Three Things.

It has been 6 weeks since surgery! Hooray! That means I am no longer forced to sit still most of the time and I can FINALLY use my crutches. Obviously, I celebrated by walked Albus. He was almost as excited as I was about it!

Also, I have had my expander filled twice. Both times with the maximum 120cc (4oz) for a total of 240cc (8oz) and whatever was put in during surgery (I think he said 120, as well. But I may be wrong). I think I need about 60 more Monday when I go back. I was TERRIFIED when I went the first time. I mean, those needles are huge!! Once it was happening I realized it was kinda awesome, though. They use a magnet to find the port. I kinda felt like a refrigerator. Then it was like my left side was going through puberty very, very quickly. Of course, I was prepared for extreme soreness after each procedure but I only experienced it slightly in my left should and upper arm. The tightness was gone by the next morning. So, my experience has been great with the expander under a lat flap recon. I wasn’t able to find many survivor stories about this sort of lat flap recon, so I am going to be adding mine to forums later today in hopes that someone like me needs it.

Now. On to the main reason for this post.

The last seven days have been a whirlwind of emotions.

About this time last week I went into my “Other Messages” folder on Facebook because I hadn’t in so long. I was greeted with what is possibly the meanest message in the history of mean messages. I’m going to share it, now. If you are really upset by cursing, there is one doosie in the message, though it is hardly the worst part, so use discretion and skip over it if needed:

“Have you changed, or are you still a miserable sociopath? I have spent hours empathizing and trying to love you, but you were always just a miserable, manipulative cunt. Did the threat of death at such an early age horribly scar your psyche? Is self-preservation the only human emotion you have left? How do you sleep at night, knowing that you lied incessantly to further your petty goals? Have you ever truly cared for anyone, or are we all just a means to an end? I wish you peace, love, and happiness. I fear you are incapable of experiencing basic human emotion.”

The message was sent from a false profile with the name of a famous WWE person, and I am clueless about who it could be and I no longer want to know. I really did want to know for the first few days. I was utterly heartbroken, to be honest. It really, really got to me. I don’t care if he knows that, either. At first, I tried to grab onto anger and not be upset- I didn’t want him to win and get what he wanted. But my ideas about that have changed over the week. I AM upset by these words. I know that they are false, now, and I know that I should pity this person. I do empathize with him because I have been that angry with someone and with life, just like him. The words still hurt, though, because I know that there was a time in my life that I was miserable, though not in the way he says.

There is one thing in particular that had made me realize his words are false.

I was nominated as one of Birmingham’s Most Beautiful people. This isn’t a contest about looks- no worries. Anyway, there are quite a few nominees and only 20 will be featured in the magazine once the results are in. It is an amazing opportunity to get word out about the charities and things that we each work with.

It is not the actual nomination that has helped me feel better about the horrible note, but rather, the amount of love I have received from people I have never even met. It was like a snowball: friends and family shared. Then their friends and family shared. Comments upon comments.

It has made me feel like everything I do matters, and reminded me that I am not the bad things someone says about me. I know that I am a good person and there are good people that believe in me and my story- as corny as that sounds, it worked. I stopped feeling the hurt and shame that note made me feel. Not only that, but the contest has caught me on fire and I am more than ready for the next thing. I am hoping to help camp with a new part of their program now that I’m healed and I’m busting at the seams about it!

So, blog people, here are the links to the contest and to my bio, submitted by the person that nominated me.

Here is the bio page: http://photos.al.com/alphotos/2014/04/bp_pics_1zip_30.html

And the Contest: http://www.al.com/bhammag/index.ssf/2014/04/vote_for_birmingham_magazines_1.html

Also, here’s a link to some really good music! It’s a friend’s band, Kenny George Band, and they are pretty fantastic, if I do say so myself:   https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/gunshy/id858654835

It is also on Amazon and Google Play. If you want to check it out on either of those sites let me know and I will share those links.

