Somewhere Over The Toilet…..

Is where I sit sweating  profusely.
Is where I sit puking
Is where I sit, wondering if it’s a false hurl alarm or the real shit.
I’ve never been so out of my mind in pain/confusion/and general fuckedupness

Imagine your worst hangover. Then multiple that by 1,000,000,000 stabby knives slicing up and down your gut….That’s the closest I come describe how chemo makes me feel. And fuck me I’m on a lighter regimen, they say…. I can’t imagine how much death has been starring you down….[You chemo warriors with the higher toxins to kill the residual cancerous cells….You are my fucking hero. My fucking inspiration. My goddamned light and my guidance.] That summary doesn’t still doesn’t convey the real feelings of chemo and what it does to your mind, body & soul.  It’s like you want to rip the skin from your body in hopes of relief from the chemo storm brewing in your body.

Last week was spent preparing for being chemoriden this week. You know, I kinda dusted, kinda cleaned and our iRoomba is still kicking ass…. Fortunately I’ve still got plenty of badboob chemo foods to get me by the next week or so. Sweet Babboo has enjoyed the badboob chemo foods as well, a huge thank you to all who sent this chick with the floppy waffle tits snacks & prezzies. I truly and humbled by the amount of support I’ve received since November.

I reached a milestone in this breast cancer journey, my last chemo infusion!! Whoofuckinghoo~so excited to cross that day off my calendar. I will not need radiation, thank fuck on that. I know there a still a few more hospital procedures for me in July….One step, one day, one nervous tear leaking from my eye at a time. These last few steps should be easy….new boobs!! ….Oh yeah!!….Have you seen a post-masecto chest? It’s not pretty, but I do have titanium holders where my nipples should Changebe….wonder tits activated….

Leaving the cancer center last Friday, the girls asked what I’d miss most about chemo. Erm, the puking and spraying from both ends. The one positive is I’ve not had a period in months….chemo makes you pre-menopausal they say. I am glad I’m not having to shave every other day, no razor bumps! But seriously, with the prices of fucking razors, we should not still be experiencing razor rash in this day and age~~someone get on that. And I’m kinda digging having no hair to fuck with. Boom, I wake up, put on my black tank and I’m ready to go.

Everyone’s experience with cancer various so greatly. One thing we, the fighters, the warriors, wish for….is for us to tell our story in our fucking words with our goddamned experiences. We don’t want you retelling our story. We don’t want you to edit our story as to how you think it should be told. I’m still wrapping my head around that mindset. If you love someone, love them now. Not for what you hope to mold and shape into your perfect fucking image. If you claim love for another, love them as they are, in the now. Don’t try to detour them with your fuckery.

Just accept
 Just Love
Just Listen

You may find joy in watching your loved one flourish with wings she always knew she had but scorn kept her from doing so.

Life is fucking hard enough. Last thing we need is lay low when the fucktards come marching by. Last thing we need is to feel we must bottle our emotions. Cancer of any sort will rock your fucking world. Some are more graceful than others with their story, but ultimately, we want to be loved. You don’t know what to say? Howabout a simple ‘hi’ or put an arm on my shoulder. Chemo takes your brain on some crazy ass scenarios-not knowing what is real or imaginary- Just don’t shy away because we are/were sick.

From my toilet to yours…..

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Mistakes Were Made

Oh yes they were.

Fucking you think you have your shit together [well, I never really thought I had my shit together, but I’ve got comfy blankets and built the facade blankie fort]. You live the with diagnosis and medical treatments. The poking, the prodding, all modesty has been tossed aside when your chest has become the focus for many–clearing the cancer then the reconstruction of the breasts….life has adjusted, as well as it can considering, cause you know fucking cancer and loss of boobs at 42. You look straight ahead, try to hold your head high when all you want to do it hide.

But hey, your oncologist prescribes a shitton of chemo/cancer meds. You’re sedated, you live, you learn, you laugh, you cry & cry & cry & cry until you think your tear ducts have actually dried the fuck up….Oh but no. There are more tears, there are always more tears. The tears that fall in the shower. The tears that escape while hugging someone. The tears of pride when seeing your spouse and child playing together. The tears of life.

