Menopause – The Ceasing Of Menstruation

BRCA1 and BRCA2 mutation positive…..fucking mutation positive…humans are a vile mutation on this planet. Humans are continually fucking up this planet with all their evil doings.

Medicinal advancements can now detect some human mutations and remove those body parts that could become infested with more cancers. I tested positive with the BRCA2 mutative gene. I chose to have a complete hysterectomy in an effort to escape ovarian cancer…..Let’s hope scientists will release the cancer cures we know they’ve been sitting on instead of letting [wo]mankind wallow in continual suffering……..

Most women begin their menopausal journey somewhere in their late 40’s. Other women, such as myself, go through a forced menopause overnight when their organs are extracted from their body in one quick, less than an hour, out patient surgery. Really. They can do that shit before lunch. Fucking insane.

It’s been just over a year since I went in for my hysterectomy and implant exchange surgery….. They bandage you up, send you home and you’re left to weep and sweat on your own for the next year. And fucking weep I have done. I’ve never felt so dark in my entire life. Even with a supportive family and friends…..so fucking dark….so fucking blue…no light…no hope of happiness…badboob.pngusually I would muster through shit, because I never really had a choice….it had to be done…but this time, the depression has overtaken my entire being. Everything I’ve known or felt has come into question.


Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is an anxiety disorder that can be brought on by a traumatic event. PTSD can happen after a life-threatening situation, such as a breast cancer diagnosis or cancer recurrence. PTSD can affect your ability to cope with life’s daily chores and inconveniences and make it difficult to function.


It’s real.

Real AF.

I used to think it was a crock of shit. I now realize it’s so not the case. It’s really important to surround yourself with all the love and support you can handle. There is no lonelier feeling than to face this heinous disease feeling alone. You’re going to act batshit crazy, emotional…all of it…you’re literally losing your tits. You’re going to say and do things that others won’t understand.

Crying. So much fucking crying. Wake up crying. Go to sleep crying. In the car crying. In the shower crying. Walking the dog crying. Talking to doctors crying. All of it. All the fucking time. How do you explain the irrational tears when others tell you your sick and shit? No fuck….I feel fucking sick. Then this life. The news. The sickness. The hate in the world. Friends lost to this horrific disease…It’s all just too much…..There is no way to fully explain. No way to explain without seeming like a blubbering idiot. Other women, survivors, hystosisters, they get it…..So the tears are wiped and a quote brave face replete with blood shot eyes is put on and you carry on with dinner and other household tasks. One day you realize you’ve only cried twice or not at all….

One day you realize you actually enjoyed yourself again. One day you had real smiles instead of those smiled suffocated by tears…. Take those small victories and make them big celebrations. Because they are in fact big celebrations! xx

As I mentioned in a previous post, they recommended a five year hormone therapy treatment for me once they completed my hysterectomy.   Upon doing my homework, I found out long term use of the HRT prevents breast cancer and causes heart disease…..Seeing as how I already have had breast cancer and don’t wish for my heart to become further diseased, I opted not to follow that regimen prescribed by my oncologist; instead looking for ways to up my nutritional intake. The hot flashes are no fucking joke. Without warning I’m completely drenched in sweat. Without warning I’m completely fucking freezing. Sweating. Freezing. So goes my night. Covers on. Covers off. Pillow flipped…..

She’s concerned…
What if I have a re-occurrence of breast cancer?
What the fuck if I do?
It could occur with the HRT or without.
At least without, I’ll have fewer health issues to contend with when given the cancer diagnosis; again. 

 

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Self Compassion

View at Medium.com

“how would you respond if your [partner / parent / child / friend] had the same health problem as you — would you be angry at them or regard them as pathetic for not coping?”

The answer is always one of compassion and empathy.

https://medium.com/pain-talks/self-compassion-the-essential-prescription-in-living-with-long-term-illness-

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

Happy New Boobs…Erm I Mean Year

2015 Recap:

  • Found lump in my breast 51 days ago
  • Learned lump was cancer 38 days ago
  • Two different cancers and both boobs removed from 9 days ago
  • Alive and cancer free

What fucking year for me….For you….I know you guys have been dealing with some hardcore shit too….Fucking life is a bitch at times….Life is also good at times.

I’ve learned a lot about myself, my strength, my courage, my family; their strength and determination to keep me healthy, comfortable and healing properly. I always knew I was strong, I had no doubt about that….I may not always want to be strong….but it is what I have to do to survive and have our family unit run as smooth [bumpy, crooked, off the goddamned track] as possible.

So, last night….I had my first shower since surgery. Oh what a glorious feeling to have my hubby wash out all that goddamned dry shampoo that’s been sprayed on my head the past eight days….Oh what a tragic site to see myself fully unclothed for the first time….I kept psyching myself up all day….I’m not gonna cry, I’m not gonna cry….was my mantra for the day….

