What have I Become?

I have not become more reasonable, less stubborn, less angry, or more patient.

Stubbornness, anger, and impatience are my biggest personality flaws, and they have just been exacerbated by cancer. Especially impatience. Somewhere deep inside me, I'm scared about the amount of time I have left. I value time. It has become precious. There's not enough. Crappy cancer stole some of it. It continues to steal time as I recover and go through treatment.

I'm different. On the outside and the inside. My figure is distorted. My personality is distorted. It seems I've developed new flaws, and old flaws have reared their ugly heads. What have I become?

I've always been brave, string willed, never shy or afraid of crowds. I've always been a leader. Now, I'm content to stay home. Crowds make me nervous. I'm experiencing anxiety. I'm told cancer patients get PTSD but I feel that's too strong a description and totally unfair to our soldiers. . . . . and yet, I'm not the same. What have I become?

Crappy cancer is forever a black cloud hanging over me. Blood tests every three months, lots of doctor visits, treatments, scans and more for at least the next five years. Will it come back? Probably. Breast cancer usually does. The battle never ends.

How we go into this battle with crappy cancer is as individual as we are. There is no right or wrong, proper or improper way. If you run in with a cape and a sword screaming war cries, and it works for you, it's the right way. If you walk in boldly being led by God and a bible, or a rosary and holy oil in your pocket; if it works for you, it is the right way. If you must be dragged into the fight with knees knocking, tears streaming and heart racing, but it gets you through, it is the right way. The pink cancer warrior suit comes in one size fits all! How we slay crappy cancer doesn't matter, as long as we slay. Right?

I have found that each day can bring about a change in my emotional response. It's a roller coaster. Sometimes all I can do is roll with the emotional tide. Some days I just survive the day. Some days I soar bravely with my cancer, and sometimes I am face down in my tears, but my suit is still as pink as it was the day I put it on and decided to fight.

Ponder with me the many emotional responses through crappy breast cancer:

Denial and Shock - "This can't be true." "How did this happen? "

Anger, Rage - "This isn't fair." "I never took hormones."

Stress and Depression - "I don't have time to deal with this." "I feel so sad." "How bad is it?"

Grief and Fear - "I'm not ready to die." "I'm going to lose part of my body." "What if it's spread?"

Acceptance, Adjustment - "Okay, it's true. I've got breast cancer, but I don't have to like it." "Let's just do this and get these boobs off NOW."

Fight and Hope - "I'm going to be brave and beat this!" "I'm going to research and understand every bit of this crap."

Concern about disfigurement – "After surgery, what will I look like?" "What will happen to my sex life?" "How will my clothes fit?"

Fear of the unknown – "What happens next?" "What treatment will I get?" "How long will it take to recover?"

Worry about side effects – "I don't like what I'm reading and hearing." "How is this going to affect my quality of life?"

Anxiety - "How do I know if the therapy works?" "What if it comes back?"

Family Concerns - "How is this affecting my family?" "Will my daughter's get this too?" "I don't want to scare my grand-kids."

Fear of Recurrence - "Will my cancer return?" "Will it spread?" "Is that pain I'm feeling or just a pulled muscle, or could it be my cancer has returned? Where will it come back at?" "How will I know?"

Feeling Vulnerable - "How do I guard my health and what do I need to change to take better care of myself?" "What if I do something that causes it to come back or spread?"

Fear of Continued Pain - "My chest is sore." "I'm exhausted." "Will I ever feel normal again?"

Fear of Death - "My family needs me. I'm not prepared for this."

Yep. Crappy cancer has taken me through all these emotions several times. I'm tired. So tired. I want off this roller coaster ride, but it just got started. I don't like what I've become. I miss the old me. . . . . The confident gal before crappy cancer changed her.

What have I become? Well, for now, I'm still evolving. It's my 3 month cancer-versary since my boobs were whacked off. So, I'll give myself a break. It's too soon to know what I'll become.

I am NOT a Cryer!

I hate to cry and I seldom do. I've always been tough and able to deal with things in a very stressful world. I've always had a stressful job, worked long hours, volunteered a lot, and I just DO. NOT. CRY.

