If you give a mouse a cookie

You know the story? The one where if you give the mouse one thing, then it wants something else, which leads to something else, etc etc? I am just like that mouse.

I touched briefly on this subject in my last blog post (almost 3 months ago, sorry ’bout that), but these days it’s hard for me to be content with an average life.  That probably isn’t the best word choice because there’s no such thing as an average life, but I can’t think of a better synonym (I spent 7 hours in the car today, bear with me).  I need something….different.  Hence the jumping out of planes, trying acupuncture, learning a new skill, cutting all my hair off, and this Saturday, going soaring.  The plane-with-no-engine soaring.  Happy birthday to me, from me! I can’t wait.  And lucky me to have a partner who not only puts up my antics but joins in on the action as well.

I’d secretly hoped love would find me easily after what I’d chosen to do, but I definitely didn’t expect to find it 2 weeks after my first round under the knife.  What a dreamboat that guy is.  I was clearing out some files from my computer and came across a video from August 2014 after my reconstructive surgery.  Cody came over and we went on a walk, but I was still drugged and in pain so he pushed my wheelchair.  I think I went through those first few months waiting for sh*t to hit the fan, because really, it’d be hard for a long-term boyfriend to put up with not being able to touch or even hug his girlfriend, or better yet, having to stab her in the stomach with fertility shots, much less one who’d met this chick a month an a half earlier.  That’s even too much for my family to put up with and they have to put up with me.  Goodness. We didn’t have more than a month that was surgery/procedure-free until earlier this year.  Now it’s all smooth sailing, or soaring I should say 😉  average conversation includes “Want to go to Alaska in May?” “What about Ireland in December? Or Israel instead?” “Should we do the Edge Walk in Toronto for your birthday and soaring for mine?”

Just this minute, right now as I was writing this post and sending Cody that video I talked about, I mentioned that he put up with a lot those first few months. He disagreed and I called him a liar. “You didn’t let it affect you much so I didn’t let it affect me much”.  And that about sums up who he is. That and the fact that he was voted “Most Likely To Make Your Day” in high school.  No matter what happens in the future I’ll always be grateful to him for the support and sense of normalcy he brought to my life during those rough months.

Anyway, time to pull myself away from the heart-eye emoji talk and review some things.  Skydiving is awesome, acupuncture is odd and wonderful, I’m never having long hair again, grandma thinks I’m crazy, and my boobs were what was keeping me back.  So many people thought I’d regret having a mastectomy so young, I regret those years spent worrying myself into a depression that kept me from doing all these wonderful things.

If only I’d known what life could be like, if only I could go back in time and shake the teenage Kelly that couldn’t get through a day without a panic attack and convince her that she’d never go through what her mother had to. But I can’t. And you know what they say…if ifs and buts were candy and nuts we’d all have a Merry Christmas.

Bottom line? If you give a Kelly a mastectomy, she’ll probably live a life more incredible than she ever dreamed.

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