Today I Woke Up

One year ago today, I walked down a white hall.

A sterile place.

In weird socks with treads on the bottom and no underwear underneath my gown

I laid down on a cool bed while I willingly let people strap me down.

The anesthesiologist made small talk about his kids going to NYU.

This might have been the last I remember.

Then I went to sleep.

One year ago today, I woke up with my breasts attached to my body.

The second time I woke up that day, I did not.

When I woke up, the room was hot

Too hot

Like "the air conditioner was broken in the dead of summer" hot.

No one could tell me where my phone was

Where my room was

And I couldn't breathe

It was too hot

I cried. Looked around for someone familiar

But it was all blurry

And I was sweating

And no one would get me my goddamn phone.

I was in the hot recovery room for what seemed like hours.

It may only have been 1

It could have been 24.

They were out of rooms. All that was left was a private room

Which was so expensive.

But they waived the charge

Ah my first bit of luck.

Ah my husband was there.

But still, my phone was NOWHERE!

I wanted my phone.

So I could text my parents

Or send in payroll

Or look at Facebook

Or do anything to take my mind of the fact that I willingly had an amputation.

My breasts had been removed

The interior scraped out until no flesh remained but the outside skin

The nipples discarded like they weren't the life source that they were for my kids

Like the ends of a cucumber that you toss in the trash.

Implants immediately put in.

Sewn up with two askew lines facing each other like angry eyebrows.

I was bound tightly.

There was a catheter in my body.

I couldn't breathe

It was cooler.

It smelled. Like a hospital

And my body oozing out the stuff that's supposed to stay on the inside.

The doctors were hot.

That helped.

I did not look hot.

That did not help.

It hurt. My chest was tight.

I couldn't breathe

I didn't think I'd ever breathe again.

I watched tv.

I made my husband stay with me.

Then my body refused to come back to normal.

What was supposed to be a one night stay turned into two

three

four

I couldn't pee on my own,

WTF body

Get it together

The catheter stayed.

I wouldn't go until I peed

I cried sitting in the bathroom.

I had to call a nurse every time I had to go.

Which felt like every 20 minutes

But nothing came out.

I cried.

My husband had to go home

To be with our kids.

I was alone.

Then the anxiety attack.

One morning, doing a crossword one second

Breathless the next

A hospital masseuse came by and rubbed my back

Xanax taken

I thought I was dying.

I've had panic attacks before.

But this one was scarier

And I was alone.

My friend came and sat by my side.

Finally, I peed.

Finally, I went home.

I couldn't pick up my kids

I couldn't wash my hair on my own

There were two drains out the sides of my body with red filling it by the moment

I was numb. And angry.

Missing vital work events

Feeling exhausted

Wanting to workout and knowing I couldn't

But I had done it

The thing that I had opted for and had nightmares about for days.

And I kept waking up.

And one day it was a year later.

Not so suddenly, I'm stronger than I was before.

Physically, I can do push ups.

I can stretch out completely

I can lie on my stomach

I can rough house with my kids

I can hold my kids

Mentally, I can do somersaults

I can scale mountains, see the view and take it for what it's worth

Then leave it and move on.

I drink a lot more than I ever did.

I hope that doesn't give me more cancer.

Today I woke up and it was one year after my double mastectomy.

And I was ok.