But now, I find tears running down my cheeks quite often. Commercials, Lifetime movies. . . .  LIFE!
I'm overly emotional about the tiniest things. Mood swings are out of control. I hate it! Suck it up, Buttercup, and get a grip! Cried several times on Christmas day.

I am having some weird side affects too with no explanation. Chills to the point of my teeth rattling with NO fever, then, 30 seconds later dripping in sweat. I cannot sleep. I barely doze on and off and start my days off totally exhausted. My nights are awful with very little sleep. I can only sleep on my side for a short period of time because my sides and underarms still hurt.

I've never been nervous or anxious. Now, I get a little scared just leaving the house. I don't want to become a recluse, but I'm just perfectly content to stay home. It has become a security blanket of sorts. . . . . a way to avoid anything happening outside my immediate world and family. I'm simply not the same person. At all. Stupid crappy cancer. . . . . I blame you for all of this!

Therapy begins: Fight or Flight

Here we go....therapy begins and I'm hesitant. Not scared or nervous, just doubtful. Aremidex is what they are discussing putting me on because I'm post menopausal. The side effects are frightening to read but that's true of any medication. However, my survival rate is a whopping 93.5%! Don't you just love it when they give you statistics? I'm a number now. 

More labs and tests tomorrow to see if I need chemo. Total waste of time because I'm not taking it. (A 2.1% cure rate isn't high enough to my way of thinking.) I've basically been in 'fight or flight' mode since my diagnosis and just when I think I'm pulling myself out of it and coming back to my "new normal" something else is thrown at me. 

These crappy meds cause depression and mood swings. Really? Like I haven't already been there, done that! Sleep deprivation. . . . makes me laugh! I haven't slept well in 2 months! Weight gain is another to look forward to, as though my fibromyalgia meds and hypothyroid haven't already put 30 pounds on me. 

I could go on and on but these are the ones that most women experience on this drug. And I'm supposed to take it for 5 years! WOOHOO! Crappy cancer just won't let me live my life. It's like a little black cloud over my head at all times . . . . Always reminding me. 

I'm still experiencing tenderness in my pits and sides which make it difficult to sleep or do anything physical. My scar is healing beautifully so THERE'S a bright spot in this journey! 

Warning! Warning! Warning! ⚠

PICTURE to follow below. 👇

My tattoo artist has artwork for me to look at and take measurements. I'm excited beyond words to see what he's come up with for me to look and feel feminine again. It's the one thing I have to look forward to! 

And of course I'll post pics of the process! 

I pray daily for all the pink sisters out there going thru this crappy cancer journey. You are not alone. My strength is from my Savior who walks with me and often carries me. My wonderful husband who continues to kiss the scars and tells me I'm beautiful is a constant source of strength and encouragement to me. Don't ever give up, and do what's right for you; for there is no "one size fits all" when it comes to crappy cancer. 

P.S. Dry skin I hate you too! (just another symptom of crappy cancer)

Beware: Grumpy Old Woman

It's NOT because I'm a woman! (That is a disclaimer for all the men reading this) It's because of the cancer, surgery, recovery and treatment. I've been having huge mood swings similar to PMS. (Some might say worse) One minute I'm happy and the next I'm crabby and rude. I'm also having anxiety and that's a new experience!  I couldn't decide if it was because I wasn't getting any sleep, from constant pain, or perhaps a hormonal change from the crappy cancer.

I was afraid I was alienating myself from my loved ones, and hated the way it was making me feel. My precious husband just keeps sticking with me, assuring me of his love no matter what.

After opening up to my support group and doctor, I'm told this is normal. Every single woman I talked to was having the same issue! Great! At least I'm not alone and losing my delightful personality!  :)

It's a journey that's not too pleasant with many different side affects. PTSD is not uncommon among cancer patients. I wouldn't go that far, but I was reassured it would get better. I feel like I need to wear a sign around my neck warning people: "This isn't who I am. It's only temporary. "

One woman told me her son made her a sign to hang on her door: "Beware of Grumpy Old Woman." She took that well!

So if I bite your head off or show annoyance, please bear with me and remember it's the crappy cancer and the treatment that's screwing with my body and mind. I'm trying to be cautiously aware of my snippiness. Crappy cancer, I hate you!

