Menopause – The Ceasing Of Menstruation

BRCA1 and BRCA2 mutation positive…..fucking mutation positive…humans are a vile mutation on this planet. Humans are continually fucking up this planet with all their evil doings.

Medicinal advancements can now detect some human mutations and remove those body parts that could become infested with more cancers. I tested positive with the BRCA2 mutative gene. I chose to have a complete hysterectomy in an effort to escape ovarian cancer…..Let’s hope scientists will release the cancer cures we know they’ve been sitting on instead of letting [wo]mankind wallow in continual suffering……..

Most women begin their menopausal journey somewhere in their late 40’s. Other women, such as myself, go through a forced menopause overnight when their organs are extracted from their body in one quick, less than an hour, out patient surgery. Really. They can do that shit before lunch. Fucking insane.

It’s been just over a year since I went in for my hysterectomy and implant exchange surgery….. They bandage you up, send you home and you’re left to weep and sweat on your own for the next year. And fucking weep I have done. I’ve never felt so dark in my entire life. Even with a supportive family and friends…..so fucking dark….so fucking blue…no light…no hope of happiness…badboob.pngusually I would muster through shit, because I never really had a choice….it had to be done…but this time, the depression has overtaken my entire being. Everything I’ve known or felt has come into question.


Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is an anxiety disorder that can be brought on by a traumatic event. PTSD can happen after a life-threatening situation, such as a breast cancer diagnosis or cancer recurrence. PTSD can affect your ability to cope with life’s daily chores and inconveniences and make it difficult to function.


It’s real.

Real AF.

I used to think it was a crock of shit. I now realize it’s so not the case. It’s really important to surround yourself with all the love and support you can handle. There is no lonelier feeling than to face this heinous disease feeling alone. You’re going to act batshit crazy, emotional…all of it…you’re literally losing your tits. You’re going to say and do things that others won’t understand.

Crying. So much fucking crying. Wake up crying. Go to sleep crying. In the car crying. In the shower crying. Walking the dog crying. Talking to doctors crying. All of it. All the fucking time. How do you explain the irrational tears when others tell you your sick and shit? No fuck….I feel fucking sick. Then this life. The news. The sickness. The hate in the world. Friends lost to this horrific disease…It’s all just too much…..There is no way to fully explain. No way to explain without seeming like a blubbering idiot. Other women, survivors, hystosisters, they get it…..So the tears are wiped and a quote brave face replete with blood shot eyes is put on and you carry on with dinner and other household tasks. One day you realize you’ve only cried twice or not at all….

One day you realize you actually enjoyed yourself again. One day you had real smiles instead of those smiled suffocated by tears…. Take those small victories and make them big celebrations. Because they are in fact big celebrations! xx

As I mentioned in a previous post, they recommended a five year hormone therapy treatment for me once they completed my hysterectomy.   Upon doing my homework, I found out long term use of the HRT prevents breast cancer and causes heart disease…..Seeing as how I already have had breast cancer and don’t wish for my heart to become further diseased, I opted not to follow that regimen prescribed by my oncologist; instead looking for ways to up my nutritional intake. The hot flashes are no fucking joke. Without warning I’m completely drenched in sweat. Without warning I’m completely fucking freezing. Sweating. Freezing. So goes my night. Covers on. Covers off. Pillow flipped…..

She’s concerned…
What if I have a re-occurrence of breast cancer?
What the fuck if I do?
It could occur with the HRT or without.
At least without, I’ll have fewer health issues to contend with when given the cancer diagnosis; again. 

 

Spoiler Alert

This is a breast cancer blog, there’s a good chance there’ll be talk of breasts….what cancer did to me, to other women, the mourning of my original set of nat-geo tits, the adjustment of my new ones, the expansion and everyfuckinthing in between.

I’ll wait, go ahead click that arrow back key. No hurt feelings and shit. Just fucking leave and don’t cause trouble. I’ve had enough of that shit in my life.

