I Tossed My Out My Spanx In Haste

Ah last summer you may recall a Facebook post I made in which I denounced my Spanx then proceeded to toss them all away in the trash. So happy I was to toss those uncomfortable ass fuckers away! After I lost 75 pounds, I was wearing size 3’s! Me a 41 year old mother of four fit her skinny ass in size 3’s!

After I was almost 200 pounds dropping to 131 was a huge fucking delight for me. And I let all you fuckers on Facebook know all about. I posted picture after picture of my new skinny self. Fuck, I worked hard in those 10 months to lose so much–goddamn right I was going to be proud and share with all my quote friends. Now, I’m a former skinny fatty again. [insert frowny face emoticon here]

Well fuck me now kids. I’ve gained almost 20 pounds since this whole debacle has begun, 124 days since lump discovery. Goddammit! I tried on every pair of shorts over the weekend, only to get discouraged and totally pissed when my sesh was over. Fucking fuck. And when I see you at Foodlion and tell you I’ve gained almost 20 pounds and you say ‘good for you’, no fuck you….this is not good. I realize most lose weight with chemo because of the whole puke your brains out thing….but this weight gain is not good….I do not approve….My onco assures me and damage done from chemo we can reverse….we shall see.

Here I sit, 82 days post masecto, fat as fuck, bald as fuck, face broken out like a prepubescent teenager, expanders filled to under my arms [read: my arms will not go down, flat to my side, because of expanders], nose bleeds, swollen moon face due to chemo, sick to my stomach, intestines decaIMG_5305ying, leaving the smell of death in my wake, my belly looks 14 months pregnant-thanks chemo gut; how I loathe you so….You know it’s bad in the bathroom when your 5 year old tells you to spray something…..5 year olds live for stink! Not Chemo stink & when the fuck will it stop smelling like death?

I’m scheduled for my 3rd chemo infusion this Friday, the 18th. This will be 3 of 4! Thank fuck–I can see the finish line……I’m almost there guys! Goddammit, chemo number 2 coupled with the Nulasta shot practically took me out….not gonna lie, thought I was dying…not looking forward to Friday.

I’ve accepted the fact that I will hide my hideously grotesque body in hoodies and capri like sweatpants [sorry Mr. Badboob, I know how you love those pants I wear oh so much] until the new tit exchange. I found lightweight hoodies at Kohl’s. Since I’m crafty & shit, I’ve cut the sleeves off the hoodies–boom! Short-sleeved hoodies! Granted I’ve only 4, so those 4 will be in heavy goddamn rotation all spring long….but you do what you gotta do. If you see a fat bald chick with bad acne a fat gut and faded hoodies walking about this spring….be nice….it’ll be me & I’ll be a hot fucking mess.

I did save and found one piece of my remaining fat clothes over the weekend, I’d sold majority of fat clothes on eBay in 2015. A skull hoodie, fuck yeah! So now that’s short sleeved too! Whoohoo for being crafty.

Have you ever had acne so bad it hurts? I mean hurt, hurt…like to even smile or life kinda hurt? Well kids, that’s how my face felt. I purchased tea tree oil, soaked cotton pads and taped to my chin….twice over the weekend. It looked as if I’d had a face lift with the bandage on my chin. But fuck, it was the only way to get relief from those pulsating monsters….goddamn acne….goddamn chemo….goddamn mother nature….and your generous monthly gift to me….Ah yes, I was blessed with my period this weekend.

So not only is my body trying to push the chemo out, it’s also pushing an egg down my baby slide….stay away….grrr….Though I didn’t feel pissy prior to start of rag, just overall blah & discontent.

Now my stomach is big enough to drag the table when walking past. Boom, instant table cleaner….I guess being a fatty does have a perk.

Make a good one!

