The Trouble With Cancer

Before my scheduled double mastectomy, the house got a good cleaning. I spent one entire day making my bedroom a place of comfort and serenity. I brought in a chair for visitors, along with pink bracelets to share and cards to hang in the shower with instructions on self breast exams. It will be three weeks tomorrow and I didn't have one bedroom visit. Not one.

I mostly spend my days in the recliner now that I'm able to move around the house better. I've had a couple visits from our church and besides my BFF, only family. I'm sometimes dealing with the mundane days of not being able to do anything because I'm supposed to "take it easy" or my drains will have to stay in longer. Crap. It's been 3 weeks and they are still pulling 35. (They have to get below 20cc in a 24 hour period.) I read. Think. I play on Pinterest, think, watch TV, nap, think and read some more. I'm bored. Bored l tell you!

The trouble with cancer is that as soon as you are diagnosed, everyone kinda disappears or fades away. Some might talk about your chances of survival in the third person, if they talk to you at all. Then comes the whirlwind of surgery and treatments and everyone suddenly stops talking.

Oh, I've received lots of cards in the mail. . . . . . And I'll make no bones about it, but I find myself getting irrationally angry at my peeps (and strangers as well) for going about their business of daily life. They are carrying on as if everything is normal! EVERYTHING has changed for me and they all act as if nothing happened! I get it. I do. Because I was on the other side once. What do you say or do when someone you know has cancer?

My precious husband has been my rock. . . . His gentle ways of making me feel like it's going to be ok. He holds me when I need held. He kisses my scars and tells me I'm beautiful. I hurt for any woman going through this alone.

Let's not forget this still unfathomable disease started with a tiny lump in my boob. Several tumours discovered in both boobs, in fact. My lovely boobs that were the perfect size. They were sometimes in my way and a nuisance but they helped conceal my belly bulge! I at least had curves! NOW I have the absolute weirdest figure of all time.

Admittedly, I'm usually pretty flippant about this whole cancer ordeal. I smile my way through it most of the time. Perhaps my moods are knocking on gloom's door today as I approach my first Oncology appointment. Or maybe it's because I desperately want to yank these dadgum nasty drain tubes out!!!!

I'm physically uncomfortable, sometimes in pain, and continually trying to wrap my head around my body image. I stare in the mirror at what crappy cancer has done to me and I'm shocked each time. The simple act of taking a shower is so arduous. I can't raise my arms or move them very much. There's huge swelling under my arms and my FLAT chest is still colorfully bruised. It's preposterous to assume I'll be able to "get on with my life" with crappy cancer as a stowaway. Welcome aboard crappy cancer! (She says with dripping sarcasm) I'm tired. So tired.

I miss my life as I sit here alone. I want to get dressed (without the drains) and drive to town. The holidays are upon us and I want to participate. . . . . I want to be ALL IN and not an observer. I'm actually working myself up to being ticked off! Crappy cancer makes me mad! And so you, the reader, whoever you are, is who I unload on.

I hope you'll forgive the honest reflection today. I promised myself that I would always be honest in writing this blog. My personal self (as opposed to my blog self) is fearcely private. I'm fine with spending time by myself and usually enjoy it. Sometimes my alone time is for other's protection and my sanity. I've even run away from home a few times to regroup. So why am I ranting?  I can't explain it. Cancer gives me dry skin, dry mouth, constipation and moodiness. I'll survive. Tomorrow's a new day. The End.

The Fun Continues

              Musings. Random thoughts.

I'm living in a world where crappy cancer has invaded.  . . . . .it's everywhere! It has taken a front seat in my life permeating my every thought. I'm meeting so many people who are all a part of this "sister-hood" club involving breast cancer. The women I've met through this crappy cancer have been amazing, as well as a resource of information and support.

I've never noticed other women who have had mastectomies and now I do. We are all part of a club we didn't ask to join.

I don't even bother with a gown in the doctor's office any more. Any assemblage of shyness or privacy fades with crappy cancer. I was poked and prodded, squished and smashed, multiple needle sticks, Xrays and Sonograms. My boobs were exposed and felt by multiple medical personnel. Besides, what would I be hiding? Just a bare chest here people! Nothing to see!

