Last fill today, really! - um, I mean, next week...

Had what I thought was my last fill today. But, I'm going in again next week. I'm not mad. But I'm uncomfortable, as usual. We really like our plastic surgeon and his assistant. Real humans. They have both opened up to us as people, and personally - I am surprised. I got the impression in the beginning that they were not that "type", but I've come to realize that hubby and I have a way of attracting "our people" to us, and letting them know that we enjoy their essence, not just what they do or how they look or what they wear. We like their vibe. I didn't imagine they'd be the types to open up like this, but I guess week after week of us coming in and talking about kickboxing, or bouncing on trampolines, or having pushup contests, makes them realize that we're having fun with our lives and we are sarcastic mf'ers, and no matter how crappy life is at that second, we love the big picture, and the journey is what makes it all magical. No, I'm not kickboxing or any of that. But I did ask in all seriousness when I'd be able to get back on the trapeze and was told maybe 6 weeks after the final surgery! I'M SO FREAKING EXCITED TO HEAD BACK TO STREB this summer with the family!

Sunday, we had 30 people here. Cooked up a storm. It was wonderful, having all of that good, positive energy. here. Started at 1pm, and our last guests left at about 2am. Needless to say, my sleep has been off since then. Tonight, I will be sure to take a little melatonin. Egads.

The good news is that the doc approved me to play my instrument again - like me, soon. The bad news is that we don't know about radiation or chemo, still. Appointment with oncologist Dec 14 to discuss further. Since the cancer was so close to the skin, and also bits and pieces were actually found in the lymph (very little, but it still raises some concern), we need to discuss. Ugh.

It's so interesting, a flood of work offers. The funny thing is that since all of this cancer garbage, I'm more inclined to accept the ones that make my heart happy - usually the ones either close to home or short-term, the ones surrounded by good people and good vibes and good music, the ones that can enrich my life, rather than my resume, bank account, or ego. Those things don't make a person happy. I've known this for a very long time, but sometimes it's hard to resist - and sometimes, the money is essential. I've been good for the past couple of years, but then someone hangs a huge bag of status in my face, and my mind races - along with my anxiety, and my debt taps me on the shoulder, just to remind me. You know, when you see death hanging out in your living room with you, just staring at you, following you around your everyday for a few months, you realize that life is meant to be lived with people you love and adore, doing things that you love and adore. That doesn't mean slacking off and not being responsible - on the contrary! It really is about your quality of life - being comfortable in your home, working to pay the bills - yes - but not hating your work that pays your bills. If a situation is less than perfect, which most are, making the best of it and seeing the good in it. Making changes that are realistic. Simplifying your life so that you can live within your means. Not stressing about things that will make your life better - like a massage chair. In all honestly, it has changed our lives for the better. All 3 of us. And that is worth sacrificing for. But sacrificing what? Dinners at fancy places, or some new clothes, or a fancy handbag? Who cares. We love to cook. We buy quality, organic ingredients that can only enhance our lives. We enjoy the act of creating. Even my daughter loves that we eat at home a lot - home cooked. We had turkey soup tonight that I had made from leftover turkey from our party. She had 3 bowls! She said it was amazing. And, I agree. I do my own nails when I do them. I color my hair (what grey hair???). We clean our own house, we do our own laundry, and get my hair cut 2 times a year, max (usually through a groupon). We walk as much as possible. But these things don't feel like sacrifices, these things all enhance our quality of life. And when we do go out for dinner, it's a treat. I've dated men in the past who pretty much eat out as a rule. And I hated it. It became boring. Eating at home is never boring for us, somehow. We try new things, new recipes, new foods, and always sit down at a clean table, and TALK. Never watching tv or a movie. Never reading or listening to personal music. It's our time to share. Quality of life. Get more if you don't already!

We've been slowly simplifying our home. It's an ongoing process. She's really good at it. A keyboard that was mine many years ago was gifted to a friend's daughter this weekend, and she adores it.  Mine enjoyed it for years and years but has not played for a while - and we have a nice piano now, anyway. Passing things along to friends, charities, even eBaying, are all good ways to pass happiness along. Someone will always find happiness in something that you no longer love. In our building, a lot of old folks are residents. We like to leave things downstairs and they ALWAYS get picked up. Dishes, cooking things, fans, just left 3 air purifiers we no longer needed, clothes, shoes, and books. Our laundry room has a large bookshelf and residents leave books there that they no longer need. We're all free to take or borrow. It's amazing. I've brought probably 200+ books down there in my 13 years of living here. And from time to time, I see them resurface. I also will borrow a book once in a while. I prefer this system to having overcrowded bookshelves. Most of our books are spiritual, or text we need for work, or music books. But sometimes we will purchase a book that has a limited shelf life, for us - and we can pass the good vibes around the world. At least this little one! But sometimes we'll bring things downstairs, come back up for 30 minutes and then go out again - pass the trash room to find that every treasure we left has been claimed. Good for the environment and the soul!

