I'm Sorry 2014, But I Can't Wait To See You Go!

You never know going forward into a New Year, what the year will bring, except that at this time last year,  I did know.  Mentally, I wasn't even ready for 2014. Hell, I was still writing 2013 on everything when my breast surgeon dropped the news on my husband and I that I had a very aggressive form of breast cancer and that treatment had to be started immediately if I didn't want to die.   It was January 3, 2014; a day that neither one of us will probably ever forget.  Even though it was a year ago, I still vividly remember the morning that the phone rang way too early, it was 7:30.  I remember the exact feeling in my stomach.  My husband was sitting at the counter, and I remember the conversation we were having when the phone rang.  I had just poured a cup of coffee, the dogs were laying on the kitchen floor praying that I would drop them some food, and I had just wondered aloud when my biopsy results would be back.  I was filled with anxiety, an anxiety that a whole bottle of Xanax and 2 bottles of wine, wouldn't have touched.  My husband was telling me that I was being negative as I tried to explain to him that I "just know".  That was when the phone rang.  The timing couldn't have been better if a movie camera crew had been standing by.  I wasn't really aware of it then, but 7:30 is when the breast surgeons office opens, and I was their first call of the day.

The day that my world turned upside down was a Friday,  the first Friday of the New Year.  I didn't want to hear "The doctor would like to see you immediately!"  And I really didn't want to hear, "Make sure someone comes with you."  Looking back, I wonder, how did I not drop my coffee cup, how did I not pass out right then and there? Those were not the words that would be uttered when a clean biopsy report was sitting in the hands of a breast surgeon.  I can remember having a hard time finding something to wear, and I couldn't seem to get my hair "just right." Who worries about what they're wearing and if every hair is in place when they're about to be told they have cancer?  I did, and it was probably one of the ways that mentally I was preparing myself for the battle that was ahead of me.  When you're at your worst, you have to look your best.  Looking at myself in the mirror before leaving the house, I assured myself that there was no possible way that I could have cancer, I didn't look one bit sick at all, and besides I had things to do.  My husband I were practically newlyweds.  We had only had 9 years together. There were things we wanted to do.  I was running a business, my husband depended on me, we had just opened another location.  (There were now 4 stores.  2 in Pennsylvania, and 2 in Florida, one of which was my responsibility.)  I had two adorable boxers to mother- one of which I was sure would probably collapse instantly if anything were to happen to me.   I've never been to Ireland.  I've never been to Europe....  These were the things that I thought of as we were driving to Winter Park that day.

The mental and physical chaos started that day at about 12:15.  After attaching the "C" word to my identity,   my surgeon pulled out a piece of pink paper with 2 nipples on it and laid out what was to be the next year of my life.  Just like that, here is what 2014 will hold for you. (Really, pink paper with nipples?  Are you kidding me?)  I was later thankful for that piece of paper, because suddenly I had so much to do, that I had no idea where I was supposed to be and when, although I truly grew to hate the sight of it.   That piece of pink paper hung on our refrigerator for most of the year, and I took great pride in crossing things off of my "Cancer To-Do List"  I remember thinking, "Just go!  The sooner you go, the sooner it will be over with."   You're not Marianne anymore, you're a breast cancer patient, and that bothered me more than you could ever imagine.   I had no idea at that point how true that statement was.  Cancer takes over your life and your identity.  Cancer will occupy your mind and your body 24/7.  Blood work. Chest x-rays.  Genetic Testing.  PET scan.  MUGGA Scan. Meet the Oncologist.  Meet the Plastic Surgeon.  Meet the Radiation Oncologist. Port Surgery.  6 rounds of extremely aggressive chemotherapy.  Surgery with horrible expanders (they didn't tell me that!).  33 Radiation Treatments.  Final Reconstruction (6 months after radiation ends...  They didn't tell me that either!)  For a woman without even a primary care doctor, all of this was way too much.  And they never told me how I was supposed to tell my family and friends that the big "C" had invaded my body.  How was I supposed to do that?

The fog created by this flurry of activity was nothing compared to the chemo fog that would soon settle over my brain.  I remember the exact moment that it became real.  I was lying in the hospital bed, waiting to be wheeled into surgery to have my port installed.  I wanted to jump up and run like the wind, this was all a dream.  There was no possible way that this could be happening to me, but I never would have had the nerve to rip all of the IV's out of my body, and the gown that I was wearing, well it had no back. There was no possible way that I was going to make it the whole way home wearing an open back hospital gown, and my mother had my car keys.  I'm weird about anything entering my veins, and very squeamish (or at least I was at that point.).   At 39, they were about to put a line into my chest so that they could pump toxic poison all through my body.  I kept thinking that I had to get out of there before they made a horrible mistake.  I remember looking around the room for a baseball bat, surely if I could just get my hands on a baseball bat, this would all be over.  Did I really think I was going to club my way through the entire nursing staff at Winter Park Hospital and my mother?  This was not happening to me, they had the wrong girl.  Obviously, the drugs they were giving me were good ones.

It became very clear 3 days later when I entered the infusion room for the first time.  I fought it, I really did.  I so badly wanted to be healthy I just wanted to be me again.  I will never forget the smell of that room or that office.  It just didn't smell right. Cancer has a smell.  I've never liked being stuck in bed for a day with a head cold, and now all of a sudden, a wild beast, capable of killing me was raging inside my body an was about to be attacked with a poison capable of knocking an elephant down.  I was going to be sick, and I probably wouldn't feel like myself for a long time, and inevitably, there would be days when I would spend a lot of time in bed (Thank God for the boxers!). That infusion room was a huge dose of reality.  There were bald people all around me.  Some of them looked really bad, but some of them didn't look sick at all.   I'll never forget the young man (he was probably in his early 20's, if even that) that threw up the entire time he was there, and he was so weak that he couldn't even walk out of the room. (Not what you want to see heading into your 1st chemotherapy treatment).   I'm not sure if that was what did it, but seeing that, I promised myself that I wasn't going to be sick, well at least not that sick.  I really thought that I had some kind of control over it, which I didn't.  You don't control cancer, cancer controls you.  The fight to keep everything in my life as normal as possible started at that moment.  My Inner Superwoman kicked in and I vowed to fight back with everything that I had.  This was not going to get the best of me.

And so it started.  The push within myself that previously had been used to make myself go to work when I hadn't had a day off in 6 weeks, and I was so exhausted that I had no idea how I was going to get through the day,  much less drive there in the first place,  was quickly changed into the push that made me get up every morning, get dressed, and put my makeup on.  What a drastic change!  I could so easily push to the back of my head that the entire room was spinning, every bone in my body ached like a had a 104 temperature, and I was so tired that I wasn't sure I could stand.  If I wanted it bad enough, I could somehow manage mascara and clothes that actually matched.  I fought the battle every day for nearly 5 months.  I just kept going.  I felt like crap, but I still fed the dogs almost every morning, and every evening.  I still did laundry, I still went places, and I still attempted to keep the house just as clean as it had always been.  No matter what, when my husband walked through the door at the end of the day, I managed a smile, a smile meant to convince him that yes, I was all right. And somehow, even with the chemo brain fog that took over my life, I managed to do all of the administrative tasks for the business that I was used to doing (and prepare a tax return for 3 businesses for the accountant), although I hated myself for all of the mistakes that I made.  I hated the fog, I hated that I was not as sharp as I was before.  My husband and brother have always teased me for being a dingy blonde, now it was actually true, except that my beautiful blonde hair was gone and this was far worse than any dinginess that I had ever displayed.  I'll never forget the day that I was unable to spell my last name at the pharmacy.  Sure, my mother is still laughing over it, but it was horrible and extremely embarrassing.

