I'M ON THE RADIO!

In case you missed it! I was live on the Karen Carrington Show with Frequency5fm. Me along with Genie Liu Entrepreneur and Hope Dealer!! We had a blast talking really candidly, (which as you know, that's the only way I do!) about my journey, what I did to pull me through and what I'm up to next. 

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Sponsor Bourgie Cosmétique who created a stunning lipstick collection for the Karen Carrington Show which helps make the show possible to spread awareness on Mental and Emotional Wellness. Shop here for kissable lips! https://bourgiecosmetique.com/lips/

The Saga Continues . . .

The backstory of the vacuum attached to my boob, it sounds worse than it is, I promise.

1 week post abscess . . .

Since the eruption of the abscess it was a week full of anxiety and anxiousness I couldn’t pull myself out of. I was just so worried and kept checking the wound (like every 5 minutes) to see how it was doing. I felt like I had to constantly keep my mind occupied or I would continue to obsess about what was happening under my shirt. It made me sad, angry and frustrated and I was sure I was making myself crazy.

It’s been a while since I posted as I have been dealing with this abscess. It has been a roller coaster AGAIN!

This is what went down . . .

After the hematoma, I felt better for all of two days then my boob started to swell up again. Little by little it was getting bigger and more painful. I was like, “Has the hematoma returned?” I called my doctor and asked if that was normal, they said yes, but still deep down I felt like something was off. Man were my instincts right! The next day I noticed a small clear liquid escaping from the recently sewn (for the second time I may add) wound. I blotted it leaving a light red smear on the gauze. Oh F, here we go again! But this time I knew it was infected, it was a little yellow and a little red, not like the dark red color like before. I just hoped and prayed the antibiotics I was on would do the trick and it would go away. No such luck! That night, 3 a.m. to me exact, I woke up to a small puddle of liquid on my sheets. It was official the wound it fucked/infected. Not knowing what else to do I slapped some gauze on it, taped it in place and hoped for the best until morning. I called the doctor first thing and they told me to come in that afternoon. By now my boob was super swollen and so sore I felt like it was jumping off my chest. But luckily it wasn’t oozing like with the hematoma so I thought, it can’t be that bad . . . Boy was I wrong again!

That afternoon Corey and I went to see my surgeon and he was prepared this time in case he had to do any impromptu procedures. I started disrobing and explaining what had been going the past few days. He just nodded and said, “Monique a picture is worth a thousand words, so let’s just take a look.” I proceeded to remove the bandage slowly, and before I could even get it off fully a yellowy red liquid started oozing out from all sides. My mind was racing, “What the F was going on???” The bandage had created a suction like effect and as soon as I pulled that bandage off it exploded all over the exam room. It was disgusting and more importantly I couldn’t stop it! By now this yellowy reddish liquid was oozing all over my chest, neck, down my side and on to my pants. Corey was rushing around grabbing paper towels, as was the doctor - I was just trying not to barf.

Doctor: “I need to open it up.”

Me: “What the hell is this?”

Him: “I don’t know until I get in there.”

Then he had to throw a gown around me and rush to a room down the hallway because there wasn’t a suction machine in that room. Argh! Get it together doc! There he cut open the wound he had just stitched less then 5 days prior and the suction machine went to work. I could feel it sucking out the liquid like I was at the dentist, and it sounded horrible, so I squeezed my eyes shut and told myself to go to a happy place in my mind. I kept picturing Corey and I on a beach somewhere in Spain, me in some hot new shades and him in a stylish fedora. The doctor had decided he didn’t want an audience and had pulled the curtain so I couldn’t see Corey’s reassuring face.

I don’t know how long it took, I just squeezed my eyes shut and stayed in Spain until I heard the suction machine come to a halt.  For a minute, the room was just still. I opened one eye and peeked down at the hole in my breast (Agh!) then over at the doctor who had his eyes closed. WHAT THE F is he doing?!

Me: “Doc. what are you doing?”

Him: “Thinking.”

Me: “About what??” I mean I know he is a good doctor but right now he is making me question his capabilities!

Him: “How to tell you I cannot close it back up.”

Me: “What are you talking about?”