 

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I’d Hug You But I Can’t Lift My Arms

 You’re so brave, they say
You’re so strong, they say
You’re a survivor, they say
You’re a warrior, they say
You’re a fighter, they say
You’re a winner, they say
You’re an inspiration, they say

from the moment I was born

the cards were stacked against me

I am….simply….me

Growing up, the only thing I’ve known how to do was fight, (not physically mind you) to stay alive. So when cancer decides to invade my fucking boobs and claim them, I had no choice but to fight again….I mean….given my past….why the fuck would I think the Autumn of my life would be any easier than previous seasons?

They prepare you, a little before a bilateral mastectomy. Expect to be sore, they say. You won’t have full range of motion they say. You’ll feel like a fucking Tyrannosaurus Rex, they never said….ever….Some of you may know that when you get home after having your boobs sliced off, you can not move your arms for quite sometime. So when you try to life around the house, you’re kinda just tossing shit around at a slight arm’s throw because your arms are like a goddamned t-rex. Seriously, I felt like such a tard….Tossing shit around….It was quite comical….once I got past the crying and trauma of surgery, I could giggle about it at times. Tossing the towel over the shower rod was the worst. Ha. Lol. Give it a try tomorrow….after your shower…toss your towel over over the rod while keeping your arms at your sides….you’re welcome.

Last post, I’d just completed my second chemo infusion. I didn’t think it was too bad…wrong….boy, was I fucking wrong….The Monday following chemo I returned to the cancer suite to receive a Neulasta shot. Holy fuck me! I thought I was dying sometime around 4:30 am Tuesday morning. This shot causes bone pain, they say. And goddammit–they were not joking. I awoke with my teeth audibly chattering, I was hunched in pain, was sweating while freezing, sitting on the toilet as I thought I was going to expel the toxic chemo from both ends….not a pretty site. I ended up curled up on our recliner, trying to rest as much as I could. I was not able to life the next day. I put an SOS out on FB & called on someone to watch my sweet baboo. Friends came through. Thank you everyone who offered up help. I will need it again. If you are a local SAHM with your own sweet baboo, hmu yo..

Thank fuck I’ve only two more chemo’s to go! Halfway fucking there I am! I can almost see the finish line….after I expel my remaining innards….I’ve spent so much time in the bathroom this week [and why a I telling you? Why are you still reading? Because this is cancer folks. It’s ugly. It’s brutal. It’s bowel shaking…literally]….but if you recall….1st chemo I ate all the Imodium Ad’s….got backed up…gaining almost 12 pounds….not this time buddy….no siree….I’ll stay loose in the caboose if that’s my only way to avoid releasing a 20 pound chemo-poo again….I think I may have lost my small intestine sometime this week. [insert laugh till you cry emoticon here]

Friday, 72 days post bilateral mastectomy, I received another 90cc of saline per each booblike object placed within my body. I totally feel pumped up. Like my body was blown  [like a punching bag] up to mimic that of a football player, the shoulders. I’ve received a total of 370cc’s total, 185cc’s per boob, of saline whilst undergoing renovation….Boom!….now I’ve got quote boobs again…but they’re still such an odd apparatus to sport. Totally hiding this shit out in hoodies for the next couple months.

I don’t know what size volume the average chick chooses as I’ve not researched that. At this point in the race, I only want to remain cancer free….if at the finish line, I have fanfuckintastic set of new tits, well hey, those’ll be my pricing for beating the fuck out of breast cancer! They’ll be my prize for winning and not giving up…even when I want to….this week was goddamn brutal guys. I do not wish chemo upon anyone.

Scientists that are working on discovering cures, keep at that shit! I’ve no doubt you will find a cure….

Breast cancer is not all pink ribbons blowing carefree like a goddamned Summer’s Eve commercial.Breast cancer is home wrecking, life destroying, life altering and all around fucked up.

To those of you who’ve called me brave, inspirational & strong, I certainly don’t feel like an inspiration. My situation has given me the opportunity to allow you fuckers into my chemobrain and oh what fun you’re having eh? Seriously, I’m not a superhuman. I am just me. Kicking cancer in the fucking ass. Just like you would do….stiff lipped….unwavering….

Suck it cancer and damn you badboob.

 

 

Not a brave face…but simply my face

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

 

So, You’re Going Through Chemo?