Somehow, through the grace of God, the support of my husband, mother & father, friends & family, and my 2 boxers, I made it through those 12, dreadfully long months. There were so many people rooting for me, and there was no way that I could let them down.  I had to do it.  I had to beat cancer! I finished chemo, I had a double mastectomy. I survived saline being pumped (with 2 needles that were longer than my arms) into the 2 bumps where the breasts that God had given me had been for the better part of 25 years. (yes, it definitely felt like an elephant was crushing my chest, but I managed.... not without a few choice words, but I did it!),   I reported 5 days a week for 6 1/2 weeks for radiation.  I smiled at the girls that set me up for radiation every day, even though the pain of lying on that table some days, was way more than I could bear thanks to my the dislocated scapula.  I had nearly 1 year of Herceptin infusions.  I lived through mood swings, night sweats, insomnia, nueropathy, bone pain, fevers, nausea, loosing my hair, my finger nails and my toe nails, and even the loss of my brain.  I did it!

And, throughout it all, I pushed and struggled to get back the body that I had prior to all of this cancer business.  At the end of 9 months of treatment, I found myself feeling like I had just been through a huge war, A very brutal, and bloody war.  I feel scarred, undeniably changed and scarred.  I was, and still am exhausted, and I definitely do not have the strength or the endurance that I had before cancer.  I work to accept the fact that someday, just not today, I will be able to do all of the things that I could do before. The mind is a very powerful thing.  I am grateful every day that my brain functions seem to be returning, and that every day, I do feel just a little bit stronger, but it's just not fast enough.  And I am grateful and blessed that the horrible disease that threatened everything I hold so dear, is gone from my body.    

After all of this, I was shocked that my sense of humor was still intact, how could it remain through all of the ugliness brought on by cancer?  And how was it possible that it was incredibly stronger than it had ever been?  My sense of humor as I went through treatment for breast cancer was my armor.  It kept me from crying, it kept me from being negative, and it kept me from thinking "What if?"  My sense of humor, my smile and my ability to find comical relief in just about everything I endured was what got me through it.  I push myself daily to keep going and not think about the "What ifs" or all of the side effects of the chemo and radiation that are a daily reminder of what I have endured during 2014.  I warrior on.

So, as I think about the end of 2014, and everything that I have lived through, I'm not sad to see it go.  I just can't look back fondly on all of the challenges and pain that we have endured during the last 12 months.  This has undeniably been the most challenging year of my life, and I'm glad that it's ending.  I hope and pray that 2015 is a better year for me and my family, and that we never have to go through this again.

And just for the record... I am sick of pink.

Take It Back... Or Else

WARNING: THIS POST IS NOT LIKE THE USUAL, FUNNY, WITTY BLOG POSTS THAT I HAVE PREVIOUSLY POSTED.  I'M A LITTLE ANGRY, NOT AT CANCER, BUT AT THE SERIOUS AMOUNTS OF INSENSITIVITY THAT WERE EXPRESSED TO ME THE OTHER DAY, AND I HAVE TO VENT, BECAUSE THE DOCTORS SAY THAT I SHOULD AVOID STRESS AND THAT I SHOULD'T  HOLD THINGS IN, BECAUSE IT ISN'T GOOD FOR ME...  I HAVE COOLED DOWN FOR A FEW DAYS.... HOWEVER, I AM STILL A TAD MAD.

Maybe I'm being too sensitive, but I don't think I am.  Granted, I will admit that I am probably a tad more sensitive than what I was pre-cancer.  I am also probably a hormonal mess (thank you cancer drugs) however, I think it is very insensitive to be critical of the way that other people deal with challenging situations.

In case you've missed any of the saga that has been my life for the last 10 months let me sum it up for you:  I went for what I thought was going to a completely unnecessary mammogram a year ago December 16.  It turned into something completely different.  I was informed by a pimply faced, Doogie Houser type that I definitely had cancer before I could even plant my body in a chair.  All of this was followed by blood work, multiple biopsies, an MRI (that I was sure I wasn't going to live through), another biopsy (that I almost didn't live through), a Pet Scan, Chest x-rays, an echo cardiogram, surgery to install a port... and all of this was before chemo even started.  I had 6 rounds of chemo and spent the next 4 months of my life feeling like I had the flu, A REALLY HORRIFIC FLU.  I lost my hair, my mind, 2 toe nails, and nearly lost 10 fingernails.  My bones hurt so bad that I feared that by the time chemo was over that they would have completely disintegrated.  My hands and feet were swollen and the feeling in them was starting to disappear.  On top of all of this, I couldn't sleep, and food that was good for me tasted like crap.

Just when I was starting to feel like a normal human being again for the 1st time in almost 6 months, it was time for surgery.... Here we go again, right?  We all remember how much fun I had with that.  Can I tell you that I haven't had a decent nights sleep since all of this started (in December of last year, mind you).  Then came the fills and the fun... elephants on your chest, oh yes please!  The elephants had just started to go away when radiation started.  (I'm starting to see a pattern here.  Every time I start to feel normal, the torture starts all over again.)    Almost 6 weeks later, the elephants are back along with sharp, pulling sensations that scream across my chest at least a hundred times a day.  And I know I haven't mentioned it, but I'm so tired!  I am pretty sure that I could sleep for 3 or 4 days without ever waking up.  (I was driving home from somewhere today at noon, and almost fell asleep at a red light- I never know when it's going to hit,!  Not good.)

I've handled all of this pretty well, or at least I think I have, that's what they tell me anyway!  I stared death in the face, yes, I could have died.  I didn't.... and I'm not going to, well at least not any time in the near future.  I've managed to face chemo, surgery, and radiation  with a smile on my face, and a sense of humor that has kept all of my service providers, my family, and my friends entertained for the last 10 months.  I've stayed positive (even though at times it was challenging as hell), and believe me, looked forward to the day when all of this cancer business was over.  I have longed for my "normal" life for the last 10 months, and have done everything "normal" that I have physically been able to do.  The laundry has always been done, the house has always been cleaned, there has always been food in the refrigerator, and I have continued to do all of the purchasing, logistics, payroll and taxes for the business (which I can assure you was not without it's challenges)!

So, when someone tells me 3 days ago that it's time to move on, not "dwell" on it, that everything is back to normal, just because the cancer is gone, I wanted to jump on an airplane and personally choke that "someone".   (Can you seriously be that insensitive?)  Oh, but wait, I can't because I still have radiation, physical therapy, and Herceptin infusions to go to, and I probably won't make it through airport security because I have magnets in my chest.... and I have not yet been cleared to fly, yeah, there's that.  I am so glad that everything is back to normal.

OH
MY
GOSH!

I wish it were that simple.  In a lot of ways, I wish that everything could return to normal, I would probably kill for most everything to be just the way that it was on this day a year ago. Believe me, I never would have chosen this for myself had I been given a choice.  I had hair on my head, I didn't have raging headaches 24/7, and my whole chest didn't scream every time I moved.  I could sleep without waking up every 30 minutes to try to get comfortable. I could go out in the sun without feeling like I was going to pass out. I had toenails.  And most importantly, I wasn't constantly exhausted, out of breath, and trying to figure out what the heck I was doing; I could start a sentence and finish it.  I could snuggle up next to my husband, or my dogs without being in serious amounts of pain. I didn't have to consult with a physician to get approval before jumping on a plane. So while all of that sounds wonderful, instead I will be be finishing radiation, going for yet another PET scan, going back to see the plastic surgeon, finishing physical therapy, having another echo cardiogram, seeing the oncologist, and having another Herceptin infusion.  Just for the record, it's not really what I "want" to be doing, but I don't really have much of a choice.  So, if by finishing out the recommended, and prescribed course of treatment, I am "DWELLING" on cancer, so be it.

