Full Circle Perhaps?

One year ago this week I checked into Columbia Orthopedic for a visit with Doc Adams.  Yep Doc I did it again.  Hurt my knee playing volleyball.  No... I'm not too old!  But there I was facing surgery numero dos on the same knee, same injury, same volleyball pits.  Stupid knee, I thought.  Damnit I'm not too old, my knee might be old, but I'm not! 

After the visit, headed down for my MRI.  Results showed what we already knew.  Time for surgery again.  Meniscus tear.  Scheduled for December 12.  Boy did I not know at that moment what fresh hell was waiting just around the corner for me!  

First came the passing of my precious Lizzie right before Thanksgiving.  The day I had to put her to sleep was so terrible.  Sure did love that little fuzzy grumpy cat.  Still miss her every day.  

Then the call every woman dreads.  We've found something on your mammogram.  Need to schedule a core needle biopsy after Thanksgiving.  Yep that sounded like some fun.  It wasn't.  

December 1, the day I will always remember.  The Big C call.  And the roller coaster began.  Lumpectomy and lymph node removal 2 days before Christmas.  BRCA2 diagnosis and didn't get it all a few days after New Years.  Double Mastectomy January 26. 

Then our next fur baby passed in February.  Buddy was our 13 year old Golden and he was the best dog ever.  We definitely still miss him every single day! 

Full hysterectomy May 14 due to BRCA and my cancer was hormone driven.  

Foundation was cracking also in May..... had to gut all flooring in the house and have the foundation fixed.  Can you say EXPENSIVE!  

July 31 back into the hospital again for an acute pancreatitis attack.  If you've never had it, I guarantee you don't want it.  5 days in ICU with NO food or drink.  Strict diet.  I can no longer enjoy any of the foods I used to love.  Does the punishments ever end?? 

September.... grandfather's house burnt to the ground.  Now dealing with insurance, rehoming, etc. for him and my aunt.  

So yes, there is my shitty year in review thus far.  

Yesterday I made the trek that I started 1 year ago, back to see Doc Adams since my knee has been swelling and hurting so badly I cannot hardly walk.... Guess it's finally about time to get that surgery done that was so rudely interrupted by the dumb stupid C word.  MRI repeated.  And call today from Doc to schedule the surgery again.  This time we're scheduled for this Monday, the 5th of November.  And I will be crossing every part of my body that the surgery will take place without anything interrupting it this time.  

With this surgery MAYBE everything will have come full circle and we can finally put "Kristy's Shitty Year" out to pasture!!  We can only hope and pray!  One thing has definitely changed however. I now feel OLD!! haha!  Geez God you sure as hell didn't have to put me through all of this just to prove to me that I might be getting a little old!  

Bring Me A Bale Of Sage ASAP!

Geez it's been a long time since my last post.  My world has been further rocked to the core in so many ways since that last post in May that it seems like it was 10 years ago instead of only a little over 4 months.  

My therapist (yes I now have a therapist...  we'll address that in a future post) thought I should start writing again.  I agree with her.  It does help me get all the terrible awful shit in my mind out.  So I'll be doing my thing more often now with some funny stories, sad stories, and in the great Kristy way,  totally brutally honest opinions and alliterations.  Whereas before the blog was a way for me to inform everyone at once what was going on with my "C" journey without having to repeat the terrible horrible shit over and over.  It is now going to pivot more towards spewing and venting and healing.  It may be offensive at times to some, and at times some people may not agree with everything I say, but it's not about you, this blog is about me and my healing process.  And if along the way folks take pleasure in reading it or can relate in some way to help them heal, then that's just an added bonus. 

With that, I guess I should start from the ending of the last post and get you caught up in summary regarding what I am now titling 2018 as "Kristy's Shitty Year". 

Hysterectomy day went as planned.  What I wasn't prepared for was the massively intense pain I was in after it was over.  I seriously had never felt pain like that before and if you remember, I had just cut my boobs off!  So there's that....  The nurses wouldn't listen to my request for a certain kind of narco combo.  After two days of writhing pain, they finally realized I might know what the hell I was talking about and switched me over to the boobie chopping narco combo.   Finally all was right with the world.  Or as good as it could get after getting another part of my body ripped out of me I should say.  So after three fun filled nights in the fabulous hospital bed I was headed home to my bed to recover for the next 6 weeks.  Pain was intense, sleep was little, and I had some complications that put me in full bed rest for several days more than once.  But alas I survived and back to work I went again in June.  

Docs tried me on a new cancer drug after the hysterectomy.  The side effects sounded horrendous.  But I took them anyways.... I'll do anything so that shit doesn't come back!  Well maybe.... After several weeks on the pills, my joint aches became so unbearable I could barely walk up stairs, the hot flashes were so intense there was no relief at all, and my brain was becoming mush.  I felt like I was slowly dying.  I saw my oncologist for a follow up regarding the poison pills and he told me to stop taking them.  I said are you sure.  His reply was yes.  These pills only give you a 2% less change of it recurring.  And the quality of life is worth more than the 2% protection these pills can provide.  I cried all the way home tears of joy.  I still, at times, wonder in my crazy brain, if it comes back, would the pills have stopped it.  But somehow I have to just quit doing the mental dance with myself.  I guess only time will help that.  

What I also wasn't prepared for was the PTSD that began shortly after returning to work.  Mentally I was a wreck.  Physically I was still totally exhausted and sore all of the time.  My surgeon recommended I see a therapist, as she thought I had a form of PTSD.  She explained that everything had happened so quickly and intensely over the last several months I didn't have time to process any of it, which was causing me some issues.  So after a couple of weeks of putting it off, I finally began seeing a therapist.  She was helping me a lot and finally around July I was starting to feel like a human being again.  Geez what was I thinking.  I should have known better!  

First I was having some issues with the internal hysterectomy site.  I called my doc and he said to come right in.  It seemed I had a spot on the internal incision line that was not wanting to heal correctly.  So I had to go back once a week for 3 weeks straight to have some silver nitrate put on the incision site ... yes ladies, up there with the instruments and all.  Hell I thought I was done with that FOREVER.... no such luck.  Oh yeah and due to my BRCA gene I still "get" to have annual "up there" exams because even though I have been cleaned out, I can still get cancer up in there.... are you F'n kidding me.... yee haw! 

And to add insult to injury, right in the middle of all of the fun shrink visits and gyno visits, one evening I was feeling a little stomach ache coming on.  At first I passed it off as gas or one of my other colon issues that I've always had.  But as the night went on the pain got pretty intense.  I woke Don up and said we need to go the hospital now....  at 2a.m.  Thankfully for me, I guess 2a.m. on a Monday evening is a slow night in the ER.  We were the only ones there and they got me into a room and was being looked at immediately.  So yep the routine... blood work first, IV (you know my favorite part EVER), but at that very moment didn't care because I was in so much pain I just wanted the good drugs!  haha!  Of course, as before, they didn't give me the narco combo that works and I was bitching about it because good God people by now I F'n know what works.  The doctor came in and told the nurses "give her whatever she wants".  Don said he knew at that moment whatever was wrong couldn't be good.  Doctor said it was acute pancreatitis.  Never heard of it, but apparently it was not a good thing to have.  Doc then sent me straight to CAT scan.  Luckily by then I'd gotten the good stuff and don't really remember much of the CAT scan.  What I do remember is thinking, oh my God, BRCA attacks the pancreas too....  Oh no, the fuckin cancer has gone to my pancreas.  The 30 minutes it took for the doctor to come and give me the CAT scan results were the longest EVER!  When he came in and said "no cancer", I almost cried.  The relief was like no other I'd ever felt.  Well maybe that one time the pregnancy test was negative hahahaha!  Next thing I knew I was being admitted to the ICU.  Well this freaked me out.  Why am I going to the ICU for something like my pancreas. I found out later at a follow up appointment the reason.  My levels for my pancreas were so high that they didn't even register on the lab charts and this could have turned out very bad.   The next news I received on my ride up to the ICU was that I would not be eating or drinking ANYTHING, not even ice chips, for at least 3 to 4 days.  What???  Are they trying to kill me here??  So for four terrible awful horrible days they pumped my body full of liquids so fast I was going through a bag of saline about every 2 hours or so.  I was hooked up to 4 different things and every time I had to pee, which was every 20 minutes, I had to unhook everything, drag the damn IV stick with me and pee...  by the 4th day I was so exhausted from no sleep and no food I really just wanted to die.  Finally on day 5, I got to go home, but with a very strict diet, an appointment for a pancreatic scope ultrasound and NO explanation of why this happened.  They ruled out all of the "common" causes for this.  So for 6 weeks I was basically on a soft food, no fat diet and praying that they did not find something "bad" on the impending scope ultrasound procedure.  Yes I did need to lose 20 pounds, but I sure as hell didn't want to do it this way!  Thankfully and gratefully the scope showed nothing bad and the doc said I could introduce some "real" foods back into my diet slowly.  I haven't done much of this yet though as I am now terrified of another attack, since we still don't know what caused the first one.  I guess eventually the terror will dissipate and I will eat again.  For the time being, skinny minny I shall be!  But boy do I miss a big ole fat bloody steak with a Jack and Coke! 