Yup
Your hair is going to fall out?
Yup
That sucks
Pretty Much

today

So yes, I’ve been pretty much been waiting for that shit to fall out since my first chemo infusion 2/5/16.

Forward to day 14 after the first TC Chemotherapy Infusion aaaand my hair begins to fall the fuck out…right there in the fucking shower…sliding down my back….sliding down my legs….I knew it….You knew it….Those who will be undergoing chemo will experience it….watch the fuck out I say….yes the pubes…all the pube & pit hair too….I knew this phenomena would not happen the first day of chemofuckingtherapy. Day 13 they say the hair will begin to fall from the scalp. And of course, they called it.There was no way I could avoid losing m hair. I’d been sweating it and freaking out all week. Those who were there for me via text/talking to help talk me off the ledge, I appreciate you so very much. Sunday afternoon and fuck this shit! Mr. Badboob will you shave my head? Of course he obliged.

And holyfuck me
What a mindfuck
It looks decent enough
I look decent enough
You fuckers are all too sweet to excancer girl
with all your flattering comments & shit.
xoxo

Mouth Sores? Try Magic Mouthwash, they say. Magic mouthwash my goddamned ass. I had such high expectations in my mind regarding this magic mouthwash. I just knew it would relieve the burnt feeling my mouth has since receiving my first chemo infusion. I never actually got mouth sores. Rather, my mouth burned, like a motherfucker. It felt as if I’d sucked on a lemonhead for hours and my mouth got puckier burnt. For a few days last week, nothing could relieve it. Especially not that fucking devil’s mouthwash goddammit.We shall see how infusion number two affects me this Friday–oh happy, happy, fucking joy, joy.

At 56 days post mastectomy, I received my third expander fill. Another 90 cc’s. We talked of my volume, expectations & shit. I’m going small this time around. No more fucking NatGeo’s for me, thank you. And after living with the last fill this week, I’m honestly happy with my size now. But since there are expanders beneath my pecs, I won’t know how I will look after the new tit exchange later this spring [that’s big fucking source of anxiety too. obv]. They sit higher & wider than implants and it’s quite bizarre- they expanders are very booblike the plastic surgeon says–uhm, no shit buddy. My chest big & boxy–or at least feel that way-like a goddamned linebacker I am.

Positive – I did begin working out again this week. This is a huge accomplishment for me. As I’ve sat on my ass recovering long enough & I’m ready to feel toned & good again. Do you know that it’s possible to gain weight while on chemo? The fuck? I know!! How in the actual fuck of fucks does one gain weight during chemotherapy? Idk….but I have…a fuckton of weight too…not 2 or 3 pounds….but over 10….I kid you not….so while I’m so glad chemo is not the puke-fest from Stand By Me….I did not want to have to get used to seeing yet another form of my fat & deformed body in the mirror while recovering….goddamn you breast cancer.

I had to ask what to use as clothing because I had no idea how to dress this expander chest, goddammit. Sweatshirts were the general consensus which brought me to Ross and waiting an hour in their fucking check out line & sweet friends who had delivered some sweatshirts to me. I’ve got some of you bringing me scarves, hats & shit too–thank you all; for everything.

Friday the 26th I will be sitting in the chemo suite at the Duke Cancer Center. This will be infusion number two of four.The port is healed and hopefully the lidocaine cream will work it’s magic again on the power port. I should not feel a thing. Nor should I need any extra sticks. That’s the point of the port, one easy to use access point.

Make it a good one.

Get off your ass and explore it all

 

 

Hate To Break It To You, But Girls Do Poo

10 days after my first chemotherapy infusion and I’m still feeling uneasy. It’s difficult to articulate while keeping it within the realm of understanding for the mere mortals that roam the earth aimlessly. I really don’t know what the fuck that is to mean, I wrote it yesterday and kinda like it. Just need to bring it back home for the point and score.  I can say it is not the puke fest I imagined it would be.

