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!

A Boob By Any Other Name

Hey, it's just a couple of boobs.  We refer to them as mammaries, breasts, TaTa's, the girls, boobs, boobies, breasts, baby pacifiers, baby bottles, hooters, knockers, chest bumps, crumb catchers, pillows, jugs, melons, puppies, air bags, hooters, tittie's, muchacas . . . . . . and a few not so nice words that some man probably came up with. Who knew they had so many names?

                 Here is a blue footed boobie!

They are gone. But I feel them. . . . . It's what is called 'phantom' pain. Of course I hurt from the top of my head to my bellybutton. It's a good thing God made women so strong! I swear they must've slapped me around while I was asleep because I feel beat up.

This bruise travels under my arms. I'm sure there's more under all this wrapping and gauze.  I'll know more when I try to shower today. Of course, that's open to interpretation because I can't get my drain holes or incisions wet, so it'll be more of a sponge shower.

I donated the 'old girls' to science. . . . . . even tho I did consider (for about 1 minute) bringing them home in a jar.  I figured we might as well get some useful research from them. Not that I believe they'll find a cure using my TaTa's but hey, they stood a better chance of living beyond their 59 years in a research lab than in a jar or the trash!

So carry on old girls! Make yourself useful as you travel beyond my chest wall. I'm not mourning your loss yet.

Home Again Jiggity Jig

I left my surgeon a note on my dressings to remind him not to leave any flaps of skin.

He told my hubster after surgery that he was unable to leave me a note due to all the gauze, but that he worked hard to make me as flat as possible.

I was released in less than 24 hours to come home.

I was feeling pretty good and boy, did I have a healthy appetite! Thank you Sonic! The drive home was a bit over 2 hours and I spent the afternoon in the recliner.

My parents brought vegetable soup (homemade of course) and an apple pie. It even had a pink ribbon engraved in the crust!

Bedtime was rough. I'm not a back sleeper and even though I have pillows all around me, comfortable I was not. The pain hit me in the middle of the night.  . . . . . I feel like I've wrestled with a sumo and lost.

propped up with all my pillows and fur baby

I was told by many that there is little to no pain. They lied. Stupid crappy cancer. Laying on that operating table for four and a half hours has my back aching. Most of the pain is from the neck, shoulders, and under the arms. I have handy heart pillows the hospital gave me to keep under my arms, but if I raise them I regret it instantly. It feels like the devil himself touched my pits. That is from the lymph node removals.

I have a monster of a headache too. That could be from sleeping (NOT) on this wedge. Laying flat is impossible at first. Getting out of bed is a gymnastic exercise.

And let's not forget these obnoxious drain tubes. I have four of those. The hubster drains them every few hours for me and records the amount. The more I move around, the more they drain.

And yet, even after all that griping and complaining, I'm grateful. I'm grateful to be alive. I'm grateful to be home and see my family. I'm grateful for a husband who is very attentive to my needs. I'm grateful for a Christian surgeon, anesthesiologist, and team of health care professionals. I'm grateful for a God that answers prayers. There was no crappy cancer in my lymph nodes!

I know each day is going to be better than the day before, because I kicked this crappy cancer's butt!

Sarcasm is Funny

I'm sarcastic. It's a gift, actually. I use it in numerous situations even if somewhat inappropriate, but it has certainly helped me deal with this stupid crappy cancer. 

The beauty of using sarcasm is that once you look at things from that vantage point, you can’t stop. And if you commit yourself to coming back with funny anecdotes (funny to me at least) you start to look for the humor in everything. It's a great tool that keeps me from the mullygrubs, and puts a smile on my face! It's really the only way to deal with crappy cancer and the other pits of life.

So today, I'm heading to Baylor for several folks to 'play with the girls' all day before I lose them. I'm going into this without much knowledge of what they are going to do, so I'll have to explain it all in a later post. I'm showing up. I'm trusting these people and placing my total faith in God. I am going to have a discussion with my surgeon about reaching through the incision to get all that fat out from under my arms though! And while he's in there, could he reach way down and suck some of this fat out of my stomach? A girl can ask, can't she?