Him: “If I close it back up it will just do this again, it’s infected and it needs to drain on its own.” Me: “What about the antibiotics?”

Him: “That won’t help, it’s an abscess, it needs to stay open.”

Me: I hate you – No I didn’t say that.

Now Corey had come around from the curtain and I looked at him in horror.
Me: “So it’s just going to stay open, I will have this hole in my chest? That don’t make any piece of sense.”

Him: “We are going to pack it and you will come back in a couple of days and see the wound specialist. But this is going to take some time to heal.”

Me: “How much time?”

Him: “Up to 2 months and the scare will not look nice, but you can see a plastic surgeon later to talk about that.”

Me: “2 months?! What about my radiation?”

Him: “That will need to wait.” 

Me: “Doctor(blank) I am not very happy right now.”

Him: “I know.”

Me: “What caused this?” Me secretly thinking he botched my surgery

Him: “No way to say, it’s bacteria.”

Me: Death stare. Later I would spend hours on the internet trying to find someone to blame, but would come up empty. It appears he is right, there is no explanation (that’s not infuriating or anything, is it?!) My system is weak from the chemo, end of story.

I left that office feeling totally defeated and angry. I had an hole in my chest and that I couldn’t comprehend. At least I wasn’t in pain anymore, after he suctioned out the liquid, my boob had gone down to its regular size which was reassuring. However, it wasn’t until I saw the wound specialist (I didn’t even know this profession existed), that I found some peace.

Me: “Do you see this sort of thing often with breast cancer patients?”

WCS (Wound care specialist): “Hmmm I wouldn’t day often, but I have seen it a lot with women who have surgery and then go through radiation and it’s the radiation that opens the wound up. So, I guess it’s a good thing you haven’t started radiation.”

Me: “I was supposed to start this week.”

WCS: Yeah, I would hold off if you can, consult your radiation oncologist. The body will heal on its own, but radiation will prevent that, although sometimes radiation trumps wound healing. Me: “So it just stays open like that?”

WCS: “Yes, the wound needs to stay open so while the infection drains out the cells can regenerate from the inside out.

Me: “It makes sense . . . I guess.”

To that end she proceeded to hook me up to a pico vac, which vacuums out the infection through a thin tube hooked up to a battery pack that runs 24 hours a day, (lucky me I get to carry it around until it heals). At first, I was really pissed, then I was like, at least this vacuum thing allows me to move around and I don’t have to be bed ridden. She really knew what she was doing and I am happy my surgeon referred me to her.

The pico vac vacuums the abscess onto a bandage taped to my boob and is changed every 3 days. It doesn’t hurt, it just vibrates and has to go where I go. So, no I won’t be wearing any tight dresses or sexy v necks any time soon, but I am getting more creative on how to hide the battery pack under my clothes.  

The pico vac vacuums the abscess onto a bandage taped to my boob and is changed every 3 days. It doesn’t hurt, it just vibrates and has to go where I go. So, no I won’t be wearing any tight dresses or sexy v necks any time soon, but I am getting more creative on how to hide the battery pack under my clothes.  

Its two weeks post abscess explosion and the wound care specialist says it looks like it is healing. Hooray! I meet with the radiation oncologist next week, hopefully we can put it off so this dang thing can heal. Fingers crossed. 

Hematoma Kiss my Ass!

So, if any of you have seen my last post on social, the scar from my lumpectomy had sprung a leak and a doctor told me, not to worry, it will stop on its own, and to go live my life. Well that was a week ago and turned out to be some horse shit advice!

**WARNING, if you are squeamish at all DO NOT READ ON. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! And yes there is a pic.

Let me paint the picture for you . . .

It’s Thursday morning and I wake up to a soaked bra full of blood, but no pain. I’m nervous for sure, but think it’s ok. The doctor said as long as the blood is dark in color it’s old blood and it’s nothing to be concerned about. She said it was probably a Hematoma, and it would heal on its own in most cases . . . I had also done some googling on my own, just to put my mind at ease:

Hematoma (Blood Build-up): Like a bruise, a hematoma is a mark on your skin because blood is trapped under the surface. A hematoma usually refers to the mark created when blood builds up in a surgical wound where tissue has been removed and in some cases, the blood may need to be surgically drained, usually by reopening the incision made during breast cancer surgery.

