Cancer-free for fourteen months and my body still feels like a rental car

Cancer-free for fourteen months and my body still feels like a rental car. Like I'm driving something that isn't mine. Reconstruction on the left side, scars I've mapped in the bathroom mirror like a tourist, and a husband who keeps saying he wants me 'back to how we were.' That sentence is well-intentioned and it kills me every time. We're not going back. I'm not her. Before diagnosis we used to do parties at a private place out near Berkeley, maybe four or five times a year. Loved it. The first time I undressed in front of him after surgery I cried and we didn't try again for nine months. Last month we did, slowly, just us, and it was tender and sad and okay. Here's the thing nobody warned me about — my fantasy life came back stronger than ever, but it's aimed at strangers. Specifically, strangers who don't know I had cancer. Who don't flinch. Who don't look at me like a brave little soldier. Anyone come back to the scene after onco and find the stranger thing helped, or did it pull you further from your partner?