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

 

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Erm….Disrobe, Completely?

Fucking nude during surgery?
The fuck?
Damn.
You’re taking my tit’s.

At least spare me the decency & allow me to keep my babyslide covered.. Fucksake man. I know you gotta be sterilized and shit– but can’t you can spray me down with lysol & fabreeze before surgery, no?

I know in 6 days when I get up on the table at 1:30 all modesty will be discarded…..Surgery at 3:30 pm….They’ll put meds in my veins to knock my nervous crying ass out. Then do their thing….I’ve never had an actual surgery. Watching M.A.S.H. & Nurse Jackie none of those patients flipped out about having to be nude. They doctor’s were all drunk & high and hardly any of their patients died….So I got that going for me.

It’s enough I’m losing my boobs after so many years with them. All the up & downs, spills, cries, lopsided days, captured snacks with my bra meals for my children, awkward seatbelt position….Ah I could go on. Oh boob, you scamp! Just give me a pair granny panties or some shit.

The double mastectomy and reconstruction should take 3.5 hours [if all goes to plan] then I’ll be onto recovery approximately 8pm….The mom in me is thinking how late in the evening this will be for a five year old to be running around the hospital with my older manchildren and husband. That gets me weepy. Crazy right. I have cancer. All I can think is how this is going to fuck everyone else’s schedule up…..Breathe Tara….Relax Tara….It’ll be okay Tara….We have no family nearby. So he will be running around hospital with us, just as he did when we lost Jackson.

Not the best place for a child. But you do what you have to do. Right?  Then there’s that fucking guilt again. Mom guilt? Not sure. I feel selfish knowing they’ll be there waiting for me so late in evening. The mind is a dangerous thing kids. It takes you places you totally don’t need to go. I know those thoughts are silly. Most importantly my family wants me cancer-free. They don’t give a fuck what time of day this occurs. Neither should I.

GAH!! FUCK YOU CANCER

6 days till showtime kids

xx

 

 

Normal Shit

When I say cancer has rocked my fucking world, I am not joking.  I wanna tit-punch those cells that decided they could not conform to my abnormalities and create their own super cell called-invasive ductile carcinoma….ah, but they beat me to the punch. fuckers

Boobs be gone.  Cancer’s a whore. 
tskfuckintsk on you cancer, ya bitch

What do you do?

You do normal shit.

All while knowing the cancer is there….seriously…. it’s at that forethought my of my brain at the mo and kinda hard to distract myself….

So here I am making dinner and shit. burning my veggie crumbles because I’m not paying attention and shit.

While I know this cancer will be out. I don’t & won’t know what my cancer treatment will entail, I know it’s going to be routine for the doctors….this puts me at ease….ever so slightly, but at ease nonetheless.

I will beat this bitch that is cancer, that will have taken my boobs and part of my logical sense, cause fuck you cancer.

But….Let’s not pat each others asses just yet kids, till I’m officially cleared and shit….ya know, as a precautionary measure and shit. Cancer treatments, whether they be hormone replacement, radiation, or chemotherapy–it’s going to be a hell of a drug.

When I tuck five into bed later this evening, he’ll touch my boob, asking ‘if this is this one’ and ‘have they gotten the sick out yet’…..No honey, is all I will be able to reply. He has only turned five weeks ago, what the hell does he know about cancer? In his mommy’s boobs, that he’s just now catching on used to feed and sustain him his first year of life?

I will weep on my husband’s shoulder tonight
I will wash my face. Brush my teeth
Fall asleep in the crook of my husband’s arm
Ya know normal shit

peace, love and root-beer floats

#badboob

#badbadfuckingboob