Survivor

Happy Birthday to my special husband John.

According to Livestrong, you become a survivor the day you are diagnosed. I recently passed the one year anniversary of my diagnosis of breast cancer. Every day is a new blessing that I am very thankful for. My belief in a loving, trustworthy God; the beauty that surrounds me in nature; the love of family and friends; the joy of new friends; all these things I'm thankful for. There is a special lady named Laura who by her example, is giving me the courage to uncover my head. You have to understand that I have pretty much always had long hair. In fact, I was born with longer hair than I have right now. So it is a bit difficult for me. But I'm getting there.

Surgery

My first reconstruction surgery in Bellingham went fine. They have this cool patient tracking system for the people who are waiting. Looks kind of like the airlines arrival and departure boards. You track the patient with a number, and as they progress thru the pre-op/surgery/recovery etc the line changes color. And when it's done, they take you up to a room where the doctor can tell you, privately, how things went. If you leave the waiting area, you take an Olive Garden type pager with you in case they need to find you.

Back in my room, they hooked me up to a PCA pump, where essentially you self medicate yourself with morphine (up to a limit). I wasn't in a terrible amount of pain, but I was pushing the button. When I got up to use the restroom, and had to unplug and take my IV pole with me, we discovered that the morphine line hadn't even been hooked to my IV, so when I was pushing the button, it was medicating the floor. The nurse felt bad! She said I could hit her.

John had to go to work Friday morning, so Mom and Dad came and picked me up and brought me home. Slept all afternoon, most of the evening and all night. I'm wrapped like a mummy. I feel like Julie Andrews in Victor/Victoria. I get to unwrap on Sunday and take a shower. But I need to keep wrapped up until the 29th when I get my stitches out. At least I don't have drains to deal with. Ta-ta for now.

Checking up

First of all, my hair is about as long as John's. But it has come in just as straight as it has always been (a lot of people's comes in different at first). So while it is just as long, his looks longer because it's curly and sticks up off his head. It is also not the color I was hoping for...but it will be before I go "public" with it. I don't have to fill in my eyebrows as much anymore. And my eyelashes, while not being very long, are long enough to put mascara on. Yea for hair.

Tuesday I had my first "check-up" with my oncologist. I have kept myself busy, and haven't allowed myself to stress out about it too much. But as the Cancer Care Center building came into view, I suddenly got this overwhelming impulse to turn around and run. I hadn't really expected that. I was okay once I got inside and saw familiar faces of the various infusion nurses that had cared for me. I did not, however, go near the infusion room. The check-up went fine. So far so good.

Now onto the next step. I have pondered whether or not to write about this on the blog. But it was breast cancer...and I did have mastectomies...and I do not want to remain a pirate's dream. So I did see a plastic surgeon and I will be getting what from now on I will be referring to as "ta-ta's" (thanks to ventriloquist Jeff Dunham and Peanut). So once again I will be going under the knife. I'm freaking out just a bit. My last two surgeries have been at a place that I am familiar with and people know my husband. For whatever reason, that has been comforting. This time it will be unknown. It is scheduled for Thursday 1-17. I should be home the next day. Every time I just get feeling good and can jog again, something sets me back - but only temporarily.

December

The photo is from a recent sunrise. Fortunately for me, sunrises are relatively late this time of year. I'm so glad I didn't miss this one. As a comment to my last post, Lindsey reminded me I should mention our latest motto: Say no to breasts!

I'm now 2 months out of chemo. I actually have a shadow of eyebrows, and short little eyelashes. They can't come in too quickly for me! I don't expect my hair to grow in that fast, and it is taking it's sweet time. I'll let you know when it is as long as John's. I can almost use my fingernails again. I'm trying to be patient. It's hard.

Just as I was beginning to feel pretty good, I'm now having to recuperate again. This time after a hysterectomy (technically an LAVH-BSO [laparoscopic assisted vaginal hysterectomy, bilateral salpingo-oophorectomy]). Yeah, it's a mouthful. My surgeon said I could go home when I had kept food down, gone for a walk, and used the restroom. I went home that evening. Of course it doesn't hurt that I have someone at home who knows how to take care of post-op patients. I'm doing very well.

John heard a very sweet song on the radio the other day. It is sung by a little 6-year-old girl that they are keeping anonymous. The writer has kept a diary of how the song came about and has progressed. It is very interesting. Check it out at www.bringhimhomesanta.com

What's in a name?

Way back in April, I think it was my second post, I mentioned choosing a title for the blog. The following are some names that were actually considered, and others that weren't. It may not be suitable for all, so read at your own risk.
Wigging out; juggernot; easy-off; notbusted; beachrack; chest-off; titbits; saga of casabas; lesstitsmorelife; nipless; sanstits; sansboobs; breastcroak; breastbereft; Terri's titty tales; cancertits; terrifitits; cleavage-leavage; myrackwar; udderless udderings; udderly gone; canned jugs; busted; melonations; bosombuddiesnomore; titsaregone; flatchestisbest; offmyknockers; boobswornout; boob-be-gone; bye-bye boobies; titsaregone; taleoftwotitties; carpemammo; and one of my favorites - pirates dream (a sunken chest).

Orchid

My orchid is blooming for the first time in a long time, so I thought I'd share. It has 10 open blooms and 1 bud that should bloom soon. My brother Ted gave me this orchid for my birthday back in the spring of 1982 when we were living in Loma Linda. It's pretty old, so I was thrilled when it started sending out the shoot.

I'm slowly recovering. It seems like I have more general aches and pains than while I was on chemo. I'm not sure why. And I've been having more trouble with chemo brain. I'll write something, then read it and see a word that I wonder why is there. Or I'll have a thought, and in a second it will be gone. It's so frustrating because I'll know I had it, then just can't remember it. Since the chemo threw me into menopause, I'm also dealing with hot flashes. John finds it quite amusing when I all of a sudden just rip my shirt off. Of course, I can only do that at home. I did jog for 20 minutes straight the other day. It was slow, but I did it, so that was exciting.

People have many ways of looking at cancer and cancer survivorship. Sometimes you hear the word "miracle" used. I heard a quote from Albert Einstein that I really appreciated - "There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle." Every breath I take in is a miracle. My seeing, smelling, hearing, tasting and feeling are all miracles. All the nature around me is a miracle. My loving and supportive husband is a miracle, as well as my children and family. And so are all of you out there who have supported me thru this ordeal with your flowers, cards, calls, thoughts and prayers. I thank God for all the miracles in my life.

Epiphany

After getting immersed in LIVESTRONG, I started wearing my wrist band again. I had started wearing it when Ted became sick. I didn't usually wear it around the house, only when I went out. I really didn't think about it much. But the other day it really hit me that I shouldn't just wear it in support of cancer survivors, I need to wear it to remind myself to LIVESTRONG. Now I wear it all the time.

Yesterday the surgeon took out my port. I didn't know it was metal. Luckily it didn't set off the detectors at the airport. Anyway, he of course had to make an incision, so they told me to just take Tylenol for pain. Well I kind of forgot about it until all of a sudden in the afternoon it really started hurting. I didn't have any Tylenol with me, so I ran into Safeway to get some. I was wearing my pink bandana and pink hat. The checker grabbed my hand, looked me in the eye and said "keep on fighting". It surprised me. I hadn't had anyone say anything to me before when I was out and about. As I thought about it later, I was very appreciative. It took guts for her to do that. I don't blame people for not saying anything. It's hard to know what to say. And I imagine some people wouldn't want you talking to them. So it's hard to know what to do. But for me it was nice.