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

 

 

Simmer Down Now Boob

Before the breast cancer diagnosis, 20 days ago, I simply had a problem with breathing & being in the moment. In more ways than one. I was always preoccupied with getting the next task done–mom’s you can relate. no?–and I have chronic bronchitis. So I legit can’t breathe properly most of the time. But I’ve adapted to that shit & the asthmatic wheeze that has been with me since childhood.

But this #badboob. I tell you what. For me, taking a moment to breathe is increasingly more difficult cause I’m a nervous fucking wreck.

I’d like to envision myself as calm as Katherine Heigl’s character in Knocked Up when she surrounds herself with candles and shit in bathroom in an attempt to zenout…. But never reach that zen.

While I do try to breathe, it’s usually unsuccessful.

Love/hate my boobs depending on the day and shit. But fuck (I know, I know) they are mine goddammit. Cancer you are a whore.

Cancer is claiming my boobs on December 22nd….this is a fact in my life at the mo….that bitch called dibs & shit….no fucking take backs….goddammit….a rule is a rule…Aaaaand here we are in life & shit….

Your choice is your own
My choice is my own
We all have different choices to make with cancer, fucking cancer! I say.
My cancer. Your Cancer. Our Cancer. Fuck you cancer.

I’m choosing reconstruction immediately post mastectomy.

Granted a breast reduction has been a dream since my teens. I’ve had the most fanfuckingtastic volatile relationship with my boobs. Being well endowed for quite sometime time comes with many problems such as chronic neck/back pain, grooves on my shoulders from bra and not being able to buy bras here in the states for years [I’d have to order those bitches overseas]….

While I am beyond relieved I’ll be getting a reduction, it comes at the cost of cancer and a mastectomy. I had fully resigned myself to the thought with further exercise and toning of my body that would be the extent of my reduction.[Using my NatGeo’s as a catchall, scarf, bird perch]

While I’m at a comfortable enough size now-my back still kills me and the U.S. still carries no bras my size- but these are my boobs, damn you cancer.

 

Those Fucking Root-Beer Floats

Kids, I’ve gained five pounds in the last 19 days. You’d think with a breast cancer diagnosis I’d have lost five pounds……The first few days upon learning of the diagnosis I literally could not eat…..The news was so earth shaking to me…..I thought I’d never bounce back, let alone how the news affected my family. But that is their story to tell, not mine.

So I’ve discovered beer floats, root-beer-beer floats specifically. If you know me, you know I love beer. If you are new to me, know that I love beer. Did you know some beers mix really fucking will with ice-cream? I know right! What a fanfuckingtastic idea of gluttony and delight.

I just ended a 30 year stand off with root-beer & finally succumbed to the sweet flavor; now I  can’t get enough of that shit. I think each float is 4000 calories, hence the five extra pounds on my gut–all my weight goes to my gut not my ass–

Five pounds may not be much on the grand scheme of shit but considering I worked so hard to drop so much….I dislike seeing the scale climb slightly higher each day….again kids, if I did not know I had cancerous tumors in my breast,  I would not have any idea…. I guess I’m bulking up so to speak for my upcoming double mastectomy in 10 days……10 fucking days and the cancer should be gone from my body!! I’ll probably lose a good 20 during surgery, once all breast tissue and shit is removed. I also know I’ll be all weak and shit. Thank you root-beer floats for giving me a little extra padding, I guess [what a crafty bitch].

Going to take my boobs out the beach for one last stroll along the sand….Seriously, it’s going to be a beautiful fucking day here in North Carolina. We are driving to coast, which is only about an hour and half from us. I’m going to soak up as much of the ocean air, sounds & good vibes as possible. Cause I’m still scared as fuck kids. But I do know I will be in good hands during surgery and warms arms after.

House Of Peen

If I didn’t know I had cancer

I wouldn’t know I had cancer

That bears repeating.

If I didn’t know I had cancer

I wouldn’t know I had cancer

I came the this realization last night as loading the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, doing normal shit. Thinking how the hell can people not know they have cancer growing in them till they discover a baseball sized tumor? A fucking baseball size tumor?? And some of you are thinking how the hell could I find my cancer when it was only slightly larger than a pea? I realize I found my cancer, five fucking tumors full of cancer, very very early early. Hell, that lil ole cancer was probably just a day or two old when I found that sneaky bastard.