It's Weird

I can't explain it. I can't tell you why. But as I was taking a shower last night, I'm soaping up my chest and it just sorta hits me: Dang! My boobs are gone! Yeah, yeah, I know. . . . .they've been gone now for 8 weeks and this isn't the first time I've showered! There's just moments when it seems surreal, or maybe unreal?

There are times when I stand in front of the mirror and just stare at myself to get used to what I look like. The scar isn't bad at all. It's just a different look without the boobs. It's a different feel too. It feels weird. It looks weird.

I'm still a bit sore and tender. I still hug my heart shaped pillow to my chest at night and can't lay on my side for very long. There seems to be some sore spots where the drains were. It hurts to lift my arms above my head and I feel "tight" as though I'm going to pull something if I stretch out. It's not at all comfortable. It's weird.

Now gals, it really is freeing not to wear a bra; not to pull up those straps constantly slipping off my shoulders. I even experimented the other day by putting on a bra and my "fake boobs" which felt even weirder. I felt conspicuous.  . . . . just not normal and don't know when it will ever feel normal again. It's weird.

I've become somewhat of a recluse, enjoying my time at home wrapping Christmas gifts and spending time with family as I recover. I haven't gone back to church yet; and although I miss my class and Tom's lessons, I'm scared. I almost have a panic attack just thinking about how overwhelming it will be. All the hugs will hurt. "How are you" will be answered with the standard "I'm fine." The men will do their best NOT to look at my flat chest. The women will tell me I look great. (I really don't understand this comment. They just whacked off my boobs. My face, hair, and the rest of me all look the same. Did I not look great before?) I know, it's weird, right?

I'm just weird. I'm having weird thoughts. Weird emotions that are all over the place. Is only been 8 weeks. Maybe I'm expecting too much. I want to feel normal.  . . . . Well, my "new normal" whatever that is. It's weird.

You Don't Get It

You just don't get it. I know you think you understand because you knew someone with cancer. Perhaps your mother, or friend had breast cancer and so now you think you understand what I'm going through. You don't. 

This thought has been weighing heavy on my heart since my diagnosis. I thought I got it when my mom was diagnosed or a friend from church. I didn't. 

I didn’t get what it felt like to actually hear the "c" word. I was trying to listen to the details and pay attention, but really just wanted to keep a straight face for as long as it took to maybe ask one appropriate question and get the heck out of there to go get my husband waiting patiently in the waiting room. I didn't want to hear all the details until he was with me. We drove home under the weight of what we'd just been told. 
We sat in silence and disbelief much of the drive home. That day was the worst. I pretended everything was fine because I didn’t have any details yet and wanted to keep it private still. Roy was in denial the first week, not fully trusting the Oncology Radiologist until the biopsies came back. . . . ."She could be wrong" was his defense mechanism. I was positive I had crappy cancer and so my mind went straight to very dark places during that week. There's no way that you get it unless it's happened to you.

I didn’t get how hard the waiting would be. It was literally the worst part. The "official" diagnosis process seems to take forever. The different consults, the biopsies, the exams and procedures. I went through the motions trying to stay positive, but at that point, I had no idea what I was dealing with and the unknown was terrifying. How bad was it Knowing the cancer is there and not doing anything to treat it yet is an awful, helpless feeling. I wanted it O-U-T NOW! I’m sorry, but you just don't get it.

I didn’t get how awkward it was to tell other people the news. I just blurted it out! Shock value seemed to work best. No beating around the bush. . . . . .straight to the point with a brave face and deep breath. People didn’t know what to say. If they said anything, it was about me getting "new, perky boobs" which I had no intention of doing. There was some relief when the word started to spread. I didn't have to keep telling people and watch them struggle with being uncomfortable and not knowing the right way to react. This nasty secret was finally out. You don't get what it felt like to get the sad looks all the time. . . . . Shopping or seeing someone for the first time after finding out. I got the head tilt, sad smile, and a soft “How aaaare you?”  Which I quickly smiled and reassured them "I'm hanging in there” and change the subject. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciated all the well wishes and concern, but it sure took a little while to get used to the pity. I’m sorry but you just don't get it. No, you don't get it.

