The Everything And The Kitchen Sink

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.

Dude, Where’s My Boob?

Here I sit in the hospital bed–cancer free!!

Remember the celebratory ass-slaps & high-fives I spoke of a few times? Well now is the time kids! Slap that ass nearest to you and give your buddy a high-five bitches. 

Holy fuckamorolee what a goddamned ride that was….Now onto healing, recovery and treatment. My sentinel nodes came back clean, which is a very good thing. I’ve yet to talk to oncology to find specific course of action. That will be upon analyzing the tumors. I should have complete pathology report Monday.

I actually have more mobility than I thought I would.  I’m not quite sure what I expected to feel like after surgery–other than traumatized over the fact I had to lose my breasts–I know, I know–There’s your reconstruction Tara.  Der….This I know…But still….Ya know…. Fucking Cancer….I will forever be changed….I am also alive!!

Now that the cancer has been extracted, I’m going to try getting excited about the reduction. Cause guess what? I’ve been reduced. In a big fucking way.

There are some that dream of breast enlargement & some dreaming of reductions. I was in the latter boat. The fake boobs are not installed yet. Expanders were put into me to begin the stretching process. It’ll be a few months until they’re up and ready to go. [insert winky face here]

I knew I was receiving a shitton of prayers, healing vibes & positive energies from around the world yesterday…I felt them all….All the loves…. All the hugs.. All the cries….All the concern….I felt it all….I still feel the positivity now or that could be the pain medication. Fuck if I know. Thank you all for cheering me and the family on for the past 30 days. Everyone has been so great and upbeat….I had no choice but to remain positive myself. I appreciate you guys more than I can ever put to pen.

If all my stats still look good, I should be on my way home later this evening. We will be counting down the minutes till Santa’s arrival courtesy of the NORAD Tracker. Currently there are 21 hours until Santa departs the North Pole guys!! My gift has already arrived. At the skilled hands of the surgeons yesterday, they full-fulled  the two items on my Christmas wish list!   I am cancer free kids and I’ll be home celebrating with my family in the house of peen.

Hmmm-will #badboob continue,  you want to know? It’s no longer a bad boob, that bitch boob was kicked out into the rain….Blogging about this  ordeal has been  extremely helpful for me; by allowing  me to vent and get shit off my chest [see what I did there?], more so than I thought it would.

xoxo

*This post may be filled with more typos & shit than normal*

 

 

Reading Material

2:00 pm appointment.

1:40 pm, Mrs. and Mr. Sparks you may come back now.

Enter: Doctor’s and Nurse’s downcast eye upon us. trying best to discern how they will inform this husband & wife of 23 years…to the day…that she has she in fact developed breast cancer. Nonetheless, Treatable, Curable, Cancer.What. A Fucking. Beast, that has attacked my body & compromised my health. 

Let’s be real: Doctors remove cancers thousands of times daily. Fact, it’s a normalcy for them.  [I’ve always felt that compassion.  I applaud you health care field workers everywhere. Really I do. I worked in the front office of an Elementary School and did my share to ensure students quality of life was never compromised due to their health conditions.]

This is where I love people, the spirit, and love in the finding the connection I know is there physically or virtually.  

Let’s be realer, most women (lest not forget the men) only have a breast cancer removed once.

This fact is scary. As. Fuck. 

A total mindfuck for my beauty/lack of words,  depending upon the side of the fence you stand.

So 38 minutes later, Christopher and I are released, armed with our reading material that is to educate us on this fucking carcinoma that decided to present itself in my left boob…. and inform our support system in the lobby. Fucking reading material. How to deal with diagnosis on though recovery.

Hello Cancer. Fuck You.

#BadBoobAndShit

 

Boob, You Are Grounded!

The moment I found the lump in my breast, I just knew….I knew the lump was cancer, that fucking sneaky ass bastard, stepped right in and began weaving it’s cancerous cells throughout my breast.

Bitch, you are grounded! Get in that fucking corner and don’t get out. 

     I learned I have cancer diagnosis five days ago. 

     I learned I would be losing my breasts four days ago.

This is what I’ve learned in the past five days :

My cancer has a name. It’s Stupid Fucking Asshole, or in medical terms it’s Invasive Ductile Cancer.

• I know breast cancer is the most common of the cancers.
• I know it’s treatable, with little to no occurrence.
• I know I will kick those five tumors asses so hard.
• I know my husband and family are holding my hand the entire journey.
• I know my breasts will be removed before Christmas as the tumors are growing rapidly.
• Radiation will follow as well as 5-10 years of tamoxifen & possible chemo.

Not only am I concerned for the very near future, I am concerned for the bills that will begin to mount. Bad boob be gone. Cancer boob, get the fuck outta here. Medically and scientifically, I’m sure I’ll recover to live a relative normal life. Though those who know me, know I am not normal.

Because, guess what kids? This chick has no insurance. Ludicrous you say. Unbelievable you may say. Truth I say. I am fortunate in the fact that I found a phenomenal breast disease surgeon, Dr. Lisa Tolnitch, MD, FACS. She has agreed to perform my cancer removal, free of charge. A charity case if you will. I hate the term, I do, but fuckit.  The relief that flooded my heart was overwhelming. I will literally owe my healthy life to Dr. Tolnitch. At a harrowing time such as this, it’s a great relief to know there are kind souls, willing and able souls to help those.

Obligatory funding link insertion here.

Bad boob be gone. Cancer boob, get the fuck outta here.