And if I hadn't already had enough, my grandfather's house burnt down and lost everything 2 weeks ago.  For those of you that know my family dynamics, this is a daily struggle with caring for him and my aunt after the fire.  I am taking care of all of the insurance stuff for them.  Thankfully I know a little bit about all this since I've worked in insurance for 18 years.  But my God there's a lot to do, process, and deal with.  They are in a rental house here in Columbia for the next 3 months until the settlement goes through, but we are praying that it goes through a lot quicker and we can get them back "home".  Even thought it will not be their house, they will at least be back in their home town where things are familiar again.  The struggle is real folks!

So you see, Kristy's shitty year is continuing in stride.  I'm ready to burn a bale of sage, do an exorcism, or find the asshole that has the voodoo doll of me and kick his ass and get rid of this black cloud of doom I'm floating under.  I'm pretty sure I've never ever been so exhausted, sore, and just over it in my whole life.  My mental breakdown is right around the corner.  If you see me wandering around town naked in a daze, don't mind me, I've just finally lost it!  LOL!  

My Mother's Day Irony

Mother's Day... A day to celebrate motherhood.  A day when all mother's celebrate the miracle of life and the miracle of pushing a giant human being out of the smallest hole in the world.  😆 The pain is so great, yet we all celebrate this miracle with pleasure.  For being a mother is the one great joy of my life and my best accomplishment.  I put all of my heart and soul into that job.  

On this day we also celebrate our mothers.  Thanking them for giving us life and loving us unconditionally.  Luke Bryan sings in his most recent song, "most mama's outta be nominated for sainthood".  Boy he's not kidding.  We all deserve a medal for sure!

Today, for me, was focused on family, friends, making memories, and the importance of spending these special moments with the ones I love.  Since the big "C" diagnosis these things are becoming more important than ever before.  You reevaluate life and realize these moments you have taken for granted in the past could be taken away from you in the blink of an eye.

I began the day early with my mom, sister, one of my nephews, my best friend and her sister, along with 100's of other people in a 5k walk/run to benefit breast cancer patients back in my home town.  My sister and I took turns pushing mom in the wheelchair, as she doesn't walk well, but wanted to participate.  Boy those hills were BIG! Or I'm outa shape.  Either way I'm whooped tonight!  But I finished my first 5K ever! Yay me! Oh yeah... and we weren't dead last... woot woot!

The first irony of the day..... This walk took us around our old neighborhood my sister and I grew up and played in for most of our childhood.   Wow, talk about memory lane.  We walked by our old house, by our old friends houses, the alley whee we rode our bikes, where we would play for hours until our parents were screaming for us to come in at dark.  It amazes me how small everything looks now.

We then had lunch as a group and went to the cemetery to visit loved ones memorials and gave them all some new flowers.  It's funny how, for me, visiting the cemetery seems to take you right back into the middle of the funeral.

Second irony associated with today...  as I celebrate mother's day today, I am mentally preparing for my next surgery in the morning.  The full hysterectomy is next.  So while celebrating mother's day today, tomorrow I will have all of the parts removed from my body that allowed me the greatest gift of all.  To be a mother. I am so very grateful for my handsome, smart amazing "little" boy.  In a way he gave me life as well.

While everyone says, oh this is not a big deal.  You don't need those parts any more anyways.  You will be happy when this is over.  And yes, they are all right, I do not need them and in reality I will not miss the fun stuff that comes along with these fabulous body parts, but somehow I feel a little sad and apprehensive about it.  I think, for myself, as I'm guessing maybe most women who have gone through breast cancer and mastectomy and then hysterectomy, I feel as if this is the last part of womanhood I have left that the "C" word is taking from me.  That somehow all of the things that make you a woman are now ALL  gone.  It is somewhat sad for me.  I get where everyone else is coming from, I mean if I still had my boobs and they wanted to take the other, I'd be doing the "No More Period" dance of joy probably.  LOL

Some ask, why are you having another major surgery so close to your last one....  Unfortunately with the positive BRCA2 gene, and after a breast cancer diagnosis, it is recommended to have the hysterectomy as soon as possible.  So here we go... tomorrow morning in for the next fun event.  As always, prayers are appreciated and will see you lovely peeps on the flip side!!  

Happy Ironic Mother's Day to all!

Another One Bites the Dust!

Week that is.....  Five weeks post bilateral mastectomy.  What a week it was.  A few more firsts, some struggles, mentally and physically, but I made it through!

A major accomplishment on my healing journey occurred this week....  I drove all by myself!  Big day folks.  I had not been behind the wheel in five weeks!  Some of you may be freaking out right now, saying WTF, I couldn't stand that.  But I can honestly say I did not feel like it, nor did I have the ability, with my T-rex arms and lack of mobility, to even attempt driving until this week.  Craziness, I know!  Another one for the list of "things we take for granted".  And a big kudos goes out to my beautiful old ass car for starting right up on the first crank.  LOL  We had a bet whether white girl would start or not.  ha!  I had no doubt.  She's my old faithful and has to last me at least 5 more years (financial goals)!  Which are now all rearranged due to the big "C".  Maybe more than 5 years now....😝

I jumped into old faithful and headed to the only seemingly appropriate place for me to be driving myself to alone for the first time.  Physical Therapy. Two of the most hated words in the dictionary for anyone who has undergone some type of ordeal that requires physical therapy.  As with most people, PT is a love hate relationship.  I love it because in the end it does help and makes you feel better.  But in the beginning it hurts like hell!  This was true with my knee surgery a couple of years ago and true again this week during my first PT appointment.  My physical therapist specializes in mastectomy, dealing with the massive scar tissue, lymphedema,  and our fabulous t-rex arms.  She began by massaging my incisions and scar tissue.  To help you understand how incredibly freaky this is, let me explain ..... I have various levels of feeling in this area now.  Some of it is totally numb and some of it you feel everything, including all of those little nerves that are still trying to find a connection but are still too short to connect, which yes, still hurts like hell at times.  Bless her heart because I still cannot bring myself to touch it.  It literally grosses me out!  So yay for people like her that are okay with this.  Not even gonna lie, at times during this part of the session I was totally weirded out, total heebie jeebies!  There's a chick massaging my boobs..... Oh wait, I don't have boobs....  LOL  Next was the "fun" part of the session, the stretches and exercises.  I am always amazed at how weak surgery can make you.  Six weeks ago moving my arms above my head was done without a thought.  This week, I have to concentrate on how far I can raise them and it feels like my armpits are ripping in half, as I try to do "just a little more".   After 90 minutes of "fun" I head out, sore as $#@%, but feeling accomplished, as I always do after PT.   Time for a pain pill and a glass of wine! #dontjudgeme

This week brought another first......  Tamoxifen......  a pill I will take for at least 5 years.  At least that's what I'm told right now.  In my prior post, I was debating on whether or not to read the side effects before taking it.  I did the naughty thing and read.  And still, reluctantly, took my first one on Monday.  First couple of days were pretty good.  I was thinking yay, no side effects for me.  Ha!  How naive.  The heartburn hits.  This is not good, as I already take meds for acid reflux and gastric problems.  But if this is it, I can probably handle it.  But as the week went on, more of the lovely side effects reared their ugly heads.  This shit is the real deal.  First was massive nausea, then came the headache.  I don't get headaches... ever, well unless they are a result the mighty hangover 😂.  This made me feel terribly sorry for all of the people out there that suffer from constant migraines.  Nothing helped.  Not even Oxy.  Now I have heartburn, I feel like I'm going to throw up, and my head hurts so bad I think my brain is going to pop out.  But alas no hot flashes, which is the number one side effect of this drug.  Silver lining, no, I'd rather have the massive hot flashes.  I had a very bad day this day and had a major pity party (see prior post) haha.  I couldn't take it.  I decided to skip the pill for a day and a half.  I know, I know, what a pussy, on the drug 3 days and am a quitter.  I really hate myself for that, but I just couldn't.  I joined a Tamoxifen support group on Facebook and read lots of ladies posts.  Several of them cut their pills in half and take half in the morning and half at night.  So I decided to "woman" up and try this.  I've been doing this for a couple of days now and am feeling a little better doing it this way.  Mood swings are a bitch.  But I can deal with them... Poor Don!!  Hopefully this continues to work on the headaches and nausea.  I don't want to be a quitter and I definitely don't want cancer back.  This drug is a major contributor in helping the cancer from recurring.  Especially with my type of cancer.  But I am not willing to lay in bed with massive headaches and feeling like I'm going to throw up if I move.  That's not quality of life.  And this pill is not a guarantee that it will keep it from recurring.  Several women have taken this faithfully and still had recurrences.  But I am keeping my hopes up that this half and half solution works for me.

I am now beginning my last week of recovery at home.  Headed back to PT two days this week.  Get the pain pills ready!  I also have a surgeon follow up appointment, where I will get my prescription for my foobies (fake boobies, for the amateurs).  I'm not sure how to feel about this yet.  I may cry.  It may make this all too real.  And to round out my week of fun, my pre-op appointment with the gyno to discuss hysterectomy.  Sounds awesome right?  Don't be jealous!  haha

Then it's back to work next week.  I'd be lying if I said I wasn't freaking out about it.  I don't even really know why, but I'm having massive anxiety.  But I'm hoping that getting back into my normal routine will help me to feel somewhat normal again and help me to quit dwelling on some of these bad thoughts in my brain.  The what ifs.  I hate them.  I'm assuming with time they will fade.  That is my hope!

Where The Hell Is Kristy Lee??