Another new love of mine, Himalayan Salt Lamps. I bought one a while back for the bedroom, and we really love it.  I haven't bought from the site in the link, but through Groupon (unfortuantely, that deal expired). I bought the bedroom one months ago out of curiosity, and it really has made our bedroom feel more peaceful. So when they came up again, I got a jumbo one for the livingroom, and 2 more as gifts for our daughters for Christmas (I'm pretty sure they don't read this blog, but it's ok if they do!)  There is something about that orange glow that makes us breathe deeper. I don't care if it's in our minds. The mind is a powerful thing, and whatever can make ours happier is worth it. So, salt lamps it is.

This has been a rambling entry. Oh. Most are. I think the word "blog" sounds like a noise you'd make while throwing up anyway, so it makes sense.

Quality of life. Picking the people, places and things you love. Making the best of your time on the planet. And a tight chest again. That is temporary. Life is, too. I can smile through pain, because I'm surrounded by beauty. And life. Lots of life around me and within me.

Exhaustion, and not even from the turkey!

Whew. We went to a friend's house last night for Thanksgiving, and it was so nice to see them, and enjoy some ridiculously good cooking. The great thing was that only our friends knew - the other guests had no idea that I had a saline bag under my shirt. And only one nipple!!! Somehow I didn't over eat, but the conversations were as wonderful as the meal - art collectors, travels, bodywork, all sorts of fun stuff.

We got home late, and hubby fell asleep immediately, but I was up. Watched a wonderful movie - Happy!  It's on Netflix if you're a subscriber. Really a beautiful story, and it made me realize how much happier I am in my life now, even though I'm breast-less.  Well, I have one. But, how lucky am I? How happy am I? I've finally got a wonderful family. I've learned a lot about my friends, and have proved to myself that my editing process in the past was good - most of my friends understand me and are willing to shift according to how I'm feeling. I love my solitude. I love my friends. I need both. With something like cancer, sometimes you need to not communicate, and sometimes you need to communicate a lot. I'm happy to have people in my life that understand that.

Woke up WAY too early today, but that's how it rolls. I think my saline bag has a built in alarm set to "early". And once I'm up, I'm up. It hurts to lie down again knowing that I'll have to go through the process of getting up again, soon. So I've been buzzing on about 5 hours sleep. I'm used to it, but it's not what I strive for these days. I need to heal, I need my head to be right. That doesn't help. But, we started some deep cleaning, the kind that nobody will ever appreciate but us. Papers. CD's. That crap that seems to pile up in little drawers and corners and boxes in closets. Lots to do still, but it was refreshing to reorganize crap, and get rid of crap. The getting rid of is my favorite. Now the house looks like a bomb hit it, but it's ok. I'm tired. I'm trying to not binge eat since I'm so tired and my body craves energy (apparently cookie energy, but I'm resisting for now). I'm going to go ahead and read some of my new Warriors book that my daughter checked out for me from the school library because she can't find her copy and knew I finished book 2.  I mean, seriously, this kid... she told me that she kept checking because someone had it out, and I believe her - I can see her going to the school library every day to see if the book was returned. How did I luck out and get such a great kid???  Sometimes I'm amazed that I made her.  She has always reminded me so much of my Mom.  Magic Girl.

Lots to do tomorrow - lots of cooking and cleaning. I'd love to attempt some more cleaning now, but my brain is just crying. I'm so exhausted. We got a lot done today, and I think a few chapters would be therapeutic. Hopefully, a nap will sneak attack on me while I'm reading.

I'm looking forward to being me again. I still don't have range of motion, that damned scar tissue and the freaking balloon under my pec is a real pain. But, it's better than cancer. Still waiting for radiology answers, it sounds like I'm in such a grey area. At this moment, with what I know, I am inclined to say "screw it" and just keep watch. I need to get my life back sooner rather than later. I can keep drinking that awful baking soda and lemon water. I can choke down the Noni. I can blend the cottage cheese and flaxseed oil. I can take turmeric every day. And I can breathe, knowing that I have love around me, even when I'm alone.

Finally, a crappy day.

I know my posts are all happy and stuff. Today, I can't go there. Hoping to have a happy day tomorrow. I'm still alive, so there's something to smile about, but really, all I want to do is go to sleep and try again tomorrow.

Another day, another 60 cc's.

Wow. Another fill today, and we're doing one more next week. It's always uncomfortable, and today is no exception. I had a 9am appointment, so I walked there, grabbed a coffee on the way, savored it's delicious sweetness that I never let myself have at home (but you know, coffee from somewhere other than my kitchen is suspect quality, so I have to *candy it up*)... got my fill, talked to the doc and assistant. We talked nipples.