Crappy cancer is a taker. It takes away from your shyness and modesty, self esteem, and courage. It continues to take our finances, lifestyle, energy, emotions, health, security and time. Cancer takes a lot. Crappy cancer takes. a. lot.

I live with the constant reminder of cancer. It will forever be a part of my life. I was naive enough to consider that I wouldn't ever have to worry about breast cancer again.  . . . . .NOT! Will it come back? Probably. I need to be diligent and live a healthy lifestyle, and continue to cooperate with my team of doctors. Stupid crappy cancer.

I'm at the 15 day post-op and still experiencing pain and huge discomfort. Is the surgery worse because of the fibromyalgia, or is the fibromyalgia worse because of the surgery? I'm still mad at those that told me there was very little pain! I'm mad at crappy cancer for invading my life. And I'm mad that they whacked off my boobs! I'm mad that amputating my boobs leaves no guarantee that I won't get cancer again!

The bruising is spreading up my chest and my skin is extremely sensitive to touch. The muscles in my back are giving me grief and I'm convinced I fell off the operating table and hit my back. My underarms are the worst. But my incision is looking very good. If I could just get past the pain. . . . . Perhaps once the dadgum drain tubes are out I'll see improvement.

WARNING ⚠  WARNING  ⚠  WARNING
    PICTURE OF CHEST AND INCISION

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                  15 days post-op incision

Hubster took me to get my flu shot. I sure don't want the flu on top of my recovery. Afterwards, we stopped at one of the "dollar" stores on every corner and bought some Halloween candy. It felt good to get out of the house for a short time but wore me out.

I hate crappy cancer. I hate that it's all I think about right now. I hate that I can't sleep confortably. I hate that I'm on limited activity and my sweet husband is having to take care of everything.

But I love that I have him to help me. I love that he's so supportive. I love that we caught crappy cancer before it was too late. I love that my family surround me with love. I love that I have excellent doctors. I love that the great physician, my Savior, walks with me on this journey. I love that HE'S in control. My faith has never wavered from Him because of this crappy cancer.

Just Keeping it Real

My days are filled with pain. I have not so good days and really bad days. I have to remind myself that it's only been two weeks. There are just days that hurt more than others. I know healing is taking place. Some days I'm brave and forge ahead and others. . . . . . well, crappy cancer kicks my butt on those days.

I want to get dressed but these drains are in the way and cumbersome. I want to sleep on my side but these drains are in the way and wake me up every time I move. Showers are difficult with these drains in the way. Are you seeing a pattern here?

I'm forbidden from driving yet or doing anything physical. Rest is prescribed. Right. Whatever! Stupid dumb crappy cancer has not only invaded my body but also every aspect of my life. My life is irrevocably changed for ever, because it will always be niggling at the back part of my brain. . . . . . . like the little devil that sits on my shoulder taunting me. Crappy cancer has forced me to face my mortality. It makes life more uncertain than ever before. This disease lays bare my vulnerability. I'm not in charge and I hate feeling vulnerable.

I've been so stoic and upbeat for the most part, I think. I know a positive attitude is important for my health. If you are newly diagnosed with breast cancer, listen up! Be real. Be honest.

Yes, it's important to have a positive attitude but don't force what you don't feel. People will make you feel like you have to put on a smiling face. It's not about them. Don't feel pressured to be strong for everybody else.

I get all kinds of sage advice from people who have never walked in these cancer shoes. "Be patient" they say. "It'll get better." "Don't rush it" is another popular answer. "This will all be a distant memory." I know they mean well and love me. At least they are saying something to be encouraging!!!! I have friends who don't know what to say so they say nothing and are noticeably absent.

Cancer isn't contagious but it seems people are so scared of this dreaded disease that they stay away. People are busy living their lives and don't want to be reminded that cancer exists. I get it! I was that person prior to September 9th. Crappy cancer happens to other people.

I'm different. I'm no longer the same person prior to my diagnosis. I will one day be pain free and discover a "new" me. Blogging has given me an outlet to be honest with myself and meet this crappy cancer head on. I realize that it's not for everybody. We all face our demons differently. If I've helped just one woman with my honesty, then baring my soul would've been worth it. I'm looking forward to getting past this pain to reclaiming my life.