Some days it feels as if I’ve given birth to a potato…the chemolaced poos are no joke….goddammit….don’t say you’ve never felt that relief of dropping a deuce so solid it brought a tear to your face…[insert crying emoticon here]….I know you have….at least one time….I once smelled a chemo-poo & thought I’d smelled death….That fucker lingered for hours…Seriously, it was so putrid. I had no idea smells like that could be emitted from the human body. And no, it was not mine. At that moment in time, I could only hope to never have to endure that in the bathroom, well guess what, little miss TC chemo regimen, your poo smells like death.  And other days, it feels like my ass is vomiting…oh joy….fuck….I know  this is a lot to digest in this paragraph…So moving on….

Do you know what happens to a five year old & a pair of scissors left unattended for four 1/2 minutes? He gives himself a Dwight Shrute. No shit, my sweet baboo looks like Dwight from The fucking Office, poor fucker. lol We’ve yet to fix his head. It’s actually not that bad if you comb it over just right. [insert winky-face emoticon] Mr. Badboob cut and colored my hair crazy cool purples& blues one last time before it all falls out last night. We really should fix little Badboob’s Shrute too.

Tomorrow I’ll go to the plastic surgeon for expander fill #3. I think I’ll try 95 units cc with this fill. First was 100, and way too fucking much. Second, was 90 and I still felt relatively normal. Though it’s strange as fuck watching the expander fill before your eyes. Boom. Instant tits. Well, pecs at least, but it’s instant. I’m not sure how others feel, but I feel big and boxing and still clumsy as fuck. Chemo Brain. Lol. That’s a funny term. It’s given because the chemo drugs make you forgetful too. But if you’re also on a regimen of shit, you’re going to be forgetful . So there’s that.

The power port has finally settled itself the fuck down. Thank fuck. It’s still irritating as hell, but tolerable. The 26th will be my second chemo infusion session. This one should not last the four hours first one did, only about two hours, they say.

Not only is chemo excreted through your saliva & waste kids, it’s also released through your skin. Welp guess what kids? I’ve had bad fucking skin since I was 9. No lie. Every motherfucking school picture of me from Pre-K to graduation, there is a fever blister or pimple of some form or another glaring back at me, preserved forever. Gotta love that Scott/Irish blood, eh?  Goddammit, the last thing I want to be walking around with a boxy uneven chest, bald head and massive fucking pimples on my face at 42.

Oh , did I mention the nose bleeds and mouth sores yet? I feel like Tom Hanks in Philadelphia with my bloody post nasal drip and scratchy Demi Moore voice.

 

 

 

 

 

I Have To Get Up When? Motherfuck!

4:52 am BEEP BEEP BEEP

Fuck’s sake, 4:52? The fuck is the alarm going off so goddamned early? ah, yeah–my port placement is happening in an hour and half….

Flash forward-5:10 am. I am sitting here at my lappy entering another quick bloggie before we begin our adventure {insert sarcastic eye roll here}. There is no make up to apply or hair to fix this morning, seeing as how I’ll be under sedation drooling on myself shortly. So, I’m actually surprised that it took me eight whole minutes to get ready.

They say this is a ‘simple’ out patient procedure. See kids, the thing with waking up at the fuck-this-shit-o-clock for hospital procedures, you are not to eat or drink anything past midnight; like a goddamned Gremilin. So no chocolate malt infused protein coffee for me this morning–the struggle is real fuckers.

With the threat of chemo looming overhead and taunting me to no end, I began researching chemo cold caps. Have you seen this technology yet? It is supposed to be worn during chemo infusions and the idea is that it freezes your hair follicles resulting in little to no hair loss, on your head anyway….I’m sold!…Thinking to myself. That is until I see the price associated with these magnificent little beasts. Then several friends went to amazon seeking cheaper cold caps. Yes, they do have an assortment, but those reviews are not too favorable. The ice keeps melting, or leaking or causing problems. The last thing I need is more problems once the chemo drip begins. We shall see what comes of it. I really don’t need to purchase a cap as I’ll only be using it four sessions, a loaner cold cap is what I’m seeking.