Doc said that he would highly consider "Nipple Sharing". Which evoked an audible "AWWWWWW!" from me without missing a beat, as if he had just produced a basket full of fuzzy kittens wearing hats.

But, the results really are astonishing. And, perhaps, I will tattoo BFF's in between my breasts. I mean, if righty is willing to Nipple Share, what greater gift could a Best Friend give?

They also said that they may want to harvest fat to put between the muscle and skin. I said, GREAT! I've gained a few lb's for the occasion! I am SO SMART. Those cookies we baked last night? Pure genius.

Speaking of gaining weight, I asked what I could do exercise wise. My range of motion is better, but still, no weight lifting until the final surgery is done and I'm healed. Thinking of checking out one of those TV evangelists and getting this healing done ASAP. Hit me on the forehead and tell me I'm good to lift!  But, I can continue my non-sweaty cardio (seriously, how do women handle this in the summer?) and can even do squats against the wall with a swiss ball. I did them tonight. Frankie is sore (I guess I've named the new boob after all!) but it was either do squats or eat cookies. I think I have enough fat for them - really, they only need a little. Damn. I was hoping to get some comprehensive lipo on my love handles. Guess I'll have to lose them the old fashioned way. Pay for it myself. Kidding. I think, but check back in a few years. I don't know that I'd ever elect for surgery after this ordeal, but I am not making any promises.

Anyway, one more fill next week it seems. Talk about pressure!  But hey, I'm all for it. Make my sh*t look right! Nipple share! Fat graft! But please, please, please, let this all be done soon so I can lift weights again. And sweat.

Speaking of - I keep forgetting to ask if I will ever be able to work my pecs for real again. The left pec is going to be over the implant. If I strengthen it, it will become tighter and shorter. Hm.  Am I destined to have flabby pecs? I'll just make up for it in MASSIVE DELTS. Well, as soon as I can lift my arm over my head like a normal person.

I have very tight bands of scar tissue in my pit. Very painful but I massage them and try to open them up. It gets better and better. But damn. I don't know how people cut themselves - I can barely massage my scar tissue without wanting to cry. But hey, it's for a good reason. Mobility. So I'll do it.  *whimper*

I'm uncomfortable. But I can see the light at the end of the saline fills. I've avoided calling my other surgeon to find out the radiation and chemotherapy results - I keep thinking "No news is good news" but I really need to know in my head now. I need to know if surgery will be delayed, if I'll be bald, if my skin on Frankie will be all singed and hard to operate on. I should call. I say it every day.

But right now, I need to crawl into bed and watch a movie so I can fall asleep, as getting up at 7am to get my girl ready for school is no easy task the day after a fill. She's been so good to me through all of this, and I make sure to keep my happy face on. Because I have a good life, despite this stupid cancer thing.

Upped my game at the gym today. Fill tomorrow.

Wow. I actually got decent sleep last night. Dilly-Dallied this morning but finally kicked my butt to the gym, knowing tomorrow I have a fill and no time for the gym (half day at school, teacher conferences...)

I realized halfway there that I didn't bring a book, a must when one sits ones arse on a recumbent cycle. BORING. So, I decided to try an ARC Trainer on the lowest level. Our gym doesn't have the moving handles, so I was safe enough to sort of strangely glide as if I were ice skating, without the ice, or skates, watching mindless news for an hour. Positioned directly under an a/c vent, I burned 426 calories according to the LED screen (they all lie, but whatever) without a drop of sweat, in an hour.

I felt alive again! I started to feel like me again! I still wish I could pick up man weights, but hey, it's a start.

Got my girl from school, baked some wings, had some spinach salad, and baked cookies. Rye with walnuts and white and dark chocolate chips! Oh man... it was my first time with the recipe, and rye is a bit odd to work with, but totally delish, and pretty too. Practice makes perfect, 'eh? We also split an asian pear, my daughter's favorite (mine too!)  And she kicked my butt in video games. Yup, I love my life.

So I have to man up tomorrow morning and head to the doc bright and early for another pump up. Today I wore 3 pads on the other side and still look crazy. But, I know this is temporary. I am alive. Now I need to clean from tomorrow until Sunday morning - apparently 25 people will be in our apartment for our post-Thanksgiving party. Um, I've never had this many folks RSVP yes to a shindig before - but, as I told a friend earlier - when you have Cancer, everybody wants to come to the party.

I should have thought of this in high school!

Yes, I kid. Love my friends, and am looking forward to insane cleaning and cooking and celebrating!

It's not about winning, it's about the journey.

My daughter. Super cool kid. This morning, we all got up at 6am (yup, it's Sunday) to hightail it up to the Bronx for a Cross Country meet. Seriously.

It was her idea.  She was EXCITED!

I was so proud of her. I popped the Advil, 'cuz mornings suck with an expander in your chest. But, I wouldn't have missed this for anything.

