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

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Not Everyone Gets A Trophy In My House Boy….

Me to sweet babboo during our intensive Foosball game. Ha, he thinks I’m gonna let him win, nope he’s got to earn it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a hard ass. But I’m not going to let him win either….balance fuckers. We all need balance. 

And since I’m a Libra, I’m all about the balance. If you’ve seen my Fb or IG you may have noticed I’m all about those hashtags too.

When you’re going to start receiving chemo, you may have a bit of a freak out. I freaked the fuck out, bad. I cried every step in the infusion suite….But we know this is part of treatment. These toxins are to clear our bodies of any last remaining cancerous cells…

You’re going to be sick.
Sick as fuck.
You’ll be hungry, but can’t 
You’ll have to urinate, but can’t
You’ll want to sleep, but can’t
You’ll want to walk, but can’t
You’ll want to eat, but can’t
You’re going to be sick
Sick as fuck

For what seems like days, weeks, months, years…..when in reality it’s only been two and a half days….that’s how bad this shit fuck’s you up.

When I spit, I had to grab it with my hand…too weak to even rid my mouth of spit….

You think I exaggerate? Nope, not one lil deet. When you pee, you kinda let it drip (like the peens do) because you are too weak to even reach around and clean your pikachu….Yes, it’s that bad…no shit.

Forget ginger chews as the mouth sores rebel very quickly. Forget water, it hurts to swallow. I ate nerds. Boxes and Boxes of nerds…the big boy that’s a five serving…ha! One serving for me…yummy nerds.

It’s been 272 days since my bilateral mastectomy, and a few weeks since new tit exchange; you’d think at this point in the game I’d be able to look down at my self (my chest) and not cry, wrong…..When I shower, I do all I can to wash my fakeboobs in the quickest fashion. It’s so odd. Bizarre and sad. My boobs brought great enjoyment to me for many fucking years. Now I’m a clean slate. Still in my human skin, but a bit perky and nipple-less…Just the mere sight and I’m immediately reduced to tears. That gorgeous woman standing with me is Dr. Lisa Tolnitch of Carolina Breast Care; she saved my life December 22, 2015 by removing many tumors and two cancers from my left breast.

So those of you that have been here since day one, know I’ve bitched a lot. I also want you to know your bo,dies. Feel your boobs. Know your lumps, bumps…..I was unsure as to which direction I wanted to take this blog. Cause you know, cancer is gone, treatment is complete, new boobs in place….

We all know presecreening is essential to our health. Had I had a mammogram at 40, my cancer would have went undetected until my next mammo at 45….And while I did catch my cancers early on, there were still so many tumors a lumpectomy wasn’t an option for me….It may be for you.

Don’t let lack of insurance, fear of needle pricks or any other ism/excuse hold you back…if you find a lump, get that fucker checked out ASAP!!

K. Now for some goodshit…you know my pot of fucking gold……I thought my parting gift from the breast cancer game was fake tits…..wrong…..I’ll be one of ten featured models for Macy’s Model walk for strides against cancer! Yes you read that right! Me a model, for fuck sake!! So stoked to be a part of that. The models are encouraged to sell tickets and create a team…Team #badboob is currently in 18th position for The American Cancer Society, Greater Raleigh! So readers, boob feelers, friends I’m sharing my link with you here in hopes you’ll show some support be it monetary or sharing with your friends. I want Team #badboob to knock this #makingstridesagainstcancer walk so far outta the park. I know I can do it, with your help. Obv….

I‘ve raised over $235.00 this weekend…Not bad since the official American Cancer Society Making Strides Against Breast Cancer campaign hasn’t officially kicked off yet!
I’m asked to sell 4 seated tickets for family to watch my modeling gig….3 of the 4 have been purchased. If you’d like to help my family by purchasing that 4th seat, please submit $25.00 to my PayPal, firedaizey@gmail.com, monies will be turned into organizer during my fitting.

And….if anyone wants a #badboob shirt, let me know! We get free shipping on orders over 12!!
Donations For Team #badboob Here.

 

When You Find That Long Yellow Hair…

while going through your winter clothes and want to cunt punch cancer….

On the other hand; I’ve never had so many compliments on my ‘hair cut’. Seriously. Never. Men, women, all of them tell me it’s a great look ask me where I got it cut, etc, etc…..I tell them it’s new growth and they’re all oohs & ahhs…So I think I shall be rocking the ‘Ripley’ (of which I had to google) and a few comparisons to Eleven from Stranger Things, which is a kick ass fucking show—I’ll take it. And thank you for the kind words. After my bad hair life, glad to be able to enjoy this aspect, for the first time. Ever. 

Did I mention the mouth sores/metal mouth? Fucking brutal– Gah….It got so bad at one point you forget all the good times you’ve had, as you all you can focus on is the burn, or loss of taste-buds. Oh yeah, chemo affects your nails too. It’s been almost four months since my last chemo and my nails are still brownish and fucked up….oh yeah did I mention my internal plumbing thinks it’s still receiving chemo as my bowel movements have been more like rocket rides to space…..better leave that escape hatch open…Fortunately for me, the sores disappeared rather quickly and leaving my mind or being suppressed (I’ll decide late).