 I have accepted that my life will never be like it was before cancer, (and I've grown enough spiritually to accept that), cancer will always be a part of me, of who I am.  I will always have to return to oncologists offices, I will always be getting blood work done, and having pet scans.  While I can't wave a magic wand and make everything "normal" again, I am taking the necessary steps to move towards a "new normal" at the earliest possible moment.

Oh, and one more thing.  Believe me when I say, there is nothing "FREE" about my boob job.  Trust me.

2 Down... 31 To Go!

Yes, I am counting it down.

Yes, I am ready to be finished with all of this.

So, I have had 2 of 33 radiation treatments.  The first one, nerve wise, was the worst.  I've always said that I can deal with things when I know what to expect, but not knowing what I'm getting myself into freaks me out a little bit. I was a nervous wreck walking in there on Wednesday.  I think if I'm to be honest with myself, this has just been an emotional week.

I'm going to try to take a picture today of the radiation machine, if they'll let me.  It's really not what I was expecting.  It looks a lot like a giant MRI machine, but with arms, and without the tube part.  Okay, it looks nothing like an MRI machine.   There is a big round arm that has little metal panels inside of it that move into different shapes.  It hovers over top of me, and buzzes.  I think that's the radiation.  When it's done with that spot, it moves around to the next spot.   They are radiating both of my breasts, my chest wall, my throat and both arm pits (because the cancer had spread to both sides.).  All said, I'm in and out of there pretty quick.  20 minutes tops.  I spend more time battling the stupid Orlando drivers there and back than I actually do there.

So, far the only thing that I'm noticing is that my entire chest feels really hot for several hours after treatment.  I am not burned so far- but there have only been 2 treatments.  I bought a pure aloe spray yesterday, and am spraying the entire area that they are radiating 3 times a day after treatment.  Honestly, the cold feels really good.

Yesterday I went for what should be my next to last Echo-cardiogram.  It's the first one I've had since my tissue expanders were placed, and she had a little bit of a hard time getting to my heart around those babies.  They are checking to make sure that the Herceptin is not doing damage to my heart.  Maybe I'm reading too much into this, but this is the first time she hasn't said to me "All good!" when she was done.  I've had the same girl every time I've been there.  I'll be nervous about that until the doctors office calls me with results, and they may not even call knowing that I will be there next Friday, but since I'm not seeing the doctor, maybe they will call.

Thursday I went to see a physical therapist.  I have a few post-surgery issues that I think need to be addressed.   I am not the kind of person that is just willing to accept things as they are because someone tells me that I have to.   I have a lot of swelling in my left arm- it comes and it goes.  Some days, it doesn't bother me at all.  I personally think it's the Herceptin, because it follows the same pattern every round, but because they took my lymph nodes out, lymphedema is a concern.  (A concern that I was told I didn't need to have- I'm not sure that's true.)  The other issue is my displaced clavicle.  The therapist could not believe that they are just planning to leave it that way- actually I was told "You'll have to live with that!"  She thinks that she can gradually work that back into place... for which I would be forever grateful.  To the untrained eye, it would be un-noticeable that I favor this left side- but I know it's a little off, and that bothers me.  So, we are going to work on that.

And that folks, is the update from the Breast Cancer Fighting arena.  I am off for round 3 of radiation, but first I am going to sit on the porch, with my coffee, and watch the incredible storm rolling in.

Rest, Relaxation, and A Complete Meltdown!

I know.  I have been missing in action for more than a week.  But, I have a lot of good excuses.  Seriously, I do.  It's been a very busy 10 days.

The week of August 3rd, Rob and I took the dogs and headed up to the Georgia mountains for a little- oh heck- strike that- A LOT of rest and relaxation.  We had an overabundance of peace, even though his cell phone still worked there.  (I will admit, I had secret thoughts about throwing that damn thing in the creek and pretending that I didn't know anything about it.  Lucy and Duke were no help, they're both past the point of chewing on things that they aren't supposed to be chewing on.  I secretly prayed that a little boxer mischievousness would come over Lucy, but it wasn't meant to be!)

We rented a cabin, in the woods on a creek in Blue Ridge, Georgia.  It was heaven on earth. (Doesn't it just scream come on in and curl up by the fire with a boxer?) And the Georgia mountains are absolutely fabulous.  Nothing but blue sky and tons of green trees for as far as you can possibly see.  I've never been in the Georgia mountains before, so I was completely blown away by how spectacular the skylines really are.  We just don't see miles and miles of green here in Florida.  And there are certainly no hills covered in green trees.  I am a Pennsylvania girl- a country girl- I miss the trees and the amazing hillsides.

We sat on the deck with Lucy & Duke every morning drinking coffee and listening to the creek.  Duke and I ventured down the hill a couple of mornings to collect twigs to build fires at night.  All I wanted was to roast a marshmallow or two, but somehow that never happened (maybe it was the little voice in my head that kept saying a marshmallow does not fall under the category of clean eating!).  The fires did happen, and they were amazing.  What is it about the smell, and the sound of a camp fire that just takes you back?  I guess I grew up around a bonfire, so no matter how far from the country this little girl gets- it will always be a part of me, and something that I enjoy immensely!  I was very happy to see that my fire building skills are still intact!  Yes, I was a Girl Scout.

The dogs were in 7th Heaven, and I was overjoyed to have them with us.  It's always the dogs that make me eager to return home from vacation- I always miss them so much when we're away, so it meant a lot to me to have them on vacation with us.  And Lucy, positively loved playing in the creek. (Duke was only willing to dip a toe in.  Shh... I didn't tell anybody that!) I was so proud of her- she did so well off leash.  Of course, Duke has always done well off leash- he is stuck to his mama like glue no matter where we go!  That boy isn't going anywhere where he can't see me.

I seriously could have stayed in Georgia.   Did you know that Georgia is in the wine business?  We didn't, but they are, and they are very good at it too!  Yes, I'm admitting to the fact that we drank way too much wine in the 5 days we were in Georgia.  We didn't eat any peaches, but we did have a cantaloupe that was as sweet as the ones my Grandad used to grow- that really took me back.  And the day that we bought the cantaloupe would have been his birthday- I think he would have really liked that.  He was always so proud of his melons.

We got home late on Thursday night- you can shorten a 9 hour drive considerably when you go 95 miles per hour.  I was thankful that none of the many state boys along side the road nabbed me, but radar detectors help a lot with that.  Friday was catch up day.  Why is that when I leave for 5 days, there are 30 messages on the voicemail, and 200 faxes that require my immediate attention?  It was just such a switch from the calm that I had just left.  All of the paper made me want to scream.  I would have loved to just stand over the trash can with it and pitch but that would have been a disaster of epic proportions.

Saturday was my birthday day with my 2 best gal pals.  I started the morning off with a trip to the Woodhouse Day Spa.  I had the most heavenly detox wrap.  (Of course, I was seriously in need of being detoxed... between the chemotherapy and all of the wine I drank in Georgia, my body was reeling from the shock!)  We followed our trip to the day spa with a long, girls lunch at Seasons 52, right on the water.  It was beautiful- until a storm of hurricane like proportions moved in and we were stranded.  (I'm guilty, it was all my fault.  I took the convertible thinking it was a great day for a ride with the top down.  And it never fails to rain when I have those kinds of thoughts!)  Lunch was amazing, and I had a blast with the girls.  I felt so spoiled and pampered- and blessed to have 2 friends who went to epic proportions to make me feel incredibly special.