YIKES!

So, prior to this blood bath sitting in my bra I wasn’t too worried. I nervously removed the soaked bandage and from there it wouldn’t stop. It just oozed slowly and consistently for hours. I started to panic. I was deep breathing, then pacing, then cursing. The gauze wasn’t doing shit so I was scrambling with bounty paper towels (they are supposed to be super absorbent, right?). I let out a scream and started to cry and thought, WTF?? I am not OK with this, what is happening? Why do they keep telling me it is ok when there is clearly something not right?! WHY IS THERE SO MUCH BLOOD??” I called my surgeon’s office (who was finally back from vacation, who goes on vacation after cutting people open anyway?) and let his assistant know what was happening and I wanted to come in. She called me back saying he was in surgery, but to meet his at the office in the hospital at 3pm. I called Corey and told him the situation and he came home to check it out right away. By the time he arrived I had already gone through half a roll of the bounty paper towels (which were working great by the way), and was standing at the top of the stairs topless holding the paper towel under my boob to catch the blood. Luckily, he is not squeamish at all, he just looked at it and said, “It’s ok, we will see what the doctor says.”

We wrapped up the oozing boob and hit the road. When we arrived, I changed into my oh too familiar surgery gown, and waiting in one of the rooms for the doctor to arrive. When he does I explained the situation. Since his face never changes I didn’t know what he was going to say next.

Doctor: “OK, Monique we have two options; option one, let the hematoma drain on its own, but it could take up to two months, or option two, I can open it up and drain it right now. But the scar will not end up as pretty.” 

I looked at Corey wide eyed, my head was spinning. I thought, open me up, again? No anesthetic? The scar was healing so well, what did you mean by not so pretty? This wasn’t an operating room; do you even have the tools to do this right here and now? Is this woman next to you even a nurse, she wasn’t wearing nurse like attire? Me: “Doc.  what caused this, is it something I did?” 

Doctor: “No, it was nothing you did, unless you were doing jumping jacks, which I highly doubt, this happens in 1 out of 6 patients. It could be from the chemo and the medications you have been on, really, it’s hard to say. I would prefer not to have to wait two months though, because that would delay your radiation.”

Me: “I don’t care about the scar, I just want this to end, so drain it.” 

He started right away, the nurse (she was in fact a nurse so I take back what I said before), pulled out all the tools, and set him up. I could have sworn this was an examination room, but they had kit ready to go! He used local anesthetic so it didn’t hurt, however I could feel it all. I could feel him squeezing, and although he had put some cloths around the wound to catch all the blood that was being spilt, I could still see the gauze was being changed every few seconds. Worst of all I could smell the blood, it smelled like raw meat, and it made me sick. If I didn’t think I was going to eat meat before I definitely couldn’t eat it now. I kept my eyes closed for the most part, and tried to go to a happy place and block out what was happening. Why oh, why did I decide to sneak a peek, right at the moment he was using tweezers to pull out a blood clot and slap it on the towel beside my face? Ugh! I didn’t open my eyes again until it was over.

Then came the stitching, I could feel him tugging on my skin, it was horrible! Then the doctor said something that disturbed me, “I wish we had used a contrast color thread, the lighting in here is not great.” WTF does that mean? Nurse replies with, “I’ll go get a flash light.”  What kind of make shift operation is this? I am trying to remain calm, especially when she came back unable to find a flashlight. Me: “I have a flashlight on my iPhone, would that work?”  Corey pulls out my phone and the nurse tries to shine the light for the doctor to see . . . it doesn’t do shit. Doctor: “It’s ok, I’m about done.”  Now I am panicking that he can’t see what the hell he is doing and that not so pretty scar he had warned about, may be even worse! Now I know why they put you to sleep during surgery, it’s not just for the pain, it’s to protect you from the possible mental anguish. I am clear blood and gore isn’t for everybody. I haven’t had any major surgeries in my life, so for some people this may have been a cake walk, but for me it was traumatizing and I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there.