Anatomically Correct B♭

I'm not a barbie with a perfect figure. Never have been. I was 30 pounds lighter before fibromyalgia. Because I'm not as able to be as active as I used to, and because of the meds, I'm carrying some extra pounds around.

My decision to go flat was very personal. I've explained those reasons ( see Lemonade) and I feel confident I've made the right decision and the best choice for me.

I'm no longer anatomically correct. My doctor took me seriously when I told him to get all that boobage out from under my arms. He did. My incision goes all the way to my back. And dadgumit, it hurts!

I'm glad I won't have that bulge (aka: boobage) under my arms any more. The healing and the pain is taking longer than I thought it would, even though I'm improving daily. Baby steps. But by golly, my pits feel like they've been sandpapered!

Crappy cancer has deformed and destroyed my body. It certainly wasn't that great before but now it's worse. And it occurred to me that even wearing a prosthesis, there won't be cleavage.

I need a tee-shirt with "B♭" on the front. I refuse to be ashamed or embarrassed about my body. It's real. I'm  alive. I pray I can help other women. I'm now known as a 'breast cancer survivor' (a title I never wanted) even though I'll live with crappy cancer the rest of my life; and more especially the next 5 years.

I'm still struggling with how weird it feels without boobs. I've searched my brain for a way to describe it and there simply isn't one. It's going to take some getting used to.  . . . . after all, I've had boobs for the better part of my life!

The struggle is real people!  I've struggled with back spasms, restless leg, chafing in my pits, pain and tenderness in my chest, exhaustion, and a killer of a headache. Yep, I had all I could deal with and finally cried. Boohooed is more accurate. (I didn't even cry when I got the news, so cut me some slack here) Cried really hard for a good 10 minutes while my hubster comforted me and held me in his arms. This is HARD! Stupid crappy cancer has forever changed my life and that ticks me off!

The Sandman Hates Me

He never sprinkles enough of his magic sleep dust in my eyes. Crappy cancer has chased him away. From the day I found my lump, September 8, I've not slept well. Those first two weeks were because I was scared. . . . . Plus I have a brain that doesn't turn off and is essentially thinking all the time. (Sign of intelligence, you know)

I was thinking constantly about the 'what ifs' as I researched and studied about all forms of breast cancer so that when I got my pathology report I would understand it. (The health industry has their own language)

Once I had the report and an actual date for my surgery, (I kinda freaked out here) my mind went into overdrive to get everything tidied up in a nice neat OCD package. Was there enough food in the house to sustain us while I recover; did I pay all the bills; oh crap, I need to get all the laundry done; and a hundred other details.

Once I came home, sleep alluded me because of the pain and I was just downright miserable. No other way to describe it, mis-er-a-ble! I couldn't get comfortable. I hate sleeping on my back all propped up with 18 pillows. . . . . Well, almost 18. . . . . .but I couldn't lay in any position that didn't hurt.

I suffered during the day and waited to take my pain meds before bed hoping I could get a few hours at least. I took Melatonin. I even resorted to sleeping pills. (Don't worry, I didn't take them all together) I've played meditation music to help me relax. I've read to turn my mind off and help make me sleepy. I'm telling you, the sandman hates me! And lack of sleep makes this girl cranky!

Stupid crappy cancer has stolen my sleep.

Today is day 11. I haven't hurt as bad today. I didn't even take an aspirin. I haven't had any visitors except family but today my BFF drove in to surprise me. We sat outside and got some vitamin D and it felt amazing! We called our gal pal from South Dakota and she was good for a giggle or two. Plus, I walked to the mailbox and back with the hubster and even showered all by myself!

I took off my binding before showering. My chest feels really weird.  The swelling is much better and most of the bruising is on the right side. You can see that there's barely an inch between the two incisions and they go all the way around under my arms. That's the worst because there's major nerves and lymph glands that were cut. It's the PITS! (pun intended)

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           DO NOT SCROLL DOWN IF EASILY  GROSSED OUT OR OFFENDED

                           

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     WARNING  ⚠  PICTURE OF FOOBS  ⤵

Today was a good day! And even though I didn't get much sleep, I'm glad for the tiny steps of improvement!

