Please Don’t Pop My Floaties

Just as I’m beginning to feel like myself & bouncing back to quote normal, my fucking hair begins falling the fuck out…. [ha, bouncing. If you recall from my earlier posts, you know I’m clumsy as fuck…so, it’s more like I’ve been falling into the walls again….Goddammit. Just another reminder of this journey & bullshit that goes along with.

Seriously though, I was feeling strong, before my hair began globing out in my fucking hands. My physical strength was almost 69 days prebilateral mastectomy  strong. I’d begun using light weights, the almost twice daily walks resumed, my napping want had subsided….a little anyway….point is I was feeling goddamned good.

The expanders are so uncomfortable people. Told you guys, I’m clumsy as fuck. And having big saline filled bags in my chest doesn’t help my grace. They’re situated more near my shoulders, like a goddamn football player wearing pads is what I feel like. [if you can visualize that]. I was told the expanders are not ‘very boob like’, no shit Doc Sherlock…. They’re hard & solid. Not squishy. They feel like I’ve got kids floaties installed in my chest. That’s how these bitches feel. I’d been trying to figure how to best articulate what they felt like….they feel like over-inflated floaties on/in my chest.

I’m hoping with the new tit exchange, the implants feel a little more comfy & I can fully embrace new body & all the hard work the doctors, myself and family have put into getting me healthy again. Now to quiet that noise in my head.  And motherfuck, just like my real boobs, these expanders are dif sizes too–the fuck? Really? How can that be? Goddamned plastic surgery….even those motherfuckers out for me while going through recovery….please? I was NatGeo before masecto & still uneven as fuck now. It’s a total esteem booster, I tell ya.

I was looking at sports bras the other day,  Little Badboob happens to asks if this is where I get my new boobs. No baby, I’m not getting my new boobs at Walmart….Thank fuck….lol

I registered my sweet baboo for kindergarten last week. It pleases me to know he’ll be entering school just as this nightmare will be wrapping up. By August, surgeries & shit should be way behind us…. Looking to the future we will be.

Chemo will give you diarrhea they say.
Buy Imodium they say.
Chemo will make you constipated they say.
Buy stool softener they say.

I started eating the Imodium’s at the first squirt of diarrhea, after chemo infusion number 1. Because you can’t have the Hershey Squirts while trying to life. Then kids, I’m so anti-poop I start eating Colace in hopes to give birth this a 12 pound bowel movement. Fuck me….It was like a playdough factory up in there….

The second chemo infusion was Friday. It went well enough. I guess. Can’t wait for the squirt fest to begin this time! Then lugging around that huge fucking chemopoo again in my belly. Oh joy! I kid you not, it smells like my innards have decayed folks. One med to fix this the other to fix that. They combine super fucking powers to fuck up your digestive track. Fun. Fun.

2

As I type this….I am bald, bloated & horribly malformed; a picture of perfection I am. I am never without Mr. Badboob’s hand, encouragement or kinds words. I’ve the support of hundreds you beautiful motherfuckers to cheer me on.

I’m not doing too bad at the mo. xx

 

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