So Elliott and I have a rule that whenever something bad happens to me, like recently our miscarriage and my Grandma Mabel passing, that I’m allowed 24 hours to feel however I want to with no positive outcomes or pep talks. I can wallow in the mud of my own misery and be really down. Whatever I feel I say and Elliott helps me to process it. He lets me grieve how I do, which is usually me pretty negative and depressing. Then, once my 24 hours are up he can say all the rah rah cheerleading stuff he wants to and he even forces me to say positive things that I don’t necessarily believe.
It’s pretty much why he’s my most favourite husband wink emoticon
So needless to say I’ve felt pretty down today. I think the surgeon should have waited to tell me about the chemo until after my surgery. I felt ready and able but now I just feel like someone’s punched me in the face. So out of control, so deeply sad.
I was remembering that last night when my right breast was getting smashed to pieces again in the mammogram machine, I still had breast milk hanging out and it decided to leak all over their panels. The nurse had to keep wiping their machine down.