And as I’ve mentioned in past rants/posts if a breast cancer diagnosis brought you here, that fucking sucks.

Go ahead, grab yourself something to drink. I’ll wait, I have the time. You’re going to need the space and place to vent. This is your safe place. For real. When I was first diagnosed I blogged every thought I had. I felt compelled.

Others go into hiding. Others turn to their god of choice. How ever you choose to deal with your cancer….do not stop talking. DO NOT APOLOGIZE FOR ANY OF YOUR FEELINGS.

I spent a good portion of my cancer days apologizing to people who did not understand my words, my thoughts. How can I explain it to you if I don’t even know myself?

 I see now, way after the fucking fact, that I was justified in my manic thinking. Completely. Do you hear me? Do you understand??? DO NOT APOLOGIZE FOR WHO YOU ARE. It’s how you cope. It’s who you are. It’s gotten you this far in life and it will help you survive those scary ass dark days of chemo and radiation. 

I was overwhelmed with love, compassion, support, gifts, food, money…..all of it. I’m so very grateful for each and every ounce of love. All of it.

When you’re swallowing handfuls of pills each day just to stay alive, you have no idea which end is up, if there is even an up. It’s mentally dibilitating. You don’t know when you’ll see the sun shine. You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to smile again. You are truly in survival mode…..you seriously do not need negative fucking Nelly’s in your life. No offense to any Nelly’s out there.

It’s your cancer. Your treatment. You must advocate for yourself. Stand firm to your core beliefs.  I’ve met so many amazing people through this blog, I already new I had an amazing network of support via my family and social media.

If you’re not 100 percent on board with your medical teams decisions….go seek a second opinion!! Fucking do it. Last thing you need to do is kick yourself later. It’s a slow climb back up and there have been some major fucking set backs…..but ya know what??? I’m better than fucking ever! You will be too. I just know it! How do you know #badboob? I know it because you are here. This blog is not for the squeamish. This blog is for the realists in life. We’ve been shit and continue to clean ourselves off, usually coming out better.

 I say fuck cancer on a daily basis, when I look in mirror….everyday when I look at my reconstructed chest….everyday when I think of the sisters, women, and mother figure taken from my life…..still can’t look without tears. I say fuck cancer everyday, but I can still be inspirational as fuck. You are too. I fucking love you.

I’ve been invited to speak of my experience. Imagine that.  Me speaking……haha yes my talks are void of my usual colorful language. Speaking of your cancer ordeal and bringing a room to tears with your story. Powerful af. You’ll always have support with me, even when it feels as if no one else loves your bloated ass chemo body or radiated burnt skin……you’ll always be able to find sisters who love you for you and don’t want you to change. You’ll never need to apologize with me. I know. I understand.

 

Just The Facts Ma’am

Fact: Cancer fucking sucks
Fact: I survived it
Fact: Surround yourself with positivity an unconditional love
Fact: No amount of Google research can prepare you for any of the shit that will happen to your body and mind.
Fact: There is someone who understands where you are, where you’re going, and they are willing to talk to you. Many survivors become advocates after their fight, they are waiting for you to tap their conscious with your story and touch your heart with their compassion.

What cancer does to the human race is infuckinhumane. Fucking shit needs to stop, like now. So many kids with cancer, seriously? So many new cancer diagnosis’s. Souls taken away from us. It’s all too much…..this is when my mind goes into the dark, and dwells.

I’m working on improving my mind. Ya know what? When you keep replaying events in your head like a loop, it slowly takes you into a dark place. Obv, if given the opportunity to go through breast cancer now, I’d change a fuckton of things I did/said. Some of that shit still haunts me now. I’d also expected different behaviors from certain folks as they probably expected different from me……breast cancer, chemo, treatment, recovery…..all that shit wreaks havoc……but alas, I can only change my ways and my self. I’m so not the woman I was when diagnosed with breast cancer some 601 days ago. Fuck, I’m not even the same woman I was a few months ago. Life goes on……

A year ago I was still suffering with the pain of my breast tissue expanders, crazy chemo port [it was always angry. skin always red and irritated]. So many doctor visits. Pokes. Questions. Fuck the questions. Always the same shit for all the nurses then regurgitate for the doctors…..I couldn’t even think straight, but knew my dates meds and shit like that, didn’t know what I was. Didn’t feel human. None of the shit happening to me, my family was humane. Not one fucking bit.

