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.

 

Sittin’ On The Dock Of The Bay

plucking chin hairs again…Looks like I’m not going to get it today…That bastard couldn’t wait to begin production again instead of wasting time….

See the thing with this blog is, I usually forget what I’m going to blather on about. I have kick-ass thoughts & shit, thinking ‘yes I must add this’, but know what folks? My short-term memory is shit, therefore I spend hours trying to remember to no avail. So here we are with a total off the cuff blog, with one big ass run on sentence. And then once I hit publish, that perfect fucking title will come back to me….I should jot my ideas down…..

Chemo has:

  • made me love and appreciate my family more
  • cured my bad hair life
  • curbed my drinking
  • made me cuss like a motherfucking goddamned sailor, joke…I’ve always talked this way. 
  • strengthen my bond with Mr. Badboob
  • broken bonds I thought would never break
  • traumatized me beyond belief

Let me give you the numbers run down, for those of you new to blog….found lump in my tit 293 days ago, my  boobs were then removed 284 days ago….Then chemo, hysterectomy & new tit exchange took place six weeks ago.

We’re approaching the one year since lump discovery and with chemo behind me, my mind has been really reviewing the events from the past month….I’m really starting to freak out. Why? Cancer is gone. Treatments are over. Now that I’m not obsessed with next phase of cancer  removal, my brain has a lot of free fucking time.

#Badboob has connected to me to so many fanfucktastic women, for that I’m grateful. I’m not pleased with the fact all my connections have been because we have toxicty trying to kill us….But with support, it’s so much easier. There is not right or wrong way to deal with cancer. Some take it, beat it, move on. Some rely on their faith to guide them. Others deal with getting all those crazy ass thoughts out on the screen in hopes others will see and know they aren’t alone. When I first began regaling the tale of my fucking badboob, thanks to Mr. Badboob’s insistence, I had no idea what would come of it. I just knew I had a large social media presence and wasn’t afraid to say what I felt, in my own real & raw words. I’ve talked shit about everything and everyone in this thing over the past few months. But it’s all here, for you to read. So you don’t have to talk behind my back….fuck you if you are…my feelings, crass as my descriptions may be, don’t affect my parenting or wifing.

I’ve had time to think about what has happened to me and my family. I mean really think. It’s been the most trying time. But we made it. Now for me to get my head out of my mind and use my energies for good. If I stay where I am, I’ll never fully ‘recover’. I know on the outside I appear normal enough, I’m not. It’s ok to ask questions. I’ve discovered the small things with sweet babboo. We’ve had an incredible summer exploring and shit.

I have a skewed vision of the world and goddamnit, I’m fine with that, I embrace that shit!
I’m living!
Not hiding anymore to spare your feelings.
This is my story. My fight goddamnit.

To those newly diagnosed finding yourselves here, hello and welcome to #badboob.

 

 

“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.
 

Hate To Break It To You, But Girls Do Poo

10 days after my first chemotherapy infusion and I’m still feeling uneasy. It’s difficult to articulate while keeping it within the realm of understanding for the mere mortals that roam the earth aimlessly. I really don’t know what the fuck that is to mean, I wrote it yesterday and kinda like it. Just need to bring it back home for the point and score.  I can say it is not the puke fest I imagined it would be.

Some days it feels as if I’ve given birth to a potato…the chemolaced poos are no joke….goddammit….don’t say you’ve never felt that relief of dropping a deuce so solid it brought a tear to your face…[insert crying emoticon here]….I know you have….at least one time….I once smelled a chemo-poo & thought I’d smelled death….That fucker lingered for hours…Seriously, it was so putrid. I had no idea smells like that could be emitted from the human body. And no, it was not mine. At that moment in time, I could only hope to never have to endure that in the bathroom, well guess what, little miss TC chemo regimen, your poo smells like death.  And other days, it feels like my ass is vomiting…oh joy….fuck….I know  this is a lot to digest in this paragraph…So moving on….