It was a really magical experience. I saw her leave us with her team mates, and they soon got lost in a sea of middle school girls in running gear. Her number pinned on her fleece, her gloves still on her little hands. She looked nervous and excited. Later, she reported that yes, she was scared. But this was her idea - and she went for it. We watched the crowd of tween girls disappear in the woods in Van Cortland Park, chatted with the volunteer parent who was overseeing the team since the coach couldn't make it. I saw some of the leaders start to break through, one from our team! A powerful and determined runner. It was so interesting watching faces and body language near the finish. Some gave up, some were apathetic, and some were warriors.

It was a mile and a half. She did it in 20 minutes. I saw her on the home-stretch and started filming. She was walking, complaining about her feet hurting. I told her to run! There's the finish line! And I promised her a foot massage if she ran the rest of the way. Now, I owe her a foot massage.  :)

Her face at first glance was apathetic. But I watched her transform into my little warrior. And I cried. I actually cried when I was waiting to see her, because I was so excited to see if she was owning her decision to run this race. I am sappy and hormonal and post-surgery. I ran alongside her, filming, even though I'm technically not allowed to run. Oops. But I think my jellyfish is just fine. I didn't go far.

At our celebratory dinner of grass fed steak (her favorite) and sauteed mushrooms (she makes the best!), I told her that when I get the ok, I'll start running again with her. I haven't for many years. I basically ran a lot, eliminated the cartilage in my left knee, and was told to stop running or have my knee surgically altered. But, cartilage grows back over time. And that happened before she was ever a little bean in my belly.

Her dad was supposed to pick her up tonight. At 8. 8:15 rolled around, and texts were unanswered, phones were also not picked up. She finally called grandma to see if he was there, and no, he wasn't. Grandma said he was out to dinner with someone. I got a text from him soon after - apparently grandma called as well, and he texted that he thought she was staying here. Now, each week we painstakingly type out a schedule, email it to him, and ask him to confirm. All of this was done, and clearly stated was that he was picking her up at 8pm on Sunday night.

She was so hurt. She was so angry, and I was glad to see her express that. And I told her, she has the power to talk to him about this. She is the only one. He came to pick her up, avoided me as usual, and told her to get on her coat - and where was her backpack etc... I looked at her and told her to TALK to her father, as she was ignoring him. I hope she is brave enough to tell him the truth. He has forgotten her in the past - at school, here, and it hurts her so deeply. I have run from work, rehearsals, just to make sure that she is ok, trying to find other arrangements if I can't stay with her at that moment, trying to make sure that her feelings aren't too hurt. Now? She's 11. She should tell him how angry she is. She is getting old enough to speak up and make decisions. If she wants to live with us full time I'd be thrilled, but I can't take her away from him unless that's what she wants. So, with a sad heart after such a beautiful day, I bolt the door and feel my heart aching for my little warrior. I hate him. I hate that he is her father, yet he is. And he doesn't seem to understand what an honor that is.

My husband does. He knows what an honor it is to be her stepfather. And he is more than I'd ever dreamed would be possible. But, she has her father too. As crappy as he is, as useless as he is, as thoughtless, there he is. I just hope that when she starts dating, she doesn't look for him in boys, or men. I hope she looks for what took me so long to figure out. That I deserve to be treated with respect, with love, and that I deserve a partner, unconditionally.

I mean, crap. We get married, and a month later find out I have cancer. And here we are, more in love than ever.

I know I'm lucky. I want her to be lucky too. I know she deserves that. She doesn't deserve a crappy dad. But, she is allowed to make choices in life - now, or down the road. I hope she chooses happiness, and I hope she doesn't wait as long as I did to figure it out.

I think I deserve a little sip of wine and maybe a sappy movie to get some more tears out. I deserve to let go of that crap - because I know how much I have that is good.

I hate the day after a fill

I always think, "It's not so bad" when I have it done. But by the following morning, my body is mad all over again. I can not wait for the madness to end. Maybe I worked out too much. My strength has always been a source of pride, happiness, and my stubborn "I can do anything" vibe.

Maybe I worked my pecs way too much. Because my left one, the one that is being manipulated by this blow-up sac of saline, is really pissed at me. And it constantly reminds me. It's like listening to a seashell. If you put your ear to my reconstructing breast, you can hear a faint "F*ck YOU!*

But, we did manage to do laundry this morning, realizing that we hadn't done it since I left the hospital. No wonder my sock and underwear drawers were so manageable. But, the tank tops that I've been wearing, the ones I can step into, were all in there. Today I ended up wearing a stretchy tank that is more meant to be worn as a camisole. I threw (of course I can't throw anything now, but you know...) it on before hitting the laundry room, when I realized that even though I had on my handy dandy stretchy bra with two pads on one side and none on the other, I still looked a bit circus freakish. That expanding boob looks weird under a tight top. Like the nipple is on the side. And it is stretching far up and to the side, to create my future amaze-o-breast. But now? I look like half bubble boob, and, well, half not. As much as I hate the thought, if I had them both removed, I'd be symmetrical. Of course, this whole process would be twice as suck-ass. And whenever I am in pain or uncomfortable or unable to do something with my left arm, which was entire days, and now is still quite a pile of moments in each day, I am grateful that it was only one side after all.

