I took them for granted.  Just slide on a pair of pants.  When you have surgery on your middle and lower body, there’s some tender areas.  Waist bands become enemies.  By the way, you can’t even put them on – no bending, no pulling – let the insides heal.  So since the surgery, the wonderful picture of my walking around in a long shirt has been a necessity.  I feel vulnerable, I guess, adding to my constant state of fear of what is happening to my body.

I love pants – hate skirts – chalk that up to Catholic school – uniform was a skirt, blouse and blazer.  And all those Mother Immaculata stories about boys with mirrors on their shoes didn’t help either. (I was too young to know what they were looking at, but she drove that fear into us.)

It’s just been a few days since that pain decided to retreat slowly.  I slid on my first pair of elastic band pants – pure heaven.  Got my power back – okay, a small part considering the magnitude of this cancer.  But, pants.  real pants.  Next step?  Jeans!

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