In fourteen hours this part ends.
I've been thinking on it for nine months, how tomorrow will go down. I want to close my eyes and wake up with whatever this is that's been heavy on me all these months to be gone. I am hoping something like that will transpire. I am hoping for release.
I am not afraid of pain. Pain is real and temporary. I will miss my boobs, yes. I'd be lying if I said otherwise. And to act like I'm not terrified about the next part would be dishonest. Figuring out what the hell I'm going to not do for the weeks I'm going to be laid up is also rather daunting. I am really bad at sitting down.
I've run through it all, freaked out, cried, thrown things at the wall. Regrets for what could or might have been are hollow and useless. There is no time for that. Loss, yes. And anger, a little bit. If I could just take the fucker outside and beat it bloody myself I would......but I'll leave that part up to the folks with the medical degrees.
I am no longer who and what I thought I was. What was important occupies so little of my time now I wonder why I wasted so many years on it. There are better things. Getting to them isn't easy.
So tomorrow, April 30th, at 10:30 am.
I'll be the one with the bells on.