I wonder where my breast and nipple are now. I wonder if they miss me. Seriously, what happens to that stuff when they're done with it? On second thought, I don't really want to know. At least, not until I'm back to feeling normal again.

So, I wish I could go to the gym, but am not feeling it. I want to actually curl up in a ball and cry, but it would probably hurt (I yawned not long ago and it was not pleasant). So... even though I'm trying to not gain any more, I really want to bake cookies. Because I am also hormonal. It's probably best that I bake. I will feel useful and will create something that will satisfy the screaming hormones that are way confused now. My breast area is sore, but my hormones can't really trigger that. I think it's compromised by shifting that usual pain to my mood. I feel way too cranky to be me right now.

I have strange desires to do things I rarely do. Go ice skating. Run. Jump rope. Do handstands.

All the things I can't do.  Stupid.

But one of my goals after all of this is to get back on the trapeze. Yup. Swing through the air, grab the arms of some trapeze dude, flip through the air. I promised my daughter that as soon as I'm able, we are GOING. Husband too. Nothing says crazy family like an afternoon of trapeze!

I like my goal. It's not about my career, social crap, vanity, or anything other than FUN and being able to jump off the platform and trust that my arms will hold me, my abs will hoist my legs over the bar, and the breath will be knocked out of me for just a second as I feel a combination of terror and sheer happiness.

Is summer a realistic goal? I won't know until I know if I have chemo or radiation in my future. But I like to think that by this summer I will have a breast, and I will be back on the trapeze. And I won't worry about anything while I'm up there. If you've never tried trapeze, do yourself a favor. The feeling applies to so much in life. Jump off the platform and trust. That's how I have tried to feel through this whole ordeal.

Fill'er UP!

Another 60cc's yesterday. I thought I was doing an amazeballs job of manning up - I'm sure the massage chair helped immensely, as my back is a little sore - the good kind. But in the evening, I remembered that hubby had me take some Advil - when it wore off. I had to take more when I woke up this morning. I guess the pressure just means it's all working!  *gasp*

We went yesterday morning to return shoes. I know. Tragic. But sometimes, you order shoes and they're just not right. Like, now I know that my feet are not Fergilicous. Cute styles, but not made well at all. One pair fit about 2 sizes too big. Another pair were cute but just crappy workmanship and materials. And a pair of Nike's that I fell in love with, due to the application of zebra stripe and hot pink, made my feet look FAT. Like both feet were in one shoe. I told the girl at the counter that they DO make me look fat. She agreed, not a good shape. Hubby and I had fun making her early morning fun, sharing some laughs (especially about the men's shoes that we were returning, due to the fact that they looked like something the Creepy Science Teacher would wear. And, upon questioning from my husband, she did confirm that she would not even think of dating anyone who wore those shoes. We had fun. And she gave me her name so I could write to the company and send MAD KUDOS in her direction. I hope she gets a raise. And a jelly donut. Well, I want a jelly donut but really need to watch my waist right now...  so I have to displace my cravings. Carry on..

After the return, I did some shopping. A few Christmas gift fleeces for my girl (she's all about the cuddly fabrics) and a sparkly tank top for me. I bought a size small, and then wondered if I would need a bigger size, when my boobies are done? But I finally tried it on and realized, it's perfect and will stretch if needed. And if not, if I do end up needing bigger if I end up wanting porn star boobs, I'm sure the glittery shirt will not matter anymore.

Met my guy at the surgeon. It was nice to see Dr. Plastic strut in from surgery. A nice, perfectly cut suit. Fantastic shoes. And his assistant had on some killer boots. I get it - working in plastic surgery, even if it's reconstructive and not vanity, means you should care about your presentation. Details. We like for the details to be taken care of, so to see them in their regular wear made us feel good about the care my breast is getting. I don't want some sloppy dude in a cheap suit and Payless shoes building my new breast. I want fine craftsmanship. I want a designer boob.

The possibility is that I may just need one more fill. Surgery date will depend on whether I get the ol' chemo or radiation. I personally vote no, but apparently, the cancer margins are not up to me.

Hit the gym. Did another hour on the bike, this time level 3. Watch out, grandma!!!

First slow cooker dinner this fall - Hungarian Goulash. My mom made it a lot and when I went "Vegetarian", I still ate the veggies and gravy from this dish when I was so anti-flesh. Such a satisfying, warm, comfy meal. My daughter, not big on "mixed foods", loves it too. Something about the paprika, brown sugar, and beef that simply falls apart when touched by a fork. Man, I might have to have some for breakfast today.