Oh yes, after we leave the hospital, around lunch time, they say….I’ll be headed to the plastic surgeon for my second saline fill. This should be fun as the last fill hand me immobilized for days after. Fingers crossed they release me with a good pain med today as I don’t think the tramadol’s will cut is for the next few days.

Mr. Badboob is waking Little Badboob at the mo. We packed his bag of hot wheels & electronics last night as they will be hanging out in the lobby during the port placement. Not exactly where we wanted our sweet baboo this morning, but eh, what are you going to do?

Just checked my stats: I first felt the lump 83 days ago. And my bilateral mastectomy was 41 days ago. It’s still such a mindfuck and some days so hard to wrap my head around all the information, paperwork and bullshit that goes along with cancer.

Make it a good one kids. Feel your boobs. Hug your family. Be kind.

It’s Like A Lion And A Tiger Mixed

Bred For Its Skills In Magic….The Liger

If you guys knew anything of my before my #badboob and this whole fucking breast cancer ordeal, you know I was forever finding snacks and treats in my bras at the end of the evening. Hell, I’d even find some of my body jewelry hiding in there-you know those tricky fucking internal screw tragus earrings. I’d find the gems in my bra all the time….Thank fuck they never really got lost and didn’t have to invest in new body jewelry.

So with having my bilateral mastectomy 17 days ago, I thought long gone where the days of storing snacks in my bra for later consumption—Oh boy was I wrong. Tara, how the fuck are you still getting crumbs falling down your shirt when you have no tits, you may be thinking to yourselves. Well kids, when one eats in bed—crumbs happen….And goddammit….a lot of crumbs have happened….lots of those crunchy little fuckers.

What a lovely cornucopia of chips, peanuts, veggie jerky pieces & other delightful pieces fell to the floor when undoing this lovely post mastecto bra last night. Needless to say, Boston, the dog was very pleased with the treats I bestowed upon him.

My pain level is subsiding. Will be driving for the first time today to the The Carolina Ale House of Garner, to have lunch with my son, who happens to be a server there. He is also the first recipient of the First Annual Spartan Award! It will be nice to get out and enjoy a meal in which I neither need to cook or clean or pay for. Score!

My swelling is going down as well. I still have a hard time comprehending my new [temporary] silhouette looking in the mirror. Even at my smallest, I still looked big because of my big obnoxious tits. Now with them gone, I am instantly slim….Goddammit, what a life/mind changer that is. I’ve still lots of bruising, but that too is normal and healing quite well. No infections-Yay

Unfortunately my extra weight is still sticking….Seriously, how the hell is that possible?….My boobs were huge, I thought for sure some weight would have dropped….Meh….All in due time I suppose. We’ve begun walking the dog again, every couple of days, nice and slow we are taking it.

Each day I am meeting new women recently diagnosed with breast cancer, recently underwent their own bilateral mastectomy. I feel fortunate my blog is reaching others and potentially helping others cope. You tell me you laugh….you cry…when reading my updates….most importantly you tell me you are checking yourself or having spouse check herself. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Until a cure for cancer is found, we have to be diligent with our bodies. Know them inside and out. And get checked when something feels off. Insurance or not. I fall in the non-insured adult category, yet still had myself checked; because I knew in my heart it was cancer.

Feel free to ask any and all questions. Normal, gross, inquisitive, I’ll answer them all to the best of my knowledge.

Thank you again everyone for your continued daily support-emotional, physical, financial-all the support is appreciated and never turned down. When I am in a good place financially, I plan to give back as much as I can to my community.

Much love to all you beautiful fuckers. xx

 

 

 

 

The One With No Boobs

Holy fuck me! I woke up in sooooooo much fucking pain today. Like first day of surgery pain, even though today is day eight since double mastectomy. [Some of you may be confused my by previous blog titles. I had both breasts removed. The whore filled with cancer and I sacrificed the other to prevent cancer recurrence & have to go through this fucking nightmare again.]