I didn’t get how weird it felt to be called “brave”. It’s a word that gets thrown around a lot, but I had no choice but to be brave. I got through most of it just fine. I’m getting treatment because I HAVE to. That doesn’t really make me feel like much of a hero. You just don't get it.

You don't get how much I googled . . . . . searching for information, hope, stories like mine, reassurance from women who'd been there, done that. It was impossible not to. I had to educate myself on this crappy cancer. I wanted to know every "medical term" to help me feel in control of this situation I'd been forced into. I wanted to make informed decisions about my care and treatments.

You don't get what really goes on at all those “other appointments”. Why do they give you a gown when they are just going to uncover me and poke, prod, feel, and stick me with needles. You don't get the procedures that were humiliating or painful. You don't get how confusing “options” really are and how many doctors there are that want to see you ALL the dang time for next five years!!!  I wanted to be involved in my own care, but the stress of all the options was sometimes too much. I’m sorry, but you don't get it.

You don't get how it sometimes feels like I am all by myself. I have a great support system in my family and it was surprising the people who stepped up to help, bring meals, cards, and was just there when I needed to talk. You don't understand how much it hurt my feelings that some of the people I expected to be there were NOT. People acted differently towards me and it hurt, a lot. I'm not contagious! You don't get what it feels like to not have boobs and to have fluid in your chest wall. You don't get it when I can't sleep on my side because my incision is all the way around my chest and under my arms. You don't get it when I say I hurt or I'm uncomfortable. You just don't get it. . . . . unless you've been through it.

You don't get the mood swings. One day I might feel confident that I'd completely beat this crappy cancer with no problem; I felt like I could take over the world! Bring it on! And for no good reason, the next day I was just convinced I was going to be one of those sad stories people tell their friends about. The moods would sneak up on me without warning. Literally anything could’ve been a trigger. You don't get what it's like to not be able to lift your arms or dress yourself due to the dang underarms being swollen from lymph gland removal. You don't know what it fells like to look at yourself in the mirror and have a 28" incision staring back at you. My body changed so quickly.  It’s hard since my appearance is tied more closely to my identity than I'd like to admit and these were constant reminders of what I was up against. I just wanted to feel like myself again and MOVE ON past this crappy cancer. I am at 6 weeks now and still healing. It takes more time than I thought it would. I'm sorry, but there's no way you get it.

You don't get that when I said I was tired, I really meant so much more. Sure there are words like exhaustion and extreme fatigue, but there should really be a separate word just for cancer patients, because it’s crippling! Really! Some days I really wondered how I trudge forward. And then there were the days that I had lots of energy and was restricted from not lifting anything heavier than a carton of milk because I'm still healing on the inside. I reached up in a cabinet and pulled something. . . . . .  now it has to start all over to heal back again. You just don't get it.

I didn’t get how much time this really takes away from my life. I was told phrases like “Cancer is like getting another full time job” or “Life doesn’t stop for cancer” when trying to prep me for what I was about to embark on. But now they just seem like corny catch phrases. Stupid crappy cancer! It completely took over my life! I had to stop doing things I love, I had to cancel plans, church, vacations and other activities. I had to miss out on things that were important to me. Those things made me cry more than having the crappy cancer did. You just don't get it.

You don't get how much I worried about my daughters and my grand kids. I worried about how this was going to affect them. I worried about not being able to keep up with them or be able to enjoy them on my bad days. I can't even pick up my grand babies! I was concerned they’d be scared and confused. And honestly, I worried about leaving them. You just don't get it.

I understood that everyone promises “in sickness and in health” when you get married, but I still felt like he didn’t deserve this. I felt thankful when he would say “go sit down and let me take care of this" but my heart hurt thinking about a future that didn’t have me in it. Or him in it. What would I do without him? How do women do this alone? He was beyond caring and loving. He kissed my scars and told me I was beautiful, sexy even! (Love is blind) And I know you don't get the emotions of that. No, you don't get it.