Ticking Clocks in the Stillness

"Be still and know that I am God."
Psalm 46:10

I'm not good at being still and doing nothing. It's been 10 days that crappy cancer stole my TaTa's. I feel guilty in this recliner while my husband takes care of his job, our farm animals, household chores and meals. I want to recover NOW!

My fur baby trying to help me feel better. 

I've always been one of high energy. I thrived on stress and worked well under pressure. I liked to keep busy. In my professional world, I had a tendency to run on adrenaline and miss out on the tiny moments of memories.

We live in a world of faster and more. We're of a generation that stands in front of a microwave telling it to hurry! We are all attached at the wrist with a tiny computer we call our phones . . . . . but they are really more than just a phone.  . . . . they are our cameras, photo albums, calendar, alarm clocks, and more. And we want the latest, newest one!

I'm a type A personality, or if you are familiar with DISC, I'm a D. In my other life, (business woman) I was very busy in a professional world, involved in the community and served on several boards. It's been difficult for me to slow down.

I am bored sitting in this recliner listening to the clocks tick. I don't even have the energy to Bible journal, my favorite past time. I forget I can't move my arms much, until I do, then I'm reminded that crappy cancer took some lymph nodes from my pits! OUCH!

I tell myself that perfection is over rated. I'm blessed to have a hubster that loves me enough to do his chores AND mine so I can recover. He is waiting on me hand and foot!

God is filling my cup to overflowing with the blessings I've experienced so far from this crappy cancer. Who woulda thunk it?

I'm in a place of reflection, prayer and meditation. After all, I've got the time! So, I blog. I pray my journey will inspire other women to take care of your bodies, and know that you do not fight crappy cancer alone.

John 16:33 - "Take heart for I have overcome the world. "

Even a world with crappy cancer.

Did that clock just stop ticking?

Decisions

I see my Oncologist in two weeks. I've made the decision not to take chemo. Chemo-therapy has terrible success rates.  . . . . about 3%. My crappy cancer was not in the lymph nodes, so chemo won't be necessary, although it is often recommended as a preventative.

Now for all you health care professionals reading this, it isn't my intention to offend, so don't take what I say as a personal attack. Chemo kills more people than it cures. It steals quality of life, and is a huge billion dollar industry that does not consider patient suffering.

I'm told I will need hormone therapy since my crappy cancer was estrogen and progesterone positive. I would need to take it for 5 years. The side affects have me taking a step back and reconsidering whether it's right for me to take the risk.

I don't have hot flashes; 

I have power surges! 

The loss of estrogen can influence cognitive function, including verbal memory and fluency; can increase the likelihood of depression, anxiety, and sleep disturbances; and can lead to the loss of interest in sex. (This reason alone has me hesitating!)
Anti-hormone therapy also causes pain in the joints, and I'm pretty sure my fibromyalgia has that one covered. There is more evidence that it increases the risk of Alzheimer’s Disease. 

God created us as a fine tuned instrument, each part, cell, organs and hormones all working together, having an important role. It kinda freaks me out to consider what would happen without any hormones. 

At this point I've started to think of this crappy cancer as more of a chronic disease. 
It is not finished with me just because my 
TaTa's were whacked off. I'm not through dealing with it. In fact, the odds of it coming back is out there taunting me. 

I'll be having genetic testing soon. If I'm HER1 or HER2 I'll be looking at another surgery to remove my ovaries. This gene triggers the growth of cancer cells and I'd be watched even more closely. 

Crappy cancer has taken over my life for at least the next 5 years. Hey, at least I got my tooth fixed! 

Good News Bad News

My first week checkup with the surgeon after he whacked off my TaTa's was yesterday. I gave him kudos for getting all my underarm boobage out and for making a beautifully flat incision. He was slightly amused at my flattery.

Of course, I admonished him for passing up an opportunity to remove fat from my belly! He had a snarky comeback about plastic surgeons making big bucks . . . . .see? He's starting to get me!

Doc said we could remove two of my drain tubes (good) and left that up to his nurse. (Bad) I'm like: "Are you good at this?"

