As my reconstructive surgery date approaches I've noticed my anxiety level going up, which is strange because all through my diagnosis, chemo, mastectomy, and radiation I was fine. Or so I thought, maybe I was just really good at fooling myself.
As my worries increased, I couldn't help but be jealous of my dog . . . with no care in the world all he probably thinks about is his next long walk, or a steak bone, or ride in the car with his snoot out the window taking in all the smells around him. Must be nice to have a comfy place to rest (notice that he's spoiled with a pillow as well) and plenty of love and attention. He's blissfully ignorant.
I wish I could go back to being blissfully ignorant! In my next life I think I want to come back as a pampered dog. I think I've earned that right! :)
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