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!

One Boob or 2?

Today I am meeting with the surgeon to find out next steps and to say I'm nervous would be an understatement. I'm scared as all rass! I know You have seen me gallivanting and "glamming" it up- as I have decided to maximize on EVERY given day. That may give some the illusion that now that chemo is over all is well again? ITS JUST A PIECE OF A LONG JOURNEY. However my cancer story that still continues ... sorry this is an ugly cry moment.

Happy Anniversary to My Hubby

Corey and I just celebrated our one-year wedding anniversary and I never got him a card, because there wasn’t a card that could say everything that needed to be said to a man like this. This is a love letter to my husband, (so if you are not down for some mushy stuff, go away). Hehe!

Dear Corey,

I wrote this weeks ago, because I wanted to capture exactly how I felt in this moment in time.

I hesitate to even write this because just thinking about who you have been for me moves me to a waterfall of tears.

I know that when you get married you say all these vows like, "I promise to love, cherish . . . In sickness and in health, 'till death do us part’." You know the drill. We even wrote our own vows where I bawled my face off in front of 130 of our closest friends and family. I remember the only trouble I had writing it was my attempt to keep it short, I had so much I wanted to say to you. I mean we already did 9 years of you and me, so us getting married was just another way to show how much we loved each other. But when the big ‘C’ came into our lives, 6 short months later, I was scared that I had ruined the blissful path we had set our sights on. I wasn't sure how this would affect us, me, you . . . you and me. You have had a front row seat to it all and to say you have been my rock, would be an understatement. That does not encapsulate who you have been for me. SO, instead I will say THANK-YOU. Thank-you for your unwavering faith of, “We got this.” I never once looked at you and doubted that I was not going to be defeated by this. 

So, Thank-you for that first and foremost, but for so much more:

• Thank-you for taking me to appointment after appointment and holding my hand literally through each one. Thank-you for never judging me when my mood went from happy to uncontrollable tears within minutes.
• Thank-you for always making me laugh when I wanted to curl up in a ball and give up.
• Thank-you for bringing me my vitamins every morning and have it sitting the bed before I even open my eyes.
• Thank -you for coming home in the middle of the day, every day, to check on me, bring me food, or just keep my company.
• Thank-you for sitting with me until I fall asleep in the middle of the afternoon.
• Thank-you for your eyes that never showed pity or fear, just love.
• Thank-you for telling me I am beautiful day in and day out, (even in my daily uniform of robe, fuzzy socks and sunglasses).
• Thank-you for sleeping in the other room when you got a cold as to not affect me. 
• Thank-you for rubbing my head and kissing it goodnight.
• Thank-you for reading to me when my head and eyes hurt too much to read for myself.
• Thank you for bringing me snacks when you knew, that bag of Doritos might be the only thing that would bring me peace and I couldn’t leave the house to get them myself. AND for not getting me snacks that you knew would send my digestive track into chaos (like the pizza, burger and fries I always wanted).
• Thank-you for listening to all my complaining about the same things over and over and OVER, and not once sounding annoyed, you never made me feel like I exhausted you with the same old complaints, "My hair is falling out, my eyebrows, I cat eat, can't sleep, I'm sad, I'm angry, I'm cold, I'm hot, I'm depressed etc.”
• Thank-you for letting me buy all those clothes online even though we both know I had no damn place to wear them.
• Thank-you for laying around with me and watching all my favorite “chick flick” favorites.
• Thank-you for, Me: “Honey do I look like an alien, am I ugly?” You: “Ugly?? You are beautiful and look like a sexy milk dud.” And then kissed my bald head.
• Thank-you for never letting me give up on who I know myself to be, who you know me to be.
• Thank-you for being stronger than me (you always have been, one of the many reasons I married you).
• Thank-you for loving me unconditionally.

So, I have some words, but they will never be enough to express what you have been for me, it's a feeling, like I grab my heart and start to cry every time I think of who you have been. I know you know all this so I didn't need to write this, I tell you everyday how much I appreciate everything you do, BC (before cancer) and now. That is the type of relationship we have. This is for the world to know who you are. The best man I know. My best friend in every sense of the word. You are being the love of my life is a given, you are also my light at the end of a very dark tunnel.

