A little uncomfortable

Quite a bit has happened since my last post, but I've been in one of those ruts where I really just haven't felt like writing. I started a post a few days ago, but it was really bad so I'll spare you all from it. In a nutshell, I've been back to work fulltime, back at Farrell's, and I graduated from physical therapy. I have no doctors appointments until mid-April, which feels weird. Dare I say that life is getting back to normal (whatever that is!)?

One of the things that I have been pretty clear about during the whole cancer journey was that I wanted to be sure that my cancer had meaning. You know, beyond myself. I often asked how I could use it for God's glory, and my blog seemed to be the way to do that. Yes, I had plenty of posts that just talked about chemo, or boobs, or shopping but then BAM, I'd throw some God at you all (insert evil laugh)! Seemed good to me. But then one of the pastors at my church asked if they could do a story about me for the monthly bulletin/newsletter. I was fine with that. It still felt safe for this huge introvert. But then I was asked to do a video about my experience. To be shown on Easter Sunday. You know, the day when everybody who never goes to church decides to show up? Oh goodness, that request felt really uncomfortable. But I said I would do it. The taping was good, but I'm still feeling some apprehension about seeing the video on Sunday. I hate how I look. I barely look at myself in the mirror, and yet I'm going to be projected on huge screens for all of the church to see. But, here's the deal; being a Christian isn't always comfortable. It isn't supposed to be. So on Sunday when I want to dive under the pew, my story could be changing somebody's life. And that's kind of crazy to think about.

When I met with my care coordinator a few weeks ago she talked with me about triggers and being aware of them as I move into my role as a survivor. Over the last several weeks I have realized that certain smells are triggers for me. And I keep being surprised by them. About a week before my most recent surgery I pulled out my spray-on deoderant, knowing I would need it for all of my post-surgery swelling. But I couldn't handle the smell. It took me back to those days right after my mastectomy. And then there is this chapstick I used a lot during my first round of chemo. I can't stand the smell now; I threw it away. And then tonight I pulled a t-shirt out of my dresser that I haven't worn in ages. The smell of the shirt took me straight back to last summer, before the diagnosis. I don't even remember what detergent I was using then, but the smell takes me back to when I was just starting Farrell's. It makes me sad. And I keep smelling the shirt like a crazy person.