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Foaming at the Mouth

A few nights ago, while I was fighting to sleep, my thoughts took a rather obsessive turn and I followed through with my obsession and hit up Google, for the thousandth time, about a topic already in my search history. After roughly an hour of hiding under the covers with my phone so as not to wake my husband with a jarring light, I realized exactly what I was doing and grounded myself. Then I posted a jest on Facebook about how absolutely crazy I can make myself.

While it was a joke, it was obviously received loud and clear.

The topic is a very serious one.

I have lightly touched on the invincibility a childhood cancer survivor can feel and how it affected my breast cancer diagnosis. I generally put off going to the doctor over anything until it was too late- until I had developed a fever of 101 or until I had realized exactly how gross and sand papery those lumps felt (one month after my boyfriend told me to go have them checked out).

At several points in my life I had the gall to say, “Life is not so cruel that I would have TWO TOTALLY DIFFERENT CANCERS before I hit 30/50/70.”

Well, life showed me, didn’t she?

So the topic of interest is the level of hypochondria I have now.

Pardon my French, but this shit gets crazy!

The status I posted is as follows:

This whole second cancer before 30 is turning me into an insane hypochondriac. I used to be exactly the opposite (which led to putting off going to the Dr about my booby lumps). Blake is too, only he’s all, “I think I’m getting a cold/the flu/a stomach virus/ear infection” but it’s usually because he sneezes once. I, on the other hand, think of some really morbid stuff because I’m (probably) having side effects from my cancer treatment. I Google to see if it’s a side effect- if it’s not or is uncommon I Google more. The next thing I know, I have 7 new cancers and rabies.

I think I’m a little misleading in blaming Google for my self diagnosis, because sometimes I give myself a diagnosis and check to make sure that I am correct.

I have never been offered any support emotionally when it comes to my recent diagnosis (As far as professional support goes) and I am finding that to be kind of weird. This is obviously a real phenomenon. Of course we do this to ourselves! Even if we only do it every now and then at 4 in the morning and we can ground ourselves and make jokes about it- it is real.

I don’t think I realized that until I read all of the comments I received.

I also think I am more on edge about what is going on with my body because I have an oncologist that is so unreceptive to my worries, so blasé about my aches and pains and side effects. Not only that, but my general physician is a complete twat and the office is a joke. Seriously.  (I’d love to change to another one but this is not currently an option).

Anyway, these are all topics I intend to mention when I mean with Dr. N on Friday.

I’ll keep you guys posted.

And no worries- I am not going nuts over here, I am balanced, I do not worry a lot (but when I do, WHAM), I know I don’t actually have rabies, etc etc etc.

I am fine. However, my humor may be a bit morbid.

Quiet

Monday I had an outpatient procedure that had my family in a bit of worry. I kept it fairly quiet and have only just told people what I had done: I had a diagnostic laparoscopy in which a growth was removed from the crevice between the outside of my uterus and the outside of my ovary. While they were in surgery, they also found a funny little spot and removed it.

This is a very basic procedure but because of my extensive history with cancer, this was something we were told could definitely go both ways. Because of the uncertainty of it all, I felt it was best to keep it fairly quiet.

Until now.

Now I’m posting it all over the place because it is NOT cancer. It was just a stupid atypical cyst in a weird place. And it hurt. And it still hurts.

So, I have no appetite, I appear to be about 2.5 or 3 months pregnant and I’m sweating profusely as my body flushes out the fentanyl  and anesthesia. They are the culprits for my lack of appetite this week, so I don’t mind the sweating. I just want it out of my body.

PS I get my boobs sometime this year.

Breaking up with Tamoxifen

(Two in one day.. I know; I’m sorry! But PLEASE read this one 🙂 )

 

I am very seriously considering no longer taking Tamoxifen.

I never thought I would say that.

