It's Funny When It Hits You

The irony of my title is that this is not, even in the slightest way,  a funny post.

I don't like to whine. I really don't. I've prided myself on (at least as far as I'm concerned) handling this whole 'journey' with grace, dignity, strength and even good humour.  I've had my moments of self pity and woe but for the most part, I've chalked this up to something I've had to go through in my life and that's that.

But going back to work this week has shown me something. It's shown my just how different my life is now. And I'm not sure I'm ready to accept it.

Today my class was having their Kindergarten graduation photos done. Super cute, little 5 year olds with caps and gowns and diplomas and flowers. So I brought my class in, 5 kids at a time to have their pictures taken. When all 30 had been done the photographer told me to sit down to have mine done, that the teachers were going to be put onto the composite photo.

Two thoughts immediately ran through my head. My wig. I hate my wig. I think it looks like a wig. I'm not sure if everyone else thinks that too and just doesn't tell me to spare my feelings but I think it. I hate it and I can honestly say that as soon as my hair is long enough to brush, I will not wear it ever again.

My second thought was that I'm an impostor. I shouldn't be on the composite photo. I'll be teaching these kids for the last three months of the school year. The ECE who supplied for me should be in the photo.

That brings me to the next thought. There is a whole bunch of new staff at work. I'm getting to know them but I'm shy, so getting to know the new ones is not easy for me. I feel a bit like I'm on the outside because of that - and it's not anyone's doing - it's just that I've lost 6 months of face time with all these people and feel out of sorts.

I'm incredibly stressed at work. I feel like I feel into an episode of hoarders. It's bad. I long for the days when I could walk around my class when the kids were at centres and sit with them and talk and see their learning and engage with them. Now it's all behaviour management and crowd control. And cleaning. A whole shitload of cleaning.

I'm sore. I'm hurting. I have a cyst on my lower back (I've had it for years) but it's swelling and sore. This happened once many years ago - it was infected and had to be lanced. I fear that's happening again so I'm going to have to go the walk in and get a prescription to hold me over until I can get in to see my Dr (which could take a few weeks)

My back hurts. My feet hurts. My knees hurt.  My brain hurts.

I miss my boob. For the first time ever I actually thought about what 'could have been' had I decided to investigate further and not had the mastectomy.  Of course, the reality is that I'd spend the rest of my life worried that it would show up in that breast again - at least this way it's a bit less of a fear - but it doesn't eliminate the fact that I long to feel normal. Getting my clothes laid out for work includes laying out my wig and prosthetic and I hate that.

I hate what cancer has done to my life.  I hate that my normal, wonderful, happy life was ripped away from me.

I think it's all finally hitting me. The reality of everything that's happened in the last 6 months. I find I'm getting annoyed with people for griping about things that to me, seem so insignificant. I know they aren't - at least not to them - but to me....so many things seem so trivial now.

I suppose when I go to the Dr to see about my cyst I should mention all this. It has all the earmarks of a fine depression.

I just want my life to be normal again.