Sunday, May 20, 2012

West Virginia, Mountain Mamma (don't want to go home)


I just returned home from a long weekend at Seneca Rocks WV. If you have never been there, I suggest you go. Even if you are not a rock climber. The area is beautiful. Stunning. Breath-taking. Awe-inspiring. Twice before I had taken a day trip to WV, once to climb that 72 foot pillar in the Potomac River and once to have my first (and last) experience at spelunking. But on those two trips, I can assure you, the scenery wasn’t as nice.

Michelle, Alan and I went down there with 10 other people, of those 10, I know 7 well. And on my other two trips down to WV I was with some, if not all, of these people. The other two trips I made down there were high adventure trips for me. This time, for me at least, it was a low adventure trip. So on those other two trips I had to trust not only my ability to do what I went down there to do, I also had to trust the people I was with. I had to trust that they would keep me safe, that they would check my ropes and my knots, that they would prevent me from stepping over the ledge if I wasn’t properly secured. Both those times I had thought there can’t be a scarier ledge to be on.

I have trusted these people with my life and my safety on many occasions. I have trusted them with the lives and the safety of Alan and Michelle too, many times.

But since this nasty diagnosis I had only seen one of them. I had talked to the others, or received emails from them, but I hadn’t seen them. And even tho we were all in the same town at that same time I didn’t really see much of them as we were all busy doing our own things. Until Saturday night. Because that is the night I planned a BBQ. I planned it. It was my idea, everyone thought it was a good idea, so it happened.

But about 30 min. before everyone arrived at our cottage, I found myself back on a ledge, but unlike the other ledges I find myself on with this group, I was not attached to a rope. So I spent a few minutes alone with Alan, I told him I didn’t know how to behave that evening. That I wanted to go home, that I just couldn’t be around so many people. Even tho I love these people, and they love me, at that moment I just wanted to go. Because I always feel like there is a huge assed elephant standing between me and whoever I am talking too. I hate that feeling, but I can’t avoid it. And I don’t have much else to talk about these days…..goes right back to that “how are you” question. Seriously, that question stumps me.

And after talking with Alan I called Melanie. I have written about her before. She is the local friend of a friend that is going to the MD appt with me this week. She knew exactly how I felt. In her words “it felt like everyone was looking at my boobs.” Yep, that’s it exactly. Everyone is looking at my boobs. Even if they are not, in my mind they are.

And most likely, the next time I see these people, I won’t have boobs. Or I will have fake ones. Either way, I think I will still feel like everyone is looking at them. Or the place where they use to be. Or whatever. However you want to say it.

Because two weeks from now, I won’t have boobs. No boobs. Just some saggy skin, 2 drains and an IV port below my collarbone. For chemo. Oh. My. God. Is this really happening to me? Really?? REALLY???

But, on a good note, the BBQ went well. My friends are awesome people. They love me, I love them and we all had a real good time. So much food to eat, beer to drink, funny stories being told. It was normal for a while there. I felt normal. Normal. It was such a nice feeling. And I wish I was still there with them, sitting around a fire pit, being normal.

 I did do my best to avoid a lot of hugging tho. Because nice long hugs, like doctor offices, make me cry. And these folks are good huggers.  I am glad I got to see them, I am glad I got to be “normal” with them. Especially since they are wingnuts…some of the most un-normal people I know. I love you guys and ladies!! Thank you for my last hoo-rah before treatment. I can’t wait for next years trip. I send you all the hug I was unable to give you.

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