Anyhoo, here I sit. Getting active in various programs, discovering what type of advocacy work I like and would like to pursue further. Talking with friends. Talking, bei

ng the key. You can’t keep that shit in.  Thanking you all for all your help and support during my bout with breast cancer. Talking with those newly diagnosed. Laughing with warriors over all the inappropriate we need to….just to get by. Others won’t understand. It’s when you stop trying to get others to ‘get you’ will you be able to feel free…..something I learned after the fact……

Breast Cancer Do’s and Don’ts 

Will be publishing a series of articles that are extremely helpful in dealing with your own cancer or someone you love.
6. Don’t mention your friend’s, dad’s, aunt’s, or your own disease (unless it really relates).

We’re sorry that your friend had a disease that is somewhat tangentially related to our disease. It’s great that your dad beat it, and we’re delighted that your aunt cured her disease with oleander tea. However, we just don’t want to hear about it. Yes, this is the way the people relate to one another. However, chances are each cancer patient is unique and doesn’t want to be dumped into a box with all the other people you know who have cancer. Or worse, we don’t want to have to explain to you how our life-changing procedure was not, in fact, similar to your minor appendectomy.

View at Medium.com

It Is What It Is

Fuck that shit. I used to subscribe to that notion, shrug my shoulders and continue on….Now, I know, it is what I make it.

And recently have I been working it. From all the angles, meeting all the people, the networking, the bartering for events; so out of my comfort zone. Or was it? IDk…kinda loving the volunteer work. I’m super spastic, some may refer to me as ‘passionate’.

The thing they don’t tell you about life after cancer is how to live. Fuck most don’t know how to live pre-cancer. We are one fucked up lot of bottom feeders. There’s more out there, I’ve seen it. I talked to it and spent time there as a child….

So Tara, your cancer was removed 514 days ago, why are you still carrying on? Well, I’ll tell you why…..cause you’re listening.  So there.

It has been almost a year since my last #chemo infusion. My hair is growing, toxic gut has subsided; but…..But…there’s always a motherfucking but…. The collateral effects from chemo are sooooooooo much worse than I ever imagined. When I first heard chemo can stay with you 5-7 years post treatment, I thought yay right-what a crock of shit. Oh no dear readers, it’s just as bad as they tell you, maybe worse; cause very few go into all the nitty-gritties.

If you’ve read any posts, you know that I’m not really a worrier and just go with the flow. So, I’d been going with the flow of a sore wrist, for over a year…..Turns out I have a severe case of degenerative bone disease, osteoarthritis is the technical term and shit. Take care of yourselves. Had I had my wrist looked at when I first noticed the pain, burning pain, throbbing pain; I may not have had to have it casted. But it is what it is right? Wrong…been looking for wrist guards, compression sleeves and other healing methods to get use of my wrist back. I’ve also developed bone degeneration in my lower lumbar…butt bone…and it hurts like hell.

The past couple of weeks, I noticed I’ve been so ovariemotional….the fuck is wrong with me? Why all this crying? Why the doubts? I’d spent five months building myself back up, going great distances. Hello GMA and WTVD. I finally realized why I was so down again, and trust me, it only took less than a week to fall back into bad mental habits; I’ve not been working out. I’m still using the TRX and Ultimate pull-up, with difficulties. But not working out the way I have been. They way I learned to live again during the LiveStrong program. Oh and still trying to find #JalenFromCapitalOne.

