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.

 

 

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“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.
 

One Little, Two Little, Three Little Badboob’s

When I began #badboob 128 days ago I had no idea what the fuck I was going to blog about. Hell, it’s evident by my rambly sentences & awful typos, I still don’t know what to blog about.

Yet here I sit.
And here you read.
I knew I wanted to tell my journey with breast cancer.
In my words.
With my truths, observations & shit about life.
My bitch boob developed cancers, fucking plural.
104 days ago, cancer tit had to go.
I am currently undergoing reconstruction via expander method.

For the most part, feedback regarding #badboob has been overwhelmingly positive.I honestly had no idea so many  would want to read about my cancer journey, but each week almost 500 of you fuckers click my link. Thank you. I love hearing from you….your stories of lump discovery…your stories of a loved ones breast cancer….how you cry and then laugh whilst reading my ramblings…..how you read my blog to your significant other, and he enjoys it.

Obv, my writings aren’t for all. And you know what? You don’t have to read this shit. No one has to read it. I am writing to release the poisons from my mind. If no one reads, so be it. If every motherfucker reads, bonus! As I stated when I began this blog, my story is no better than yours, I just happen to be chronicling this particular journey with breast cancer at the mo. Some of you just happen to be reading my shit. And shit is what I write about, among other topics. What sort of boring cunts would we be if we all had the same thoughts and interested in same boring shit?  Kinda glad we’re not all Stepford & shit.

Last week was decent. It finally felt as if my chemo-fog was lifting. I could see the sun again. I felt the spring air. I shared laughs and went exploring with my sweet baboo.

And ya know that 20 pounds I mentioned gaining since my surgery? I think I’ve shat it all out! See kids, one plus to having had undergone chemotherapy the last nine weeks is anything in your body will swiftly be pushed out by the poison. Only nine more weeks of treatments left. Since I feel as if I’ve already flushed my large intestine, I suspect I’ll weigh about 45 pounds when I finally reach the fucking finish line on May 20. [insert winky face emoticon]

You learn a lot about yourself when you experience a life changing event. You will do things you never thought possible, your mind will take you to some very dark places; almost fooling you into staying rather than trying to find your way back. I have never, ever felt such depression in my life. You learn a lot about others compassion toward you when you experience a life changing event as well. Friends you thought would always be there for you suddenly show their fucking true colors, leaving you with one less ally while shaking your head wondering what the fuck. Then you have your friends you always knew would be there, some bonds even strengthened during this time of crisis. Others you will form bonds with and become instantly inseparable as your journeys are so close. You will find friendships and support in places you didn’t know existed but are forever grateful to have connected.New friendships offer new perspectives. During time of recovery, new perspectives are extremely important for growth and full recovery.

I’ll forever be indebted to those who have offered words of encouragement, support, sent gift cards, made meals, just let me cry on your shoulder or watched my sweet babboo during the day or overnight-most helpful especially days I can’t even get up or walk without vomiting or shitting on myself on days 3-10 after a chemo infusion.

Nothing about breast cancer has been fun. Losing my tits a month after I turned 42 fucking sucks. Losing my hair because of chemotherapy fucking sucks. Losing days at a time due to toxic sickness fucking sucks. Never once have I said ‘why me’. Know why? Shit happens. Life sucks. Thankfully, Mr. Badboob has been by my side since day 1 of my cancer diagnosis. If you’re fortunate enough, you will find your own Mr. Badboob to help navigate the sea of fucked-upness.

This week I get the bewbs filled again, the last fill I hope. These fuckers are already bigger than I wanted and most uncomfortable. I will also receive chemo infusion number 4-Oh happy happy joy joy.

Thank you to each and everyone of you motherfuckers who have reached out to us. I appreciate it and love y0ur fucking guts so hard.

Be kind. xx

Cancer Robbed Me….

cancer robbed me of a lot of goddamned shit.

Cancer robbed me of time with my youngest. I found the lump seven days after five’s birthday. 19 days later I would be in the hospital with doctors tearing into my breast tissue with their precision scalpels & shit. Those days leading up to surgery, I knew picking five up & giving him super-duper swirlaround hugs would be some of my last times actually doing this with him…..All children grow, this we know….Not all parents are going through recovery during those last days when your youngest is growing by leaps and bounds. I knew during my months of treatments & recovery & bullshit that goes along with cancer that I’d not be able to to this with him once I fully recovered, because he’ll have grown so much. Shit, months down the road, he’ll likely be taller than me. I cherished these hugs. I recited in my mind his smell, laughter & hugging back. I inhaled his essence….knowing that cancer will be behind us one day….months from now….years from now….this nightmare would be a distant but life changing event….he’ll continue reach up to my chest every now and again asking how my boobs feel or if that’s where my boobs were….he’ll tell the cashier at he grocery store “go to hashtag badboob if you want to read about my mommies cancer”….ha!….what a sweet and loving little boy….I know he’ll grow into a strong and compassionate man….he does, after all, have a two pretty damned good role models….While cancer has robbed me of picking him up, it hasn’t robbed me of loving him, harder, every day.