Monday I reported to Florida Hospital for my radiation films- it was the appointment that had hung over my head the entire time I was on vacation.  It was my first time in the big, scary radiation machine.  While the process itself was not intimidating- it was just like getting an x-ray, the marks that they left all over my body really freaked me out.  I didn't know how bad it was until I got home and looked in the mirror to see my entire chest and throat covered in black and red marks.  I guess that up until this point, I just didn't know how much radiation I was going to be getting.  It seriously messed with my head.  I immediately grabbed a washcloth and a bar of soap and started scrubbing, but no matter how much I scrubbed, the image stayed in my mind.  Two days later, it's still there even though most of the marks are gone.

I know in my head that I have to do this if I really want to be sure that the cancer is gone. I know it's the best thing, it's the last step in this whole curing cancer business.  I know there could be nasty little cancer cells floating all through my body right now just looking for a place to grow, I have no way of knowing.  I'm praying that once radiation is over with, that I will have some peace of mind that I'm not going to be battling cancer all over again, but somehow I just don't think that thought is ever going to go away.  I think that once you have cancer, that thought is always a part of you.

They wanted to do my first radiation treatment yesterday.  But, somehow, having my first radiation treatment on my 40th birthday just didn't seem like a good idea.  I wanted no part of it.  So, today, August 13th is my 1st treatment.  When I was there on Monday, they gave me a schedule.  It only has 28 days of treatment on it, I was expecting 33, so I need to ask them today if the plan has changed.  Wouldn't that be a gift?  I'll probably have a melt down if they tell me that they made a mistake, but I'm going to wait and see what they say.

Monday was just too much for me.  For some reason, even with everything else I've been through, that radiation appointment was the one that sent me over the edge.  Maybe it's the fact that I've been so calm through all of this, maybe it was the calm after the storm.  I'm just not sure.  I just know that Monday night I just freaked out.  I'm sure it's sounds crazy that I went the whole way through multiple PET scans, 6 chemotherapy treatments, and a double mastectomy and then I went a little nuts.  I think the last 7 weeks of nothing going on was too much for me.  I probably would have been okay if everything had kept going, but sitting it out for 7 weeks gave me way too much time to think.  And the butcher at the grocery store who helped me find bones for the dogs, was just trying to be kind when he saw the marks all over my chest and throat.  But, his story about his wife's breast cancer returning not once, not twice, but 3 times made the idea of a straight jacket seem comforting.  If that wasn't enough, telling me that she lost her voice compliments of the chemotherapy just sealed the whole deal for me.  I hated to be rude, but I couldn't get away from him fast enough.

I really think that there is some room for improvement in the way that doctors deal with cancer patients post-treatment.  There is a huge disconnect that is challenging even for the toughest warriors.  You go through many months of endless doctors appointments, tests, and treatments, and then all of a sudden, there's nothing to do.  And for them, it's all over, but for the patient, the mind is left to wonder.

Never fear, I am okay today, good even.  My meltdown was something that had to happen.  But now, I am  ready to rock radiation, even if I am a tad nervous.  I will be better once the first treatment is done.  I think the meltdown was good for me- even if my husband thought it was completely insane.  Ironically, I still haven't gotten angry.  Now I am left to wonder if that's going to rear it's ugly head sometime in the near future.

I GOT MY MOJO BACK!

WORKOUTS HERE I COME..... AGAIN!

Well, I did it.  The day that I have been waiting for the last 6 weeks finally arrived.  Okay, I cheated, but only by 2 days.  Does that really count in the grand scheme of things?  I couldn't wait another darn second.  Every muscle in my body was screaming "WORK ME OUT!".  I couldn't ignore the needs of my muscles right?   For the last 4 days, every single time I would start to do something else, my mind would wander off into workout land.  We have to listen to our bodies, and apparently our minds!

So, last night I suited up.  The anticipation was great.  I had a lot of qualms about working out with tissue expanders, and these two miniature, hard as rock cantaloupes that are attached to my chest... but I trudged forward anyway!  The tissue expanders move, and it just feels funky when they get it in their damn minds to re-situate themselves- no fears, I can nudge em' right back!  (Take that!)  I just knew that I was going to feel so much better after a good, hard workout!  I cannot tell you how I crave normalcy!  I just want to feel normal, look normal, be normal!  (Patience my dear, patience!)  Working out is the only thing that I really have control over- I can't make my hair grow any faster.  I can't make all the goofy, funky feelings in my upper body go away... but I can return most of my body to a normal, strong state.  If this makes me a control freak, than so be it!

It has been my plan all along to return to working out by completing another 21 Day Fix, with a few challengers in tow, just for moral support!  I am actually just 5 pounds away from my pre-chemo weight (heck, that could be the twins adding that 5 pounds!) so I don't have that much more to loose.  Once I'm done with this challenge, I'm on to Piyo for strength and flexibility, but I thought it would be like a little post-mastectomy party to do the 21 Day Fix again!  I have maintained the eating and Shakeology part for the last 6 weeks- but the workouts were restricted.

So, how did it go?  I finished it!  I made it the whole way through. I was tired, sweaty, and extremely weepy by the time I finished.  (Can't really explain the weepy part!) Granted, there were some modifications.  My left side (aka the cancer side) is weaker than my right side- but I'm a right handed girl, so my right side has definitely gotten more use over the last several weeks.  All of the stretching that I have been doing has really paid off.  I have full range of motion on my right side, and am at about 95% on the left.  I was able to do most all of the exercises with weights, although there were a few that just didn't feel quite right after a few tries, so I dropped the weights and finished the set without them.  Don't wanna be injured my 1st day back in the saddle!

Today, I feel great!  I can definitely tell that I worked out yesterday! (Love, love, love that feeling!)  My legs are pretty sore, but the twins seem to be okay!  According to plan, I am supposed to do an upper body workout today, but I think I'm going to do lower body today, and upper tomorrow to give my upper body a rest.  I know that my lower body can take it, but I don't want to over do it on my chest... give the girls a break!  They've been through hell, right?

I have been pretty un-emotional throughout this whole cancer business.  But, that's typical for my personality type.  I'm more likely to push my way through something, and reflect back and be all melancholy about it afterwards than I am to be an emotional train wreck while dealing with it.  I am getting to that point now.  I'm looking back and saying "Holy hell!  What the heck have I just been through?".  Last night, being able to workout again, after recuperating for 6 weeks, I think that's why I got all weepy.  It just hit me what I had been through!  Between that an the adrenaline, it took me a few minutes to compose myself!  And, at least 15 times in the last 24 hours, I've thought to myself, "I am so blessed to be here!".  It's true, I am lucky to be alive!

It's Just 21 Days...

Do you have any idea what you can accomplish in 21 Days?  I have found myself to be far more effective at my goals if I plan in short bursts, and 21 Days is perfect. I planned and committed to 5 habits, for 21 days.  

I guess you're probably wondering how much of a difference just 21 days of  5 habits can make?  Well, I was surprised by the difference in my body, my mind and my overall spirit in just 21 Days.  But, let me also tell you, that once you've done these things for 21 days, it's very easy to do it for another 21, and another 21.... you get the idea.

Here are my 5 changes:

1.  I committed to eating clean.  The first thing that you absolutely must do is rid your pantry, refrigerator and freezer of "unhealthy", "processed" or "high fat" foods.  I filled up an entire trash can the first time I did this- I had a lot of chemo craving junk food in my pantry.  It actually felt good to toss all of the crap...  But I was seriously amazed by the amount of junk I had in there.  And when I actually looked at the labels on some of that stuff, I was shocked that I had actually purchased those items with the intention of putting them into my body.

The second thing you absolutely must do is fill your pantry, refrigerator, and freezer with "clean" food.  My freezer was filled with about 60% meat, 20% bread, 10% ice cream, and 10% pre-packaged, high sodium junk.  Now it's about 20% lean meat, and 80% frozen fruits and vegetables.