I never thought I would say that because I do whatever my oncologists tell me to do. And I honestly think that if Dr. Howard (my Childhood oncologist) told me to take it, I would NEVER consider dropping it.

Let’s be honest, he is a better doctor than my current oncologist.  (No worries, she doesn’t read my blog. Not even sure she would recognize me on the street or remember that I was about to get married the last time I saw her.)

I am kind of shocked at myself for even considering dropping the drug. I love modern medicine. Really.

When people insult chemotherapy I take that personally because I went through it in all of my glory and it was WORTH IT. I won’t let anyone tell me it was not worth it and green tea would have done the job much easier.

And well, I knew all the statistics when I started taking Tamoxifen and I kind of knew what to expect and I knew it wouldn’t be pretty. I told myself ‘it ain’t chemo’ and got on with it.

So, in a week I set the date for my second mastectomy. The stats are still the same this month as they were before. After my second mastectomy, chances of reoccurrence are 1%, with or without the Tamoxifen.

I’m not really feeling listing why I want to drop it from my regimen after surgery, but I do want to know how you all feel about this. If you have not taken the drug, the side effects are insane. Feel free to do some research, because it’s not just hot flashes and butt expansion. The unlisted ones are also insane (for example, lightening fast stabbing headaches up to 40 times an hour. I counted this morning. I know it is PROBABLY the Tamoxifen because of previous conversations with my medical team and because I left my meds at home when I went to the beach with Camp… and they stopped. They came back about 2 weeks after I came home and resumed meds.).

 

So, tell me ‘bout it. Pros and cons from your vantage point? Any experience??

(yes, I know I need to talk to my medical team about it. I will. But I’m talking to you first!)

Bald on the Inside

I feel like I should regularly have more updates for you all. I mean, the exciting life of a breast cancer patient is never ending, right?!

Well. Not so much.

I have pretty much the most boring life ever, right now. But I’m okay with that.

And most days I worry or think about normal life junk more than breast cancer junk. Stuff like money. Where the hell does it all go and why don’t we have any? And my dog. Why does he shed SO MUCH? What if he secretly hates me? If I ever have babies will he hate them?!

But breast cancer is occasionally a part of these worries.

For instance, I wore the foam boob the other day because sometimes it’s just less.. hot. I went to the pet store to buy dog food and look at cute animals andsomeone got to witness my prostetic falling out and onto the ground. In the PET STORE. By the gerbils. He handled it well though. He was crouched down next to where it fell and just kinda did a double take at it on the ground, picked it up and handed it to me. Then we continued on with our conversation.

It was a beautiful moment, really.

But on the drive home my brain went haywire.

I’m wearing the foam boob for lots of boring clothes related and comfort related reasons. What if I lean down to hug an adorable child or seated adult? What if I go all sorority pose for a photo op and lean down a little too far?! What if I do these things and that boob just flies out?!

Well.

It’d be a memory…

But really. Sometimes it’s just hilarious.

The hot flashes are funnier, but I wont get in to that.

I wish the other side effects were as funny as the hot flashes. But I have yet to make a memory out of the joint and bone pain, the uterine pain or my constantly growing rear end.

Okay, that last one is just funny on its own.

But really, I know I’ve got it easy.

I had my check up the other day, and while I was the youngest and I got some pretty ridiculous looks… I was also the ‘healthiest’.

It’s okay, though. I didn’t feel left out.

98

I think Ive posted this before, but I thought it was fitting to post again 🙂

I know we are all bald on the inside.

Pink Ribbon Blues by Gayle A. Sulik: Book Review

Pink Ribbon Blues by Gayle A. Sulik: Book Review.

Not usually one to blog twice in one day or even re-blog, but I love this very much. Especially since I’ve had encounters with the pink ribbon as someone from the gold ribbon club for 15 years. Now that I’m also in the Pink ribbon club, I have added to my perspective and it goes a lot like this.

I was going to take a few little chunks out to tease you with and make you read it… but there are too many!