My tummy. Well, not really. Not at all actually. Trust me, mine does not look nearly as cute or as lovable as this one...at least not right now. I am healing well from the delay surgery and soon there will be no more of a delay. The procedure is in 4 days, and yes, I am counting down. Last Thursday night I said to my self, this is the last Thursday night that I will ever have this breast.

I am not nervous about my surgery - I am afraid of it. More specifically, I am afraid of the degree of pain it will cause me to be in and for the length of time I will suffer from it. I have been receiving countless pep talks, and I appreciate each and every one of them, but the fear is still within me.

I have been told that I've been through worse, and to remember that, but honestly, I can't recall ever having been through worse. I know that I experienced chemotherapy, radiation, and numerous surgeries. I imagine that I will always remember those days very vividly. But what I can't remember is when did I go through worse than what I am about to endure? When did I ever have a part of my body cut off and removed?

Actually, the mastectomy itself, the removal of my breast tissue, will not be the painful part. What will be the painful part is the reconstruction - the removal of the majority of my abdomen and the cutting of at least 2 stomach muscles to tunnel it to the transplant location where it will be skillfully created into my new breast.

Yes, I am a tough cookie. Yes, I am a warrior. Yes, I am strong. I am a quick healer and a good patient. And yes, I am all those other positive things that I am being reminded of. But yes, I am still frightened.