If you only have healthy food around you, you'll be a lot more successful at eating clean.  Plan ahead, stock your kitchen with healthy, clean foods that you love to eat!

2. I committed to drinking water, and I mean a ton of water.  The more water you can drink in a day the better you're going to feel.   

Drinking water increases energy and relieves fatigue, promotes weight loss, flushes toxins,  improves the complexion, maintains regularity, boosts the immune system, prevents cramps and sprains, puts you in a good mood... and wait for it... saves you money.  (Water is a lot cheaper than those sugary, calorie intense drinks that you're always grabbing.)

Some tips to help you be successful at drinking enough water:  have a water bottle that you love.  Keep it filled.  Find ways to challenge yourself, get a water drinking buddy, be accountable.  

If you're not overly fond of plain water, there are a lot of ways to spice it up!  I drank at least 5 gallons of water infused with cucumber, mint, and lemon, but you can add all kinds of fruits and herbs to water to make it not taste like water.  

3. I committed to working out every day.  Find an activity that will get your heart rate pumping for at least 30 minutes every day.  For the last month, I have been walking, at a pretty good clip while waiting to be released from surgical restrictions.  Prior to that, I was working out with the BeachBody 21 day fix.  I really loved that there was a different workout for each day of the week.  The workouts were 30 minutes long, easy to follow, challenging, and a lot of fun.  I'm looking forward to starting Piyo in the next couple of days.

Think about the kinds of activities that you like to do when selecting your 30 minutes of exercise.  Don't set yourself up for failure.  If you're not really fond of running, don't commit to running 30 minutes a day.  Find your "fun" workout, if it's something that you really enjoy, it will be easier to stick to and you'll be more successful.  

I am a strong believer in the positive effects of strengthening your body.  When I took the challenge, I was thrilled with the results.  Not only did I loose 12 pounds (I have since lost another 10), but as my body strength increased, my moods just kept getting better and better.

4. I committed to drinking Shakeology every day.  I start every morning off with Shakeology and a combination of fruits and vegetables in a smoothie.

To be honest, prior to the end of May, I didn't know anything about Shakeology (or really Beachbody for that matter).  I had just finished 18 weeks of intense chemo therapy and I felt like I was 90 years old.  I had to do something, something had to change.  

I had exactly 2 weeks from the time I found out about Shakeology until I was scheduled for a double mastectomy. I was determined that I was going to feel like a human again by the time I went for surgery, and I did.  I am now a little over 2 1/2 months out of finishing my chemo therapy, and I can honestly say that I have more energy, and feel healthier than I did prior to being diagnosed with cancer.  My surgical team could not get over how quickly my body has healed not only from the surgery, but from the chemo.  I attribute my fantastic results not only to my clean eating habits, but Shakeology.

5.  I committed to 15 minutes a day of personal development, every day.  I read motivational or inspirational books.  I researched ways to keep myself healthy.  I talked to people who were encouraging and positive. But, I did something every day that gave me a feeling of empowerment. 

Find something that motivates or inspires you, and engage in it for at least 15 minutes a day.  There's no right or wrong answer to this part of the challenge.

My first 21 Day Challenge started as the Beachbody 21 Day Fix.  But, it transpired into so much more than that.  I stuck with the eating habits and plan long after the initial challenge was over, and obviously the other habits stuck with me as well. 

Thanks, Doc... I think!

The last several weeks have been somewhat of a transformation process for me and the twins.  When I came out of my mastectomy, I was more flat chested than when I went in, but not completely flat.  They were kind enough to wheel me out of that OR with a parting gift, 150 cc's of saline.  I hadn't really given  much thought to it, so I was neither surprised nor disappointed.   I was so hell bent on getting that cancer out of my body, that everything else was just not that imortant.  I was having a mastectomy, I did not expect to wake up with boobs.  I was prepared.   Frankly, the only thing I was expecting or thinking about was a horrible looking incision, and I didn't even have that (I am pretty sure that my surgeons are the best, because you can hardly see my incision).

The next phase after the mastectomy and tissue expander implantation was to fill them to the "desired" weight.  So for the last 3 weeks, I've met with the plastic surgeon for saline injections into the twins: 100 cc's a week!  Bring it on doc!  I thought it was going to be horrific- (I hate needles), but given that most of my chest is still completely numb (yes, they took a lot of the nerves out with the cancer) I don't even feel the needles going into me.

While not horrible, these fills have been rather odd feeling.  (If you really think about it, when your chest grows in your teenage years, it's a gradual thing.  You have time to get used to it.  You don't sit down in a chair and feel your boobs growing a cup size over a 5 minute period.)   I walk out of there feeling extremely tight.  It's almost like they've injected a hardner of some sort into my chest.  But, they don't- it's that the expander itself that is holding the saline is very hard.  The purpose of all of this is to stretch the skin across my chest to take the permanent implants. When they fill them, because the skin is tight, they push back against my chest wall.   After my 100 cc's last week, I felt like I was just a tad bigger than what I started with- and there was just a little more pressure on my chest bone than there had been with the previous fill.  But, seeing as how the goal was to get just a tad bigger than I was at the start of all of this, I had my heart set on just 1 more fill.

Yesterday was different.  I knew when I walked in there that Dr. Peters and I were nearing the end of our weekly rendezvous.   He had agreed to one more fill- but I knew we were gonna be done after that.  I could just tell.

 Up on the table I go, out come the huge needles, and here comes the pain.... The more they filled, the more pain I was in.  I was positive that they were crushing my chest.  And that was only after 50cc's.... I was gritting my teeth as Doc asks me, do you want me to keep going?  Yes!!  I can do it.  (It's no wonder he asked me if I was sure- the look on my face probably said something completely different.  I probably looked like I was capable of killing him with my bare hands at that given moment.)  He gave me the full 100, took 1 more look at me and asked if I wanted him to take some out.  I'm not gonna lie, I thought about it.  I felt like I was under a 500 pound boulder, I couldn't catch my breath.   (Think bathing suit woman, think bathing suit! You've been through hell... you deserve to walk away with Victoria's Secret sized boobs- because no one seems to be giving you a t-shirt or a ball cap.)  I look back at him and ask,  "It'll get better, right?".  When he assures me that yes, in a few days, it will get a little bit better, I tell him I'm holding right where I'm at!  (Now looking back on it- he said a "little"- somehow I missed that- probably because it wasn't what I wanted to hear!)

As I attempt to walk back to my car without breathing because it hurts like nothing I've ever felt before, I question my decision.  Holy crap! (And a hundred other obscene words that I won't bore you with!)  I can take a lot (remember, I am the girl who was so afraid of a needle that I had a crown fitting done without Novocaine. ) but this was a frightening level of pain- not discomfort- pain (I also said that after surgery I felt discomfort, not pain, just to give you a point of reference here!).  Somehow, I made it home, but the drive is rather fuzzy.  I pull in the garage and attempt to get out of the car, but even the slightest movement sends horrific pains through my chest!  By this point, I've already figured out that I should have had them take out just a tad- but it's too late now.

I have taken more Percocet in the last 24 hours than I took in the 3 days after surgery-and I'm pretty sure that I got no more than 15 minutes of sleep last night.  At one point, I noticed that 40% of Duke was draped over my body, and I was grateful because his weight seemed to be taking the pressure off my chest- then he moved and I was in pain again.  I am better today, I can move without wanting to scream, but oh boy!  What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?  Pain is just weakness leaving the body, right?