Astonishing! I mentioned it earlier this week, had I not known of the cancer, I would think I’m just bulking up after all the holiday fun [insert sarcastic eye-roll here]. It’s been 31 days since I first felt that lump, not searching for it either, just happened to be caught up in a moment. bam….what the fuck is that tiny lump in my boob? Coincidentally, it’s been 31 days since I’ve had carefree relations with my husband (carefree in the sense that when I found the lump I knew, just knew it was cancer) my mind/brain/thoughts/actions have completely changed in so many ways the past 31 days. I’ve only officially known I’ve have cancer 18 days. 18 long motherfucking days of trying to normal shit all while knowing my boobs, whom are trying to destroy me, will be sliced and diced in 11 days. I can tell you the tumors feel slightly larger than a quarter now–to give you indication of growth etc.

Many of you don’t believe me when I say I’ve never had many girlfriends.

Sure, I’ve got one or two close ones and you chicks know who you are. But when It comes to girlie shit, I live in a house of peen. I am out-peened in the house [unless 19 or 21 need to change their plug when they get pissy–then their vag levels are on par with mine. Parents, you know boys can be moody fucks just as well as girls] My sons are learning a lot about breast cancer, treatments, and my boobs; of which they don’t want to hear, but they are adults and my sons. They need to be educated too.

To all you girls who have reached out to me, thank you.

To all you girls who have reached out to yourself, thank you. When you find cancer, most likely at least one you reading this will develop breast cancer, rest assured I will be right here to support you as you’ve supported me while living in my house of peen.

lets get back to our boobs….feel them….know them….enjoy the fuck outta them….I am going to try my best to enjoy my boobs, bad or not for the next 11. –This will be futile attempt. I need to psych myself some how ‘eh?

*sidenote:  I will never capitalize that bitch cancer, lower case in my book, it doesn’t deserve capitalization. 

#badboob

#badbadfuckingboob

When I Get Nervous……

I stick my hands under my armpits and then I smell them like this…. 

Ha! How I love Molly Shannon’s character Mary Katherine Gallagher!

Ya wanna know what cancer smells like kids?

It smells like fear, armpit and ass. Well the pit and ass may be me–It’s been days since I showered. No need to shave in the winter right ladies? Makeup is a moot point as anything applied to my face is instantly rinsed away with tears. And with this short hair who the fuck cares or knows if I’ve combed it today? A little dry shampoo goes a long way…..

Ya wanna know what cancer feels like kids? It feels like I’m going to puke.

That sick feeling has not left me since 11/19-when the biopsy was being performed. I feel those tumors weaving their menacing veins all while weighing my breast down. There is no telling what sort of evil has been done to the inside of my body. Fuck me. That’s a lot of time with my brain and boobs to think…..

Here I am 12 days away from Operation Tit Removal….How does one say goodbye to their #badboob?  This I will to need research a  bit more and report back to you guys.~~Rest assured folks, I will tell you all about it!

……Let alone recovery from breast removal–Currently there is an unfamiliar pain in my shoulder and neck….naturally emotional me thinks cancer has spread and I won’t be even be mobile by the evening~~not true~ I know it’s not attacked me that severely  yet….I’m hoping anyway. There’s no telling the damage done already. Fucking cancer, goddammit.

Here I am walking around smelling like fucking Pigpen in my cancer funk leaving the lovely scent fear and bile in my wake…..

Every step that damned cancer boob throbs, seriously December 22nd can not get here soon enough. Fuck off cancer.

12 more days of trying to be normal. Cleaning the walls, the bathrooms, the closets, the corners in the house. Those corners that haven’t been touched since we accidentally spilled milk back there three years ago. I know people will be visiting and shit. I don’t want you guys to be scared off by the ginormous dust fuckers that’ll great you at the door.

12 more days of trying to be normal. Trying to smile and have fun with five. 12 more days of walking the dog. 12 more days of playing outside, laughing, smiling, making sweet memories so five can think back and hopefully have fond memories of this Christmas.

And if I can get my shit together, hopefully I’ll pull myself together long enough and take a fucking shower.

#badboob

#badbadfuckingboob

Argo Fuck Yourself Cancer

Ah fuck me….