When it was finally over my boob was half the size it was before, all the swelling was gone, but the scar was gross to look at, thank-fully they covered it with gauze so I wouldn’t have to. Corey came over kissed my head and said, “I’m proud of you.” I replied with, “That was horrible, let’s get the hell out of here please.”  We went home still reeling from what had just happened. At least it was over . . . or so I thought.  4 days post open boob surgery and I am still in pain and feels like I had surgery all over again. Maybe everything is fine, maybe a new hematoma is taking shape, who the hell knows?! There is no way to really prevent it after all. How frustrating is that? I am super angry, frustrated and sad. All this laying around (although necessary), is making the rest of my body stiff like a grandma; my radiation will have to be pushed until I am healed (date is TBD), and I am so scared the hematoma will return because my boob is swollen again!  I am really in my feelings these last few days, which I hate! All I want to do is eat ice cream, chips and pizza (when I know my body needs greens juice, salads and healthy shit!)

Yes, I know it could be worse, it always could be worse, but not addressing how I am feeling would make me even crazier then I feel right now, and who needs crazier, I sure as hell don’t! I am sure Corey would agree.

I meet again with the doctor on Thursday, we will see what the next steps are. The journey continues. 

I GOT THIS . . . MAYBE NOT

Me: “I am so tired of all of this, I am restless and angry and sad and I just feel like this is going to go on forever.”

Audrey: “What is?”

Me: “This damn cancer thing, it's always something, it's like it never ends. Chemo, surgery, then radiation then hormone therapy . . . I’m stuck in this damn house again, can’t sleep, in pain, it’s just draining me, its like it never ends!”

Audrey: “Ok I am going to say something harsh right now, that may be tough to hear, but we really need to pull you out of this place of disempowerment right now and quick, OK?”

Me: “O-o-K-K” (through my sobs and tears)

Audrey: “Monique you have been through a lot, you have and you have been blessed to have it go as well as it has. A big part of that too is how well you have handled things up until now. AND it is not done yet, there is more to come. AND, you want to be grateful that there is still more that can be done.”

Me: Pause

Audrey: “If the doctors told you there is nothing left to be done, go home and live the rest of your days, then we would really have something to be sad about. Thank God there is more treatment to be done that can help you, because the alternative is your not being here.” 

Me: (Long pause) - F! “You are right . . . I wasn't thinking about it that way.”

She was so right. She said the exact things I needed to hear to shift my whole context that I have been living in for the past week.

What I have been struggling with is, I "should" be soooo grateful that I didn't have to have a mastectomy, so I don’t have the right to be upset with life right now. People think I should be cheering from the rooftops! (Believe me I am!) I speak to women all the time who have it way worse than I do, so I get it. I DO! But should that mitigate my own pain or struggle? F, no it does NOT! It's not about the surgery. It's about this entire process. Each treatment has recovery time and during this time its, just a reminder that I have cancer in the first place, which I try hard to forget on those good days.

What I learned was trauma is trauma, (whether you have your breast removed or have a piece of it cut out), and distress is distress and you don’t know you are in it until it shows up and you don’t want to get out of bed! For me it’s like one minute I am fine, instagramming and online shopping, and the next I am bawling in the shower. I can't explain it. I try to push it down and, "think positive," which never works in the moment by the way. WHY? Because trying to deny what you are feeling makes you crazier! If you don't feel it, how can you acknowledge it? If you don’t acknowledge it, how can you get to the root of it and move past it? Short answer is, you can't!  Oh, and the whole, “I can handle this on my own, I got this! Is unnecessary pain you are putting yourself through. Believe me, “I got this!” is my middle name.

What people don't realize, what I didn’t realize is, that when I am feeling down I cannot always figure out how to pull me out of it on my own. (I also didn’t know that anesthesia makes you susceptible to depression EEK! Making it even harder to pull yourself out of it, duh!) We all have that someone, who might know what to say to pull us out of the fog. That someone who loves you unconditionally, doesn’t judge, gives it to you straight with a spoonful of sugar and holds you up to be your best possible self despite how you may be acting in that moment. They are usually that someone you don’t what to, “bother” because you think they are too busy. Yeah, that someone. A little advice? Reach out to them! Today that one conversation with Audrey, my someone, shifted how today was going to go, and I am so grateful for that. 