The first one felt like a snake crawled out of my chest; totally weird but not painful. The second one however . . . . . I almost throat punched her! (Bad) The look on my hubster's face was priceless. He refused to take pictures of this auspicious occasion so you'll have to use your imagination.

Once the color came back into my face and I began to breathe again, I was tightly wrapped in an ace bandage. (Bad) I'm told it will help with swelling and drainage but it's not comfortable. I hate it. It's a constant reminder of my crappy cancer.

The drive to Baylor and back totally wore me out. And I can't eat on my right side until I get this dang broken tooth fixed. That's something to look forward to: the dentist! (She says with a touch of sarcasm)

At least I was able to take a real shower and wash my hair. Lipstick . . . . .that's the trick to feel better!

Missing the Girls

Let's see. . . . . which emotional issues should I bury under deep layers of sarcasm today?

After my breast cancer diagnosis things got to rolling really fast and there wasn't time to grieve for my sacrificed body parts. They amputated both girls! And you wouldn't believe the COST of having my TaTa's removed! Wowza!

As a breast cancer WARRIOR who underwent bilateral mastectomy, I'm sure I'm not supposed to say I miss them. I probably shouldn't be thinking it. Don't get me wrong, I'm blessed to have found this crappy cancer early and gotten rid of it. I'm glad to be alive. But if I'm honest, I'm missing a couple body parts and I'm still trying to get used to that! I'm sure my hubster misses the girls too, even though he's been fantastic. (And think for a minute how he might be unfairly criticized if he were to openly admit that) There seems to be a certain amount of guilt involved when a breast cancer patient says she misses her breasts.

This may be a sensitive subject. . . . . the size of a woman's mammary glands. Clothes are made to fit us with boobage, unless you shop in the pre-teen department because you are an A cup. Who cares? Actually, it seems, everybody! Marketing uses boobs to sell almost everything from motorcycles to viagra.

As a young girl in Jr. High, our P.E Coach had us girls chanting "We must, we must, we must increase our bust" out loud. So, she was telling us girls how important our size was while we were all still in training bras! I hated those dang bras. I wasn't proud to get one and didn't want it. There were always those who developed early and wore mascara and lip gloss before I did. Of course, I grew into a B cup and before crappy cancer took them, I was a D cup. ('Generous sized' according to my surgeon.)

Shopping for bras (have you noticed there are 4+ aisles to choose from) is not fun. So many choices! Satin, damask, cotton, padded, underwire, pink, white, tiger print, leather and lace. We want to look curvy, but be comfortable. There's no such thing with those booby straps!!!

I gave up the underwire when I got fibromyalgia because they hurt. I hated padding because mine were, for the most part, bigger than I wanted due to the weight gain from the fibro. But I still miss them. There, I said it, (or wrote it) for posterity. It's out there in cyberspace for all to read and digest. I miss the girls. I grieve for them. Losing them was a BIG deal after all.  My hugs are different. . . . . man hugs. . . . . no padding between me and whomever I'm hugging.

I'm ok with that, are you?

Beauty VS Character

Society is teaching our young teens that their body and how they look on the outside is far more important than their character.

As a pre-teen, I think we were all obsessed with how big our boobs would be, and how our bodies looked as we grew into bras. We wanted to look thin and 'sexy' from age 13 and up into college. That hasn't changed 40+ years later!

Brands like Abercrombie and Fitch uses sex to sell their product. Topless males in their ads and in some cases, in their stores, and they don't offer plus size clothing assuring that only thin teens are wearing their brands. (Disclaimer: not a fan of this company and I urge all parents to avoid buying from them; otherwise you are assisting in their shameless marketing.)

Body image and self esteem issues haven't changed. We contribute to this by telling our little ones how pretty they are, suggesting it's importance. We all care about how we look and how others see us. Even at 59 years old, I want to look good in my chosen outfit for the day. However, I don't care enough to get reconstruction for others to feel comfortable; and even though I'm going flat, I still want to look attractive in my clothes and feel good about myself. What does that say about me?