Cancer robbed me of intimacy. Not only with my spouse, but with myself. In the 60 days since the diagnostic mammogram, it’s mostly been fear and worry discussed between me and Mr. Badboob. It has robbed me of sleeping, quite comfy might I add, in the crook of his arm. Instead, the 27 days post-masecto I’ve been sleeping in a cushion of pillows, all but alienating him from my embrace….so unfair cancer is.

Cancer has robbed me of my tits. Fucks sake, I’m only 42–wasn’t quite ready to get rid of them….even if I’m getting new tits installed….it just won’t be the same. My upper portion of my body is still in quite a bit of pain….still gnarly bruised & shit….the hell they’d do? Sit their medical equipment atop me during surgery?….while I’m still in pain, I’m still numb at the same time….don’t know how many of you have seen post-masecto chests…ugh…at the mo, my breasts look awful….and to sucker punch me even harder….I have absolutely no sensation where my nipples were….I mean none….that skin that was once my breasts is gone and mostly likely that source of pleasure is gone….it just means me & the mister will get creative again with sensations and feel goods, when the time is right.

Cancer has robbed me of wanted to get up some days. It has robbed me of giving a shit about my appearance some days. It has robbed me of brushing my hair….though, tbt, since getting my hair cut short back in the summer….I’ve rarely brushed it….preferring to go with the ‘cute messy look’, but now, I hardly even bother with the dry shampoo….It has robbed me of so many simple pleasures, like simply sitting up–pain free. Or not having to peel a sports bra off my incision spots….for those of you that don’t know…the self-healing tape they use, sticks to your clothes….you must carefully peel off your affected area….nothing like receiving a kick while you’re down, eh?

While cancer has robbed me of so much, I do realize, it has strengthened some bonds. It has introduced a new dialogue in our home. We speak more. We hug more. We laugh more. And of course we cry more. Fuck you so very hard breast cancer!

Please for the love of fuck….check yourselves ladies….I was able to catch my breast cancer before it wreaked too much havoc within my body….besides the loss of boobs.

Cancer will not rob me of enjoying today.

 

 

It Started Out With A Lump….

How Did It End Up Like This?

Here I type 25 days post bilateral mastectomy.

Holy Shit! I still can not believe this is my life.

Breast Cancer Survivor has now been added to the list of many amazeball things [insert sarcastic eye roll here] I’ve accomplished.

A fucking survivor I am….goddammit!

It’s still hard to fathom I accidentally found the lump in a moment of intimacy, because I didn’t want my fucking boobs flopping around–now I have no boobs–That was 67 days ago for fuck’s sake. I do not tell you this story for pity. I simply tell this story to get these crazy thoughts outta my head. What a fucking mindfuck.

Tuesday, January the 19th will be a busy day for me and my #badboob. I go to the plastic surgeon, first real post-op appointment with him. The plastic surgeon did make his rounds the morning after surgery….fucking around 6:00am….Who the hell is up that early? Doctors and the medical workers that’s who….the real superhero of my story….I am not the hero. I did not remove the cancerous tumors from my breast, they did. I just laid there drooling under sedation & shit.

I will be receiving my first fill-up. Then onto the oncologist to learn of my cancer treatment plan.  Will I be on chemo via port or pill? Will I be on hormone replacement therapy for the next five to ten years? Fuck if I know. I mean, I will know Tuesday, but at the mo, I do not know, ya know? And fuck me if I’m one of those bitches that balloon to 600 pounds while on hormone replacement therapy~~Gah!!

I was told HRT users can sometimes go into early menopause…..this does excite me….just a tad….seeing as how my baby-slide has been closed for sometime & those pesky fucking periods are so yesterday….bring it on or better yet….free uterus to good home….only serious inquiries considered.

Local schools are on holiday this week and I’ve a new sitter lined up for five! I know they’ll do great! I’m relieved we found someone close enough and trusting enough to leave him with during these medically necessary appointments. We’ve done a few meet & greets & shit….those of you with children, you know how difficult it is to secure someone to watch your child.

Now to get all those fuckers scheduled for school holidays, I’ll be set.

With lack of boobs, I tend to slouch much more than I ever did. That, to me is such an odd sensation. I’ve hoisted those babies up for years….shoving them into ill fitted bras….straps that leave marks hours after bra has been taken off via secret pull through your tee shirt move….for years & years I’ve put up with those mammoth beasts….and now they are gone….soon to be replaced with implants….face palm….mind blown!

 

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