Everyday I pray and give thanks for how well my healing has gone thus far, but saying it and being it, Audrey made me realize, is not the same thing. I may have had chemo, and now surgery, and am looking at having radiation and 5 years of hormone therapy that will shift me into early menopause, but so what if I am here to still be with the ones I love?!

Right now, I may not be able to board a plane to Spain, mall hop, take a long drive to a remote part of the city, or eat all the cheese pizza I can stomach, I will be able to at some point (maybe not the cheese thing, that might kill me). Today I will focus on what’s important, that I am making progress.

So, what shall I do with my day hmmmmmm? No cheese pizza . . . but gluten free, dairy free pancakes is a good place to start!

FIRST COMES MARRIAGE, THEN COMES . . ?

I’m going to make a very ignorant statement right now. I thought only old people, genetically predisposed people, smokers, obese people, diabetic people, or alcoholics got cancer. I am none of those things and I was diagnosed with triple positive breast cancer at the age of 36-years- old. The jokes on me, eh?!

I never thought that lump resting between my left breast and my chest bone was a cancerous tumor. I had been working out at the gym hardcore at the time, (for what reason, I am not quite sure), so I thought it was a pulled muscle at best. I mean I was healthy as a horse! I ate my greens, took my vitamins, didn’t eat meat and worked out four times a week. But just 1 month later I was sitting in the doctor’s office with the results; I was healthy . . . except for the cancer.

Doctor: "Monique I wish I had better news, but it is cancer." Or maybe he said, “Monique the tumor is cancerous,” or maybe it was, “Monique too bad so sad, as healthy as you think you are, you got cancer smarty pants!”  I can’t really remember, but what echoed in my head was, IT’S CANCER. I felt my heart drop, or did it stop? I stopped breathing for sure and closed my eyes. Me: WTF?? Even today, almost 6 months later, I still can't believe it, I don’t feel like I have cancer. I always say, “I didn’t feel like I had cancer, until I had chemo.” (The chemo that saved my life I am sure), but I digress. Then I remember he moved me and my husband, Corey into a private room while he got my paper work together. As soon as I sat down I started to bawl uncontrollably. Corey was hugging me and I said, "WTF is he saying? He had to get it wrong, what about our plans, what about our BABY?! We had just gotten married 6 months prior and we said we would start trying to have a family that year, that month in fact. But a few weeks prior something inside me said, WAIT. I don't know what that was, God, the universe, my gut? I will never know. But I went to Corey and told him I think we should wait. I said, now didn't feel right and we could take the rest of the year to just enjoy being newlyweds. I didn’t want to rush to have kids, just because I was mid 30’s and we “should” hurry it up! Thank God, we did, or chemo (which needed to start ASAP), might have been out of the question and today we would be having a very different conversation. 

People ask, “What’s it like being diagnosed so young?” I don't know how to answer that. 36 is young yes, but I am sure no matter what age you are diagnosed it is F’d up either way. But for me, what was really impacted, (or so I thought), was my ability to start a family. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes cancer? That is not how the song goes! This diagnosis was like someone had shot me in both knee caps at the beginning of my race.

This was a real disruption to my and Corey future kin conversations:

Me: “Did you get the email I sent you?”

Corey: “The one with the little girl in the jumpsuit and sunglasses?”

Me: “Yes, she looks just like our daughter, no?”

Corey: “Ummmm not really.”

Me: “Yes, she does, she has my cheeks and your eyes!”

Corey: “How can you tell she is wearing sunglasses? LOL!”

Me: “She looks like the next child YouTube sensation!”

Corey: “YouTube?? How about we raise the next doctor or lawyer?”

Me: “Ugh . . . so boring!”  

Then after our first visit to the fertility specialist and she informed us that chemo causes birth defects and we can't start trying to conceive until 3 years post chemo . . .  if at all, I thought, F, WHAT’S THE POINT?! (I did freeze my eggs though just in case). It was like someone had stabbed me in the heart. After that I spent many months convincing myself I didn’t even want kids. I mean who wants a crying, poopy, suck your life savings for the next 21 years anyway? I DID!!!