She apparently is still lost somewhere in the remnants of cancer hell.  I am unable to find her most of the time and the tiny moments when she does appear, she feels lost, fake, and out of place.  

When I start to refer to myself in third person, you know it's gotten bad.  Hurry friends, get the straight jacket!

Tomorrow will be exactly 3 months since the most awful phone call in the world.  I feel like my whole life has been turned upside down.  I do not feel like myself and I cannot seem to find me.  Lord knows I'm trying.  I hate feeling like I have lost myself somewhere in an abyss with no chance of ever returning.   And why did it have to happen at the exact moment in my life when I was really beginning to love who I was!  I had spent my whole life trying to fit in.  Trying to make people like me.  Doing anything to accomplish this via new hair styles, new clothes, new habits, etc. just to fit in.  Then one day a few years ago it just clicked.  And I no longer gave a rats ass who liked me, who didn't like me, because I finally was liking myself.   It is just so unfair.



When I began this journey, so many ladies who had gone through it before me had said that this  would change me.  I would not be the same.  And I would have to find a new normal.  I just thought that they meant how I would be learning how to deal with being boobless (ie. new bras, foobies, clothes, etc.)  Well I'm here to tell you that shit is a piece of cake compared to the mental toll it takes on a person.  Which I'm guessing is what these lovely ladies were referring to all along.  It is always in the back of my mind.  There is not a moment in the day when I do not think about it in some way.  Whether it's when I'm eating, drinking, exercising, not exercising, out to dinner, watching TV, blah blah blah... you get the picture.  It is consuming me and inhibiting me from being who I once was.  Before December 1,  I ate what I wanted, drank what I wanted, laid on my ass if I wanted and was a happy person who was living life like there was no tomorrow.  You would think that, after the shit I've just been though, it would be more relevant for me to continue to do as I was before.  But instead here I am finding myself unrecognizable.  Unable to find joy in even the smallest of things.  Unable to have fun and laugh at all.  I have been out and about with my fiancé and with friends.  I have had my closest girls over to hang out.  I put my smile on and try like hell to be "me".  And all I feel is dead inside.  I feel fake.  I am not happy.  But everyone expects me to just bounce back from this and act like nothing happened.  We need fun Kristy back.   But I just can't. Not yet.  It's too soon.  And no one seems to understand.  I am lost in the forrest of my emotions and haven't found my way out yet.

I feel terrible because my fiancé fell in love with the old me.  Now it seems like he's going to be stuck with this new person whom I do not even like.  Why should I expect him to like her.....  oops... me.... where's that straight jacket?  haha!  He is seriously a rock star in my book.

Along with everything that has happened thus far, I also began a new medicine Monday that will probably, in all reality, cause severe hot flashes, massive mood swings, along with other side effects that will again interfere with who I am trying to get back to.

I'm hoping this is temporary and eventually I will feel like me again, but so much has changed and I am a new person without a doubt.  I just hope I can learn to like this new me as much as I liked the old one and get back to some type of normalcy someday SOON!  #thistoshallpass #imissmynormal

One Month. One Hundred Emojis.

As I lay here tonight on my couch, thinking about the last month....  

😀😩😱😭🙏💩💗😡😴😷🖕🎉💀💔🐓🐽💉💊🎻😂    

Yes, holy crap, it's actually been a whole month since my boobie chopping day!!  I feel like it was just yesterday.  Pretty sure I slept in a drug induced coma through the first two weeks, which is why it doesn't seem possible that it has already been a month.  My incisions are healing nicely.  That's what everyone says.  Yeah they look great.  No boobs, big old ugly slices where my boobies were.  Yeah I'm looking GREAT.....  (insert sarcastic emoji)....  And did you know without big ole boobies the big fat Buda belly now looks giant.....  yepper I look preggo in almost ALL of my tops 😡!  The Flat and Fabulous ladies said this would happen.  But not to me.  #denial

So my friends, if you find my name on the arrest records in the Tribune one day, just know it will quite possibly be from me knocking the 💩 out of the first person who asks me if I am preggers!  You have been warned!  LOL   
In my last post I was freaking out and 🙏 hard for no chemo.  This Wednesday I learned my fate.  

I had my oncologist appointment on Wednesday.  I had been having a slight problem with an area on one of my incisions, so I planned to stop into my surgeon's office while I was in the neighborhood. Checked in, but doc wasn't in, so began the LONG walk to my oncologist's office.  I'm guessing this is probably how a prisoner feels on his walk to the court room on sentencing day.  This was my sentencing day....  chemo, radiation, pills..... which one or all three or what else could be on the table?  Walk, walk, walk....  closer and closer to the office....  or I could just turn around and run far away.

Entered into the office, $20 Bucks..... for old times sake.... haha....  the check in lady says the financial counselor wants to meet with me first.  First imagine the mind set I was already in.  I could only determine that if I was meeting with a financial counselor that could only mean more treatment, which meant chemo.  OMG she was going to tell me before my doctor.  NO!  Let the drama queen freak out begin!  👑  Of course it only ended up being a discussion about my current statement.  Whew.  That was close!   Then off to waiting room A.  Blood work time.  I was so worried about the actual doctor visit, I had forgotten about the every visit blood work routine.  On this day, I didn't even freak out.... well very much.... about the needle and blood work.  Finished up there and off to examining room.  The onco nurse comes in and does the nurse things.  She always makes me feel better and I relax a little bit.  Then the knock on the door and in comes the doc.  Here we go.  The big moment has finally arrived.

He starts the conversation with my pathology report from the mastectomy.  He mimics my surgeon stating I had absolutely made the right decision with the double boobie chopping.  Again stating the naughty boob was full of cancer and the good girl was also showing pre-cancer.  I tease him with the "slam dunk" comment from our very first visit (see slam dunk post).  Then he gets that serious chat look on his face....  I've seen this one before....  didn't like the last one and I knew what was coming.  Said something about chemo and I think I might have had a mini stroke or passed out....  the next thing I remember is my fiancé saying something about my oncotype score and how low it was.  Doc gets this weird look on his face and says, "What Oncotype".  Are you fucking kidding me right now?  He says he didn't get an oncotype test for me.  He was getting ready to discuss chemo options with me due to the large size of my tumor.  Now people, don't you think these damn doctors would f'n communicate???  Apparently that is an incorrect statement.  I almost got shot full of some poison shit for no reason because people do not know how to communicate! 👆that.

What is an Oncotype score?

Oncotype DX test results assign a Recurrence Score — a number between 0 and 100 — to the early-stage breast cancer or DCIS. You and your doctor can use the following ranges to interpret your results for early-stage invasive cancer: Recurrence Score lower than 18: The cancer has a low risk of recurrence.

A little back story on my oncotype....  First of all, it was not originally ordered.  I had seen several other ladies on my cancer support pages mention oncotype.  So I asked my surgeon what it was and what my score was.  She explained to me what it was and said they had not received the score back yet from my lumpectomy.  My honest opinion.  I do not think it was ordered until I started asking about it.  From the time I first mentioned it, to the date I actually got the results, was almost a month.  I don't think it takes that long....  Maybe it does.  Maybe I'm just paranoid.  But whatever the case may be, I finally got my onco score the night after my double mastectomy.  She brought it to me personally while I was still in the hospital.  It was a 10.  I almost cried with joy.  I knew this could possibly be my ticket out of chemo.  Thank God I am a psycho researcher and found out about this test and asked about it!!  Lesson learned ladies and gents, do not wait for these doctors to do the right thing.  Do your homework.  It may just save you from undo suffering in the long run!!  

Back to the visit.  Doc asks the nurse to request the test scores from my surgeon's office.  Then doc says, "well if that's the case and it is a 10, that's a game changer and chemo will be off the table".  OMG No Chemo!!!!  Thank you Jesus NO CHEMO!!  I'm so happy, I'm not even pissed any more that this was somehow not communicated to my oncologist.  Now that chemo was off the table, the doc had to recalibrate the discussion regarding the next steps in my treatment.  I will, of course, still be getting a full hysterectomy within the next few months, and I will begin taking a pill called Tamoxifen.  Of course there will be follow ups with all docs forever, or it will probably feel like forever at least.  Out the door I went doing the NO CHEMO happy dance of joy.  I felt alive and happy for the first time in over 2 months!  

A day or two later, however, I started to wonder about medical practices.  For instance, if both my surgeon and oncologist had failed to order the oncotype test, I would be headed to chemo instead of the salon.  And by all logical thinking, wouldn't you think it should have been my oncologist who ordered it, or at least questioned if it had been ordered with all of my other pathology reports. But it seems like it only happened after I questioned my surgeon and was not even thought of by my oncologist.  Which now makes me question things.  Should I get chemo.  Will it come back.  If it comes back will it be because I didn't do chemo.  Should I get a second opinion.  Did my guy actually do his job and what was best for me.  I guess, as with everything along this journey thus far, you have to have faith in your medical team and only God knows if it's good enough.  I just pray it is the right thing to do and the fucking nasty "C" word never rears it's ugly head again in my body!!   Of course, however, with my BRCA2 gene, this will ALWAYS haunt me, regardless of my current outcome.  😡😡

For now, I will start the new pill on Monday.  I haven't researched it yet or checked the side effects.  Trying to decide if I am going to.  I know I have to take it, in lieu of chemo, and I am very happy to do so!  I'm now trying to decide if I need to give my brain a phantom side effect by reading this info before I start taking it.....  But research saved my ass from chemo so......  I may, however, just wait a month into taking the drug and then research.  This way my body can process the drug itself without my mind telling my body what bad things it should be feeling.  

