Oh my how times were easier. A lot of my online friends were obsessed with this pregnant ass giraffe. Not me tho, ever going against the grain, I chose not to watch it. The intrigue. When will she have it..awe…go April. I know some who had the cam up the entire day at work and shit.
What I’d give to see something like that. This world. The sickness. The death. The killings. The Protests. The evil. All of it will come burning down, just as a it’s done in the past. Fuck us all.
So this week in life after cancer, I will be going for a consult at Unc Burn And Plastics on August 3, 2020. I’m beyond thrilled af about this meeting. Hopefully I will have a surgery date by the end of the month.
Ah, my explant/tram flap surgery. Yes, thank fuck. I can see it in my horizon brainholes and it looks to be a beautiful implant pain free life. I may get mobility of my right shoulder back as well.
Some 1699 days ago, the question was posed to me what would my sweet Baboo think about what I’m writing about him [sic]. My answer at the time was to the effect of I’d tell him i was scared and he knows my love for him has never wained…so yeah, no worries on the home from us here. I firmly believe I will have the same open, honest, real and lovingly relationship with Sweet Baboo (9) as I do with my older two sons, 25 and 24, respectively.
Speaking of my older ones, 9 says that I’m a lucky mom that my sons, his brother’s, call me almost everyday. Yes, baby; I am lucky.
So, I did tell him of my cancer last week when I was dropping him at a friends house so I can get the CT Scan. Told him, the doctor wasn’t sure about the sports on my ribs and that’s why she wanted to do more testing; adding that I’m sure the tests will show no cancer – though in my fucking mind I was convinced it was all over my ribs at a stage 4, ffs – don’t worry baby, I’m sure it’ll be fine.
I can’t say if he will want to go back to a time of my cancer and him being five. No shit, he turned five about a week and half before I found the goddamned lump. Fucking two types of cancers. Goddammit. Five yeas old for fucks sake. At the time of writing with I’ve remained cancer free for 1670 days!! And without ANY hormone replacement therapy even though I was estrogen positive.
Even though I’ve was in complete manic mode, I never stopped loving my boys and gained a greater love for friends and family. So yeah, if he asks, I’ll tell him I kept the shit real. He’ll absorb it and probably go back to Fortnite.
Holy fuckimorlee. Living life after cancer is like walking on glass, you know you’ll get cut; just when will that sneaky ass shard of glass ever so slightly pierce your foot and the blood starts gushing and no matter what you do, you can’t stop the blood because it’s everywhere.
So I had a bone scan last week and the oncologist saw some ‘questionable’ markings within my ribs. Let’s give you a CT scan in the next day or two Tara. It’s really 50/50 Tara. Sorry I can’t tell you more until we view the scans. Get the scans and wait a day or two.
This isn’t the fist cancer scare in the past four years and I know it won’t be the last.
Been getting my head together. Getting my body together.Taking care of my health and ongoing multi skeletal pain. It’s amazing at what a switch of medicine can do. Gaining weight for my tram surgery sometime late August. Told me I wasn’t ‘big enough’. Scoffs, as if.
If anyone reading this was with me years back, you may recall I chose bilateral mastectomy with immediate reconstruction. Now, 4 1/2 years of living with these heavy ass/painful implants I’ll be getting those fuckers out. Hell toss them at the wall to see if they stick, IDGAF. Just don’t want to see them anymore.
I urge you to carefully research all your options, prior to mastectomy. I know the time is harrowing and full of angst, but I feel now, no woman should endure the painful numbness of implants. Tram flap is the way to do. Just wish I knew that and shit years back.
No need to dwell. I am not. I’d like my voice to be used for the good, the scared and unconventional breast cancer patients.