Insurance should seriously pay for the rental of massage chairs. It really is making recovery and expansion better. If I had started earlier, it would have really helped to alleviate that awful feeling. My chest is incredibly tight right now, but my back didn't go through the usual spasms and pain - a lifelong issue that was really exasperated by these pesky fills. My back is a little sore from the abuse of the chair, but a good sore.

But it is what it is. I'm grateful to breathe. Some days are harder than others. This day? No matter what, I will go to the gym again. I will granny - pedal toward the goal, to move faster than a granny. To proudly wear my sparkly top. I will practice my instrument - it's hard when I'm not gigging and not allowed to really play, but I know it will help my head, and my muscles. I'm hoping to clean my closets. But that's last on my list right now, though I'd love to take a trip to the Goodwill with a bag of goodies. Every time I do that, I shop and buy one or two things - a good compromise for my closet. I'm learning in my old age to buy only what I love. The thing that worries me about closet cleaning now is that I don't know what size I will be after this ordeal. But this recently-filled breast fits me like a shoulderpad right now - I know it's temporary, but damn, this girl is riding high.

By the way, since the fill, my real one is now once again smaller than the left. Remember, we're making the deceased breast the same size it was, and are going to expand righty. But I had to laugh - here I am again padding the right side to match. Luckily the stretchy bra is easy to manipulate in this way. I can't wait for the day when I don't have to pad. The day that I have a matching set. Who knew I'd have to get cancer in order to fulfill my symmetry dreams. Then again, I'm thrilled that I never got elective surgery to fix this - I'd be really pissed now that I spent the money and recovery time just to do it all again!

Christmas came really early!!!

Please refer to my previous post.  I actually ordered the chair. Was I drunk? Probably not. I hear that drunk online shopping is all the rage... however, I think I was in enough pain and unable to get a massage the traditional way.

This morning, Christmas arrived. Thank goodness hubby had landed home by the time it showed up! I didn't post about it because I hate to jinx situations. What if suddenly I was notified that it was out of stock? Or something was wrong with it? Ugh. Well, all is well!!!

He nearly lost a finger as we unpacked it in the hallway, and manipulated it in, but he still has 10, and we now have a fancy-pants massaging chair and ottoman, just like our rich neighbors across the street! Well, I only assume they all have one. Why not? I would have one in every room if I could afford it!

So now, here I sit, being kneaded, prodded, squished by airbags... finally! Someone who can address my aches and pains without putting my breastular intruder at risk! I have no regerts.. I'm positive that tomorrow, after my fill, I will be thrilled to sit in this puppy and get stretched out and rolled into earlier comfort than usual.

I need to name him. I have decided that it's a boy. And boy, he is making me happy. My husband has no worries, though, and actually - it seems as we now have a love triangle. I let him use it first, since he nearly lost a digit for my happiness.

Anyway, for anyone recovering from a mastectomy or about to go for one, I highly recommend this. In fact, I wished I had it for my initial return home. It would have been much more comfortable to sleep in, and the backrest is automatic, so getting up wouldn't have been such a heinous chore.

Merry Christmas in November!!!!

Beauty and the Beast

It's funny. Every morning I wake up, shower, put on makeup (all natural - I don't need to re-cancer myself, thank you!) and dress. I look like me. I act like me. But I have this horrendous muppet zombie bionic monster breast-like form attached to my body. Nobody knows, unless they know. But I know, and there's not a second during the day that I forget about it, because it never lets me forget.

I was researching a little bit last night, and read a good tip on protecting myself. Carry a clutch purse! On the cancer side! That way, you are protecting your falsified body part while not looking awkward. Ok, I find clutch purses to be awkward regardless, but it makes sense. I'm not sure I'll do it, I've been thrilled carrying a light backpack. I bought it well before the surgery. It's a Coach that I got from the eBay factory store. It was a bargain (for Coach), and I figured that I'd be looking crazy, awkward, feeling like poop, so why not have a flashy little backpack to distract the eye from my owchy place? Of course, it's cold out so I always have a coat or jacket on, and who the hell is really looking at my boobs? They're not ginormous. And in my post-surgery bras, they look smaller than they used to. BUT, I ordered a bunch of little sports bras figuring my girl would like them too - and the best without any padding that I can step into are these Fruit of the Loom Sports Bras . I also bought some racer backs... NOT a good idea! I can't step into them. And I've been working hard at putting shirts on over my head, it's difficult but I can with some. A racerback will not work that way. So my daughter happily claimed those for herself. I also grabbed one to wear out - this padded plungey thing. I have to say, I like it! But I haven't worn it yet. Why? I'm not sure. But it is super comfy. Who knows what size I'll be when this is all done - maybe I'll go for the gold and get a D cup. D for doubtful. Maybe I'll never wear it. But I will most likely buy it in whatever size I end up - definitely a comfy, comfy bra compared to what I've worn in the past. Why do we torture ourselves in undergarments???