Yesterday I woke all bright & chipper & shit. I got my first post-cancer walk in with the boy & dog, played with my five and his trucks, had a wonderful visit from a friend & was able to get a glorious daytime nap cause hubby was able to get five midday. Felt great all night. Thought I was getting back to my old normal [snort] self.

Ah a handful of pain meds & protein infused coffee–should be situated shortly.

And is just me, or does everyone with a memory foam topper wake drenched in fucking sweat like a junky going through detox? Could be from the 80 pound dog laying on me too? On the other hand, I finally dropped that painkiller ladened deuce! My stomach is flat again! Yippeefuckingskippy!

I obtained my pathology report Monday. The cancer has been completely removed from my breast. Interestingly she told me there were two types they removed. Two different types of fucking cancer! Can you believe that shit?? She said it was ‘rare & bizarre[to those of you who read this on Fb yesterday, deal with it. Told ya I’d be blogging it too.] *emoticon snarky face*

I knew I had  invasive ductile carcinoma. What I find absofuckinlutely amazing is the second cancer removed, from same #badboob, called invasive lobular carcinoma wasn’t present on biopsy! Per pathology report, page 4 of 9, “…3 foci…Invasive lobular carcinoma were not present on prior core biopsy” Can you fucking believe that? They (and I) saw the tumors on the ultrasound on 11/19, but the cancer wasn’t even born yet? The fuck? Told ya at the beginning of my blog, that I was an ‘against the grain kinda girl’….more proof of that right here. 

Goddammit! That blows my fucking mind! Seriously, I caught that shit so fucking early. How is that even possible? I have no words for the feelings I’m feeling. I do know, had I not caught that lump, 11/10/15 [during sex], those two cancers would have fucked me the fuck up.

Goddammit. I feel lucky as fuck. For real. All tingly and miracley & shit.

Again, never having had a surgery before, I didn’t know what to expect. I thought I’d be all Frankensteiny & shit, not being able to move my arms. I actually have more mobility than I anticipated.

I thought I’d not be able to do anything. Reach out for a hug, reach for a glass, wipe the ole poop-chute, but none of those tasks were even a problem. I cannot reach high-like to hang clothes in the closet. I can not reach far-like to grab my damned charger that keeps falling off my bedside table. Other than that, I feel normal, sans boobs.

I did have my first look at my chest on Monday when she took the hospital dressing off. I was shocked, saddened, stunned, happy [Uhm Tara, why the fuck would you be happy] Uhm, no more cancer. My chest is still all sorts of black, blue, yellow & shit….it is not pretty….hell my non-boobed chest is stilll bigger than some of the chicks I know with a flat chest….I had a lot of boob to remove….and I have the expanders in….still not sure how I feel about them….let you know when I get my first pump up. The nurse did remove the drainage tube from the right side. Leftie’s drainage has lessened, so that tube should be coming out tomorrow.

Happy New Year kids! May you all be cancer free. xx

 

 

So That’s What My Feet Look Like

Dude where’s my boob? [I’m still chucking at that title.] I know, I know, the grammar isn’t correct….but fuck it *giggle*….Dude, where’s my boobs?…didn’t read the same…I added apostrophes & shit….brackets….everything….it all was wrong….really it is wrong….cancer is wrong….my situation….your situation with cancer currently….finally you with your cancer situation that you don’t even know about yet….but will find out….I will be here for you….whoever you may be….when you get your results.

Cancer is becoming so fucking common. [Couldn’t find the most current stats, but in 2012 1.7 million women were diagnosed with breast cancer. The fucking fuck?] Those of you studying environmental factors as well as food & shit thank you! I can’t wait to see what new discoveries lie ahead in terms of cures for cancer or preventatives. I was reading how they’re using the tentacles of jelly fish to fight cancer~infuckingcredible!

I meet with my breast cancer surgeon today for my first post-op check. I did receive a call from her office earlier this morning, pathology report came back and the cancer did not spread to my lymph nodes, my margins are clear! This is wonderful news. They told us this the 22nd after surgery, but that was still preliminary–this is the official word–NO MORE CANCER IN MY BODY-[at the mo]-Whoohoo!!

