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

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

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.
 

Somewhere Over The Toilet…..

Is where I sit sweating  profusely.
Is where I sit puking
Is where I sit, wondering if it’s a false hurl alarm or the real shit.
I’ve never been so out of my mind in pain/confusion/and general fuckedupness

Imagine your worst hangover. Then multiple that by 1,000,000,000 stabby knives slicing up and down your gut….That’s the closest I come describe how chemo makes me feel. And fuck me I’m on a lighter regimen, they say…. I can’t imagine how much death has been starring you down….[You chemo warriors with the higher toxins to kill the residual cancerous cells….You are my fucking hero. My fucking inspiration. My goddamned light and my guidance.] That summary doesn’t still doesn’t convey the real feelings of chemo and what it does to your mind, body & soul.  It’s like you want to rip the skin from your body in hopes of relief from the chemo storm brewing in your body.

Last week was spent preparing for being chemoriden this week. You know, I kinda dusted, kinda cleaned and our iRoomba is still kicking ass…. Fortunately I’ve still got plenty of badboob chemo foods to get me by the next week or so. Sweet Babboo has enjoyed the badboob chemo foods as well, a huge thank you to all who sent this chick with the floppy waffle tits snacks & prezzies. I truly and humbled by the amount of support I’ve received since November.

I reached a milestone in this breast cancer journey, my last chemo infusion!! Whoofuckinghoo~so excited to cross that day off my calendar. I will not need radiation, thank fuck on that. I know there a still a few more hospital procedures for me in July….One step, one day, one nervous tear leaking from my eye at a time. These last few steps should be easy….new boobs!! ….Oh yeah!!….Have you seen a post-masecto chest? It’s not pretty, but I do have titanium holders where my nipples should Changebe….wonder tits activated….

Leaving the cancer center last Friday, the girls asked what I’d miss most about chemo. Erm, the puking and spraying from both ends. The one positive is I’ve not had a period in months….chemo makes you pre-menopausal they say. I am glad I’m not having to shave every other day, no razor bumps! But seriously, with the prices of fucking razors, we should not still be experiencing razor rash in this day and age~~someone get on that. And I’m kinda digging having no hair to fuck with. Boom, I wake up, put on my black tank and I’m ready to go.

Everyone’s experience with cancer various so greatly. One thing we, the fighters, the warriors, wish for….is for us to tell our story in our fucking words with our goddamned experiences. We don’t want you retelling our story. We don’t want you to edit our story as to how you think it should be told. I’m still wrapping my head around that mindset. If you love someone, love them now. Not for what you hope to mold and shape into your perfect fucking image. If you claim love for another, love them as they are, in the now. Don’t try to detour them with your fuckery.

Just accept
 Just Love
Just Listen

You may find joy in watching your loved one flourish with wings she always knew she had but scorn kept her from doing so.

Life is fucking hard enough. Last thing we need is lay low when the fucktards come marching by. Last thing we need is to feel we must bottle our emotions. Cancer of any sort will rock your fucking world. Some are more graceful than others with their story, but ultimately, we want to be loved. You don’t know what to say? Howabout a simple ‘hi’ or put an arm on my shoulder. Chemo takes your brain on some crazy ass scenarios-not knowing what is real or imaginary- Just don’t shy away because we are/were sick.

From my toilet to yours…..

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.

 

 

It’s Like A Lion And A Tiger Mixed

Bred For Its Skills In Magic….The Liger

If you guys knew anything of my before my #badboob and this whole fucking breast cancer ordeal, you know I was forever finding snacks and treats in my bras at the end of the evening. Hell, I’d even find some of my body jewelry hiding in there-you know those tricky fucking internal screw tragus earrings. I’d find the gems in my bra all the time….Thank fuck they never really got lost and didn’t have to invest in new body jewelry.

So with having my bilateral mastectomy 17 days ago, I thought long gone where the days of storing snacks in my bra for later consumption—Oh boy was I wrong. Tara, how the fuck are you still getting crumbs falling down your shirt when you have no tits, you may be thinking to yourselves. Well kids, when one eats in bed—crumbs happen….And goddammit….a lot of crumbs have happened….lots of those crunchy little fuckers.

What a lovely cornucopia of chips, peanuts, veggie jerky pieces & other delightful pieces fell to the floor when undoing this lovely post mastecto bra last night. Needless to say, Boston, the dog was very pleased with the treats I bestowed upon him.

My pain level is subsiding. Will be driving for the first time today to the The Carolina Ale House of Garner, to have lunch with my son, who happens to be a server there. He is also the first recipient of the First Annual Spartan Award! It will be nice to get out and enjoy a meal in which I neither need to cook or clean or pay for. Score!

My swelling is going down as well. I still have a hard time comprehending my new [temporary] silhouette looking in the mirror. Even at my smallest, I still looked big because of my big obnoxious tits. Now with them gone, I am instantly slim….Goddammit, what a life/mind changer that is. I’ve still lots of bruising, but that too is normal and healing quite well. No infections-Yay

Unfortunately my extra weight is still sticking….Seriously, how the hell is that possible?….My boobs were huge, I thought for sure some weight would have dropped….Meh….All in due time I suppose. We’ve begun walking the dog again, every couple of days, nice and slow we are taking it.

Each day I am meeting new women recently diagnosed with breast cancer, recently underwent their own bilateral mastectomy. I feel fortunate my blog is reaching others and potentially helping others cope. You tell me you laugh….you cry…when reading my updates….most importantly you tell me you are checking yourself or having spouse check herself. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Until a cure for cancer is found, we have to be diligent with our bodies. Know them inside and out. And get checked when something feels off. Insurance or not. I fall in the non-insured adult category, yet still had myself checked; because I knew in my heart it was cancer.

Feel free to ask any and all questions. Normal, gross, inquisitive, I’ll answer them all to the best of my knowledge.

Thank you again everyone for your continued daily support-emotional, physical, financial-all the support is appreciated and never turned down. When I am in a good place financially, I plan to give back as much as I can to my community.

Much love to all you beautiful fuckers. xx

 

 

 

 

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. 

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