This weekend I'm giving myself a vacation away from anything related to cancer, chemo, stress, and sadness.  My "vacation" began today with a hair cut and color.  I have been waiting, since the awful "C" phone call, to do anything with my hair, as I figured why pay money to make it pretty when it's just gonna fall out!  Today I went and made it pretty again!  Well, as pretty as a red head with naturally curly frizzy hair can be!  HA!  The whole time I was in the chair I was feeling so thankful to be able to be there.   When I was finished I did the NO CHEMO happy dance all the way out of the shop! 

I know this journey is far from over, but today I am a whole lot closer than I was a month ago when I was laying in my hospital bed, just hours out of the biggest, most awful, surgery of my life, wondering if I would ever feel human again.  

Musings of an Insomniac Waiting for Tomorrow .... Again...

As I lay in bed this evening, impatiently waiting for tomorrow's appointment, I am thinking about all of the things I have learned thus far in my "C" journey.

First it is absolutely insane to me that it has only been a little over 2 months since that terrible phone call.  It feels like a year has passed.  In 2.5 months I have had a mammogram, needle biopsy, lumpectomy, sentinel node disection, genetic testing, which turned out positive, making me the first known mutant in my family, iron infusions, 1 million doctor appointments with 1 million doctors (I'm known to exaggerate sometimes haha), and a bilateral mastectomy.  Lots of twists and turns.  Some bad news, some good news.  Luckily two of the biggest items of concern were in the good news column, which will hopefully earn me a trip right past the chemo room door!

As I type the list of fun adventures above, for the first time I actually realize ..... no wonder I'm so f'n tired and exhausted.  I  feel like I've been floating in a bubble, barely comprehending one thing and then all of a sudden I have to jump to the next.  Some would say, "you've been laying on your ass for almost two months, how can you be tired."  Valid question to an outsider.  But here it is.....  My "excuse"....  I believe I am literally so mentally exhausted that I have not even been able to process all of this in my head yet, not to mention the physical aspect of my worn out body as well.  I was laying on the couch today and it hit me a little bit....  Your boobs are gone.... you have cancer.  But I immediately ran my brain off of that railroad track.  I seriously feel like I am floating through this in a dream.  I wonder if other people feel like this when going through something similar?  Probably....    But alas,  I guess I will "wake up" when my mind is ready to process all of this.  Not yet.  I'm still too "exhausted".

I have also learned I will probably mourn each and every thing that once had to do with my boobies that will no longer be a part of my new life, even the hated things.  I opened my bra drawer this weekend and started sorting through them.  I guess this was a good first step towards acceptance and "waking up".  My first thought .....  Good Lord there is like $9,000 worth of bras in this drawer.  As I gained weight, my boobies gained cups throughout the years.  I had B's, C's, and D's.  What a waste!  I'm not going to lie, even though I have loathed these horrible contraptions pretty much my whole life, it made me kind of sad.  I'm now in the minority of women who no longer get to complain about the dreaded bra.  This conversation is one that always bonds us women.  It's one more thing that removes me from the "girl" group; one more thing the ugly "C" word has taken from me! But hey ladies be very, very jealous....  Now I can go braless or I can be a size B one day and then lookie there, the next day I'm strutting in with a DDD!  How awesome is that LOL! People will ask "did you get a boob job".  Hell yeah I did.  I cut 'em off just so I can be whatever size I want, any day I want.  The shock factor on their faces that I'm imagining right now makes me laugh.  I'm sure I will be taking the no bra option 99.9% of the time....  #silverlining

I have also learned there are many, many types of breast cancer.  Each person literally has a different scenario.  It's almost impossible to find someone with your exact diagnosis.  No wonder it's so hard to find a cure.  No two BC's are alike.  I also learned I'm one of the "lucky" (I use this term lightly) ones as mine is not as aggressive as others.  I am blessed in this area.

Another fun fact I realized just recently..... my once favorite color now pisses me off....  When I see it I cringe, want to scream............  Geez thanks cancer, you even ruined my favorite color!

Tomorrow I'm sure will be the beginning of new items I will be able to add to this lovely list.  I'm just praying that the chemo chapter in the "C" book gets ripped out and thrown away!!!

Don't Let the Media Fool You, People Are Still Good.

WARNING -- May possibly piss off some people.  If you believe in the right to own an assault rifle, you should probably skip this one.....  It'll probably make you angry.

I am not normally a political person.  I do not get involved in political arguments and usually keep my opinions to myself regarding these subjects.  I guess I've been at home too long, watched a little too much TV and probably a little bored -- haha.  But here I am writing about something so turbulent that it has torn families apart.  I am, by no means, any type of an expert and this is just my humble opinion.  I'm not looking for a debate, just venting, so if you're wanting to comment, I will not answer.  Again, this is just me venting and expressing my opinion.  

As I sit here tonight, still somewhat in shock over the latest acts of violence and evil that has occurred once again to our children.  The sadness this latest tragedy has caused seems to be still lingering amongst most Americans.  I have read many articles, posts, etc. (again too much time on my hands) and it seems people are losing their faith in humanity and in the goodness of people.  I blame a lot of this on the media.  They continue to drill the horrible news into our brains, and even seem to feed on and get excited about any new tragedy.  I realize the news has to be reported.  But to keep dwelling on the acts of these evil horrible people day in and day out, weeks and months after the tragedy has happened, in my opinion, only makes future crazy nut jobs think it's cool and glorified and they can be famous.  Most of these crazy people are lonely, bullied, outcasts, who are only craving any attention they can find and will do ANYTHING to get it.

I know, in general, human beings are good, kind, generous, compassionate people, no matter their race, religion, sexual orientation, etc. The media needs to quit glorifying the nut jobs by giving them more publicity and fame.  I realize, again, there is the need to report the story.  But report the story and move on.  Do not spend days in the media outlets trying to analyze these crazy nut job's mental illnesses, talking about them, and repeating their names over and over and over.  I also realize the victims deserve to be mourned.  But if my child was involved in one of these horrific acts, I would not want to see this story over and over and over, being reminded of the most terrible thing that has happened.  Media needs to seek out the good again and report it.  They are responsible, in part, for people's reactions to humanity.  And they are failing us right now.

After the media, we need to get the guns!  No, my right wing gun freaks, not all guns.  There is absolutely no good reason at all for any normal human being to need one of these assault rifles.  My dad hunted for years.  And landed some of the biggest deer out there.  He was even featured in magazines.  Guess what, those giant bucks were shot with a bow and arrow.  Yes folks, not an assault rifle, but a little bitty bow and arrow.  Hunting, target practice, skeet shooting, blah blah blah, all can also be accomplished with a rifle, shotgun or a pistol.  Yes, I know all of you who bull all up and say, "that's my right, you can't take it away".  But folks, do our children not have a right too?  A right to feel safe and not worry if today is the day some attention seeking nut job is going to kill them?  No one wants to take away your right to own a gun, but simply wanting to take away the ability to kill mass amounts of human beings within minutes.  Again, that is what these guns are made for, killing masses in a short amount of time.  Ask any trained military person.  Normal citizens DO NOT need these guns for any good reason.  I know, I know, they make you look big, bad and cool.  But is looking cool and manly really worth another life?  I sure as hell don't think so!

I am so proud of the kids around the country finally taking a stand and making their voices heard.  I have a feeling March 24th will be an epic day in history!  Maybe this will be the moment our politicians pull their heads out of their asses!

Sorry about the political post in the middle of my breast cancer musings LOL....  Just another insomniac night trying not to focus on my upcoming oncologist appointment Wednesday to find out my fate and next adventure in CancerLand.

Is it Wednesday Yet???

Nope, it's only Saturday.  3 1/2 LONG days are ahead in my future.... to determine my future, ironically enough.  Well at least my immediate future.  Wednesday I will head to my oncologist (still freaks me out that I have one of these BTW).  I will find out my next steps in this journey.  Will I have to have chemo.  Radiation.  Take pills for years.  PET scan.  CAT scan.  Who knows....  ha, my oncologist does!  Soon I will too.  But at the same time, I'm not sure I want to know.  It may suck.  Lord knows everything I've had done along this journey thus far has pretty much sucked!  I think it's time to have an appointment that doesn't require me to head straight to the bar for a giant shot of whiskey afterwards LOL!

My surgeon thinks with my low tumor markers and the non-involvement of the nodes, I will not need to put the toxic horrible chemicals in my body (aka Chemo).  But she also says she's not an oncologist and cannot predict what my chosen path may be.  So here I am again, playing the lovely waiting game.  Nervous as hell.  Praying like crazy.  NO CHEMO, PLEASE!!!  I've chopped off my boobies, and I will be cutting out everything womanly down below within the next couple of months as well, so please Lord just let me not have to do this one thing that will indeed suck big giant weenies!

As far as as my boobies, or lack thereof I guess I should say.  I am now 3 weeks out of my bilateral mastectomy.  My incisions seem to be healing nicely and I am getting a little stronger every day. Not gonna lie, still hurts like hell most days, but not all day every day like the prior weeks.  Good sign, right??