I’ve started feeling lethargic and flabby again, shut up, I know I’m not really flabby, but not feeling totally fit.  Once I made that connection, you best bet I began working up a sweat again.  And know that I know I have a real condition going on, I’ve been more gentle on myself. Cooking has been quite difficult, resulting in more purchases with the restaurants…with money we don’t have…..See the cycle here folks. Those who know, understand.

Post chemo, my body stays cold. I used to see those little old ladies wrapped up like they’re in the arctic when it’s hot as balls outside. Guess what, I’m wrapped. Pants, socks, hoods, hats, long sleeves, give me all the sleeves.  I discovered an awesome NC company called Freakers USA, the best socks and bottle holders…the bottle holder act as great compression for your wrist.

Any my brain, holy fuck. Chemo did a big number in my head. I see information but don’t comprehend or digest it. My brain has like no short term memory….at all. So if we speak, and I ask you again what we just talked about; be kind.
Once I gain footing again, I’ll be able to pay it forward financially, currently all I can do is offer my hand, my ear, myself…I’m making this bitch called life, mine.

 

 

Hello And Welcome. 

For those first timers here, it sucks; I know. Fucking cancer. Fucking tits. There is lots of support. You will find new sister’s, places of support and a new sense of you by the time you’re on my side of recovery.

For months upon hearing the diagnosis, you have someone there. A navigator, specialist, someone; taking through every aspect of your complicated medical life.

When treatment is over, you need to learn how to live again; by yourself. How to live without a list of doctor appointments, how to live with your hair growing back, how to live with all those crazy ass thoughts running in your mind.

And you know what? For all the bitching, complaining, self hating I did about my boobs……I take it all back. All those negative words. Now that shock has worn off and the implants are feeling like part of me and not bolt ons, I’m actually kinda loving them. 

Once I was able to appreciate the beauty of my reconstrctuiom, I realize my plastic surgeeon did an absofuckinlutely amazing job! I will forever be thankful for him. He restored my body to my pre-cancer state, but better!And…and…how many of you have suffered miserably with cold weather? I don’t mean just a little grab a throw kind of cold….I mean sweatshirt, hoods, blankets, socks, the thickest pants and you’re still fucking freezing. The pain is so heinous you feel you may actually vomit. That’s the type of pain I’ve deal with on a fairly regular basis winter. It feels like chemo pain…the fucking worst. Don’t get me started on phantom nipple pangs or cold implants either….grrr…. I feel frail, it is gray, I have no strength…I must lie down in the cold weather. Fuck off Mother Nature—lol

Why isn’t there an info pack for life after cancer? Not to feel my fellow fighters, I’m working on that shit. Also shit you shouldn’t be without post-cancer….such as piper wai deodorant. I’ve got to say I’m six weeks into a 12 week LiveStrong Program and holy fuck me! I feel absofuckinlutely amazing!!!!! I’ve never before participated in something so structured and regimented, but I love the feeling of being fit! Not having to fuck with clothes, tucking my stomachs into my granny panties or hoisting my heavy ass bra up to pop my back….so yeah….my life is good and I’m making the most of it. 

I’ve Learned to Breathe…..

Like breathe, breathe…real full on exhales. You’d think at 43 I would have already mastered the art of breathing. But I’ve found out something, or rather made the connection; I am a shallow breather. I’ve usually been in a state of spazz…arms motioning wildly in circles while I speak, hunched over, trying to clean up shit all the time, all the hunches, moving on from one task to the next without any thought, just auto pilot….Anyway, participating in the LiveStrong program, I was taught how to inhale, exhale, and breathe. With this new living technique, I’ve been able to ween myself from daily advil and ultram. My neck and body was always in a knot — shallow breathing — with proper breathing I can pop out all the kinks and knots in my neck. I stand slightly taller, shoulders broader..no longer hunched…..I’m actually making an effort to control my breathing. I’ts been pretty fucking incredible the past week…Wow….breathing really does help. A fucking lot. It’s also helped my with the chronic bronchitis. My inhaler usage has almost been dropped in half! try it for yourself….breathe in and lift arms straight up, grab at the ceiling, exhale and bring arms down. Inhale, up, bend to left, bend to right….feel those pops…exhale. I’ll wait here, go ahead and repeat. As you find your comfort in stretching, you will notice a difference with your daily outlook.