Do you know what happens to a five year old & a pair of scissors left unattended for four 1/2 minutes? He gives himself a Dwight Shrute. No shit, my sweet baboo looks like Dwight from The fucking Office, poor fucker. lol We’ve yet to fix his head. It’s actually not that bad if you comb it over just right. [insert winky-face emoticon] Mr. Badboob cut and colored my hair crazy cool purples& blues one last time before it all falls out last night. We really should fix little Badboob’s Shrute too.

Tomorrow I’ll go to the plastic surgeon for expander fill #3. I think I’ll try 95 units cc with this fill. First was 100, and way too fucking much. Second, was 90 and I still felt relatively normal. Though it’s strange as fuck watching the expander fill before your eyes. Boom. Instant tits. Well, pecs at least, but it’s instant. I’m not sure how others feel, but I feel big and boxing and still clumsy as fuck. Chemo Brain. Lol. That’s a funny term. It’s given because the chemo drugs make you forgetful too. But if you’re also on a regimen of shit, you’re going to be forgetful . So there’s that.

The power port has finally settled itself the fuck down. Thank fuck. It’s still irritating as hell, but tolerable. The 26th will be my second chemo infusion session. This one should not last the four hours first one did, only about two hours, they say.

Not only is chemo excreted through your saliva & waste kids, it’s also released through your skin. Welp guess what kids? I’ve had bad fucking skin since I was 9. No lie. Every motherfucking school picture of me from Pre-K to graduation, there is a fever blister or pimple of some form or another glaring back at me, preserved forever. Gotta love that Scott/Irish blood, eh?  Goddammit, the last thing I want to be walking around with a boxy uneven chest, bald head and massive fucking pimples on my face at 42.

Oh , did I mention the nose bleeds and mouth sores yet? I feel like Tom Hanks in Philadelphia with my bloody post nasal drip and scratchy Demi Moore voice.

 

 

 

 

 

Tootie, How Can You Read Those? They’re Just Full Of Rumor, Gossip & Innuendo.

There are people who in this world get shoved around and there are people who do the shoving! -Jo, Facts Of Life—I plan to shove cancer as far away from me as fucking possible.

It’s been 23 days since my bilateral mastectomy. And yet I still wake up every morning crying….Crying like a fucking baby….The tears will sneak up on me & run down my face until I realize I’m in full cry mode. Usually, I’m able to wipe them away before hubby or five sees me breaking down. I know letting emotions out is good, cathartic and essential to fully healing, but dammit….I’m getting tired of these puffy ass eyes & bruised ass chest where my boobs once laid.

Cancer is such a fucking asshole. Ya know what, cancer is the definition of #assholism. Young, old, healthy, obese–It doesn’t give a fuck who you are. Fuck you cancer. The day when a cure is found will be the most gloriously celebrated day!

I’ve met some many fantastic women since beginning my blog. I had no idea that I would make friends when I began #badboob.  But if you think about it, some of my [and possibly your] closest friends came from a shitstorm of a situation that automatically bond you; those turn out to be the best and closest friends to have in your life.

I look in my closet at all my cute tee’s[that I may or may not be too old to still be wearing] but fuck it, they’re my tee’s. I see sadness when looking in the closet. I know this flat deformed chest is temporary, but still….it sucks. So big bulky sweaters it is while out in public….comfy tanks while at home.

My incisions still get throbby when walking. It feels like nipple freeze without nipples. If that makes sense. How weird is is to my to have those feelings in my boobs when I’m otherwise numb, all nerves have been severed; there is virtually no feeling on my chest–other than the pain still associated with the surgery.

Enough with your fucking sob story already Tara….Erm….it’s my blog & that’s why your here? Right?….Let’s hear some good shit….Well….Uhm….You see, with cancer….there really is no good shit….except when it is removed, treatments are over & you are officially deemed cancer free.

I did visit Dianne’s Selection & Lovely Lady Boutique yesterday. Picked up a few post mastecto bras and inserts yesterday. Been playing around with them a bit this morning. Trying to get used to seeing myself with ‘boobs’ again….ugh….it’s not easy kids….more tears….I did also pick up a handicap placard yesterday….just in case chemo really kicks my ass. I want to be prepared. And completed a fuckton more paperwork as well, hoping to get some good replies from all the financial forms I’ve been sending.