The drainage from my incisions are becoming less & less, another good sign. Pain is still a motherfucker. I’ve gobbled all the pain meds and advil I could, trying to rest when I can.

There are two football shaped incisions where my tits once were….when I move the wrong way, I feel pain. Lot’s of it. A question I had for a friend who recently underwent a double mastectomy, was did she feel phantom boobs pangs….her answer was no. Nor have I yet. But I’m still kinda numb and shit physically & mentally.

Trying on clothes in my closet was a whole new trauma I wasn’t quite prepared for. Get this, I can actually button all the buttons on my shirts….something I’ve not been able to do in a long time. My chest is flat and my stomach looks 7 1/2 months preggers….I need to make poopies. Damn pain medication backs you up and puts 10 pounds on the fucking scale.

I’m adding my funding link to this post….Even though the breast cancer has been removed & Santa has returned to his home, I continue to lie in bed recovering sans boobs. The messages of support are flowing in….I am grateful for everyone. Today begins the first of many post-cancer visits. Many are still asking what you can do for us to help ease the transition for our family. The bills are beginning to pile, the insurance is still pending…..more prescriptions to pick up today. If you can help or share this post, I’ll put your name in a hat and let the winners pick names of my new boobs.

Seriously. All the thank you’s & hugs to everyone so far that’s walked with me during this cancer ordeal thus far. I love your faces goddammit and want to bite all your guyz’s cheeks. Check your boobs ladies. Make that mammogram appointment, if not for yourself, do it for your family.

xx

 

Tubes & Drainage, Oh My

It’s been four days since my double mastectomy. I’ve been home recovering for the past three days. Having never undergone a surgery before, I really had no idea what to expect as far as recovery.

Motherfuck, it takes me 30 minutes to lay down & get situated….then….I need to pee again….fuck it….more pain meds….another 45 minute snooze then up to empty my bladder.

So physically I feel better than I thought I would. Obviously I’m in a metric fuckton of pain. [In the hospital my pain was a level 35 out of 10, now it’s a manageable 5-6 1/2.] I’m so thankful for my husband keeping my pillows fluffed, feeding me, cleaning me and taking care of the house….any local readers….feel free to pop by Monday or Tuesday so I can catch a nap. Otherwise with five running about, naps & resting will prove to be challenging. Though five has been a tremendous help to me. Getting water, snacks, pillows and hugs. The atmosphere in the home has been one of calm and relaxation….which is good. I wanted no negativity in here at all and there has been none. Life is a negative enough whore bitch as it is….throw in mom who lost her boobs right before Christmas….well let’s just leave that there and say we had a good holiday enjoying each other’s company while playing Hungry Hungry Hippos.

Mentally I feel traumatized. Can’t believe I discovered the lump 46 fucking days again. [Even with reconstruction, it’s going to take me some time to adjust to the loss of my breasts]. We have been in nonfucking-stop go mode. And while we can begin to breathe a little easier knowing the cancer is out of my body-pretty sure that is the best Christmas present I could have ever given or received for our family-being cancer free.

I knew from my friends who’ve been through breast cancer, part of recovery involves draining the bulb tubes hanging from my chest. These pesky fucking tubes and bulbs are kinda a pain in the ass, but necessity to complete healing. Twice a day I’ve got to drain each bowl, into cup 1 & 2 respectively, and  record the fluid. When the plastic surgeons office calls Monday I’ll report my fluid levels over the week–that determines when tubes can be removed. The left side is draining more which is obv since that was the side housing the cancer.

Not to mention walking with my chest completely bandaged, feeling like hell, trying to deal with concealing these bulb tube fuckers. There is no discrete way to do this. Under my clothes they are still bulky as shit. I do know this is temporary.

Next week it’ll be another obstacle I’ll be conquering. I’ve yet to see my chest under the bandages. That won’t occur till my post-op follow up Monday afternoon-speaking of which local folks, if you’re free Monday, I’ve appoint late afternoon in Raleigh. Still can’t div he….hubby will be working.