You’re so strong they say. …Tara 
You’re a fighter…. Tara
You’ll get through this…. Tara
We’ll love you Tara….{ with or without tits [real or fakies]}

I know…I know….I’ll be the same chick with the fanfuckintastical penchant of the word fuck–used in any variant–going against the grain. Because that is who I am.

I AM STRONG

But goddammit, I’m tired of being strong
Or am I
Ya know, truth be told
I really don’t think about the shit in life
I THINK
ABOUT LIFE

The intent of this post is highlighting our abilities as humans to bounce back with such remarkable resiliency we almost always bounce back, stronger than before, speaking our minds more and telling those that need to get fucked, to go fuck themselves.

I am strong because of who I am.

My walks singularly & together with family, friends and enemies

You are strong because of your walk.

We are strong.

My  husband may be the only one that will have my hand this entire journey [that is fucking cancer] . He knows me, my cycles, my moods better than I–no shit. He knows before I know. I should know, but I don’t. Ya know?–We will start the day with an embrace, kiss and one last hand hold…….We may walk side by side, ahead or behind each other, depending upon current mood. [*I secretly may wish for aliens to probe his ass when he pisses me off. He may wish the same fate upon me; fortunately for him, we don’t live in Florida (ha, had too) or trailer park (yup)]….occasionally there may be times when we’ll stand on opposite sides of the same room during the day but at the end of the night, we are in cahoots with each other. That knowledge allows me to calm my chaotic brain and take a semi-deep breath.

I know I am stronger because of me.
we are holding hands
together in life.
the good the bad and the shitty
…..
argo fuck yourself cancer

peace, love & root-beer floats

#badboob

#badbadfuckingboob

Mmmmm, Beer

It’s been 27 days since I found that unassuming lump in my breast, fuck you cancer, goddammit –hmm, can you tell I may be slightly bitter about losing my boobs. I realize the cancer is only in one boob and choice to remove both is completely mine~but seriously ladies if given the choice, to remove both boobs or just cancer tit? Let’s do both and squelch any surprise returns from cancer trying to steal that second boob.

Boom. In 15 days I’ll be prepped for surgery. Again, normal everyday shit for these superhuman people who’ve dedicated themselves to the betterment of their fellow human. Goddammit, yay on you guys! I love you, really! Here doctors are fighting cancer’s and and bad shit in our bodies and I’m trying to eradicate assholism. Their work may be a bit more important at the mo…

Why did I develop cancer?
Environmental Factors
Hereditary Factors
Self-Induced Human Actions

 

Deodorants

 

Bra under wires

 

Diet

I’ve been a beer drinking vegetarian for over 20 years. Most of my foods are non-gmo’s, healthy & full of grains and shit. And the beer, well that’s protein & fortified….considered to be a completely balanced meal by many of my drunken Scott/Irish ancestors….and it’s not my liver, it’s my breast.

  • Again, I’m not angry at the world or the big guy some of you are so fondly of, I understand shit happens in life. No woe is me shit. I have cancer am and coming to grips with it. I also have a miserable fucking case of utter-sads & shit. I’m still in the adjustment period of the cancer news 14 days ago. Shit happens. Life is good at times. Life can be cunt-punched at others.
  • So cancer, where did you come from? Why did you attack my boob? Thank you for attacking my boob and sparing a child- robbing their childhood because of cancer…..So, given that perspective, I’d much rather lose a couple of boobs if a little guy is spared his time and can enjoy being a child just a moment longer.
  • Once the tumors are analyzed, my family and I will have more answers-as the hows & why’s.
  • Thank you for reading this and shit. [And I know I need help with flow and cohesion and shit, I’m open to you editor/grammar-nazi’s to give me a few pointers.] *Also looking for one of my bril graphic designer friends help me with a badboob logo.
  • peace, love & root-beer floats
  • #badboob
  • #badbadfuckingboob

Ermahgerd, It’s Cancer Bitch

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was pregnant.

Seriously. My boobs feel like ass~ all swollen and shit, chalk it up to the period right?  Ermergerhd…it’s cancer bitch.

fuck you cancer.
 double
triple fuck you
cancer

Fortunately Dr. Max of Wake Radiology acted with efficiency upon reading my mammogram results. His expertise and professionalism -given my no insurance situation-allowed him to act quickly. Connecting me to Dr. Tolnitch.