Today I went to support my work Emerging Professionals group and The Boys and Girls Club at the annual chili cookoff.  Last year I headed up the event and this year I'm on the sidelines, only being able to be there for about 3 hours.  Three hours, seriously.  Last year I was there for like 8.  It's still amazing to me how sore and tired I get after doing the most minor activity.  Today was seriously just walking around and eating chili, and I came home and collapsed.  Craziness.  I want to do more,  I want to hang longer, but my body just will not let me yet.  

It seems like our beautiful 13 year old golden retriever, Buddy, and I have the same heart, but alas our bodies are failing us.  Poor guy spent 3 days in the vet hospital this week, because his old legs would not allow him to get up on his own.  After 3 days of pumping meds into him, we brought him home, thinking we would just make him happy for the weekend and then have to make the most unthinkable decision ever on Monday.  But in true Buddy fashion, our guy is pushing himself up, almost running to his food, and he even has brought his toy to us wanting to play.  Thank goodness we are not going to have to make that decision right now it looks like.  Which is more than amazing for me, as I just don't think I could take that right now.  After having to put our baby cat, Lizzie, to sleep in November, right before all this C word mess started.  Losing another fur baby would devastate me.  I need the dude around for my emotional support through this shit.  He's my buddy!

So I guess in the meantime until Wednesday, I'll get back to getting stronger and getting my brain prepared for whatever is to come next.  And the waiting game continues.....  tick tock tick tock.....

When A Shower is the Most Exciting Weekend Activity You Have....

Showering, washing hair, the every day morning beautification process.  Hated it.  Despised it.  All of this morning hoopla took away from my precious sleep time!  I'm a sleeper.  I hate mornings.  I hit the snooze about 6 times.  Now days I would love to be able to get up without pain and jump into the shower and head off to work.  Sleep is all I do now.  No fun! #thingswetakeforgranted

Pre-BC, you would find me out and about having fun pretty much every single weekend, and probably most evenings if I'm being honest.  I don't let much grass grow under my feet.  Never have.  I'm a go go go person.  Weekends were reserved for concerts, parties, road trips, wineries, and hanging out with friends.  Anything fun and exciting.

What a massive change in my weekend routine post-BC.  Weekends, and week days, for that matter, are for resting and concentrating on healing.  The weekend immediately following my mastectomy was spent lounging in my reclining lift chair, popping pain pills, rotating between sleep and reruns of Law and Order SVU.  And I was more than happy and content with this. Moving from the chair to the pot to pee was a major event!  Exciting stuff folks!

Fast forward to this past weekend, two weeks post mastectomy now.  I think I was in some kind of denial, because I figured by now I'd be up and moving and back to the normal "fun" me.  Ha!  That was the furthest thing from my mind still.  In fact, the most exciting thing that happened was something so small and minor it makes me laugh!  But to me it was one of the most amazing, big steps I had taken post BC.....

I took a shower!  A full on, in the stall, curtains closed, sprayer on, shower!

My fiancé still had to crawl into the shower with me to wash my hair, as I still was not able to lift my arms that high.  We had a great laugh, reminiscing about the last time we took a shower together it was much more exciting than this.  In Mexico after day drinking on a bar hop.  You get the picture *wink wink*.  LOL  This weekend's shower was seriously the BEST shower I had ever had in my life, Mexico a close second, sorry darlin' LOL!  

During this journey thus far I have learned so much about the things we take for granted in every day life.  Somewhere along our path toward adulthood and beyond we forget how to be grateful and gracious for all that we have.  I am definitely guilty of this.  When faced with something that makes you re-evaluate your life, you gain new perspective and learn to appreciate everything you are blessed with instead of complaining about everything.

It is crazy to think that something as insignificant as a warm shower, something that pre-BC, I did every day, without giving any thought that this is a luxury to some people.  And for me, I usually complained about it.  Had to get up earlier to do it, it made me late for work, or I was just plain being lazy.  Now, on this very exciting weekend, I was grateful and excited about doing it!

Perspective.  For me, normal every day routine events will now be placed into a more relevant category going forward.  I will be appreciating even the most minor "luxuries" afforded to me, as I now realize everything we have in this life is a gift.  Even the smallest most unexciting thing.  

I DID IT!

Yesterday --- Big Day!

Woke up yesterday worked up and nervous as it was time for my second follow up appointment since surgery.  Time for the next drain to get pulled, hopefully.  After last week's drain yanking experience I  was less than thrilled thinking about it happening again today, but at the same time, I was so ready to get rid of it.  After having the first one removed, I had come to realize what a giant pain in my ass (not literally, thank goodness...  hehehe) the drains really were!  Each drain was attached with plastic tubing to the area right on each breast bone and hung down about 2 feet each.   At the bottom of the long tubing is a bulb like container which collected fluid, and the occasional piece of flesh from inside my chest.... Yep, if you've read the rest of my blog, you probably know this makes me gag every single time I see it! I've come to realize I really am such a weenie!  Sleeping with this lovely contraption is also a giant pain in the ass.  Each bulb has to be emptied a few times a day into a cup, measured, and recorded.  The goal is less than 30 ml per day for more than 2 days.  My wonderful murse drew the short straw in the drain emptying game and took care of this like the trooper that he is! Lord knows I couldn't do it without throwing up.

So up and at 'em.  Sponge bath time first. This folks, I will NOT miss at all! Once I can full on shower, it's going to be amazing.  Again, things we take for granted!  With the game plan that had already been put into place after drain removal one last week, time to pop the Xanax and pain pills as we are heading out the door.

Check in and head back to the room.  Doc comes in and we chat a little bit.  Then time for the drain fun.  Lay down on the table and take the deep breath and blow out....  oh... oh... yay.  It barely hurt, hardly at all.  Yay me!  Kristy loves drugs!  hahaha!

I then sit back up and my bandages are off.  As you remember from the prior posts, I still had not been able to look underneath the bandages.  But as I sat there, fully exposed, I decided it was time.  I told my doc I wanted to look before she bandaged me back up.  So here we go, slowly I tilt my head down and squint my eyes and look.  Okay, so through squinted eyes it didn't mortify me.  So okay this time full on wide eyes open, let's do this.  Get it over with.  Slowly again, tilt my head down and look.  Well, yep, the girls are gone.  Instead there are two almost identical approximately 6 inch cuts where the girls used to be.  It's not terrible.  It didn't look like the God awful nightmare I thought it might.  It is definitely going to take A LOT of getting used to, but at least it didn't make me vomit or cry, so that's a start right??  

Bandages back on... tight... again.  Still feel like my whole chest might rip open if I breathe too heavy or sit up too straight.  This is normal.  Will take time.  Doc says no moving arms for 1 more week and then I can begin to start with some normal activity and exercises to get my arms working again.  Yay!  AND I can take off the massive compression and can put on a sports bra in a week also!  So excited for this!  One week, I can do this.  Something to look forward to!

Took Me Long Enough....

It is said that when confronted with a breast cancer diagnosis, or any cancer for that matter, people will go through many stages.  I'm pretty sure I've been living in the shock and disbelief stage since my diagnosis 2 months ago, on that dreadful Friday afternoon, via phone call from the radiologist who had read my pathology report from my biopsy the day before.  I don't think I had moved on to the other stages.... until today.  I'm not sure why it has taken me this long.  I'm going to blame it on the whirlwind of doctors appointments, surgeries, and tests that have consumed my every waking moment of the last 2 months.  Everything happened so quickly that I do not believe I had the time to absorb what exactly has been going on.  (See last 13 posts) haha

Other stages can be denial and anger.  I think these two collided head on today for me.  I was sitting on the couch lost in some type of trance and it hit me like a ton of bricks.  I have cancer.  And if that isn't devastating enough, I have a cancer gene mutation.  What, no way, not me.  It can't be.  Nope not gonna think about it.  It'll just go away if I don't think about it and accept it.  Massive denial.  Then another major realization of my denial....  I have not even peeked at my chest.  Not even one little itty bitty glance under the bandages.  It's been 11 days and I still am unable to bring myself to do this. I am absolutely terrified to look.   In the depths of my mind this must be my denial kicking in.  If I don't see it, it's not real.  I did not happen.

But as quickly as these thoughts enter my mind, I am rocketed back to reality with sharp pains of the nerves firing off in my chest where my healthy full body used to reside.  Now replaced, I assume, with giant gashes which I'm sure resemble someone who has been in a machete fight and lost a horrible battle.  I know I have to look.  Because looking will be the first step in acceptance and the next phase of healing, not only my body, but more so my mind.  But right now, just not ready.  I wish I was stronger.  But alas I am not.

Then the anger hits me.  Out of the blue.  Nothing really triggered it.  It just must be time to move on and out of the phases I had been stuck in for way too long.  I am not an angry person.  Nor will I let the anger I am feeling tonight get the best of me.  But I do feel like you must go through this phase as well in order to heal.  So I am just going to unleash, put it out there.  Some things I'm angry about make sense.  Some do not.  None of them can be controlled, but nonetheless I deserve to be angry for at least a little bit.  So here it is, raw, emotional, and from my head and heart in no particular order.

I am mad because:

This horrible disease picked me to fuck up my life.

I am the very lucky recipient of a very rare cancer gene mutation in addition to the BC.

That because of this mutation I will never ever feel safe from the C word ever again; I will always wonder when the next event is going to hit me.  Is that pain cancer, is that bump cancer.  Worry, worry, worry.  FOREVER.

I cannot even bathe myself.  I have the best man in the entire world.  Because this wonderful guy gives me my "sponge" baths.  How humiliating it is for this every independent woman.  Someone has to bathe me because I cannot even lift my own arms.