Another thing I found that made me chuckle is Rub On Nipples!!!???  Since I have a big gash over my breast, I can't do it now. But there will possibly be a time that I will need these. Need? I don't know. Want? Perhaps. I think about not making a new nipple, but then I realize how odd I'll feel. When I'm back in the world of performance, how self conscious will I feel backstage, getting dressed with the other girls? I guess that's a decision I can make before I hit the operating table again. I've thought about not getting a realistic tattoo. I've thought about getting some sort of badge of honor - something that says that I went through all this shit and all I got was this lousy fake boob. But, probably not.

It's rainy. I'm on the couch with my fuzzy cuddly cat, who is sleeping blissfully. How nice it would be, to be able to just curl up and not worry about things, except when your next meal time is.

Time to do some stretches. And try to practice a bit. I've not been motivated, even though a couple of days ago, it brought a spark back to my heart. It's also depressing. I know, dumb.

I also need to figure out a way to get back in shape. I know I don't look different, but I sure feel it. At the beginning of the summer I was 8 or 9 pounds lighter. I know that doesn't sound like a lot, and just a year or so ago I was 5 pounds heavier than I am today, but I feel it. I feel less like me right now. It's hard when you're so restricted. I know once I get the green light I'll be cool - but I'm also a bit impatient. I can't jump around, I can't sweat much, I can't do much with my pecs at all, and really am not allowed to lift real weights. It's depressing. And all I want to eat is comfort food. Yesterday, my daughter and I had a great day. But at breakfast, we made french toast (with Ezekiel Bread, organic eggs and organic syrup). We went for a long walk, and at lunch she begged me to stop at a brick oven pizza place she loves. I had half a slice, but my body hates wheat and dairy. It was so good. Dinner, we decided to go to a diner we hadn't been to in years, even though it's a few blocks away. I'd been craving corned beef hash and an egg for the longest time, so I got it. A cookie or two later on.

And the worst part? I was hungry at night! I brushed my teeth and got into bed and read a book. Enough was enough.

This morning, I've enjoyed a cup of espresso and nothing else. I don't feel hungry, but I understand that I should eat something to start my metabolism up soon. I am thinking I'll be ok until lunch. We made rice last night with leftover cornish hen and asparagus with a hint of soy sauce. Sounds odd, but my mom did that kind of thing a lot. Comfort food, but not like a pot pie or a big pot of mashed potatoes with pounds of butter... mmmmm.... mashed potatoes. Shhhhh!!!

I can do this. I am trying to think of exercises I can enjoy that won't ruin my surgery. As long as I can breathe, as long as I don't feel my pec screaming (except during specific stretches) and I'm not sweating, I should be ok. Which leaves me with... um... well... this sucks.

Off to conquer the day. I'm alive. Maybe a little more espresso will remind me to smile!

Reflex-ahhhhhh-logy.

Yesterday I managed to put on my sneakers, and pedal on a recumbent bike at my gym for an hour. At level 1. I'm pretty sure any 90 year old sedentary person could have beaten me in a stationary bike race, somehow. Oh, that image makes me chuckle! But I did it! I came in second place in a 2 person race with an imaginary great-grandma!  YIPPEE!

And, I did it again today. Reading really passes the time. We don't have tv at home, and I find I get bored watching when doing cardio. But a good book about cats from my 11 year old and I'm pedaling away like the wicked witch!  "I'll get you, my kitty!!!"

I also decided to check out the reflexology joint. For an hour, I sat in a la-z-boy recliner while my feet were kneaded, prodded and worked into  oblivion. It's amazing. I am well aware of the reflexology map. She started on my left foot - my cancer side, if you will. I felt all sorts of pins and needles in my phantom breast. All those "crunchies" started to melt away in my plantar fascia - the stuff that lays over the muscles and under the skin. My whole body started to relax in some bizarre blissful state. I couldn't open my eyes. I listened to the waterfall and the bad new age crap music. I felt myself intentionally breathing deeper than usual. My right foot was as blissful, and did not make the nerves on my left *thing* fire. At times throughout, I felt a rush to my head, a tingling happy sensation that seemed to massage my scalp and let me know that I would be ok. Like some kind of freaky massage angel or ghost assisting with the footwork - but really, it's all connected.

I'm seriously considering making this a once a week treat. My back, neck and pretty much everything else on my body is pissed off. I can't blame it. Not only was something totally chopped off, but this water balloon was implanted, and each week, when I finally feel a tiny bit of relief since the skin stretches out, gets another fill. Yes, I want the fills. I want to muscle through this and be done sooner rather than later. At the same time, I am tired of hurting. Every morning, it seems like it takes a few hours to get used to this new and ever changing body. Every evening, the pins and needles start, and by the time I attempt to lay down in bed, I consider making a pot of coffee just so I don't have to lay down and sleep. Of course, that's dumb. But it does occur.