I was tired and lazy while on chemo. Not lazy like check Facebook an hour has passed lazy; like real life lazy. I was so weak I could not wipe when I pee’d or hock a fucking loogie…no strength at all. Felt as if I were in a goddamned horror movie where the heroine is trying to escape in a room of muck but gets stuck instead….no where to turn….sleep a few minutes on the floors. Who cares? I didn’t shower for days. I was in a hallucinogenic state, lack of nutrients….so many pills. Ladies do invest in personal wipes to keep your pickachu squeaky clean [insert cry laughing emoji here] as you’re not going to want to shower or any other fucking thing. Any little things to make the chemo process a bit easier.

Ladies, I found the perfect post masecto bra….the Genie bra. Seriously, it seems as if my life quest has been finding the perfect bra for my gigantor breasts, even with reconstruction, I’m still looking for good sports bras. All those fuckers are racer back style and always end up with my neck hurting. So, I took the plunge and bought the $9.99 Genie in the box…..Put that fucker on…..immediate love! My only gripe is I should have gotten a smaller size, but not in stock. The reviews state to go smaller as well. But, I fucking love it! It does lift, separate and support so much more than I anticipated!! Can’t wait to shove my breasticles into a small and see how comfy that is. You can step into it as opposed to pulling over your head. Arms and shit is already sore, need all the relief we can get. And my pits are still kinda numb and swollen from those expanders….

Oh yea, did you know you have to register your implants? I’m sure those who’ve had enhancements know this info, but I’d never heard or imagined such a thing. I realize it’s for replacement, recall or some shit. Check your tits. Have your partner check. Know your body, the bumps & lumps….be aware of what’s happening inside…you could possibly save your life with early detection. I did. I was never one for self checks, and I had lots of exploration….Those who aren’t sure how to check, contact your doctor, google, YouTube. I found the best way to check, after discovering those lumps, because you know I was obsessed with the tumors in my tit, I had to feel every single fucking day it was in my body, and best way for me was to bend over and feel around like that. Mine felt like an eraser tip from a pencil. It was not malleable…That set off more alarms. I’ve lost too many to this ugly disease, and yes I’m being greedy; I don’t want to lose any more of you fuckers. xx

“Look Mom, A Girl With No Hair.”

Yes honey I see that. She has cancer, the mom replied.  When people have cancer, they have to go through chemotherapy.  And with chemo sweetie, they get really sick and most lose their hair like that girl….aw, shucks….42 and they are calling me a girl….thanks for making my day sweet mom at target for explaining to your little girl about cancer and for thinking I was a kid.

My incisions are fucking frowning at me. Why is this so? Seriously, at the incision site, the lines are rounded down in a frownward motion. Are they mad at me for having doctors mutilate and hack at them? They do not like the breast muscle tissue expander either. Do all post mastecto chests frown? Or is is just mine? This is serious shit, I need answers.

Stretch marks from the breast tissue expansion. Weird. Why is this so? I had so much skin to work with [hello, NatGeo]….only to cut, toss in trash [bye bye nipples] and begin stretching my skin again.

Where have my nipples gone?
What barge are they decaying on?

I have totally faith in the plastic surgeon’s ability….but damn….you really do need to be a patient patient for the good shit to happen and my chest muscles to finish expanding. As much as I hate the discomfort from the expanders, I’m glad I have a competent surgeon….hopefully I’ll have two, not three or four boobs when he is done. I’m ready to be able to feel my arms, chest, under arm & side boob again. Shit’s still numb & sore. It’s a surreal experience showering and not knowing if I’m really washing my body. Let’s not forget the goddamned power port making my life even more miserable. Blah blah blah….bitch bitch bitch….Not necessarily bitching….Just telling my story as I see it….
Will implants frown or smile? I hope like fuck those bitches will be smiling. I know I will be. As the surgery is one of the last steps in my breast cancer journey. In just 21 days, the plastic surgeon will work his magic sculpting my new boobs!! I must say, I am pretty fucking excited to have the reduction I’ve always wanted. My excitement is growing everyday.

I will be entering the autumn of my life with kick ass cancer free tits! If I choose nipples, there will be one more procedure with him. But, I’ve already begun thinking of a beautiful post-masecto piece- pretty sure that’s the route I’ll be going.

How much do the expanders weigh now? His much will the implants weigh? Well I googled that shit and right now the expanders are adding a little over two pounds to my frame.

My hair growth is going well, considering I was  more or less hairless a little over a month ago. I received my last chemo infusion 38 days ago. You can tell by this picture, just how much hair has actually grown in. I’m such a lovely vision of beauty. [snort….sarcastic eye roll inserted here] I’m still a hot fucking mess….I know with surgery less than a month a way, I’ll be a bigger, hotter mess. Ha, with my mastectomy, I was concerned because I had to completely disrobe prior to surgery, I was worried about the baby-slide.  So I shaved and got razor rash…..grrr….anyhoo….I’m not going to stress about the meat curtains as the surgeon is removing all baby making materials….
Still hard to fathom that 230 days ago Mr. Badboob and I received life altering news. The in-laws happened to be visiting us that day. So glad to have had all the love, support & shoulders to lean on from day one. Two hundred and thirty fucking days ago….goddammit. The online support has been more than tremendous. Each day I feel I get a little closer to some of you. The girl power is strong in my group of friends. We are carefully building each other up, to ensure we become the best possible in this fucked up world.