I cannot wash my own hair.  Thank goodness for my hair dresser.

I can barely wipe my own ass.  Key word - barely... my fiancé escaped this one...  haha

I cannot sleep at all most nights.  The recliner has become uncomfortable.  The bed sucks.  The couch sucks.... everything sucks.

I am in some sort of constant pain all of the FN time.

I cannot hardly shit (literally, damn anesthesia and pain pills).

I cannot play with my dogs,  throw their toys, and cuddle... they are both so confused.  They seem sad and angry too.

I no longer have boobs.  And they were some great ones, or so I've been told.

I can no longer wear most of my tops due to no boobs; did you know, women's tops are designed and made for women and their boobs.  Without them these designs no longer work and most women who have lost theirs now buy from the men's section.  Like hell I'm going to be shopping at the men's department.  NOT!  We need a boobless top designer and store!

That it is so cold and nasty out that I cannot even walk outside, or sit outside and soak up the sun.  Walking out the door in the freezing air just makes me hurt worse!  I hate winter.

Food tastes like ass... I only eat because I have to.  I think in the back of my crazy mind it's because in every article regarding cancer somewhere they blame some type of food...  If you combine all of the articles, we would all die from starvation because depending on the different opinions EVERYTHING we eat and drink will cause cancer.

I am going to go broke paying the damn doctor bills; yes I am paying someone thousands of dollars to chop my tits off.  How awesome is that.

Well there it is...  off the top of my head why I'm angry.   Wow that felt pretty good.  I know it is going to take lots of time to get used to the new me and to quit being angry about this terrible thing that happened.  I've got to figure out how to move on and that is what I'm going to start focusing on soon.  I'm just not quite ready to let go of the anger yet.  Maybe when I get the balls to look underneath my bandages I will be able to move on to the next phase.  Acceptance.

Follow Up Time... Thank God for Women's Intuitions and Good Decisions!

Tuesday and Wednesday after surgery, not much happening.  Living, literally, in my wonderful fluffy lift chair.  Popping the happy pills every 4 hours, can't let the pain catch me.  I am amazingly blessed by a wonderful fiancé, aka my murse, and my mom.  Between the two of them I am able to recover without lifting a finger.  I cannot begin to explain how lucky and blessed I am to have an army of people surrounding me, praying for me, visiting me, bringing me all kinds of GREAT food.  The love I have felt since this horrible thing reared it's ugly head is amazing!  I read other people's posts on some of my cancer support pages that have absolutely no one to help them.  Not even a friend to drive them to appointments.  I cannot even imagine going through this journey alone and without a single person for support.  These women are total rock stars and my heroes for fighting this thing with all their strength and doing it alone.  I am in this battle with an entire army.  For this I am so very lucky! I do not believe I could be so strong as the ones doing this alone or with small children.  Again, total rock stars!

Thursday morning... time for my first post op appointment with my surgeon.  Maybe I'll get the drains out!  Yay! Into the office we go. Check in.  Oh woo hoo, no $20 today.  So far this appointment is going good haha!  Head into the room to see the doc.  She comes in and says my pathology report is already back.  Wow I hadn't expected this already.  I'm still so confused how some pathology is back so fast and others take forever, and it seems like the forever ones are the ones that you are usually freaking out about the most.  I just don't get it.

Pathology report basically is this:  First and foremost all clear margins!!  Yay!  Thankful!!  Next bit of news leaves my fiancé and I both pretty dumbfounded and grateful, the "naughty" boob was actually full of cancer, the lobular kind, which is the sneaky little bastard that likes to hide from imagery and scans, and it even had made it's way into the nipple.  If you didn't remember, my original mammogram and diagnosis was a 4mm tumor.  We are now up and over a 3cm tumor, none of which had been detected on the mammogram!  I had the choice, after my first lumpectomy with no clear margins, to have a 2nd lumpectomy to try to get clear margins or to go ahead and do the mastectomy.  Had I chose the 2nd lumpectomy, I would have ended up having to have the mastectomy after all because they would not have been able to clear margins without removing the whole boob.  AND there was also the beginnings of pre-cancer in the "good" boob, which I just chose to remove due to my BRCA2 status and the chance of recurrence with the BRCA2.  My surgeon's exact words "you made a very good decision".  Making me once again confident that everyone should always listen to your intuitions and make the decisions for yourself, even if they are hard and sometimes you just don't want to do it.  It is your body and you know it better than anyone. Also, I had failed to mention in my prior post, but the other pathology report I had been waiting on and was going crazy over had came back while I was in the hospital the day after my mastectomy.  (Might have been a little fuzzy then haha) My surgeon took time out of her evening, on a weekend, to bring the test to me personally.  She was excited to finally bring me some good news.  This is why I love her and have put my full confidence and faith in her, as she truly cares about her patients.  My oncotype, which is a pathology report that shows how aggressive the tumor is and how likely it would be that this particular cancer would come back.  It scores 0-100, with 0 being the best and 100 the worst.  Mine was a 10!!! I almost cried I was so happy to finally have a second bit of good news on this journey.

After the pathology chat, she decides the left drain is ready to come out, but the right isn't yet.  She has me lay down on the table after she removes my bandages, and says, this will sting a little but that's it.  Has me take a deep breath and blow out.  As I'm blowing out she is pulling out the drain, for what seemed to be going on forever.  How long is this thing.  Now let me tell you what people, I'm not going to even sugar coat it, it hurt like HELL. A little sting my ass...  Don is there with me, of course, as he is for every single one of my appointments, because he is a saint!  He is amazed and tells me after we leave the office that there was like 10-12 inches of this tubing shit up inside my chest.  I had NO clue!  Again did I mention it hurt like hell.  Just making sure.  Put some gauze over what I am only assuming is a giant massive hole in my chest (remember crazy chick with the most amazing imagination LOL) and re-bandaged me up again.  Said she would see me next Wednesday to get the other one out.  Well everyone who knows me well knows this is now the beginning of panic week for me, thinking about having the other 85 foot cord ripped out of me next week.  Game plan now being put in place for next week's appointment....  2 Xanax and 2 Percocet.  My Murse might be utilizing the wheel chairs at the front door for this appointment 'cause this chick ain't going in for that torture "sober" again!

You don't have to go home..... But you can't stay here

As with any vacation, check out day always sucks.  Back home and back to reality.  A lot of time on my last day of my vacations I get physically sick.  I never want to go back home.  Most of my vacations are on a beach with lots of sand, sun, sea, oh yeah and shells (my weird obsession).  I truly believe this is where I belong, but I somehow got placed in my current life in the middle of Missouri, as far away from the sand and the sea as I could possibly be.  But there must be a reason.  This is my journey fate has chosen.  So, for now, I will just visit my "real" home as much as possible until fate takes me there permanently.  Just a few short months ago, before the C word invaded my happy life, this would be at retirement.  We even already had our condo picked out.  Now I must face reality that life is short and just when you think you have it figured out, another bump in the road turns you down a path that was not in the original well thought out plan.   

Now I realize check out day this time is FAR from a normal vacation, but in some ways it is comparable.  I'm thinking going home is going to suck.  Back home and back to reality.  I was feeling physically sick thinking about this.  Three days before, I entered this place and proceeded to have parts of my body cut off.  Parts that are a huge identifier of being a female and identifying my womanhood.  They are now gone.  In their place, I am feeling a massive amount of pain, nausea, anger, and emptiness.  For the past three days I have had drugs pumped into me 24/7 and have not had to deal with or think about this.  I could just lay here in this room and be blinded as to what I was going to have to face once I walk out of here.  But now it's time to head back into the real world and deal with what has happened to me.  

Signing papers, gathering my stuff, and into the wheel chair for my ride out.  Once home and car is unloaded, I look around.  Everything is the same but oh so very different.  I am different.  I do not know the extent of this yet, but I know that I am. 

There is, however, a great sense of love and support here, from the flowers, candies, warm fuzzy socks and blankets, cards of love and encouragement, PJ's, and "keep you busy" books.  All from loving caring friends and family.  The greatest gift I have received thus far however, was this beautiful wonderful reclining lift chair set up in my bedroom, delivered from an organization called the "Healing Chair".  They loan these chairs to mastectomy patients after cancer surgery for recovery until you do not need the chair any more.  They then come and pick up the chair and on to the next person.  There is a journal that travels with the chair for each person to share their journey who has used the chair.  This is the most amazing generous helpful thing I have received thus far in my journey.  Without it, I doubt I would have slept even the few hours a night that I do sleep.  

So here I am.  Home.  Time to heal.  Time to deal.  Time to figure out who I am now.  Let the journey begin.  

Surgery Day Part Deux....... Bye Felica!