At any rate, this would be the price that I would pay to have breasts again (Have I not been tortured enough?).  Oh, the lengths I will go to!  Actually, as uncomfortable as I am, I am really grateful. I feel pretty good- energy levels are high, and my body feels healthy (other than the pressure in my chest!).  There is no cancer in my body!  I just had both of my breasts removed 4 weeks ago, and to look at me you would never be able to tell, yes, I am grateful.  And for the 1st time in my life, I have breasts that actually fill out my clothes (actually, some of them a little too well, but that's okay!).  And to think, I was starting to believe that I wasn't getting a parting gift as I left Cancer Central.   I am sure that as the weeks pass, I won't notice them as much, or at least I hope I won't.... Let's just hope I don't knock someone out with them- I'm not used to this!

Nope, No Way, Ain't Happenin Here!

I realized yesterday as I was pouring my 4th cup of coffee that I am over 1/2 way done with my year of cancer treatment, yet still I am feeling very frustrated.  It's just taking too long!  I should be feeling as if I've accomplished something, right?  The cancer is gone- I no longer have cancer.  But, instead I'm stuck in place that's making me a little crazy.   I am so ready for all of this to be over and done with.  I'm not sure if it's the weird feeling in my chest (thank you little expanders) or the fact that I am on house arrest for another 3 weeks, but I'm experiencing some pretty high levels of attention deficit disorder and dare I say it "anxiety".  (Shh... don't tell the doctor- I'm sure there are pills for that, and I'm sure they would want me to take them!)

The ADD is why I haven't written a blog post in several days, I am completely unable to focus on anything for more than 5 minutes at a time. (And it takes me a heck of a lot longer than 5 minutes to do a blog post!)  The inability to focus on any one thing for any period of time is increasing my frustration because I am usually a very productive, goal oriented person and I can't seem to get anything done.

Nothing would make me happier than to wake up tomorrow morning and have everything be "normal"; with all of my hair back, normal boobs (the kind that don't move around or poke you when you move the wrong way), no tingling in my hands and feet, and well frankly, no more doctors appointments, tests, or infusions, and no restrictions when it comes to working out.  And, just for good measure, I would love it if I could reach the 3rd shelf of my kitchen cabinets without standing on my tippy toes and still wanting to scream!  Ooh, and wait, I'd love if I had my "normal" brain back. (I know, I want a lot right?)   But, I'm not quite there yet, and that is the source of my aggravation at this point.  Can't we speed up the process?  I am really going to have to work on having patience.

I've been told I'm being too hard on myself.  And I probably am.  I'm only 3 weeks post-op (Actually, it's exactly 3 weeks today!) and I've made great strides since surgery.  This is all going to sound funny, but I've had to really work on regaining my ability to do normal, every day activities.   For the 1st several days after surgery, I couldn't lift a cup to my mouth, straws became my best friend.  I couldn't put anything over my head,so all of my shirts had to be button-down.  (I'm not proud to admit this, but all I wanted was to sleep in one of my hubby's soft, comfy t-shirts.  So, I struggled to get it on, and nearly killed myself getting out of it the next morning.  Turns out that on was easier than off!  Thank God there were no video cameras around for that escapade.) I couldn't get dishes out of the cupboards, and I had a hard time putting on my tennis shoes.  All of this has changed- I am almost 100% back to normal in terms of mobility, I can do all of those things now.  My drains are gone, and my incisions are healing nicely.  And I get to go back for another "fill" this week.  (I never in my wildest dreams thought I would be spending my Thursday mornings having my boobs "filled".  Life is just funny like that!)

I'm struggling a bit with my left arm, I've got a ton of tightness down the back of my arm because my axillary nerve was cut to remove the lymph nodes from that arm.  The surgeon told my husband that she had a very hard time getting the nodes out of the left side, and her portion of the surgery actually took longer than expected because of it.  I was warned that my left arm might not ever be 100% and that the numbness might not ever go away. (You have got to be kidding me- are you sure you're looking at the right chart?) But, in the last several days, the tightness has eased, and some, but not all of the feeling has returned. (I still don't have full feeling in my elbow or my armpit, but I hit my elbow off of something this morning, and I definitely felt it.)  I will keep pushing that arm; stretching is the name of the game.  I am not willing to accept that my arm isn't 100%, and I know that I would never be okay with not having that arm be everything it was prior to this stupid cancer business.

So, at this point, there's no where for my frustration to go.  I can only keep myself so busy for so long when I can't really leave the house. I'm not allowed to work out, I can't lift, push, or pull anything over 10 pounds, and I've got a bad case of ADD.  I could cook and bake, but then I would have to eat it, right?   What's a girl to do? (I can tell you that there are 2 boxers that have gotten a ton of cuddles and treats in the last few days!)  If I can focus long enough, I am going to attempt to arm myself with a list of very short-term goals.  Things that I can do in 5 minutes or less, baby stepping it right though my to-do list.  Here's to baby-steps!

Yowza.... Never Felt a Stretch Like This Before

stretch

streCH/

verb

1. 1.

   (of something soft or elastic) be made or be capable of being made longer or wider without tearing or breaking.

   
   
2. 2.

   straighten or extend one's body or a part of one's body to its full length, typically so as to tighten one's muscles or in order to reach something.

I have always enjoyed a good stretch- who doesn't?  Actually, a good, deep stretch is usually one of the first things that I do when I get out of bed in the morning.  It always feels good to wake my muscles and the rest of my body up.  I haven't always done this, but after a few years of living with boxers, and noticing that this is the first thing that they do every morning when they get up, I thought maybe I should be doing it too!  After all, if the boxers have deemed it a necessary part of a morning ritual, shouldn't it be a part of mine too?  (I'm starting to realize that a lot of times, boxers know best!)

Nothing feels better after a great workout than a really deep stretch.  However, over the course of the last few days, stretching has taken on a whole new meaning to me.  When I saw the breast surgeon on Thursday, she gave me a book of stretching exercises that I am supposed to be doing to regain my mobility and prepare my body for the next steps in this journey.  She encouraged me to push myself if I thought that I could, and said that there is no reason why I can't regain full mobility, and quickly too.  That was music to my ears.  What do I need to do? How soon can I start?  I will attack this problem with a vengeance- in true Superwoman form- I will get past this and as quickly as possible.

Who would have thought that after only a few weeks, there could be so much loss of movement?  Who would have thought that I would feel such agony when trying to raise my arms above my head? (Hey, doc, you forgot to mention this part...) You cannot imagine the impact that removing ones breasts and lymph nodes has on the ability to move your arms. (Actually, there is a rumor going around that a lot of my muscle had to be cut in the whole process, which certainly isn't helping the situation!)  Who would have thunk it?   It really frustrates me that I can't get a coffee cup out of the cabinet without assistance, and the only way to close the hatch on the SUV is to grab a shoe and hit the button (my hubby caught me doing this yesterday, and he couldn't help but laugh at me!  But, it's just not funny!)- I can't reach the button.   I've never had a particularly itchy back, but it would figure that this would be the one time in my life when I would find myself with a persistently itchy back- because I most certainly cannot reach it!

I wasn't given a lot of guidance (okay, I really wasn't given any- other than no shower for 48 hours, and empty the drains 2x every day) as to what I could and could not do post-op. There was no mention of stretching exercises, elevating my arms or weight restrictions on what I could pick up.   So, for the first 10 days after surgery, if something hurt or pulled, I stopped doing it.  I wasn't reaching for things because it felt so darn weird, and you guessed it, it hurt.  I didn't lift much of anything, and I spent no time with my arms elevated. Turns out, stretching to get to things probably would have been okay, and I should have been elevating my arms.  At one point, I called the plastic surgeons office and asked if there were exercises that I should be doing, and I was told "no", not until I had seen the surgeon...

