killing my soul, only God knows what’s in my heart right now. There’s more complexity than I can say, words are inept here.

I’ve never written about such pain or felt such urgency toward change. I feel at a loss. Too excruciating to edit for many months last year, I unburied notes following my surgery. Too wrought with emotion;

I’m … drowning … I took a Valium to relax my chest muscles twitching… everything is fading …

2:45 a.m. what the hell day is it?      

Woke up with my pillow wet with tears, my chest in pain. Gawd dammit!!!!  I take a Valium. I scribble. Constant pain.  Awful, unrelenting. Writing it does not help.

My chest muscles twitching in hot throbs, everything is fading … I want Ed’s kiss.

I try to turn in my sleep but my muscles cramp with  any movement. An instant hot stab makes me cry in my zzz. I get up, take another Valium. Nurse said it’s okay, soon over. My implants surgery is not until July. Then fuuck. Another recoup.

I keep sending photos and texts to Adrian. Ache to see her smile after my surgery. Our silence is deafening. Never been so lonely. I need her desperately. Never be so stubborn…

Can’t bear much more without her to talk to, to coach me. My heart is in agony more than my boob…

Week 6

It’s warmer today. Walking lil’ Sasha again. Up and down the block. Do my neighbors watch? Do they notice I’m getting out a little? Making some workout videos to build my upper body strength. I lost it all. Will I be able to shoot my compound this autumn???  

It’s been awhile. My routine, my life is a soap opera — my outdoors —  breast cancer blew my world all to hell! Recuperating from its consequence, just trying to rebuild. A tattered psyche, a stitched up bod. My house a mess, old sheets on the bed, left-overs taste gross getting moldy in the frig. I lost my smile somewhere at the hospital I think. Hugs damn near nonexistent, coping with being medicated for constant pain.

… patience… enough for today. sleep is coming on fast now.

Week 7

I couldn’t sit all day — I had chores to do — at least I believed I did. I told myself I learned my lesson, not be such a workaholic. Took my pain meds to ease the constant throbbing. Oh my chest! In my uneducated, impatient opinion, my inner chest nerves are too slow to mend. Twitching like I stuck a wet finger in a light socket – doesn’t hurt – me arm or chest jumps. Feels really weird. I asked Trisha, she said those nerves will try to mend themselves. Makes a snail look hyper. 🐌  

Why do I do this? As I lay in bed I remember my younger years of romantic gypsy days, my heart wistful for love, tunes in my soul resembling the Celtic folk song, Scarborough Fair …  angelic voice in my throat since childhood, imagery of ancient lore of suffering in love… timeless–