While I remain fearful for our country; I am able to take solace in the fact I am gaining strength, both physically and mentally. I’m preparing myself in the event we need to flee. Bags and shit are being organized.

Seriously, we have no idea what tomorrow will bring. Most people I know are scared. Scared for their life, our country, our future. WE ARE THE PEOPLE. WE MUST ACT, TOGETHER. WE MUST PLAN TOGETHER to ensure our children inherit a happy earth.

And then what happens, if we do have to flee? All those sick receiving treatments will get all fucked up. I don’t think our species has ever had a smooth sailing moment, and that’s why we need to wake up. Wake up and take stock of the foods you ingest, your lack of activity, your tv time, media…take control of your body. Take control of your mind. Take control of your spirit.

A year ago I was laying in my bed. Had just received first chemo infusion and I was waiting. Waiting for the tears to stop. Waiting for my hair to fall out. Waiting for my body to shrink away to nothing. todayWaiting for me to become a shell of my former self. I waited and waited. I was sicker than sick. i was weak. I was puking. All the horrible things happened to me that I’d read about. Fucking cancer, seriously? So this time last year, I could barely hold my head up, much less walk around; I thought about all the stuff  I wanted to do and would do once I pushed through treatment. Today I am strong. Today I will conquer!

I think I have my shit figured out and boom, I learn something new. No one can really prepare you for a cancer diagnosis. If you’re lucky, you’ll have family around and they’ll stay…not leave when shit gets ugly, raw, and real…..With those few friends and family that chooses to stay you will gain your strength. You will be able to use your eyes and voice to spread awareness….I will not stop talking about my experience. Ever. My experience is still happening. Every day we grow and change. Fuck….speaking of changes~~~this fucking hair on my head. Last week it looked good. This weekend, not so much. Each day my head looks different. Hair is so weird, I’m officially over it.

Don’t think just because you cancer cut out and treatments that you are out of the woods for a reoccurrence. I had a crazy scare last week. Found a lump in my chest. Freaked the fuck out. Had it checked, was just a cyst! Whew! But my point is, you should never stop checking yourself and questioning those surprise lumps and bumps that may arise.

 

 

My Mind is Calm, My Strength Improving……

Day by day. Step by step. Tear by tear……

When you’re so weak cant even hock a loogie properly, that’s a damn shame. When you’re so weak, you take tissue to your face, knowing you can’t spit. When you’re so weak, you air dry over the toilet, knowing you can barely wipe. When you’re so weak, bowels need emptying and you can’t push. You can’t cry. You can’t do anything but sit, rock, and stare. Wait. Wait for the viscous chemo to finish it’s course. That’s the best I can describe the hell that is chemotherapy. 

Also, I wanted to know who takes the weight from their implants off total body weight. These fuckers are practically four pounds, I think I’m allowed to subtract that almost four pounds from the number the scale spits out at me. I mean, fuck, why not right? Then one could argue you can subtract weight of brain…but that would be foolish. The implants are an add-on…So my weight will be what ever the scale reads minus four pounds.

About three weeks ago, I felt my implant shift!!! This development is exciting as hell!! For months I was so down and depressed over the way my reconstruction turned out. It made such a huge impact on my sense of self, I was devastated and crushed about my results. I even went so far as to consult a second opinion to correct the damage (or what I perceived as damage) to my newly designed tits.