I LOVE YOU

Your Wife, a.k.a. Sexy milk Dud

LAST CHEMO TREATMENT - F YAY!

Guess what tomorrow is? It’s my last chemo treatment! Its been 4 months, 4 rounds of AC, 4 rounds Taxol + Herceptin, 1 million tears, 1000 meltdowns, one head shave, and a roller coaster of, "What the fuck, is this really happening?" YAY, BABY WE MADE IT!! 

Don’t get me wrong, this is not the end of the war, but it is a battle won, so let’s celebrate!!

Before we do I want to share a convo I had the other day with a very close friend of mine. Let’s call her Lolo. She said something to me that really reminded me how many people are on this journey with me. Some who only see me through my social feeds, some I only speak to on the phone, and some I only communicate through text. No, they will never really understand what this is like for me, but they are in my corner watching, cheering and some battling their own conversations around mortality . . . mine and their own. She said something to the effect of, “I am in awe of you, that with you facing possible death, you are not balled up in a corner somewhere." Yes, you can insert a PAUSE here. ( I love you Lolo! But DANG!) At first, I was like, fuck! I mean yes sometimes I feel like death, but I don’t sit around thinking that I am actually facing death, but thanks for the reminder! I get what she was trying to say. Cancer does spark the fear of imminent death. Luckily, she caught me on a good day, I was on a unicorn high from feeling good the last few days and spitting rainbows.

Lolo: "All I mean is, I don’t know where you get your strength from, I would be curled up in a ball somewhere." Fair enough.

Me: " You know where I get my strength from? I get my strength from all of you, you guys are my strength. You hold me up. I am not standing here by myself. I am blessed with a rock star husband, a loving family, and friends who make sure I am not facing this alone (I wrote this prior to my, surprise party, but that just goes to show how amazing my circle is). I do not know how the single ladies manage this shit all on their own, they are the true warriors!

I am one of the lucky ones. Holy shit! As I write this I can barely believe I can say that even with the big C, I am still one of the lucky ones. After all I am still here, many, many are not. I am held up by the strength of my community and NOTHING else. Don’t get it twisted, I do curl up in a ball and go to those dark places, but I have people around me who will not let me to stay there too long. My people are what keep me going. They cook special meals for me, tuck me in bed, make me liquid meals when I can’t digest solids, show up at my doorstep with gifts in tow, send weekly care packages and cards to my house, secret Santa me, do my laundry with toxic free detergent (thanks mommy), send me text messages with no expectation of a reply, whatsapp me cute emojis, call me to check in, whisk me away for the night, take me to brunch, hang out when I can’t leave the house and send me video messages from a far (sometimes wearing super women costumes, THE BEST!) I have the love and support of these beautiful people, even the times when I pushed it away.  Kristina, Cheryl, Audrey, Anjali, Jenelle, Diana, Natasha,Tanya, Jaya, Chenelle, Sheena, Laura, Raquel, Shivaun, Jasmine, Chantal, Melissa, Janielle, Belinda, Lindsey Crawford, Lana (banana). I know there are many others who I may be forgetting, forgive me! AND I want to say a special thank-you to Camille, my sister from another mister. I know you are behind the "Care Package Posse" and orchestrating my "Surprise No More Chemo Party," I have no words for what this has meant to me. You continue to make the milestones in my life unforgettable.

I am forever grateful for all of you! For those of you who wanted to be there and could not, this is what I said, "You are all my strength. I know this is hard for all of you, and you don't always know what to say to me, or how to help. Know that every little thing you do has made a difference. There is no 'right' magical phrase that will comfort me. All of you have made this journey so much easier than it could be. I am so blessed to have all of you in my life. I love you."  Of course I said all of this while bawling my face off.

That is how I survived chemo . . . that is how I will survive the rest. 

Cancer is a lonely fucking journey, it is depressing as all shit. HOWEVER – as the last chemo round arrives I am reminded how grateful I am to have the community around me that is my strength.

 I LOVE YOU ALL THANK-YOU!

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!!!