From my misty eyes to yours. Make it a good one.

And for fucks sake, feel yourself ladies. Have your man feel your boobs. Men, you can get breast cancer too….check yourselves.
 

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

I am Hanz And I Am Franz

And we are here to ‘Pump You Up‘–Holy fuckamorolee!

This is how I feel after my first saline fill-up in my breast tissue expansion process, like fucking Hanz & Franz with their overly buff bodies….I have read that it hurts….I have read some women stop before they reach their desired cup size….and fuck me….I can see why….the pressure is insane….I’m told the expansion process takes 4-6 months.

Here I am, two days after first fill & I’m crazy sore. It’s such an odd sensation really.  I’m told the pain subsides by the end of day two….waiting….Next fill is in two weeks, just in time for me to get used to my ‘new normal’ only to be pumped up again.

I have some hematoma action going on where #badboob once resided–all normal I am told. I’m healing nicely, I am told. Thank fuck for that glimpse of shiny lining.

Once my breast tissue is expanded to desired size, then I’ll go back under the knife to have the implants installed.  I found out I can choose between gel or silicone implants. For all the research I’ve done in the past 59 days, post cancer diagnosis, there is still so much shit I do not know about.

goddammit. fuck all. fuck cancer.

So, I’m looking at 4-6 months of saline fill-ups. Oh happy happy joy joy [another sarcastic eye roll here]…. walking around with a big square looking chest, those expander fuckers are not flattering in the least bit….wear loose tops….wear asymmetrical patterns….wear layers all the breast cancer, fucking feel good, books say.

And fuck it, if I wasn’t clumsy enough before, I know have to contend with walking into a wall, falling down, who the fuck knows what else, so I don’t pop these fuckers. The first question the nurses ask at every appointment is have I fallen recently? No has been my answer. But let’s face it guys, it’s only been 30 days since bilateral mastectomy….indubitably I will fall….graceful I am not….clumsy as fuck I am….happy I am not having to worry about remaining upright without toppling into something lke the goddamned spazz I am….

I’ll be deciding upon my treatment plan over the weekend.

Mr. Badboob and I will discuss pros and cons regarding my options. Obviously, I want to remain healthy and cancer-free. The decision will be tough, no doubt. My stomach has been in fucking knots since learning of my options.

Fortunately I’m still relatively young and healthy enough, so they say, to bounce back & not become a shell of my former self, so they say.

I continue to be humbled by all your guys’z support. Thank you everyone who has been here so far and to those that will be here for me in the future.

Now, time to get off my ass and walk the dog.

Oh, I don’t think I mentioned, I ‘jogged’, momentarily, for the first time post-op, when walking the dog….uhm…what a bizarre feeling that was. Before, I’d have to hold my boobs down just to walk so those fuckers wouldn’t suffocate me….you can imagine the challenges I faced while running….so bizarre to not live with the fear of knocking myself out via boob to the face anymore [snarky eye roll insertion].

 

 

Ready Or Not, Here I Come

You Can’t Hide
Gonna Find You and Take it Slowly

Those who could relate know the world ain’t cake….(the fugees)

41 days ago I found a lump in my breast.

32 days ago I learned I had breast cancer

1 fucking day both breasts will be removed.…motherfuck you cancer….goddammit….

8428 days ago Christopher and I declared our love for each other. [I realize that fact is in no way relevant to cancer. But I do love this app for keeping up with shit for me. As I’m normally scatterbrained or ‘free spirited’ as my hubby would say.]

Today I sit here, drinking my protein enriched coffee, reading some rather lovely posts & bullshit posts on FaceBook, strapped my 30ff’s into my bra for one of the last times….

Okay, cancer I get it, point made;  you’re a fucking bitch.

I know too many that have died or who are afflicted with this beast currently.

But really cancer, six tumors, my entire tit? That’s the most traumatic part for me to wrap my head around. It’s a dramatic goddamned turn of events. 

I, of all people know life is not easy, but goddammit tumors–couldn’t you have positioned yourselves close enough so all I’d require is a lumpectomy?

The cancer is only in one breast, but I am choosing a double mastectomy because I sure as fuck do not want to have to go through breast cancer again down the road.

Needless to say….I’m fucking paralyzed with fear. I’m a blubbering spastic goddamned mess today. I am going to try to enjoy the day to the fullest. Singing silly Christmas songs and playing who farted? the boy or the dog.

Today I will not let cancer take my joy.
Today I will not let cancer take my love.
Tomorrow I will let cancer take my breasts.
Tomorrow I will not let cancer take my life.