All too often some cancers can’t be removed, wreak havoc and totally destroy the lives of our loved ones. It’s brutal to watch. Don’t get me wrong~~~I am ever so grateful for my early cancer detection. fo sho. I know I’ll be getting off easy with this whole cancer situation. Logical me knows I’m going to ace this whole tit removal via double mastectomy. Emotional me wants to hibernate till the end of March.

I I have breast cancer. That’s why my body feels swole & off.  Had I not discovered that lump 26 days ago -I’d still be blissfully unaware of the fucker, that is cancer weaving it’s evil in me-I’d think that I put some of that 75 pounds back on. You are not getting skinny-fat Tara. This is fucking cancer Tara.

I will be walking around with the cancer eating my breast for another 16 days goddammit.

Eating my mind.

Robbing my thoughts.

Robbing memories that will never happen. 

peace, love & root-boot floats

 

#Badboob

#badbadfuckingboob

Convo’s With Friends

I am spiritual without being religious.

If you can accept that, you accept me. And for that I thank you.

If not, well you may as well fuck off because we may never see eye-to-eye. No offense meant, but respect is a two-way avenue. I have no qualms with how you live your life,  I respect your beliefs. Why would you have difficulty accepting mine? With 7 billion people in the world, the chances of any two of us having the same set of beliefs, views, feelings, etc…….are fucking impossible.

We as humans have enough bullshit to sift through without our core beliefs coming into question.

I am optimistic. Wherein I believe our species, on the whole, are compassionate lot of fuckers.

Though recent events make us all question everything and open new dialogue with our children.

A friend mentioned unity. I like it.

We are united. Some of us are walking the cancer road together, some are walking the laid off road, some of us are walking road in hopes of finding their soul mate to walk that bend together.

I have unity

My United Stands With:

  • family
  • friends
  • a phenomenal surgical team
  • an infuckincredible support team
  • all the sweet angels and spirits in the universe
  • soon to be oncologists and the lot that go along with cancer treatment.

That energy is incredible!! Yes, I welcome and embrace your prayers, really I do. The vibes, candles are being felt as well. All the hugs are here at my screen. I have cancer. It’s a fact. (If you are reading this and have or have had cancer, damn.) Could be yours, but happens to be mine at the moment.So, e almost all have some sort of  carcinomas in our bodies– from various foods & environmental factors.

This breast cancer WILL BE GONE December 22nd. Then I will know what my course of treatment will be. That’s a big mindfuck too. There will one surgery to remove all those tumors.

peace, love & root-beer floats

 

 

Good Grief

This morning I awoke much the same as every morning……with that rude ass alarm clock buzzing in our fucking ears followed by a warm twitchy & squirmy five year old stumbling in with blankie in one hand and snoopy in the other to get his morning snuggles.

Since learning of my cancer 11 days ago, I have noticed a phenomenon in which I must wipe dried tears from my eyes, fucking cancer tears while I sleep, what a bastard.  I clean my eyes, put glasses on then going down stairs to mix my my double chocolate protein and blend into my coffee. Those damn tears of worry.

Again -Logical me knows I’m in good hands. Surgery will be a breeze. Blah blah-Emotional me is scared as fuck and a nervous fucking spazz. 

Wipe those dried tears Tara. Did I disturb/wake my husband during my fitful sleep–he needs his sleep too….I sit up stretch, kiss my husband goodbye….sob and sob and sob….uncontrollably big stupid cancer sobs. I know, I know it’s all normal and natural responses to an abnormal situation.

But fuck man, you’d think after 11 days of knowing this fucking beast that goes by the name of cancer is rapidly growing within me, I’d just be able to get up and go about life… not….that’s so not the case.

And while I’m not debilitated by depression, it has taken a huge chunk of my normal happy-go-fuck-yourself charm.

This is not the journey I thought I’d be taking when I turned 42 last 55 days ago.
This is not the journey I thought I’d be taking when I discovered my lump 24 days ago.
This is not the journey I thought I’d be taking when I had a diagnostic mammogram 15 days ago.
This is not the journey I thought I’d be taking when I heard my cancer diagnosis 11 days ago.
This is now the journey I must take. This is the road I must fucking walk, though not alone, never alone, for the next 18 days until my double mastectomy.

I will be walking this fucking cancer ridden road for 18 days. 18 more days kids! Then there will be a new set of worries such as treatment yadafuckinyada…..

peace, love & root beer floats

#Badboob

#badbadfuckingboob