Life is Hard, Live it Anyways

Since one of my friends said that she can't really grasp what is going on in my pretty little head unless I let it spill out in black and white, I'm guessing most of my readers and followers would never really think of this part of my "treatment plan" if I didn't write about it either.  This subject might not be as funny as some of my posts and I'm not sure if I'll be able to describe some of the emotions effectively, but I'm going to give it a shot.  An insiders look at my thought process this week...the life of a survivor.

Life is hard.  Live it anyways.

Tuesday morning I grabbed my new favorite drink from Red White and Brew (Thanks for getting me hooked, RHI!) and then scooped up a couple of my girlfriends.  I asked them to join me for a couple appointments because I didn't know if I'd feel up to driving home. Anyways, on the way there we laughed and they did a great job of distracting me of my thoughts of foobs, needles, side effects, implants, etc.

I'm willing to bet that the two of them (that know me VERY well) weren't able to pick up on some of the thoughts going through my pretty little head, so I'll try to paint the picture in words for you.

Before I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I delivered three little monsters.  I gained anywhere from 45-60...yes SIX-ZERO pounds with each pregnancy.   My stomach is TRASHED.  Stretch marks (whoever thinks they are a badge of honor is obviously smoking crack...my stomach is a battle field.  I guess it is a honor to visit a battle field.  Oh whatever, I hate my stomach! I used to have this perfectly flat stomach that I pierced and decorated and flaunted whenever possible.  Now I cover it at all costs.) galore.  Scars from ovary removal and a hernia add to the awesomeness.  It's a really pale, gross white color to top it off because I won't even lay out in my own backyard in case someone stops over.

And then as I look farther up, I have these two foreign objects that are extremely hard and unusually round. Instead of nipples I have a scar line that crosses both of the foreign objects that are now referred to as foobs.  No matter how saggy, full of milk, shrunken post-monsters your real boobs are, they are REAL.

As I think of these things that I'm about to expose to my best friends, the nurse enters and we start talking business.  How big do you think I should I go?  Do you think silicone or saline is better and why?  Are there different shapes? How do I choose?

And so that I can continue to breathe, I act like this is no big deal.

Life is hard.  Live it anyways.

***I'll continue, but I'm sure some of you are wondering why I would invite my friends along if I'm self conscious?  For starters, I'm a firm believer in KNOWLEDGE IS POWER!!  If, heaven forbid, someone else is diagnosed with this disease, I want to be able to say that I led by example, that I taught from my experience and that I helped empower as many women as possible on my journey.  Second, the more I expose myself, the less I have to hide.  The more comfortable I feel in my own skin, the closer I get to accepting my new body as beautiful.***

So we continued my foob appointment like it was no big deal.  We all joked with my plastic surgeon.  He made my left foob bigger because my skin is still mad at me for radiating the crap out of it. He wants to stretch it further so he has more room to work when he swaps out the tissue expanders for implants.  My friends attempted to comfort me and pretend that it's not noticeable...they'll still stick to their story and claim it's the angle/view I have and it looks fine to them, but I own mirrors;)

And then we went to get my Reclast IV.  One of my girlfriends asked if the poke hurt?

 No, it didn't physically hurt, but mentally it reminds me of stick after stick after stick last summer during chemo.  I look around the room of patients and know that the majority of them are fighting for their life and it aches deep in my heart.  I look at them with acknowledgment that only survivors can grasp and wish that I could take even the smallest part of pain away from them. For a second, I am drawn back into conversation about what we need to pack for our upcoming vacation and I halfheartedly chime in. Yet, my thoughts are consumed with the man next to me that must be getting a nasty concoction because the nurse put on a gown over her scrubs to give him his infusion.  He glances in my direction and shows me his port site.  I smile with all the courage I can muster and force myself to concentrate on my girlfriends so that I don't start crying.

Life is hard.  Live it anyways.

After my infusion we went to lunch and shopping.  I pretended that I wasn't counting down the minutes until the side effects would start.  I tried to convince my brain that I wasn't going to have side effects from this treatment.  We laughed and reminisced and enjoyed each others company the rest of the day.  I am thankful for their love and support always.

When I arrived home, I went into "nesting" mode.  No, I'm NOT having another monster!!  But I don't know what else you'd call it.  I started doing all the things that needed done the rest of the week.  Teachers presents, setting out clothes and uniforms, going over the planner.  IN CASE the treatment caused side effects.

I woke up Wednesday morning and I felt like a bus hit me.  My head was pounding.  It felt like my head was going to explode when I looked at light.

EVERY.SINGLE.BONE.JOINT.AND.MUSCLE.ACHED.

Life is hard.  Live it anyways.

 
I showered, put on my happy face, and went to my SURVIVORSHIP visit with my radiologist.  I admitted that I was dori and allowed the nurse to put my iv in my LEFT ARM and now I have a vein that is pissed at me. (If you have lymph nodes removed, you should never have blood drawn/iv placed on that side again if possible...but I forgot:/) I freaked out about lymphodema and was instructed to make a line, watch for progression of my pissed off vein, elevate my arm as much as possible, and wear my awesome protective sleeve. I also made an appearance for my baby boy at his loved ones to lunch, but for the most part I slept the day AND night away. 

I felt better today and hopefully tomorrow I'll be back to new.  Ready to give the monsters their recorders back to them and laugh with them as we annoy Aaron with them;)

An insiders look at life after cancer.

Life is hard.  Live it anyways.

Lots of smiles and love,

Proofed and posted from work this morning...feeling as normal as I get!! ;)