It's hard to hide the drain tubes because they bulge out under my clothing, so I don't want to be seen in public until they're gone. Store security might detain me thinking I've shop lifted something! (This actually happened to me one time wearing a heart monitor)

We are all guilty of enjoying outward beauty in others and wanting to look our best. Now, I find myself in a place where my outward beauty has to take a back seat. Losing my TaTa's has forced me to reflect on my character. Am I all that God wants me to be? I know there's room for improvement there. I want my character to shine thru as beautiful.

"Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder," says that defining beauty can be difficult and not everyone will agree. However, God's words can lead us to discover what our individual meaning of beauty truly is and should be; that is to deter us from looking at physical appearance, for God looks at the heart in all people. Somehow, going flat is forcing me to find the real beauty in myself!

1 Peter 3:3-4

Circling the Drains

WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!

This post contains pictures of my scars! 

Not appropriate for everyone! 

🛇

Drains you SUCK! I hate you! I have 4 of them that must be emptied and documented every 10-12 hours. There's nothing funny about these drains. And believe me, I've tried hard to find humor or at the very least, sarcasm, in them. Not happening!

I can't take a really good shower with these crappy drains!

I can't sleep with these crappy drains.

Going to the restroom is a challenge to keep them out of the way.

Dumping the fluid is gross. Pumping or 'milking' the bulbs is weird.

I'm told I have to rest because if I do too much, I'll have more drainage and have to wear them longer. NO WAY do I want to have them in any longer than necessary. If I remove too soon, it can lead to infection. So, I'm trying to be a good girl and rest. . . . . .I'll take the pain and be glad to be alive! As much as I'm tempted to wallow in self pity, I'm not allowing it out of respect for the women who lost their battle with crappy cancer.

I finally got to shower, but that's a relative term. I just shower from the belly button down. It hurts to move my arms so I'm getting really good help from my hubster!

I hooked the drain bulbs to a lanyard around my neck to prevent them hanging freely from my body. They go in pockets otherwise. Crappy drain tubes!

WARNING

PICTURE OF 'FOOBS' BELOW

I'm keeping it real. Before my surgery, it was difficult to find pictures, so I'm posting mine, not for the curious, or sick minded, but for other women. It helps to have an idea of what your 'foobs' (flat boobs) will look like after surgery. I'm not ashamed. I'm not embarrassed. I'm a brave warrior and not the first to have a body part amputated! 

I'm not here to make the reader feel comfortable. I'm blogging for ME and for other women who need to see or hear what I've been through. I'm not alone or unique.

 I believe sharing this is a way to celebrate a life saved from early detection! MINE! And prayerfully hope it helps other women. 

If you are squeamish or easily offended don't scroll down!!!

WARNING!

If you are squeamish or easily offended don't scroll down!!!

Lanyard to hold drain tubes while showering. You can see there's a lot of bruising. 

This is day 5 after surgery. I think my 'foobs' looks good.  . . . . and FLAT like I wanted! Of course, there's still some swelling, but I'm pleased. No crying from this old gal!

I removed all the gauze dressing to shower. I'm completely numb over the incision. The majority of my pain is coming from under my arm pits where lymph nodes were removed and the four places where the drain tubes are going in my sides. I've got some pretty awesome bruises going on too!

I have to wear a binder around my chest. It reminds me that I had crappy cancer and that my TaTa's are no more. I'm looking forward to getting all this paraphernalia gone so I can begin to try to become a normal person again. What happened to the old me? She's not gone, just different. I see things differently thanks to crappy cancer. I'm seeing God in the little things. Like. . . . . my arm pit pillows are covered in birds to remind me of my BFF!

And my fur baby, Bitzy doing her best to make me feel better.  I'm concentrating on physical healing at this point. I want to get these crappy drains out.

Crappy cancer Cannot

There's a lot of damage that crappy cancer can do. After all, there's 10 different types of breast cancer alone! It can destroy our bodies and steal our self-esteem.
Crappy cancer is not a respecter of persons. It's evil and dabilitating. I hate you crappy cancer!

But there's a lot that cancer cannot do. . . . . .

