Crying Won’t Help You, Praying Will Do No Good

I used to yell at inanimate objects. Granted I still yell at shit, but not with chaotic rage as before…If I stubbed my toe, I’d yell at the wall. If I spilled shit, I’d yell at it. Lots of shit. Lots of yelling. You know the phrase don’t sweat the small stuff? Most of the shit that gets us down is small stuff. Lots of small shit rolled into one big fucking giant dung ball.

Like all the fucking time….grocery bag handle rips because I’m carrying 18 bags…stupid motherfucker…..laundry basket is in my way….goddammit….all the shit….all the yelling….us

It’s been a little over a year since I discovered that cancerous tumor that led me to the diagnostic mammogram….leading to an ultra sound….leading to the biopsy….all within the same day….How concerned should I be doctor Max, very concerned was his reply….Thus #badboob was born. At that time, I had no idea that bitch boob was hosting two different cancers and six tumors…..motherfucking tits.

For all intent purposes, my cancer is gone. Treatment is complete. Reconstruction is finished. So I should feel good, right?  Wrong. I’m far from alright. Breast Cancer has fucked me up far beyond belief. I’m trying to form my feelings into words. There are no words I can put here for you to read for you to understand how breast cancer affected me and the millions of women battling breast cancer and amputation of your tits. It fucks each person up their own way. Some can bounce back. I’ve never really been one to let shit  get me down…..but this…..this is so hard to overcome.

I’m not pleased with reconstruction results. Like seriously, not happy. I knew I’d never have ‘tits’ again. Although the boob like shapes sticking our from my body add to my ‘normal’ appearance.  But, they are cold and implants are too large on my frame, still having to hoist them up to relieve back pain, they are uneven. I am crushed. After this ride, I’d like to look in the mirror with out tears streaming down my face. My breathing speeds up. My heart jumps into my throat and I literally feel as if I could explode internally. I feel as if I’m literally drowning. Will I always feel like this? I feel the answer should be no.

So many things I could do before chemo that I can’t do with ease today. Brush my teeth, reach my arm behind my back, I use slip on shoes so I don’t have to tie. The neuropathy is fucking crazy. The shakes are hardcore, feels as if I’ve got early Parkinson’s or some shit.

Don’t sweat the small stuff…….it’s all small shit

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Not Everyone Gets A Trophy In My House Boy….

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

When You Find That Long Yellow Hair…

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Look Mom, A Girl With No Hair.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Time Keeps On Slippin, Slippin, Slippin….

Fucking Life

Fucking Death

Shit. Does. Not. Stop. Ever.

If you’re one of the lucky ones, you’ll get some laughs along the way with little memory of the hardships you’ve endured….

Bills still need to be paid….cars & homes maintained…appointments & shit will need to be done….booboo’s cared for….loved ones loved….compromises….lots of fucking compromises….and just because you had cancer and a few rounds of grueling ass chemo….so fucking what?…Life. Does. Not. Give. A. Goddamn….get your treatment and get off your fucking ass.

So lemme tell ya, there’ve been a few [very few mind you] perks from chemotherapy. It’s been pretty fucking nice not having to look for that hard, sneaky fuck of a white chin hair….sometimes it’ll pop up on the left side, others the right….and I can almost never pluck that bitch first try…I no longer have to pluck nipple hair….ever…. again….been using the same razor [just to get the strays] for months….fucking score, right!…no periods in months….with the playground being demolished in a few weeks, that’ll be one monkey permanently off my crotch….lots of time has been saved in the shower….conditioner & shit….boom I’m done in mere minutes….money has been saved on make up and shit….with no eyelashes, I don’t need mascara, duh….with monster fucking pimples, no need to use foundation to try to cover, it only makes it worse….and with shitty puke fest, I’ve saved a shitton of money on my vehicle and fuel….so there have been some good points….very small, minor money saving occurrences during my breast cancer jaunt.

Weeds are tall as fuck outside

We laughed hard as hell in the living room

Spider webs outside

We played rescue garage

Still dusty as fuck inside

Splashed our asses off in the pool

Fucking life does not stop

Maybe next weekend we will dust the house, weed eat the yard, mow the lawn and leaf blow the spiders that have taken up residency in the corners of our home into the wild oblivion.

The scale has finally begun cooperating with me again. Thank fuck for that small feat. By resuming our walks with our lumpy yellow dog, the pounds are slowly dropping off. Goddamn three or four weeks of inactivity and the pounds take it as some sort of fucking invitation to jump back onto your gut or ass….or arms….or neck….gobble gobble….fuck, once I grow double chins, there’ll be more places to hide food on my body. [insert wow face emoticon with hands to mouth ala Home Alone fashion here]

Seriously can’t stress what a constant, itching, burning pain in the ass the power port is. I feel its presence with each step, cough, word I speak….the incision site was really bothersome last week, over the weekend I noticed it had begun to scab slightly….and that fucking plastic ‘vein’….my gawd….remove that bitch today! Please and thank you. Thank fuck this fucker will be removed in 35 days. I’ve talked to so many breast cancer survivors who say they do not experience any problems from their ports. Hallefuckinlujah to you! I seriously am envious. There’s enough bullshit to learn and deal with once you find you have cancer and I’m sick of the port. The method of delivering the toxic chemo should not be another obstacle. But it could be worse. This I know. There are so many other outcomes that could have happened once the super doctors removed the cancer back in December. Fortunately, easy. I got off with my life. I am titless, but have plastics being installed. I am not terminal. I have lots of look forward to and accomplish yet in my life.

I was scared as fuck when I discovered that lump 216 days ago. I cried hysterically, dramatically & violently every fucking day up till my bilateral mastectomy 174 days. I also know I’m not the only one scared in life. A lot of us are. Life can be a ginormous fuckstick at times.

35 days from now the new tits will be install as well as my lady bits being removed.

Sweet Babboo will be beginning his stint with the public school system in 77 days. That’s only 76 good mornings before he’s released into the world. Infuckincredible. The badboob family had sons graduate in 2013 & 2014, for fuck’s sake. With my first two sons, I was the young parent. Now I’ll be the old, granny parent. [insert crying emoticon here] Fucking yikes I say.

I believe I’m out out the chemo induced hell…my bowels are still outta whack…my brain still scrambled….my life is still fucked….but I am here….the sun rose again this morning….time to suit up and splash in the pool.

 

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.

 

 

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….