I didn’t get that it never ends. Never. I used to think that cancer will be just a phase in my life. Just like high school or something. . . . . it seems like it drags on and on when you’re in it, but I know in reality this will all be a memory. But it is not a phase! The treatment won’t last forever, but I am changed forever now. The worrying won’t stop, the uncertainty won’t stop, the fear of recurrence or an awful end won’t stop. I live with crappy cancer. I will always live with crappy cancer and it's recurrence. The next five years seems to be that "magic" time frame that I will deal with this crappy cancer at least every three months. I hear that gets better but only time will tell. And time is precious. I’m sorry, but you just don't get it. You want to. But unless it's happened to you; unless you've had crappy cancer, you don't get it.

My eyes are up here!

Bras are completely optional for me.  . . . . That's right gals! Bring on the jealousy! One of my gal-pals told me her shoulder indentions hated me! Love that!

I'm rebelling against putting an uncomfortable bra on—-so I could put something uncomfortable and heavy inside, so that those around me are not uncomfortable! God forbid they should be uncomfortable around my flat chest. And good grief, let's not make everyone uncomfortable regarding my lack of curves.

Society and commercialism makes women feel like we have to be thin and have perky boobs. We must look feminine in our figure and attire. Sex sells. They attack our self-esteem. And there's so much information that bombarded me with reconstruction that it immediately turned me off. 

I chose no reconstruction. I'm trusting my gut. I've been asked multiple times why I made that decision and I don't mind sharing my reasoning.

First reason: I had 'foreign' (several in fact) crap in my boobs and wanted it gone. Why would I put something else foreign in my chest? I just saw the potential for more problems.

Second reason: New breasts would not restore an erogenous zone. I have no feeling in my chest due to cutting the nerves. Fake ones would have no feeling either. They could not nourish a baby. They would only fill out my clothes to make other people feel comfortable (which I don't care about)
and perhaps allow me to pretend that I had not had crappy cancer.

Third reason: Reconstruction would require more hours in the operating room and involve a plastic surgeon. There were a couple different options I could've chosen, including a 'free' (she said with sarcasm) tummy tuck, but that's another incision and longer recovery, along with added possibility of problems.

I refuse to believe that I must have fake boobs to be accepted, fit into what society thinks, or to make other people feel comfortable. I would feel so weird with fake boobs. And as I mentioned in an earlier post, (Lemonade) I'm looking forward to art on my chest!

I'm dying

I'm dying. I've been dying for 59 years. We all die. Survey says: 10 out of 10 people die!
Crappy cancer makes it all a little too real. I despise the dry, flaky skin. My eyeballs are floating because I can't seem to drink enough water to quinch the cotton mouth. And dang. . . . .I'm exhausted. My batteries are running out. However, I'm not 'struggling' or 'battling'. I'm LIVING!

There are so many afflicted with crappy cancer. I'm not unique. They are all around us if we pay attention. The financial strain it puts on a family is tantamount to the physical and emotional strain. And it has become crystal clear to me that it's a disease that happens to somebody else. Crappy cancer doesn't have a face to other people. 

And there is no such thing as "cured" by the way. We just go "into remission". So why am I referred to as a "cancer survivor?"
After the cancer is removed following surgery, we are given a stamp of being "cancer free". Then there is the treatment. Wo. Is. Me. That's the hard part. FIVE years of treatment. 1825 days. Really? Who decided that magic time frame? Why not 4 years, or 5 years and 6 months? Treatment isn't a fight against crappy cancer itself, but against 're-occurance'. . . . .which is an invisible devil! Is that when I become a survivor? When is the magic day that I can be declared as having won the battle? When will I celebrate a cancer free life?

Every day is a gift and I'm trusting God that crappy cancer was all a part of his plan. It really doesn't matter when I die or what causes my death; for I know this world is not my home and I shall live forever. . . . . just not in this diseased body.

Now don't misunderstand me! I would really like to stick around awhile longer and enjoy my beautiful grandkids! And yet, my name is written in the book of life and my days are numbered.

I ask God every day to show me how I can use my crappy cancer to help someone and bring Him glory. I may never know if I do but I'm sure gonna try. I consider myself blessed.

I've never asked "why me?" Why NOT me? I know the moment I will be cancer free forever, although I can't tell you the exact date or time. Only God knows. And as I meet my Lord in my heavenly home and perfect body, I will be cancer free.

2 Corinthians 4:8-9,16
We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed but not driven to despair; Persecuted but not forsaken; struck down but not destroyed; so we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day.