You may get used to your new life, but you may never like it. Well, I don’t like it. Obv, I’m glad I have my life. Obv, I’m glad I’m not sitting here with six apple sized tumors in my tit at the mo. But,  but what would life be for me today, had I not discovered those little pea sized fucking lumps?

badboobThey say our experiences shape us and prepare us for what’s ahead….what the fuck am I being groomed for? I do hope to make a positive impact in the breast cancer community. Whether it be by counsel or friendship. You don’t have to be alone. You shouldn’t be alone. 

Life may be easier if we were easier on ourselves, if I were easier on myself. If I loved myself more. If I laughed more. If I forgave myself more. Who the fuck knows. I feel, the majority of us mean well, but we are too goddamned harsh on ourselves and selfish. I am learning to love and forgive myself a bit easier. I’m beginning to surround myself with positively radiant souls whom I adore with all my heart. I’m tired of being tired, sad & sick. I want energy, levity & longevity.

Last chemo-infusion is Friday gang!! Did you hear me?? Just a few more days and my last dose of chemo will course through my veins fucking up absolutely everything inside and outside my body. Then, I can begin to wean myself from the pharma-cocktail I’ve been taking for months. I will be able to look toward the exchange surgery and know that is my reward for having successfully kicked cancer’s ass to the curb! Last week was a pretty good week, this week should be fucking great too. Next week, well not so much. I’ll take up residence on the loo with my trash can. I’ll sweat out toxins in my sleep. I’ll feel as if I’m going insane within my mind. I’m tired of being tired. I’m tired of being sore. And just when I don’t think I can handle anymore and am ready to toss in the proverbial towel…the chemo fog will lift. I will see the world with clear eyes and sharp mind again. And I will once again thank everyone who called, cooked, prayed and loved me when I could’t love myself,

Be kind to yourself.

 

 

 

It’s Been 180 Days Since

Since I found that fucking lump in my left boob. Goddammit. Motherfucking cancerous lump….so sorry but every post may begin this way….It’s a lot to ‘get over’ or ‘move past’….I mean seriously….who the fuck would be able to just bounce back from cancer? I know we bounce everyday. I’m not saying I’m stuck either. 
Got the breast cancer diagnosis 167 days ago. Needless to say this have been one fuck of a year. But, I am almost finished. Really guys….I am almost there. I know I said this last week too. I also know I thought I’d not make it through last week. Chemo is the most brutal goddamned thing I have faced in my life. I’ve shot a few babies down my slide, thought I’d die then. But that pain was swift then and I had a human to cuddle. That made the pain so worth while. Chemo, well with chemo I know I still have my life when I finally climb my way back to the top.

Speaking of the baby slide, yesterday was Mother’s Day. While it was pleasant enough in the badboob home, I’m so over all these fucking Hallmark holidays. I lost my own mother when I was 12. I’ve lived on this fabulous fucking earth for 30 years without my mother. While I do miss the notion of a mother, I can’t really say I miss her as a person.  I never had a chance to get to know the real her. I have a few photographs.  How can you miss someone you never really knew? In 2014 Mr. Badboob and I experienced two major losses, back to back, in our lives, knocking us both for a big fucking loop….so much sadness….everywhere fucking sadness….fucking life….fucking death….A day set aside to celebrate  Mom or Dad is swell, but instead of kissing ass one day–just don’t be assholes. Then we won’t need special days. Everyday will be special if we’re cool about and not fucktarded. Give it a try will ya….extend your hand to a stranger, see what happens. Give a compliment, see what happens….Better yet, leave me a comment….I want to hear about random acts of kindness.

Looking ahead…only 11 days till my last chemotherapy infusion! 

Yippee fucking skippy gang.
I’m almost done.
You’re almost done cheering me on.
Can you believe it’s been 94 days since my first chemotherapy infusion?
I’ve had toxic shit coursing through my body, mind, heart & bowels for 94 motherfucking days….

Seriously, I’ve felt love & support from my friends on social media for years. I’ve shared a lot of shit with you guys, a lot more than necessary at times, fuck it. I never thought I could feel more lifted or supported, you guys are absofuckinlutely incredible to me and the whole Badboob family. Thank you for all the meals, notes, prayers, prezzies & healing vibes last week and every week since my boob decided to be a whore and get cancer.

