Picking Up the Pieces

B and I continue to text on the eve of my surgery. I let him know that Jess will have my phone and he can text her for updates. I have no idea if he’ll check in with her, but I extend the courtesy anyways. We chatted that night for several hours. I needed sleep, but I also truly enjoyed our conversation. I remember that I will be able to rest non-stop after my surgery and continue to text with him until I finally fall asleep around 12:30 am. Fuck.

3:30 am rolls around way in the blink of an eye. I shower with the stinky surgery soap, pack the last of my hospital stuff into my bag and have a passing-by encounter with C as we’re leaving the house. Earlier in the week we had texted to make sure that Bruiser was taken care of, I told him we were leaving at 4:15 am, and somehow he arrives at the exact moment we’re loading up. Such a mind fuck. Don’t wish me luck, don’t give me your standard speech of how much I’ve overcome. Your words mean nothing to me anymore. They’re broken promises and an insurmountable amount of betrayal that I can not shake.

Jess and I head to the hospital and I am nervous AF. This surgery is my biggest one ever, and I’m facing it without C. I have no idea what is going to happen with my breast once they open it up. I could lose the entire thing, it could end up pieces back together with skin and tissue from my abdomen. A Frankenstein boob. Awesome. My mind begins to race. How am I ever going to be able to let anyone see me naked again with my Humpty Dumpty body pieced back together like a patchwork quilt. But my implant is destroyed, it has to come out, this surgery isn’t elective, it’s required. Dr. Klein comes in, wearing his Elton John inspired pink glasses, and carrying his sharpie. He introduces himself to Jess, and then asks where C is. I give him the cliff notes, his face drops and he says, “Fuck him, you’re going to come out of this surgery a new woman, and a new sense of confidence. You’re going to be better than ever, I promise.”

Dr. Klein begins to mark all over me. Like ALL OVER ME. From my neck to my lady parts. He comments on the amount of weight I’ve lost since we first did our consult in the spring. I confirm his observation, and disclose that I have lost 25 pounds in the course of a few short months. Not ideal, nor healthy, but it is the last of my chemo weight that needed to be shed. Silver lining in all of the this. The divorce diet is quite effective. I also don’t disclose the number of nights that I went to bed without eating or that I haven’t actually cooked a meal for myself in months. Some days I eat 3 or 4 Oreos before taking my night time meds and those are the only calories I have consumed for the day. My brain knows this isn’t good for me, but I have been doing the best(ish) that I can. I am giving myself grace in this time of great loss.

The anesthesiologist comes in, he explains the nerve blockers and what the whole process looks like. In a matter of minutes the room fills with more people, I’m hunched over a table, people are now marking on my back. A nurse comes in and tells me she is going to give me something to help me relax. The needle goes into my IV and seconds later everything fades out.

I wake up from surgery and my entire body is screaming. Holy fuck what has happened to me? There are people everywhere trying to talk to me, asking me questions, touching me… I’m just coming out of anesthesia, but this is a lot. I start to cry. I’m super emotional. I’m emotional because C isn’t here to kiss me on the forehead and comfort me as I wake up like he has done for every other surgery. I’m emotional because I have no idea what my body looks like or if anyone is ever going to love me again after all that my body has endured. I fast forward through so many scenarios and have to ground myself and trust God’s process in all of this. This surgery was scheduled long before C blew up our lives. When I thought I had my life partner, and unconditional love no matter how many battle scars I had. But everything has changed.

I scan the room to see who is there. I see Jess, her sister and her parents. Her family is so amazing, I am blessed. The tears continue to flow. I’m super emotional now, and I can’t stop crying, but I need to stop crying bc crying hurts and I do not need to add anymore pain to my threshold. Jess’ family comforts me and they nurses bring me a health dose of something that calms me down. I drift off to sleep and the emotions subside. Jess is so good, she holds my hand as I doze off. She is the MVP.

I wake up a couple of hours later. I am now in my room. I feel more comforted and less emotional. Maybe it’s the drugs, maybe it’s God’s grace. I ask Jess for my phone and catch up on text messages. I look for anything from C. There is nothing, not like I am surprised, but it doesn’t make it sting any less.

As I continue to scroll, I see a message from B and it makes me smile. Someone that I have only been chatting with for a couple of weeks is checking on me. That simple gesture speaks magnitudes. His words are both comforting and endearing. I decide to shift my focus to positive things and no longer allow the hurt from C to continue to spill its way into my fragile heart. C continues to focus only on himself, his job and fishing. He’s not the same person I married. He’s not. He’s lost and reckless, and continues to manipulate my emotions. It is at this moment that I realize that I need more boundaries with him. No more conversing with C, unless it relates to the pups, the house or the divorce. I can’t continue to rehash the bomb that he dropped on our lives. Reliving those moments over and over serve no purpose and will not change the outcome of anything. He’s moved on with his whore, the 30 year old trainwreck girl that he has chosen over me and I need to accept that at it’s super shitty face value. It wont last and he knows that too. But he feels confident in his decision, and while it burns me to the depths of my heart, it is what it is.

Someday this all make sense. It will. I’m trusting God’s plan in all of this. Let Go, and Let God, right? Right now everything is still in a shit storm, but on the other side of that storm I find comfort in B. Not on a romantic level, but on a friendship level of someone that is fascinating and also terrifying. I tell myself that it is not on a romantic level, but truthfully I am not sure I am being completely honest with myself. I look at the big picture of what I want in future lover/best friend. Great easy flowing conversation. Physical attraction. Similar interests. Someone I can laugh with. Someone who is on the same level of intelligence. Someone whose entire life doesn’t revolve around fishing. Someone who sees the value of a great therapist. Someone who looks at me for me. Someone that I can (re)build a life with. And someone who isn’t afraid to look inside my broken soul and still reach for my hand. I look at this list and I think of B. He checks so many of these boxes, but I am getting way too ahead of myself with these thoughts. I barely know him. Maybe it’s the absurd amount of drugs continuously being pumped into my body, or maybe this is something part of a bigger purpose for my life.

B continues to text me throughout the remainder of the afternoon and evening. I find myself smiling despite being in so much pain. I ask myself again. Who is this guy? Is he real? Is this all just an act. Some sort of smooth talker love bomber Casanova. Am I looking into this too much? I need to ground myself. I am not prepared for this, in fact I am grossly unprepared for this. I’m still healing in so many ways, both emotionally and also physically. I still chat with my therapist twice a week. I need to proceed with caution. Keep my heart on lockdown and protected. I am not ready to open myself up for that level of vulnerability. I am just not. But the conversation flows so easily. I feel like I’ve know B for years. We’re so much alike. It’s both scary and enlightening. What the eff am I doing?

I repeat in my head what my therapist tells me at the end of each one of our calls. Day by day Melissa. You’re on your healing journey. Take everything at face value, feel all the feels and allow yourself both grace and comfort in knowing that you heart can now process things that it hasn’t been able to feel in YEARS. Feelings of happiness, feelings of hope and feelings of clarity.