Surgery Day - January 26th - here we go...  Up at and at em at the butt crack of dawn.  Have to be at the hospital by 5:30 a.m.  Normally this would be tragic for me, but today not a big deal, as I haven't slept a wink anyways.  Arrive at the hospital and check in at the desk.  Get called back to get this "party" started.  Change into my beautiful party gown and the nurse lady gets to poking.  Yay more needles, yes...  finally a chick that knows how to stick someone, got the IV in on the first try!  Yay me! People coming in and out telling me all of the things that will be happening today.... all I hear is blah blah blah.  Nerves are through the roof at this point as I know what is coming soon.  Yep, I decided to suck it up and get the nerve blockers which are the needles (plural, as in 4)  in the back, so the thought of this is consuming my every brain cell right now.  Again yes, crazy chick I am.  You're chopping my boobs off and all I'm worried about is having needles shoved in my back.  Just want it all over with.  The anesthesiologist assures me, I will not feel a thing and he will be giving me some happy juice in my IV to relax me before they stick the needles in my back.  Yeah right, I don't think they understand my level of terror at this point.  But here comes Doctor Happy Juice and puts something in my IV.  2.2 seconds later guess what... the dude is right.  Hell they could have ran a bulldozer over me and I wouldn't have cared less.  So here I am sitting up, a guy standing behind me shoving 4 needles into my back.  I know it's happening, I feel it happening, but I don't care.  Wow I need some of this shit to take home with me!  LOL  That's pretty much where my memory ends.  I've been told I asked to go to Dogmaster for a quick drink before I go in for the big event.  Who me, wanting to go to Dogmaster?  I don't think so.  haha! Hey Van, I think you owe me some commissions for the plug in the pre-op room LMAO!  😜  Goodnight.... see ya on the flip side!

Surgery was a little shorter than originally thought, 2.5 hours versus the 3 to 4 the doc had originally planned for.  The next thing I remember I am being wheeled down a long hall on a bed into what I am assuming will be my home for the next few days.  I think I even got in a few woo hoo's during the ride.  The DMD girls would have been proud haha!  Get settled into my room and my mom, dad, fiancé and bestest friend in the world are there waiting for me.  Needless to say I'm feeling no pain.  Drugs are GOOD!  Someone says surgery a success... they got it all...  The next few hours I'm pretty sure I sat up and talked to my visitors and seemed to be coherent, but apparently I was not, as now as I am writing, I cannot remember that day at all.  Like nothing, nada.  Again, GOOD drugs!  lol  Good night... hopefully tomorrow will be just as lovely.

But.... Oh yeah, forgot the hospital part where the evil nurses like to wake you up just as you are falling asleep each time to take the vitals....  geez lady, I'm breathing and you didn't check on me all day, I think it can wait till morning.  Wrong answer.  Wakie Wakie.... 2:00, 4:00, 6:00  all AM.  Luckily the good drugs were still flowing on day 2 and my naps were abundant.  Still pretty incoherent and out of it.  And as much as I didn't want the nerve block, it was still going strong and I was so very thankful for this as I still feel nothing in my chest area.  Today we added a new fun thing.  The itching began.  From my scalp to my little toe.  I wanted to rip the skin off of my body.  Reaction to the anesthesia we have figured out.  I began remembering the same effect a day after my lumpectomy.  So now we are going to introduce Benadryl to our IV cocktail of fun.  I was loopy as a blonde chick on her 21st birthday at 2 a.m.  LOL  Benadryl in the IV is a whole new kind of fun... way better than Benadryl in the pill form.  Yeee Haw!  Added to the Percocet and Dilaudin, I was quickly becoming a fan of the old dreaded IV,  it was becoming an amazing source happiness for me.  Another  day of drug induced fun was ending...  Off to sleep again... well until the nighttime nurse parade begins again, of course.

Somewhere around day break, Sunday morning, I am feeling a new kind of pain.  One I hadn't felt yet.  Then the reality hit me, my wonderful nerve blocker is wearing off.  NO!!  Come back happy juice doctor, it's okay, just shoot me in the back again, just make it stop.  No such luck.  Pushed my little nurse buzzer and had to get the drugs flowing asap.  Anything to make this new pain stop.  Luckily we can alternate the pain meds every 2 to 3 hours.  I had thought I would be going home today, but this was a new game changer and decided one more night in the hibernation room would be good for me to try to learn how to get this new pain under control.  Today was lots of pain followed by lots of button pushes to the nurses for more drugs.  I got up and walked today though, big day Kristy! Even shuffled down to the cafeteria.  Yay me!  The whole time praying I didn't get the horrible flu bug which had plagued the hospital over the weekend to the tune of 40 checked in during one day, which gave my floor a shortage of nurses.  At one time, during my stay there were 2 nurses taking care of 22 post surgery patients on our floor.  If people do not already know this, these folks are amazing.  They chose this career and work their asses off.  Most of them pulling several 12 hour shifts per week.  Some staying awake from 7 pm to 7 am.  Insanity!  Some more compassionate than others.  Of course I had my favorites.  The ones with the most drugs LOL LOL..... Rock stars I tell ya! Finally off to sleep again, knowing I would be heading home tomorrow to deal with all of this myself.  Terror sets in once again.  Not sure I can do this without my safe hibernation place and my endless flow of the good stuff,  but whether I like it or not, tomorrow we will be finding out.

Lets Play the Why Me and What If Game

Everyone has played the Why Me, What If game, probably many times in their lives.  Lord know I have.  Boy does the nasty C word put all of those in the past into perspective huh....

I'm now 24 hours away from the biggest "bump" of my life thus far.  Sleep eludes me now.  I'm exhausted but there's no sleep to be found.  Instead I play the game, over and over and over....

First there's the Why Me's....  Why did I get this.  Why Me.  What did I do to deserve this.  For the last month and a half these words been screaming in my head over and over and now it is so loud there's not much of anything left in my head but this.

Secondly, of course you have to answer the above questions with your crazy overthought brain right.  So on to the What Ifs....

What if I'd ate healthier, more veggies, less sweets, cut the booze, what if.  But then I read other ladie's posts on my cancer support pages.  Some of these ladies ate low fat, low carb, organic, no taste, no smell food and they still are on that page along with me playing Why Me.

What if I'd exercised more, stayed in the gym last year instead of being a big ole fat quitter.  Again same ladies from above, in the gym 5 days a week, workout nazzi's, if you will, and yep there they are right on that same page playing the game.

What if I'd gone to church more (again big ole lazy quitter).  As a child and teenager there was not a Sunday or Wednesday that I wasn't there.  How did I get so far removed.  Probably something for a therapy session or another post.  But yep... you guessed it, on that page there are Godly faithful women.

What if I'd been nicer to people.  Lord knows I try, but sometimes I'm just a catty mean girl.  I really think we all are.  I mean we are females.  We're all cut from the same mold.  When we are with our friends we are catty.  You can deny it, but you know it's true.  But... what if...  did being catty make me get cancer?  See this is how an insane person's brain works...  haha!

What if I'd not gained so much weight, gotten "obese".  Yes, obese...  this is the term that is on my medical chart for my weight.  Now granted folks I'm not skinny, I am a tad big overweight, and yes the budda belly needs to go, but I am 5'6" and wear a 12 size pants, if this is obese, what is the term for the folks heavier than me.

Anyways, I digress....  Yes, what if, why me.  Well only the good Lord above knows this answer obviously, as there are women of every faith, religion, color, nationality, country, vegan, non-vegan, workout nazzi, lazy asses all dealing with this terrible thing and each and every one of them, I have no doubt at all, have played the Why Me, What If game.  And everyone has different answers.

Maybe mine was to make me pull my head out of my ass and get my shit together, to realize what is important and love my life.  I was spiraling out of control pretty good before the nasty C word phone call.  Maybe it's meant to walk me down a path I have not yet seen.  Maybe it will introduce me to some new wonderful people that are needing a Kristy Lee in their life  LOL.  Everyone needs a Kristy Lee, right haha!

Whatever the reason may be, in 24 hours I'm going to put on my big girl panties, roll my "obese" ass to the hospital and let the new "normal" begin, and pray to the good Lord that this C word leaves my body 100%.  Whatever the new normal may be, I do not know yet, but I do know for sure that my life will be forever changed when I return home Sunday.

IF IT'S ON THE CALENDAR IT'S HAPPENING.....

Back to the surgeon yesterday to discuss how we are going to proceed.  Check in.... $20 bucks.....
I finally, for the first time, actually said the words, "let's do the double mastectomy, and I don't want reconstruction".  I felt like the words were coming from somewhere else and not out of my mouth, but here I was and this is what I was saying.  One month ago I would have never guessed this is where I would be, but alas it is.

We chatted some more, and I asked lots of questions.  Asked her where the cuts would be and how it would be done....  Boy I sure wish I hadn't done that haha!  I'll spare you the details.  It's not pretty.

Then we discussed another possible glitch, but I'm not even sharing that right now.  I don't want to jinx myself and I'm just going to have faith that there is nothing to that conversation that we just had.

She then gave me another choice regarding the surgery.  I could have a nerve block in my neck before the operation.  It would help with pain management maybe even for a couple of days after surgery.  It's kind of like having an epidural when you have a baby.  Of course I didn't have one.  Remember, the massive needle phobia.  Yeah, I'd rather have the labor pains.  I actually had no meds at all when I had my son.  It wasn't that bad.  Needle in back, now that would have been bad.  Yeah see, I'm neurotic about this needle thing.  So I asked her if I would already be under when they do the block.  Um, yeah no, she said it would be similar to the wire in the boob scenario (read prior post ... surgery).  Awake and needle in neck, doesn't sound like much fun.  I know it will possibly make the pain better and I know I need to say yes, but between now and then I will have to get the courage to pull the trigger on that one.  I know.. sounds absolutely insane, yeah go ahead and cut my boobs off, but a needle in neck to make my pain better, I'm just not sure about that...  #crazychick.