So anyway, the implant shifted and my mood lifted. I shit you not! Just like that. I recall the time and all. The moment it slid into place, my brain opened up and allowed all the light back in!!! Have you ever been blue and out of nowhere your mood breaks? That’s exactly what happened to me!!!! {snoopy dance}

Naturally I call the surgeons office and tell them of my good news and ask what I should do to keep it in place… Whatever you’ve been doing is fine…..Uh….no, it just now shifted after six months. Instead of fucking around and have that baby slide back to my armpit, I picked up an ace-bandage and wrapped my chest for three weeks, treating the boob like a new surgery. My muscle was a bit sore when it slid, still is now…..But they are even!!!! Huge on my tiny frame………….But even!!!!! First time I put bandage on, it took two inches off my chest. Yes, I do measure all….

Trying to get back in the saddle has been a bit difficult. Each time I feel better, I run 1000 miles an hour to complete all the shit that hasn’t been done in months. Then boom, fucking sick again. GRRRRRRRRR Just let me be well enough to dust my fucking house. I swear, I can smell the dust….lol…It’s making my issues worse. Getting back into my beauty routine with my Jenu. Omg, have you tried it?? You NEED to. My face and neck went through the ringer in chemo; needless to say my face is restored and shining brighter than ever! 

Ladies that shave….ugh…chemo has rendered my freezing all the fucking time. If I shave, which is rare, I’ll get goose bumps and have to shave right then, again. So you know when you shave your toes and inadvertently leave that one sprout behind and when you walk you can feel the little hair wave as you walk creating a super creepy feeling. Does that happen to anyone, or is it just me. When preparing your cancer and chemo toiletries, you can forget the razor. Buy some nair. Stray hairs will be the least of your worries until treatment is finished.

I’ve got so many grand ideas regarding #badboob and the direction I wish to go, but broke. Any investors out there willing to take a gamble? hmu 
I have such a sense of pride when the newly diagnosed reach out to me. I mean, I hate it because cancer and shit. But, if I can help, especially with this beast of a fucker; then I’m there. No questions. I support you and all your choices.

By now almost everyone reading this has heard early detection can save lives. It’s true af. The moment you feel a lump, get checked. If you don’t have cancer, fucking great; out $50 for a co-pay. But if you do have cancer, you’ve potentially saved yourself from much harm. Once that cancer latches on, that bitch will not stop until it brings you down. All the way fucking down.

And finally. Be nice to each other. There are very real concerns for our world and state of America. We must unite, put our differences to the side and join arms.

You like vanilla.
I like chocolate.
That’s never destroyed a friendship.
Why should it now?

#badboob out

 

Crying Won’t Help You, Praying Will Do No Good

I used to yell at inanimate objects. Granted I still yell at shit, but not with chaotic rage as before…If I stubbed my toe, I’d yell at the wall. If I spilled shit, I’d yell at it. Lots of shit. Lots of yelling. You know the phrase don’t sweat the small stuff? Most of the shit that gets us down is small stuff. Lots of small shit rolled into one big fucking giant dung ball.

Like all the fucking time….grocery bag handle rips because I’m carrying 18 bags…stupid motherfucker…..laundry basket is in my way….goddammit….all the shit….all the yelling….us

It’s been a little over a year since I discovered that cancerous tumor that led me to the diagnostic mammogram….leading to an ultra sound….leading to the biopsy….all within the same day….How concerned should I be doctor Max, very concerned was his reply….Thus #badboob was born. At that time, I had no idea that bitch boob was hosting two different cancers and six tumors…..motherfucking tits.

For all intent purposes, my cancer is gone. Treatment is complete. Reconstruction is finished. So I should feel good, right?  Wrong. I’m far from alright. Breast Cancer has fucked me up far beyond belief. I’m trying to form my feelings into words. There are no words I can put here for you to read for you to understand how breast cancer affected me and the millions of women battling breast cancer and amputation of your tits. It fucks each person up their own way. Some can bounce back. I’ve never really been one to let shit  get me down…..but this…..this is so hard to overcome.