I am getting my strength back. Have almost, almost I say, full mobility in my arms. Now to get that goddamned pain to stop and I may feel like myself again very soon.

Be kind kids

xx

 

Hey, Stifler, How’s The “Pale Ale”?

Where the hell is page one and why do I keep losing it? Seriously, I’ve spent the entire goddamned weekend filling out financial forms and bullshit; and goddammit page one keeps disappearing from me–grr.

Hey girls instant trick to looking thin–Have your 30ff’s sliced off your chest; voila! Instant slimming–So fucking strange to see my clothes in my body now. The fuck has happened to me?  Our family?  What happened to my little piece of mind from the 90’s that remained intact–Fucking cancer….That’s what happened….motherfuckinfucker

This weekend I spent time compiling binder of all the paper work since this rather unfortunate detour of breast cancer occurred. If I can get my my mind off the financial aspect of cancer & quit worrying about the shit, I’m sure my well being will begin to improve.

My husband and five year old completely pampered my Saturday by filing, buffing & painting my nails. FullSizeRender (4)

My five did a fanfuckintastic job with my toes. xoxox

Okay kids, I’ve said this a thousand times already–still can not believe I found the cancer so early as I never felt sick. TBT – I’m beginning to dread the thought of chemo & other treatments required to keep my body healthy. Oncologist did say she has no problem prescribing cannabinoids for me once treatments begin. Having known many friends and family that have used this medicine in conjunction with other med’s and knowing their results were favorable, puts me at ease; just slightly mind you.

One day at a time
One step at a time
Lots of tears

I was able to bathe this weekend [almost by completely by myself]. Candles were lit and smelling lovely. It was such a joy just to soak in the water, trying not to look at my deformed chest, trying to choke back the tears….The site of my body saddens me, immensely. I am so grateful for my husband that will listen and help talk me back to ‘reality’ when I begin flipping out. And I know this is temporary, but it’s still a mind fuck….I know I’ll have a beautiful reconstructed chest, but that does not help my mind or mental well being at the mo.

I’d been under the impression post-masecto chest’s were completely flat & concave. Not sure if it’s the expanders or what, but I’m not completely flat [almost], but I’m terribly lopsided. I hope this will change when I see the plastic surgeon 1/19/16 and get my first fill-up. This process I’m still learning about—the fill-ups, wait time, removal of expanders and eventual insertion of the silicone boob.

Each woman/man deals and reacts to breast cancer in their own way, respectably. I do not feel ashamed or embarrassed by how I look. Unfortunately, many women do. Matter of fact, I’m still wearing all my tank tops etc. I had many tank tops that never fit, no matter how much weight I lost, guess what? with no tits, they fit now….A crazy thing I have noticed though, after the shower/bath I used to pick up my boobs and dry underneath. Guess what kids, with no boobage, there is nothing to pick up & dry–mind totally fucking blown. I know this reconstruction process should take 4-6 months [from what I’ve read], by then I should have dropped the weight that decided to attach itself back to me-damn pounds. *shakes fist* stay off my ass & my stomach damn whore weight!

I still have so much swelling and discomfort, 20 days later, but am told it’s all normal. I am healing as I should be. Sleeping is getting better. But cancer has still robbed us of so much, especially intimacy–which I know will resume to normalcy.

I post this blog to the #badboob Facebook page & my own personal page, will get away from posting on personal page; but curious to know if you, the readers, would be interested in a cancer haver/survivor support group via Facebook? It wold be a private group, obv…..but a good place for us to vent, talk, cry, laugh, etc…..

Now off to finish filling out the financial aid paperwork for upcoming prescriptions and bullshit.

 

 

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. 