• Steal my happiness
• Take away my sense of humor
• Destroy my marriage
• Weaken my faith in God
• Cause me to lose hope
• Cripple my love
• Corrode my peace
• Break my spirit
• Rob me of friends
• Take my dignity
• Steal my identity
• Take my memories
• Rob me of my desire to live
• Lose trust in my Lord

I'm leaning on my faith and trusting in my Savior. I'm hopeful that I never have to deal with crappy cancer again. I'm allowing my family to take care of me while I heal physically.

This beautiful poem was given to me by my mother who has survived 2 bouts of cancer. She's a hero.

No More Crumbs

Interesting what you learn when you are no longer working around 'generous sized' (my surgeons words, not mine) boobage! I can eat in bed or in the recliner and no crumbs get caught in my cleavage. Cool, right?

I am one of those who love to eat in front of the TV and catch up on my pre-recorded favorite shows that I can fast forward through a commercial. In fact, I seldom watch live TV anymore! It's awesome to pause, fast forward, back up and replay. . . . . . but I digress again.

I'm propped up here in bed with a ton of pillows. Pillows around me, under my knees, under my arms, propped on a wedge. I can eat and drink without reaching around the lumps that used to be in the way! Did you know it takes one month to heal for every hour you are under anesthesia? I'm trying to heal physically so I can get about the business of healing emotionally.

The gifts I've received have been not only thoughtful, but useful! I drink a lot of water and decaf tea. Having a glass that won't sweat and stay cold is pretty useful in my book! So today, I get THIS:

Meanwhile, although in a great deal of pain, I have a healthy appetite. . . . . . crappy cancer didn't steal that! And there's no cleavage for these crumbs to hide! There's a plus! Bring on the food!

No Respect

Crappy cancer has no respect. 

Cancer has one purpose, to destroy the host, no matter who that host is – and many times, it succeeds. It doesn't care whether you are rich or poor, male or female, (men can get breast cancer too) or what color your skin is.

There is so much crap that goes along with cancer that people who have not been there do not understand . . . . . cancer is cancer, and it's crappy.

Crappy cancer will forever be a part of my life. Just simple checkups will put worry in my head and fear in my heart because crappy cancer shows no respect. No matter what type we have, it's important that we share each other’s story and help each other through this unforgiving disease.

So I blog. It helps me and I pray it will help others. It's always gonna be there because crappy cancer shows no respect.Crappy cancer doesn't care that I have Fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue. 

Crappy cancer doesn't care that my irritable bowel balks at the prescription drugs. I'm having a fibro flare-up due to lack of sleep and pain from the surgery, therefore my pain is magnified. Stupid crappy cancer. 

And I just broke a tooth and lost a filling. . . . . give me a break!!!

How I feel today

This is not a pity party. I'm just keeping it real. I'm not just dealing with one disease here and so I'm fighting in a war as a soldier I didn't ask to be a part of. Pain is exhausting. I'm exhausted. But I'm reclining in the chair and looking for humor. . . . . and of course some sarcasm to get through this day.

A nurse told me that as the years go by it becomes a more distant memory. Really? I hope I NEVER forget this crappy cancer. It's been difficult, painful, stressful and exhausting. It has changed me. . . . . .and not just my physical appearance! It has changed my outlook on life. It's changed the way I pray. I want to be thankful every day that I am actually alive and breathing. . . . . for others who've lost this battle with crappy cancer.

I'm told I'm 'lucky' that we caught it early and that I'm 'lucky' I'll be well enough to enjoy the holidays. Lucky? Really? There's no luck in cancer. It doesn't respect people. I'm not lucky at all. I got crappy cancer and lost my TaTa's. I'll spend the next 5 years taking a hormone blocker and seeing an oncologist.

However, I am blessed! I'm glad that I found the lump and it was in its earlier stages. I am blessed that I had a team of Christians caring for me. I'm blessed that I have a faithful and helping hubster who loves ME and not my boobs. I'm blessed that my strength, hope and courage were poured about my head by my Savior. I am not lucky, but I'm blessed because I know that Tomorrow is going to be better and the day after that will be even better.
I'm not letting this crappy cancer kick my butt, but my FOOBS hurt!

Romans 8:18

The pain I've been feeling cannot compare to the joy that's coming!