Fuck me. What a year.
I’ve been through challenges before.
Hell, my entire life has been has been a fucking challenge.

There will be no way I could fully & properly thank each one of you…..but I’m working on it. This challenge is definitely different than others I’ve faced. Yes, I had cancer. But life must go on. Bills still need to be paid. House still needs to be cleaned. Kids still need to be cared for. Spouses still need attention. Your life can not stop because of cancer, you may slow down & reevaluate the important shit, but you must keep going….life keeps going whether you want it to or not.

I’m still in a fuckton of pain today. From the power port to torn pec….but the sun is out. We learn to deal We learn to go on. We learn to live.
From my chemo induced delirium to yours, make it a good one.

18 Days Til The Last Chemo Infusion

Whoofuckinhoo! Know what that means fuckers? I can see the finish line!! I am stronger than breast cancer. I will kick this bitch to the curb and not look back….

If I can make it past this week….You know the feeling of the flu? The flu that feels like you’ll die with every step & breathe? Every bone & joint aches and if you’re lucky enough to get a stomach virus atop the flu?….Welp, that’s how I feel currently.

The feeling where you’re sitting on the toilet with trash can on your lap….Not sure which end you will spew toxic waste, but knowing it will happen….soon….

I’ve never been on a cruise, but I can only imagine what it feels like to be seasick…..As, I’ve felt seasick since Saturday. Nothing is released in over 20 minutes [still toilet side] and the mo you get up to stretch your legs & whatnot, that’s when the magic happens kids….fuck you chemo.…I hear my baboo calling for me….fuck you chemo….my bowels feel as if they’ve been squeezed clean….fuck you cancer….You will have constipation they say.

Anyhoo, looking ahead, 77 days, I’m scheduled for the new tit exchange surgery and hysterectomy; same day. I’m not sure if I’ll be staying the night. Both surgeries are out-patient. Reason for the hysterectomy was my brca2 mutative positive~~lucky me!! Being brca2 positive means my chances for ovarian and cervical cancers are increased….time to close up shop….another abandoned playground. I’ve done the research. Having both procedures should put me down close to 2 weeks, hence the dates on the meal list. I was trying to be proactive to get those dates lined up for all those lovely badboob supporters. Having both procedures same day, means one recovery….If all goes well [and fuck me, I’m sure I’ll encounter a challenge or six] I should be healed and well with a but of hair growth by the time sweet baboo starts Kindergarten in August.

Well motherfuck. Don’t you just hate spending time on a project only to not have the fucker save. And now you must redo. And you don’t keep notes. So this post blog will be nothing like the one I constructed yesterday. Such is life.

I had chemo infusion number five Friday the 29th. Earlier in the week, sweet baboo and I picked the sweetest most delicious strawberries, came home & made smoothies~yum. I was ‘bulking’ up on C and antioxidants from the berries.

  I sit here knowing the nausea I feel this morning will be nothing compared to what I’ll be feeling shortly. 

I sit here knowing my body is about to explode. In a gnarly ass way. 

phontoOn an insistence from a friend, I’ve created the Badboob Chemo Food Amazon Wishlist. I by no means expect anyone of you to get me anything….but so, so many of you have asked how you can help comfort me. I know the feeling….Knowing a friend is suffering, but you can’t physically console, so we purchase stuff in attempts to perk up said friend….It is working guys. Every well wish, message, text, of support helps to carry me along further….Thank you so very much.  The wishlist contains gift cards to restaurants [to be used with Take Them A Meal], medical goodies for surgery in July, blah blah & shit like that. But you guys!

You guys are ordering and sending us goodies, prezzies & surprises. Not gonna lie, feel like total ass, chemo is fucking brutal [how many times have I said that, probably every blog since receiving chemo]. But knowing I’ve so many out there rooting for me and the whole badboob family….no words….lots of big sloppy emotional chemo induced tears….I will forever be grateful to everyone who has shown supoort and compassion during my breast cancer jaunt.

I will seriously never be able to give a proper thank you to all you beautiful people walking this journey with me. I’m so flabbergasted that you guys feel touched enough to reach out, truly humbling. Friends. Old. New. You’re all fanfuckintastic.

From my toilet to yours make it a good one kids.