So then she said, well let's get the calendar in here and get this thing booked.  Or I could just run out right now and never come back haha!  No such luck, calendar is here and first open date is
January 26.  So that's it, I will be saying adios to my ta tas on January 26, 2018.  But more importantly, and hopefully, I will be saying good riddance to the terrible C word for the last time, if the fates see fit to allow me to continue live this wonderful, crazy, awful, beautiful life of mine!!

DECISIONS, DECISIONS, DECISIONS...

Well here I am....  heading back to work tomorrow after being off since my lumpectomy.  I have an appointment with my breast surgeon Tuesday.

I have made my decision I think, maybe, probably...  But yeah more than likely Tuesday I will be scheduling a double mastectomy.  I have also made another decision that I know most people will not understand, but I am choosing to not have reconstruction.   This process is stressful enough for me and the reconstruction process is grueling, terrifying, painful, and involves up to as many as 9-10 surgeries.  There is a huge risk of infection.  And then if your body doesn't reject them they usually do not look even close to real and most of the women in the chat rooms say they are so uncomfortable.

So I am choosing to go flat.  Be boobless.  These things do not define me.  Hell they could have killed me!!! And unfortunately for me that will always be a possibility due to this BRCA2 gene, but at least I can say, after these surgeries, I did all I could to try to get rid of it!!  And then spend the rest of my life praying that I did enough and that it doesn't come back!

A lot of people have said, hey it's alright, you get to have a boob job on the insurance company.  But for those who aren't familiar it's not a regular boob job.  It's a painful, awful, round of surgeries, that may, in the end, not even work because of infections, rejections etc.  Your breast tissue is completely removed.  They have to build new ones from scratch from fat, skin, implants etc.  And you have zero feeling in them as well.

And a boob job is a person's choice to have done; I have no choice...  Cancer and genetics made the choice for me.  I like my boobs.  I wish I could keep them.  I think most mastectomy folks probably feel this way.

So I am going to suck it up and put on my big girl panties and do the right thing even though I really do not want to.

So if you see me out and about and I'm not quite the bubbly, bouncy, cheery, smiling person you normally know, I may be having a rough day.  Remember it has nothing do to with you if I snap at you.  I'll be adjusting to a new me and a new way of life.

GLITCHES ARE BITCHES!

December 28, 2017, Post Op Follow Up with my surgeon today.   I have spent the last two days in every BRCA chat room I could possibly find on the internet.  Trying to figure out what to do before this appointment.  I have just about decided to still stick with the original plan and monitor closely.  But go ahead with the ovary and fallopian tube removal.  Heck I don't ned that stuff any more and it is suspected that my iron issues are the cause of the monthly hex anyways... we'll kill two birds with one stone this way.  Okay we have a plan.  Let's go see our doctor and make sure those nodes are negative!!!

Check into the office; pay my $20.  Back to the room.  Doc comes into the room.  Nodes are clear!  Nodes are clear!  OMG yay!  Nodes are clear!  But..........

Glitch #3....  seriously.... ugh....  "we didn't clear margins, we didn't get it all, it was way bigger than what shows up on the mammogram".  With the lobular portion of this cancer it can hide and not know it's there until you go in to get it.  Now there will have to be a second surgery to go back in to try to get it all this time.  But there's also the BRCA2 discussion that is still on the table.  I tell her what my plan was prior to walking in today and finding this out.  Now we have to go back to considering mastectomy again.  This shit could be hiding anywhere in my boobs.  Do I really want to take that risk??  Probably not.  But I just couldn't make myself commit to it... not yet.  Doc says I can think about it for a week or so.  She's going to send me to a Gyno to discuss the other surgery and we'll talk again after that appointment.  Out the door and on my way to try to figure out WTF I was going to do.    This BRCA2 is a BIACH!!

Gyno appointment a few days later.  $20 Bucks....LOL  Appointment not really a big deal.  I figured he would tell me I would probably just need to go ahead and have the full hysterectomy with my bleeding and anemic problems so I was prepared for it when that is what he said.  He said he would get with my surgeon and we can figure out when to schedule for surgery.  Out I go....  well that was easy  haha...

HELLO FROM THE OTHER SIDE

Well I made it out alive.  I don't remember much at all about post op or getting home or really anything at all about the rest of surgery day after I got my happy medicine in my IV.  I woke up day after surgery pretty sore, still kind of out of it and sleeping in a bra.  What, seriously?  For those of you that know me well know that I hate bras, despise them in fact.  They are the first thing off when I walk in the door from work.  I rarely even put one on during the weekends... even if we're going somewhere.  I made up NBS (no bra Sunday).  I think my fiancé actually thought it was a thing.  LOL

Now on to checking this thing out that seems to be hurting me under my left arm.  Yep there it is... think I might puke.  A beautiful 3 inch incision that is red and angry and gross.  Yep won't be looking at this thing again for a while.  Gross!!  I do not do well with anything medical.  Cuts, scratches, blisters, splinters, etc. etc. all make me nauseous.  I know I know... suck it up buttercup it's about to get really really gross soon and I'm just going to have to deal with it.  But... for now... it's GROSS!

God love the pain pill invention.  I floated through the Christmas holiday without a care in the world. Yay drugs!  Usually Christmas stresses me out to the max.  Not this year haha!  #silverlining

Then CAT scan day was here... damn I'd almost forgot about that...  first at home you get to drink a F ton of this nasty shit.  Barely choked it down without throwing up.  But hey, I'm a rock star!  I did it!  LOL  Then checked back into the cancer center, paid my $20 bucks.  Then this lovely (this is said very sarcastically) male CT scan guy came to get me.  I ask if my fiancé can come too because I know what is about to happen....  needle in arm...  but nope he is told to stay put.  Panic ensues immediately.  I proceed to tell this douce bag about my major needle phobia.  Yeah he doesn't care, grabs my arm and begins the poking around.  Mind you I've told the lovely uncaring specimen that I just had surgery on Friday and that was where the IV was.  He didn't seem to care and kept digging.  Finally Mr. Douce Bag decided I was right and he would remove it and start over.  Lucky me!  Finally found a vein and got it in.  I was crying by now.  Mr. awesome bedside manner dude didn't give a rats ass... he just wanted to get this done...  shot some dye into my IV....  Began to feel like I was pissing myself  (yes this is a normal thing that happens with CAT scans.. who knew) while the machine slid back and forth taking the pictures.  Finally was done and Mr. douche bag takes the IV out and sends me on down the hall to waiting room B, so I can visit with my oncologist about the CAT scan and the post op from surgery; we will also visit about the terrible awful genetic testing results and what I am going to do.

Doc comes in.  Thank God the CAT scan looks clear; nothing weird looking.  Whew that's a relief! Now we have to talk about options.  Of course he recommends the double mastectomy with removal of ovaries and fallopian tubes.  But says it is small; we caught it early; we can do the radiation and put me on an every 6 months watch if I prefer.  I've spent the last few days in denial; googling everything I could find, reading chat rooms of women who have this mutation as well.  I was leaning towards just going ahead with our normal plan and adding the 6 month monitoring.  But I didn't know for sure... terrified, I almost had a break down this day in the office.  But this chick does not cry!  Especially in front of people.  So I sucked it up and smiled and my oncologist hugged me and told me it would be okay.  I think he realized I was on the verge of mental breakdown in his office.

My follow up with my surgeon would be two days later; I will know the status of my nodes then.  He told me to wait and find out about this before we make any life altering decisions.  Out the door I go, on another waiting adventure....  tick tock tick tock....

SURGERY DAY

December 22, 2017, surgery day is here.  Two days ago I was excited to get this done and over with and on with my life.  But today, now this is just the first of probably many surgeries and needles and tests and anxiety attacks in my future.  But here we are, let's at least get this one out of me ASAP.

Check in at the surgery center.  Girl behind the desk says "oh you're one of the special ones".  LOL oh yeah I'm special, you have no idea, I'm thinking.  Ha joke was on me.  I "got" to go into the boob squishing room first.  I was confused.  No one had told me about the fun pre-op routine for my procedure.  Probably a good thing.

Into a chair, wheel me up to a mammogram machine.  Flop my "bad" boob into the machine.  Proceed to squish, which feels great since I was still sore from my biopsy.  Then in with the needle to numb the area again.  Remember prior post ....  Needle in Boob = HURT!  Yep still does.  They tell me not to look and proceed to insert a long wire into my boob to help my surgeon locate the bad spot easier.  So now I'm sitting in the chair with wire sticking out of my boob, almost poking me in my face in my beautiful gown.

Next stop.  New room.  I get to lay down this time.  woo hoo.   Gonna shoot some dye into my boob.  Yep you guessed it, another needle in the boob.  Oh yeah, I know you're jealous now!  LOL  Shoot the dye in and run me through the machine.  This machine and dye helps to locate the lymph nodes that, if the cancer was going to spread, would go to first.  The dye went to four nodes.  Therefore, these four will be removed, along with the lump during my surgery.

Woo hoo two hours later pre-op is now finished.  Thank God.  Just put me in the bed and knock my ass out.  I am over this being awake and being poked crap!  Into the bed we go.  Mom, dad and finance all hanging out.  Wouldn't it be great if we all could be in a room joking and trying to make me laugh that wasn't a hospital room.  Too bad it can't be that way all the time.... ahhh I digress again...  surgeon comes in and checks on me.  Then for the good stuff, here comes the anesthesiologist ...  woo hoo, night night all.  See ya on the other side.