Almost 6 months ago I was diagnosed and I thought it was the end of my world. I was going to sell everything and take me and Corey around the world on a last hooray. What I have learned over these many months is, doctors only know as much as they know, but they have no way of knowing what is going to happen with my cancer, my body, or my future. AND that includes whether we will be able to conceive. I have been very lucky up until this point. I responded well to chemo, YAY! Tumors are shrinking, YAY! I feel good and I am not laying in a depressed heap on the floor somewhere (Double YAY!). I get to keep my breast so far, lumpectomy surgery still healing from (YAY! But hurts like hell!), and 3 years from now we will have my 36-year-old eggs to try and conceive with if we need them. That child, YouTubing/doctor/lawyer is just waiting for us, I know it!

No matter what age you are diagnosed, cancer impacts your life, no matter what you have going on, it comes in and says, “Stop whatever you are doing, whatever you were thinking and however you were being and listen to me!” You are forever changed . . .  it changed me. So better that change comes sooner rather then later, no?

This post is part of Listen to HER2, a program hosted by Living Beyond Breast Cancer that highlights personal stories from people affected by HER2-positive breast cancer. Visit lbbc.org/ListentoHER2 for more stories about life with HER2-positive breast cancer.

Living Beyond Breast Cancer is a national nonprofit that provides educational resources and emotional support to people who have been impacted by breast cancer. Its goal is to provide information, community and support that you can trust, is easy for you to access and respectful of you and your situation. For more information, visit LBBC.ORG.

 

SURGERY COUNT DOWN . . .

I'm sitting in my car in the hospital parking lot waiting for my next appointment. I am getting a Sentinel Node Biopsy to determine if any “abnormal cells” have spread.

The Sentinel node (under the armpit) is the first lymph node to be affected. Finding it involves an injection of a radio-istotope into my breast, which travels to the sentinel node. If the Sentinel node is not involved, there is a 95% chance that the remainder of the glands are negative as well.

But first I get to have 3 radio active ,“seeds” injected into each tumor. Fun times! NOT! They freeze the area (my boob and under my arm) – Ouch! Then inject the seeds. Apparently, I am pretty sensitive because it was NOT frozen the first time he went in there – damn it! These seeds essentially make it easier for the surgeon to identify the tumors during surgery.

All of this is in preparation for surgery tomorrow. I wouldn't say I am scared, per se …  but nervous yes! I mean it is surgery after all and anytime you must go under the knife there are risks involved. Oh, and there is the whole recovery time and the fact that I don’t like pain, AT ALL! I don’t know many people that do, but I think I am a big baby when it comes to pain or discomfort. This was emphasized when I yelled out in pain when the freezing hadn’t kicked in yet, so one of the nurses started rubbing my arm and squeezing my hand mid procedure. I was a bit taken aback, (as nice as the gesture was), I mean we had just met and I don’t like to be touched when I’m in pain. Not to mention I was having hot flashes during the whole thing and her arm was sticking to mine and I needed some space! “It’s almost over,” she kept saying, gently. Ugh! I just wanted to punch her! All I kept thinking was, “GET OFF MEEEEEE, I CAN’T BREATH WITH YOU UP ON ME!” I had my nipple in the air, the doctor sticking my boob on my right and her rubbing my arm on my left, all the while being told not to move and surrounded by these blankets to ensure I didn’t touch the disinfected site. I was suffocating! But I didn’t want to be mean, (she was so nice), so I just sweated and bared it as long as I could, then I gently tapped her and said with a weak smile, “Thanks, I’m OK now.” “Oh, OK,” she smiled back and backed up. Thank GOD!