And while I'm at it, let's stop acting like this is normal. . . . . . A "mastectomy" is a euphemism for an amputation! That's the English word used prior to 1950. But of course, we are more polite in our speech these days. Why has the removal of a woman's breast become so completely normal these days? If I had bone cancer in my leg and it was amputated, would that be normal? What if it ran in my family and I had it removed to be safe, as women sometimes opt for with their breasts. The whole PINK campaign to make women (and men) aware of their breasts have feminized it and made it a normal occurrence. There's nothing 'normal' to me about having my girls whacked off! How do I prepare myself for this? I'm so vulnerable and NOT in control. I haven't even begun to experience the physical and emotional pain from this 'amputation'. I'm not trying to make the reader feel uncomfortable here, but 'awareness' (although a good thing) has become so commercialized that it seems perfectly 'normal' for a woman to have breast cancer and loose her mammaries! That's definitely a downside to October going 'Pink' and I'm not quite sure how I feel about that yet. 

Today is the last day I have to wear a booby strap!  That's not normal. With a personality like mine, who needs boobs?

Lemonade

Life gives us lemons. Lots of lemons! It's life. We all have crappy things that happen to us, but we have to get back up and keep going. We have to live. I have a life to live! I'm not special or unique. I'm not the first person to have crappy cancer and I won't be the last. I understand that this world is not my home, and I've been trying to stay positive and upbeat. So, I'm listening to gospel music, meditating, and thinking about the "after".

I'm going to make lemonade out of this. I feel like God has given me an opportunity here. . . . . . It's important how I deal with it. So, I've been coming up with a list of the positives to have no "girls" on my chest and here's what I've come up with so far:

• I'll never have to wear a bra again, unless I choose to wear prosthesis. (I'm told they are heavy and uncomfortable, so maybe tissue paper?! Ha!) 
• I won't have to try on a hundred of them to find the one that fits the "underarm" boobage and feels comfortable
• I won't "nip" in cold weather ever again!
• I'll never have to worry about hiding my straps (yes, I'm from the generation where underwear is called that for a reason; because it's supposed to be hidden under!)
• I'll be able to sleep on my side more comfortably (eventually after healing)
• I'll never have to get another mammogram (those things hurt!)
• I won't have to remember to do self exams monthly
•  I don't have to worry about too much showing when I bend over
• They won't bounce when I run
• No more sweating under the girls
• I won't have to fear them falling out of my swimsuit when playing in the water
• It will be easier to cast a fishing rod 
• It will be easier to shoot pool
•  It will be easier to cross my arms
• They won't "go south" as I age 

I know myself, and I know that I will have feelings of ugliness, being unfeminine and I don't want to look in the mirror and be reminded of the crappy cancer that took my "girls" without seeing something beautiful. So, I plan to have tattoos over my scars. Yes, I'm making lemonade out of the scars!

I have christian brothers and sisters who are judgemental about tattoos but I find them beautiful. According to Isaiah 49:16, God inscribed His kids' pictures on the palms of His hand. (Yep, God had tattoos!)

Tattoos are personal to the person and tell a story. I have five (yes, 5) and they are each very personal to me. I love them as part of my body. I look forward to healing enough to get a piece of art. . . . . the ink on my breast area will help me let go, move on, and heal. Yes, I will be reminded of my struggle, but the tattoo will also be a good reminder of hope and new life. It will give me more reason to breathe and be happy, thereby speeding up my emotional healing. 

I want to be intimate with my love and feel sexy, and having beautiful art on my chest will give me the confidence I'll need to feel beautiful. Crappy cancer is personal. Tattoos are personal. Don't judge me. I will do what feels right to me and what makes my body and life continue in a way to feel good about myself. That's not selfish. It's making lemonade out of life's lemons.

check out this link: http://www.psfk.com/2014/10/inkspirations-app-links-breast-cancer-survivors-tattoo-artist.html

Ephesians 5:16 tells us to make the best out of a bad situation because the days are evil.

No Stilettos for Me

I can't wear heels. I've never been able to wear heels. I find myself wishing for a bright, hot pink pair of stilettos though! I'm seriously living in a pink world in my head. . . . . .I want everything PINK! Is that so bad?

October is breast cancer (do NOT capitalize that crappy word) month. So, it's a good time to get pink ribbon fuzzy slippers, blankets, maybe even a purse! Oh joy!

I can't wear heels, so I've decided to paint me some canvas shoes to wear! Yep, I'm doing it now. I'll wear them to the hospital next week. I have breast cancer awareness socks to wear into the operating room too!

Finished painting my shoes but I need some bling and sparkle! Off to wally world