Well, I cried & cried on my husband’s shoulders….he reassured me all will be okay….then took a very deep breath and stepped into the wonderful stream of warm water and let it wash away all my tears and worries; if only momentarily. It was quite shocking to see my body and what once were my gifuckinormous & obnoxious breasts hung. When hub was rinsing my hair & face and I bent over, no breasts weighed me down….No breasts swinging left and right…No breasts getting in my me….No breasts….

Trying to prepare oneself to view their altered body is a big goddamned obstacle no matter who you are. I know slicing the tits off my body was necessary for me to keep my health. And I’ve been peeking at my (lack of) boobs for a few days making sure they remain clean and irritant free.

Medically speaking, the incisions look good & clean. The left drain bulb is still there and will remain until January 4th, unfortunately. Today the fluid was dark red as opposed to the orangey I’ve grown accustomed to seeing. The plastic surgeons office reassured me, this is normal & still healthy.

Mentally speaking, I’m still all sorts of fucked up. Obv, ya know. I just lost my breasts to cancer….fucking cancer…fucking two different goddamned cancers….But having you guys and your fuckery in the palm of my hand has been a tremendous boost to my well-being. Again, I thank each and every single one of you who have walked this road with me. I heart you guys and shit so hard!

I’ve not disclosed my treatment plan as I’ve yet to meet with my oncologist. I have the info the breast surgeon gave me, but I need to hear it from oncology before I release to you guys. It’s looking good….But fuck *insert giggle* if my treatment is what they say,  I feel guilty for getting off so easy; beside the losing my tits part. More on treatment next week.

19 just to 5 to CVS for more Advil and chocolates. I shall catch a quick nap.

Happy Fucking New Year to each and every single one of you beautiful motherfuckers.

Be kind to yourselves and each other.

 

 

The One With No Boobs

Holy fuck me! I woke up in sooooooo much fucking pain today. Like first day of surgery pain, even though today is day eight since double mastectomy. [Some of you may be confused my by previous blog titles. I had both breasts removed. The whore filled with cancer and I sacrificed the other to prevent cancer recurrence & have to go through this fucking nightmare again.]

Yesterday I woke all bright & chipper & shit. I got my first post-cancer walk in with the boy & dog, played with my five and his trucks, had a wonderful visit from a friend & was able to get a glorious daytime nap cause hubby was able to get five midday. Felt great all night. Thought I was getting back to my old normal [snort] self.

Ah a handful of pain meds & protein infused coffee–should be situated shortly.

And is just me, or does everyone with a memory foam topper wake drenched in fucking sweat like a junky going through detox? Could be from the 80 pound dog laying on me too? On the other hand, I finally dropped that painkiller ladened deuce! My stomach is flat again! Yippeefuckingskippy!

I obtained my pathology report Monday. The cancer has been completely removed from my breast. Interestingly she told me there were two types they removed. Two different types of fucking cancer! Can you believe that shit?? She said it was ‘rare & bizarre[to those of you who read this on Fb yesterday, deal with it. Told ya I’d be blogging it too.] *emoticon snarky face*

I knew I had  invasive ductile carcinoma. What I find absofuckinlutely amazing is the second cancer removed, from same #badboob, called invasive lobular carcinoma wasn’t present on biopsy! Per pathology report, page 4 of 9, “…3 foci…Invasive lobular carcinoma were not present on prior core biopsy” Can you fucking believe that? They (and I) saw the tumors on the ultrasound on 11/19, but the cancer wasn’t even born yet? The fuck? Told ya at the beginning of my blog, that I was an ‘against the grain kinda girl’….more proof of that right here. 

Goddammit! That blows my fucking mind! Seriously, I caught that shit so fucking early. How is that even possible? I have no words for the feelings I’m feeling. I do know, had I not caught that lump, 11/10/15 [during sex], those two cancers would have fucked me the fuck up.

Goddammit. I feel lucky as fuck. For real. All tingly and miracley & shit.

Again, never having had a surgery before, I didn’t know what to expect. I thought I’d be all Frankensteiny & shit, not being able to move my arms. I actually have more mobility than I anticipated.

I thought I’d not be able to do anything. Reach out for a hug, reach for a glass, wipe the ole poop-chute, but none of those tasks were even a problem. I cannot reach high-like to hang clothes in the closet. I can not reach far-like to grab my damned charger that keeps falling off my bedside table. Other than that, I feel normal, sans boobs.

I did have my first look at my chest on Monday when she took the hospital dressing off. I was shocked, saddened, stunned, happy [Uhm Tara, why the fuck would you be happy] Uhm, no more cancer. My chest is still all sorts of black, blue, yellow & shit….it is not pretty….hell my non-boobed chest is stilll bigger than some of the chicks I know with a flat chest….I had a lot of boob to remove….and I have the expanders in….still not sure how I feel about them….let you know when I get my first pump up. The nurse did remove the drainage tube from the right side. Leftie’s drainage has lessened, so that tube should be coming out tomorrow.

Happy New Year kids! May you all be cancer free. xx