A Weight Off My Shoulders

I’ve joked many times throughout the years with friends that my boobs weigh about 15 pounds a piece—that’s a lot of goddamned boob and excess weight. Even now at my lightest, they’re still pretty hefty bitches. After surgery….in three days….I will literally have a weight lifted from my shoulders….Oh man, how I am looking forward to walking around, feeling normal [ha-you know what I mean], didn’t say acting normal….I will enter the room first, not my boobs….My boobs won’t knock me out while doing jumping jacks anymore! Look at the fun fucking things I’ll be able to do again kids…..fuck you hard cancer…..so very, very, very, fucking hard sans the lube, ya bastard.

My oncologist called this morning with results of the CT Scan yesterday. They are normal she reports. The bone test has not returned. But I feel more confident about complete cancer removal on Tuesday….-Like I mentioned earlier this week, no ass-slapping or high-fives till I know it’s gone. Mmkay.

Speaking of high-fiving….uhm, you girls love a fucking high-five, don’t you? Seriously, I’ve never been subjected to so many high-fives before. I never knew it was a chick thing [recall, my house of peen bit]. I missed that gene and feel like a complete fucktard every time one of you starts raising your fucking arm….I may just start giving you a thumbs up instead….No offense ladies….Just not a high-fiver….Never received my copy of  ‘how to be a lady handbook’….Just don’t know how to act around people in general.

I did learn more of the mastectomy procedure yesterday. I’ll be having a sentinel lymph node biopsy. I am so ready to know what sort of treatments I’ll have to endure. Fortunately my receptors that are supposed to be good are good and the bad are bad….this is good I’m told for treatment. But they nor we will know anything until SLNB. My husband and family should hear something pretty quick about my staging etc once the breast cancer doctor is done removing my breasts…..And….And.…What are they going to do with those six tumors they extract from my breast? Is it too warped of me to want to hold onto them? I can fashion my own jewelry. Sorta like the raccoon baculum jewelry? I will ask them regardless of what they’re doing with them. Because I’m curious about that sorta shit.

What is Fozzie Bear?

Watching Wheel of Fortune the other night. F zz e Bear was the puzzle. What is the answer kids?

The answer was Fozzie Bear. Those fucking stunods could not figure this puzzle to save their lives. They guessed Fuzzie Bear, Fuzzle Bear, Fuzzie Bear & so on. Drunken Pat was so frustrated with those fuckers. All I could do was laugh & yell at the screen–Poor ole Fozzie Bear no love from those wheel spinners. Stupid fuckers. It was all three of them too. Not just one blonde in bunch but every damn one.

Sometimes the answers are so obvious we just can’t see it. Double mastectomy in five days means no cancer. Problem will be answered. Boom. At least physically. The mental recovery may take a bit longer.

Just completed a pre-op phone conversation. Merry Christmas she says ending our talk. Fucking tears….goddammit cancer….All I want for Christmas is to be cancer free….I would rather be hanging bows from my boobs than to be fully fucking bandaged & bedridden Christmas morning….I will have my family. I will have my life. Hell we may even open presents in our bed? Who knows? Who cares?

I know the true spirit is in your heart and how you project onto others. I’m trying to keep my light twinkling for my sweet five year old who can’t really comprehend the full scope of shit that’s about to go down….Really I am. I’m keeping it together tear free most of the day…. There have been a few sneaky Santa’s sending him cards and gifts! He is one happy boy for sure. Those acts of kindness are coming from children too!  They are not going unnoticed either.  I know while I’m two days home from surgery, husband & I will be watching five open gifts, sent with love. This is a beautiful thing. We are working on thank you cards now. Hoping to get out in January.

For Christmas I’d like to put this portion of the nightmare behind me. I know with recovery & treatments, there will be a whole new hellish experience, of which I’m not so sure I’m ready to embark. I want this fucking cancer out….so ready or not here I go. I am so grateful Santa is hooking me up with new boobs….cancer free silicone boobs are all the rage these days. Or so I hear.

Sidenote–The number of my friends who’ve been telling me they’ve been mammo’ed recently is awesome ! Keep it up ladies!! I had no idea that little fucking lump I felt 37 days ago was cancerous & there were four fucking more! Check your boobs. Have your partner check for you. Feel a boob….Save your life….