So, I find myself a tad bit behind the curve... but I will get back on track!  Every day, going through the exercises just one more time, holding the stretches just a tad longer, reaching just a little further.  I don't hate these stretches because I know they're the key to my freedom and ability to move, but these stretches do not feel like the stretches that I have grown to love for their therapeutic properties.  These stretches feel wicked; they burn, they pull, and they scream! They make me want to cuss like a drunken sailor (which incidentally, I am very good at!)  It's not that they hurt, they don't, but they sure as hell pull in ways that I have never felt before.  My arms, underarms, and chest do not feel the slightest bit normal (I guess this is going to be another one of the "new normal" situations), and I really miss them.  If you really think about it, your arms and your chest probably don't have a lot of feeling to them in a normal situation.  They're just there, functioning, doing their job without a whole lot of fanfare.  Now try to imagine them with all kinds of pulling feelings, burning sensations, and tingling...  That would be what I am pushing to get rid of...

Every day, things get a little easier.  There are still challenges, but I know that every day, something that was challenging the day before, will become less so, so I will push on!  Besides, in just 3 days, hopefully, I will be saying good-bye to my last 2 drain tubes, and getting filled up for the first time... (What has my life come to?  I'm looking forward to being filled up?  What am I, a balloon?)

Go! Get Out of Here and Stay Out!

Today was a day of bittersweet good-byes.  The place where my journey with cancer started, the place where I heard those 3 terrible words (YOU HAVE CANCER) for the first time, also became the place where my cancer ended, because technically, I am now cancer free.

Today I met with my breast surgeon, and her team for the very last time.  I felt like she was breaking up with me as one of the girls handed my envelope of films.  I was told they're a souvenir, and they are, they are a reminder of what I just fought.   She reviewed my amended (yes, there were errors) pathology report and smiled from ear to ear as she told me that she got it all, and that she couldn't have been more pleased with the results of surgery and chemo, checked out my surgery site, gave me a huge hug and then she said to me, "Go!  Get out of here, and stay out!  I don't wanna see you back here!  (One of the things that I really loved about my surgeon was her sassy, kick ass attitude, and it came out again today as we said our good-bye!)  And frankly, as much as I adore Dr. Kemp and her staff, those words were absolute music to my ears.  I couldn't be happier to be here, in this spot, right now!  I've still got a long way to go (there's the boob-less issue to take care of, and the 6 weeks of rads to kill off any pesky lingering cells, and my remaining 9 Herceptin treatments, but after all of this other business, that ain't nothing!)

I also parted with 2 of my drain tubes today.  Those, just for the record, were not bittersweet good-byes.  But for those of you who endure this after me, just know that having drain tubes removed is absolutely, positively nothing- I swear!  (As is my usual protocol before undergoing any type of procedure, I did a Google search yesterday to find out what  I was in for as far as having those tubes removed.  One survivor wrote that it was so bad she couldn't stand it, and recommended that you should take pain pills 1 hour prior to the appointment.  So, I was a tad nervous about how it was going to feel, but I didn't take the pain pills.)  I still have 2 drain tubes to contend with for another week, but on a positive note- I have been cleared for physical therapy type exercises on my arms and shoulders.  While I have a pretty good range of motion right now, there are a few things that are pulling and that feel a little weird.  I'm hoping these exercises take care of that- because when I go back next week, they're going to start inflating me... look out!

The past 10 days have been a little long, and more painful that I was anticipating.  I had to remind myself at least 100 times that this is temporary, and that pain is weakness leaving the body; believe it or not, that really helped me to think of it that way.  I've obviously got more to do to be recovered, but I'm definitely making progress, however slow it may be, and that is what will get me through this!   There were challenges that I wasn't ready for, but then I am not a person who handles slowing down and taking it easy well.  It's just not in my nature to be incapacitated.   But it is definitely in my nature to adapt to whatever situation comes way, and that is how I survived the last 10 days.  And this house arrest bullshit- is going to make me crazy.

However, I made it, and I'm moving on to the next phase... I survived the surgery, and the rather uncomfortable days following it.  And, my sense of humor is still intact... see?  (If I obey the house arrest rules, there may be a lot more pictures like the one on the left!)

There Will Be Good Days, There Will Be Bad Days, And There Will Be Days From Hell

Sunday and Monday, those were good days.  Sunday, I spent the day hanging out with the hubby and the boxers, enjoyed the sunshine (from an adirondak chair that I got stuck in and had to be tipped out of.  It is impossible to get out of an adirondak chair without using your arms- it doesn't matter how strong your legs or abs are!) and had some delicious Mexican food for dinner. Even though sleep does not seem to be my friend right now, I had a great day.  At this point, I feel blessed to grab 3 or 4 hours and call it a night. It's just too hard to get comfortable.  This may sound strange, but I am dying to curl up in a little ball.  I'm sure that if I tried hard enough I could accomplish it, but the pain of getting out of the ball would probably kill me.  And I really miss dreaming, I can't remember the last time I had a good dream. Funny how we miss the little things.

Monday was another great day, I was full of energy, and feeling very productive.  I did payroll, followed up on a bunch of loose ends and ordered everything that had been pending in my absence.  I drove for the first time since surgery!  And I cooked a fabulous dinner.  I really felt great.  My mom and I took a long walk around the lake.  She's captivated by the bald eagles nests around our development, and a large turtle that she claims is fast moving, but that I have yet to see.  (That reminds me, I need to take my camera down there and see if I can get a good shot of the eagles.  They look so beautiful up there!)  I felt pretty much normal, I actually felt good.  Of course, by Monday evening, I was exhausted and there just wasn't much energy left in me, but I can deal with exhaustion.  I wasn't in pain, just a little bit uncomfortable and tired.

Yesterday, Tuesday was the day from hell.  I didn't even get a warning day, I went straight from feeling amazing to feeling like I was in hell.  (Which was probably punishment for everything I did on Monday.  Just a guess but it was obviously way too much!)  Let me just say that I think there are some things that are of such great impact, and so scary, that they really deserve a mention during pre-surgery consults.  I am talking about my tissue expanders.  Because nothing was ever mentioned to me about how they would feel, I was expecting them to be silent, un-noticeable guests in my body.  I woke up yesterday morning completely unable to catch my breath.  This went on all morning, it was accompanied by a tightness in my chest, right where the expanders are.   I felt almost like I had just run a marathon, the feeling would not leave me.  I almost wondered if I was having a heart attack, but all of the pain was on the right side, and I'm pretty sure my heart is on the left. Turns out this is a known issue with the expanders, some people don't experience it, but most do.  Whew, that's a relief, I thought I was dying.  I've said it before, and I'm sure I'll say it again many times before this is over, as long as I know what to expect I can deal with it.  It's when I'm blindsided, and therefore unprepared that I have issues.  I'm guessing that if they told patients that they were going to feel as if they couldn't breath for 6-8 months, it would be a bit of a deterrent.

As if that wasn't enough of a complication, I discovered another one yesterday, and it's a big one.  I can't laugh.  Well, I can.  But, it-is-excruciatingly painful!  And sneezing?  Holy hell!  I sneezed last night and the pain was so bad, my mom thought I was going to pass out (frankly, I was a little suspicious myself).  I am hoping that these issues are what I would call post-surgery issues that after a few weeks, as my body heels, will disappear.  It's really  going to be a long 8 months if I can't laugh.  I really rely on giggles to get me though the tough spots... and sneezing, well I do that all the time.  My mother decided that all I need to do is grab a pillow and hug it to my chest before I cough or sneeze.  It will work out perfectly as long as all of my giggles, sneezes and coughs come with a 5 minute warning.