I really can't wait until this is all over, I want to start my life! WAIT, scratch that. As I wrote that, I just caught myself. That's a BC (before cancer), type of comment. There is no starting my life, my life is actually happening, RIGHT NOW MONIQUE! I forget sometimes. That, “I will be happy when . . ,” mentality can kill you. . . maybe literally. Def emotionally. What I really meant to say is; “When this surgery is done and I am healed, Corey and I can finally take that, "Monique kicked chemo's ass," trip we have been planning for months. This has me realize how easy it is to slip into that, “I will be happy when,” state of mind. Everyday I am grateful I have come as far as I have; for the support that I have; for the amazing healing, I have experienced. Even when the, "poor me," days rear its ugly head, I am still grateful. AND I need to remind myself everyday that cancer is not something I need to put behind me, it isn't going anywhere. The treatments will change, the feelings and emotions will change, the check-ups will change, but I will always be the girl who got cancer, has cancer or had cancer. Duh! And that is OK. It was a wake-up call, and we all get some sort of wake-up call, (if we are lucky), and mine was cancer. 

I was resisting pulling out my iPad and writing in the car, but now I am so glad I did otherwise I wouldn't have seen that I am still, "waiting" for something to end before my, "real" life can begin. NEWS FLASH! My life is happening right now!

I have 2 reminders on my phone that beep everyday: The first one is, “Create my body as a place cancer cannot live.” The second one is, “My worst day is someone's best day.” Today I am creating a third, "Your life is happening, so don’t waste it.”   You have any alerts you need reminding of?

The Results are In!

Corey kept trying to reassure me that whatever the doctor says it will be fine. Since I was diagnosed Corey and I had the same conversation; Me: "Corey they are going to take my breast" Corey: "Yes that is a possibility, we knew this." Me: "I'm not ok with it." Him: "I am, baby it I don't care about that, you will still be beautiful to me." Me: "Corey, I know you will be ok with it, I AM NOT OK WITH IT. I don't want them taking a piece of me . . . I am not ok with it." Him: "But it could save your life. I rather have my wife." I can't really argue with that one, can I?

And now the day has come and I am climbing the walls. I tried meditating, that just made me think about loosing my breast more and crying over my burning sage on my yoga mat. I kept trying to picture myself without breasts and I just couldn't. Instead I continued with my weekly ritual of yanking all my lacy lingerie, (I never get to wear and spent all kinds of money on), and colourful bikinis (also most of which I never get to wear) from my drawers and hurling them across the room. I laid on the heap and cried while I pulled out my favourites and threw them towards the garbage can. When I was done my pity party I gathered them up again and shoved them back in the drawer. I never quite mustered up the courage to get rid of them.

I guess that was a sign because we went into that appointment and the surgeon said, (with the same somber face he always has, I keep telling him to perk it up and change his face!) That because the tumors have shrunk so significantly and are so close together they will not have to do a mastectomy. I just looked as Corey with shock. Me: "You mean I get to keep my breast?" Him: "Yes. Just a lumpectamy" Me: "Really? I can’t believe it.” Him: "You will have a scar and we still need to do an ultrasound and MRI to determine how many lymph nodes we will have to remove." Me: "I will take the scar! I can't believe it". Corey was smiling and I think was just as surprised as I was. I resisted the urge to jump up and down, because now I was thinking, wait, is this the best course of action? Me: "But doc I am triple positive, does taking the breast give me a higher chance that the cancer will not return?" Him: "No, taking the breast doesn't have anything to do with it. We need to remove the diseased area and that's it. Your 2 tumors are so close together that we don't need to remove the breast to get it."  At this point the was showing me the original picture he has showed me when we met. A line drawing of 2 boobs with black bops representing my tumors. Me: "Please print that for me doc."  Him: “Now we still need to do an ultra sound and MRI to determine how many lymph nodes I will need to take, I don’t think we will need to take the all, but wont know until the results come back.” Me: “If you do have to take them all then what?” Him: “Then we are we will discuss possible complications, but let’s wait for the results before we go down that road.”

10 minutes later they were setting the date for the lumpectomy just 2 weeks away and I walked out of there with Corey still wheeling from what I heard. I don't need a mastectomy, I get to keep my boobs. I had spent so much time worrying about this outcome that I didn't know how to react to this great news.

I am happy, elated that I really want to hop on a plane and find the first topless beach I can find. But alas surgery is pending and sitting on a germ-infested airplane and getting a sunburn while not drinking cocktails and non-organic buffet food, might not be my best interest 2 weeks before surgery and post chemo, what you think? I can wait because today was a win, so I will be grateful and focus on building my immune system for the next steps. Hooray!