I’m not pleased with reconstruction results. Like seriously, not happy. I knew I’d never have ‘tits’ again. Although the boob like shapes sticking our from my body add to my ‘normal’ appearance.  But, they are cold and implants are too large on my frame, still having to hoist them up to relieve back pain, they are uneven. I am crushed. After this ride, I’d like to look in the mirror with out tears streaming down my face. My breathing speeds up. My heart jumps into my throat and I literally feel as if I could explode internally. I feel as if I’m literally drowning. Will I always feel like this? I feel the answer should be no.

So many things I could do before chemo that I can’t do with ease today. Brush my teeth, reach my arm behind my back, I use slip on shoes so I don’t have to tie. The neuropathy is fucking crazy. The shakes are hardcore, feels as if I’ve got early Parkinson’s or some shit.

Don’t sweat the small stuff…….it’s all small shit

A Green Plastic Watering Can

For a fake Chinese rubber plant In the fake plastic earth….

My tits were an integral part of my sexual wellbeing….I’m no longer sexual or well…fuck you cancer’s for invading my body….

It’s been almost a year since I discovered that tiny heart shattering lump in my left breast; I knew. Just fucking knew it was cancer. Little did I know that one lump was part of a six tumor cliche and would result in the loss of both my tits. I’ve enjoyed my boobs very much. Not so much a’natural but in those cute bras I’d purchase from overseas, as there were no manufacturers here in the states that could support my former bust size.

I experienced my first ‘itch’ in the new boobs last week!! Seriously, it’s been 10 months since I had any sensation at all in the chesticle region; milestone day for sure. I couldn’t quite sasiate the itch, but I was feeling it nonetheless…..it’s those tiny things that I focus on so I don’t lose my shit on an hourly basis.

And it’s not that I’ve become anti-water are am making a non-shower statements, but fucking since chemo the water hurts my body. Not like a stubby hurt, more like a whole body kinda flu hurt…goosebumps so big that after I shave legs gotta shave again. My skins feels plastic, postive I’m no longer human….Plastic fake trees have taken over.

And goddammit, I’ve become shaky; like really shaky. Will be addressing with my onco this week, along with a whole host of other post-chemo complaints.

I’ve been cancer free 300 days, last chemo was 150 days ago and I was able to play a big part in the Making Strides Walk!!!! I was very moved and honored to stand there as a 10 month thriver; helping to place medals around the other survivors necks. So many women received medals yesterday….and at least oneA green plastic watering can

In the fake plastic earth young man]…..young, old and every fucking ethnicity of women….with breast cancer….had breast cancer…have died from breast cancer…have had lumpectomies, mastectomies, reconstruction, stayed natural, had chemo, received radiation…..gotten sick, suffered mentally….suffered physically….but there we were….word I heard was a little over 4K showed up on the 15th….We were all smiling…hugging each other, happy/sad crying and genuinely supporting….everyone out there, family, friends, neighbors, colleagues…..it goes on….It was a goddamned beautiful sight I tell ya. And I never thought I’d be so submersed in the movement so quickly. Had no idea my body was going to bounce as quick as it fucking did. The hysto and #badcuff have slowed my roll…fucking lady cave….😂😂

The hurricane kinda fucked us up a bit. Lost all shit in fridge, and yup you fucking know it; I went shopping Friday to stock up….such is life….we lived by candle light and cano stove for a few days…really relaxing and shit.
I usually despise this time of year with all the talk of tata’s, everyone cashing in on that pink buck, greedy fucks they are, I do want you guys reading this shit check your tits; seriously. This time last year I may have already had cancer….and if I caught it any earlier (which I did catch that shit pretty fucking early), I may not have needed the bilateral mastectomy….. I’m not hung up on that at, mind you. But you need to see the importance of earthly detection. Play an active part of your own life. Check your tits ladies….big ones, small ones….cancer does not fucking care; it consumes ’em all….fucking you up for life in its wake….that sneaky ass bastard.