Tomorrow I go for my 1st post op doctors appointments.  I will be saying good-bye to 2 of my 4 drains.  There will probably be tears associated with the removal of the drains, but they won't be tears for the drains departure from my body.  I get why I'm not allowed to go out in public.  I have 4 large drains that are attached to my stomach.  I look like an armed terrorist.  Hopefully, 2 of them will be a little more manageable, and a lot less noticeable.  I was hoping that more of them were going to go, but when I called the doctors office the other day, she told me 2 at the most.... boy was I disappointed!  All of that monkey business will be followed by a visit to the other surgeon for a review and an explanation of my beautiful 3 page pathology report.  I've tried my damnedest to interpret everything in that report, but there are words in there that are bigger than my hand, so I eventually gave up.  I look at it this way, she's getting paid the big bucks, might as well let her figure out how to explain it to me in a way that I can comprehend.

Today is should be better than yesterday, I got a decent night of sleep, and  my breathless feeling from yesterday isn't present yet this morning.  As long as I can get through the day without laughing, sneezing or coughing, I think I will be okay.  (Damn, see this is what I was talking about when I kept telling my doctors I was concerned about quality of life after treatment...)

This is Temporary. This is Temporary. This is Temporary.

So, day 2 (Wednesday) goes off without a hitch.  I am pretty much blissfully ignorant to any kind of pain within my body, I am uncomfortable, but for the most part numb.  I can handle it.  Every 3 hours, I grab a Percocet and drift back off to sleep.  I hate pain meds, they make me dizzy and I don't feel very stable.  I've never liked taking them, but I've been lectured about this.  I have to take them, and it's better for me to take them before the pain gets too bad.  So, I take the pain pills.  Getting in and out of bed, or out of a chair is extremely challenging and sends waves of pain through my upper body.  If you've ever tried to get up off of a toilet seat without moving a single muscle in your upper body, you can imagine the challenge that I faced. Go ahead, give it a whirl... (I'm not necessarily sure that advising a recent mastectomy patient to guzzle as much water as possible is the best or most relative advice.  While I understand the merits of the advice, it presents huge challenges.  If it didn't hurt so much to laugh, I would most certainly be laughing at this predicament that I've gotten msyelf into!  So, for now, I will make a mental note, and I will definitely have a good chuckle out of this at a later date.)  There is a positive to all of this crazy mastectomy business, I got flowers!  And they're absolutely beautiful!  (But, no, I wouldn't do it all over again just for the flowers!)

Day 3, is different.  It is easier to get out of bed, and a chair.   I'm not sure if this is progress or if I've just learned how to do it without making those horrific waves of pain shoot through my body.  My legs and my abs are definitely my friends in this situation, and the more I use them to do stuff, the easier my life is.  I still get stuck on the floor, because I forget that I am like a wounded bird without a wing and trying to fly just isn't an option.  But, I am used to being on the floor with my dogs and I forget...This situation, I cannot help but laugh at.  Mommy did an "oops" Lucy, and before I know it, she's wiggling all over the place, and I'm laughing even harder.  Huh, amazing, isn't laughter supposed to dull the pain?  Percocet is still my friend, and the numbing that they gave me at the hospital is starting to wear off, but I still know it's there. because I can't feel my armpits, talk about a weird sensation.  I had a long blissful shower on morning 3, after sleeping 2 nights on my back and straight up, this felt like heaven.  I didn't have a ton of bandages, but those are all gone now, and all that's left is this impossibly sexy sports bra.  As I was getting out of bed this morning, I had 2 hot pains, one left and one right.  These pains will revisit me every time I get out of bed, no matter how much much I use my leg and lower back muscles to pull me up, I am suspicious that these have something to do with the drains.

Day 4, I am a woman on a mission.  I must go to Orlando for my Herceptin treatment.  If I miss this treatment, I won't finish my Herceptin by the end of the year.  Besides, it's on the calender. Little do I know, there is great news waiting for me in the oncology department.  I definitely am feeling stronger today than I did yesterday.  Getting showered and dressed still isn't a barrel full of monkeys, but it's easier than it was yesterday, and every day, I get better and better at balancing like a circus act on one leg to put my pants on.  The ride to Orlando is torture, I am not a very good passenger, and my mother does not like driving in traffic.  Despite the fact that the GPS is programmed with step by step instructions, she still has no idea where she's going, it's like she is oblivious to the GPS.  I could have driven myself, I hadn't had any pain meds for at least 8 hours, but there's this nasty business of raising my arms too far before pains start shooting all over the place. (Just in case I've forgotten, however temporarily, that I've just had a double mastectomy and lymph node removal!)  I am pretty sure the steering wheel would have been just "too far".   

So, we make it to Florida Hospital.  Oh how I hate the site of this building.  Of course, I associate it with chemo therapy, and there isn't much about my memories of chemo that give me warm fuzzy feelings (except for my chemo friends of course).  On a mission to the bathroom, I run into my oncologist in the hallway who is shocked that I just had surgery on Tuesday and am standing in her office on Friday.  She asks if I've seen  my pathology report?  Pathology report?  Me?  No!  Bring it on!  My pathology report is 3 pages of great news, or at least that is what she tells me.  It's clean.  Everything is clean.  There is no cancer left in this body!  (I guess my Dear John letter really got to him!)  As I mentioned it's 3 pages long, and I'm not sure what most of it means, I will wait for the surgeon to go over all of that with me on Thursday, but for now, this news make the pain even more tolerable.  Actually, I managed a little dance, I just had to do it!  This is big!  (However, I probably won't be dancing again for a little while...)

On my way home from the oncologists office, my Cigna Case Manager calls.  I have a love/hate affair with this woman.  She never seems to call at a good time, I'm always in the middle of something, or there is always 15 things going on.  And I don't know for sure, but I suspect she is either a victim of dementia or chemo brain, because she always asks me the same question over and over until I just want to scream.  Friday was no different.  Oh, and did I mention, she's always on the hunt for complications.  She just asks over and over again if I have any complications. I view this as negativity and it makes my skin crawl.  Can't she just be happy that I haven't turned green?  I understand that she's just trying to help, but I've got a ton of doctors, and if I do have complications, rest assured I'll be calling them before I call someone sitting behind a desk 1000 miles away- that's why they're getting paid the big bucks!

Day 5, like an idiot, I decide that I am going to be brave today.  I decide that I am going to go pain med free, I just don't feel like I'm in the mood to be dizzy and disoriented all day long.  Where do I come up with these insane plans?  Must be residual effects of chemo brain that are making me take such idiotic courses of action.  Actually, it was not so bad.  I was highly functioning, but pretty damn uncomfortable, all day yesterday, which made me feel good (the highly functioning part).  I still have all of the same issues, but they're definitely getting better.  I do however notice that the back of my left arm is completely numb including my funny bone.....why do I suspect that the fun is just getting started?  My hardest time of day is changing out the drains.  For some reason, the suctioning hurts like hell, I can really feel it.  I am hopeful that these drains will be gone on Thursday at my post-op appointment.  Every day, there is less and less in the little bottles.  I have a feeling that I will feel a lot better once the drains are out.  There are 4 of them, constantly present and digging into me in weird places.  I made it until 8:00 last night without a Percocet.  Then it just couldn't be avoided, I knew I wasn't going to get a wink of sleep if I didn't take one...  

My cancer buddy asked me if the mastectomy was worse then chemo.  As painful as this has been, and will probably continue to be for several weeks, chemo was worse.  Chemo took over my whole body and just made me feel constantly crappy for 18 weeks, maybe even longer.  This is just pain, isolated pretty much to one spot in my body.  And while I can't do most of the things that I'm used to doing, I know that this is very short term, and that I can deal with it.  As long as I'm noticing even just a little bit of progress every day, I will be okay, I can do this.... I just keep getting closer and closer to the light at the end of the tunnel!