Is Cancer Teaching Me Something?

I feel my whole life was about getting six pack abs, (OK maybe not my whole life, but it was an obsession). If I could just work out more, more sit ups, do more cardio I would get there. Then when that didn't work I was sure it was what I was eating. So, I cut out all the things I love, (just to feel guilty each time I put a donut in my mouth), it was torture, ladies you know what I am talking about!. I thought I even had an eating disorder because I would hide what I was eating from the hubby, as if he didn't know after seeing the Doritos bags floundering about. But I continued to work out hard and be unhappy with what looked back in the mirror. If I could just loose that last 10 lbs, I would be happy, right? I would beat myself up for not staying on the treadmill long enough, I mean look at all those other people who can run for miles on end . . . fuckers, I would say (yes I be hatin'). 10 more pounds and I would get that six pack and be happy! Funny story . . .  then I got cancer, and I had chemo and couldn't eat a damn thing. The smell of food made me want to vomit, I couldn't eat more than a palm size meal at any given time and I lost those 10 lbs in a heart beat. 5 lbs, then 10 lbs then 15 lbs . . . all my dreams were coming true. F!

So, my obsession about food and loosing weight turned into obsession about what could I digest without pain. Digestion was a full-time job, in the beginning it would hurt to eat. Not just the fear of the digestion, but also the fear of would it be able to pass out of the other end? (TMI, but that too was a full-time job).  Acid reflux, heartburn, and nausea became my cross to bear. Nothing seemed to ever want to pass that lump in my chest. I would cry hours after I ate because it still did not pass. WTF was this shit?! I would think. It was a nightmare. I still craved the pizza and fries, only now I knew if I ate it there would be consequences . . . and yet sometimes I still did because it was the only thing that brought me a moments peace.  The silver lining . . . I lost that last 10 lbs I had been gunning for all those years. All these years I have been punishing myself, killing myself at the gym and eliminating all the foods I love, and all I had to do to lose weight, was to go on the chemo diet. Duh!

**Side note-  I didn't have that 6 pack that I was convinced was under there, by the way. And for once I don’t care . . . Ok that's a lie, I was like, WTF? That's some BS, where the hell is my 6 pack?!

As I write this today I feel great, so no woe is me, that food nightmare is in my rear view. I am on my last leg of chemo called, Taxol, and it doesn’t have half the side effects of those first 4 rounds, (Thank the Lord!) Summer has sprung just in time and I can eat normal things again (within reason). So, what had me bring this up? Glad you asked, well in case I haven’t mentioned it, there is a very good chance I will have at least one of my breast chopped off. Yes, the imminent surgery looming has given me a new-found respect for every inch of my body. I DO NOT want to have the conversation, “Don’t worry you can just get implants.” It is not that simple and I do not want to educate you all before I know the outcome for me, so let’s shelve that convo. I want to make you present to the gift called your body. Stand naked in the mirror and take a look. Now imagine having any part of it chopped off. The end. Not gonna get anymore morbid then that . . . for now. AND this is not about my boobs getting chopped off (sort of, no shit I am really scared about that).

This is about how I have started to realize how much I haven’t appreciated this entire vessel over my 36 years. And how if I had a daughter and she spoke about her body they way I did, I would throw her into therapy and got her some serious help. That goes for my friends as well. I don’t know many people who love their body 100% exactly how it is and exactly how it isn’t. It’s not wrong, it just makes me sad. We don’t realize the endless conversations about losing weight impacts our self esteem and our entire way of being. There is nothing like the possibility of having a chunk of you cut off to make you realize how much you have mistreated this vehicle that takes you though your everyday life. 

I am declaring a love for my body, exactly how it is, and exactly how it isn’t. I won't always love it, and it will take some reminding but I want to appreciate every inch of it as long as I can, because sometime soon I may not have those pieces anymore (not to be morbid about it) but it's true. So, ladies love your bodies, however they are and however they are not, because I know most of you who read this and you are all stunning and fucking beautiful. Period. 

**Side note, I am not saying not work out for your health. Your health is all you have. I am saying forgive yourself for not looking like an Instagram model, that shit be filtered. Ha ha!!!