I've found a new respect for Advil PM. One pill (a half dose) seems to allow me to lay awake and read a book or watch Netflix (last night, a double episode of Quincy!) I really disliked the hospital pain killers, and they didn't even help me sleep.  Advil was contraindicated until the drain came out, so this is a relief. When will I feel normal again? Ever?

I've found this stubborn voice in my head that wants me to lay on my right side to sleep, even though it's very uncomfortable at first. Once the jellyfish settles down, it feels better on my back, but getting to that point is sometimes too painful to bear. For some reason, I didn't expect so much discomfort this far along. Why not? I know I'm hyper-aware of my body, I know way too much about anatomy and Eastern Medicine. Which brings me to my next question - is it ok to have cupping therapy?  I have my own set that use suction, not fire. I find SO MUCH relief, taking that stagnant, crappy Qi out. Would western docs approve? What do the Easterns say? I guess I'll be on the Google finding out. I mean, at this point it's really more of a surgical site than actual cancer, so it seems like less of an issue. Sigh. To have my old body back would be super duper just about now...

Taking a turn toward awareness

Yeah, yeah. I'm aware that I am aware. But, becoming aware of your limitations when it comes to a "new limit", in my case, surgery and all of the bells and whistles that come attached, that's different.

Yesterday was a good day. Every day has the same challenges - looking at myself and realizing it's not a nightmare. Deciding to accept the nightmarish vision in the mirror, and trying to believe that it will one day be better. But also, waking up and going to sleep are huge challenges. Laying down is necessary, my body needs to rest completely. But it hurts initially. Who knows, maybe it is uncomfortable all night but I'm knocked out and exhausted enough to ignore it and sleep a little.  Getting up in the morning is torture - it's probably the biggest reminder that I have/had cancer, that I had surgery, and that I am nowhere near done with this awful process. Some mornings are really tough - sometimes I can't sit up. Some mornings I have to, so I do. It helps if hubby is awake so he can support my back and act as a forklift. I am getting more pins and needles on the fake side, more in the evening/night - I guess that's a sign that a few nerves are waking up and pissed off. Which is good. But really, really uncomfortable to me. Not really pain, but literally it feels like an untrained acupuncturist is putting random needles in me, hoping to hit a tsubo. And last night I had a sensation like a turkey pop up timer was put in me. It was constant for a while. Long enough for me to think about how much this whole thing sucks again.

But it was still a good day. I walked with hubby to his haircut appointment, and then dared to roam alone. I walked up a few blocks, spied a very small farmers market, walked through as if I had 2 breasts of my own (I think that nobody suspected!!!  Let's hear it for my acting experience working for me in real life, hah!) and then walked to Marshalls to browse. I actually found a few pair of shoes (Seriously, I can't really try on clothes now!) but declined to purchase, even though they were really inexpensive - I didn't really want to stand in line holding 2 shoe boxes. I guess that breast cancer is also a money saver (unless you online shop, like me!)  Met with hubby and his adorable new hair, and had a little time before picking up my girl. So we stopped into a thrift store, and SCORED BIG. I got an amazing dress, my size, for $15 that would have clocked in about $300 new - it screams me - it's my favorite flower - gorgeously crafted and very retro styled. Tried it on at home with a lot of silent screaming and help from my man, and it's PERFECT! Now I just need my boobs to match before I wear it. Hubby found an amazing blazer that needs some tailoring, but simply gorgeous. I also nabbed a black sweater that I love - a girl can never have too many black sweaters! I think all in all we dropped under $30 - could be wrong, but anyway - we totally win. I love a good bargain!!!

Went for my girl - she volunteers at her old grade school on Fridays. Basically, as far as I know, she helps to herd the cats at afterschool. Of course, by cats, I mean the children. I need to explain about my girl a little - she was a superstar at her school, among the teachers and staff. To know her is to believe in magic. She's certainly not a straight A student, or a kiss-ass kid, not a brown noser, and in fact, she needs tons of help to get through the day. It's her aura, her vibe, her intention, that everyone loves. She's magic. And all the things that are shortcomings right now are being worked on. You can learn a lot of things, but you can't learn to have a sparkling core. That, you are born with. Yay! I made her!!!  :)

She went to a school dance, hubs took her while I visited with a great friend. A new friend - but you know when you meet someone and you know you will be friends for life - it all just clicks. You instantly love this person and want nothing but the best for them, always. That was needed, a chance to sit and just chat like I wasn't being stuck by some phantom quacupuncturist, chat like life was normal.

I guess this is my new normal.

Hubby cooked up some ridiculous dinner - filet mignon with garlic, and spinach salad. That man can COOK. I think I'm losing my cooking skills since he moved in, but I'm not really mad about it.

Went to sleep at a fairly decent time, hubs went to work late, and I never heard him come home. Felt awful, he had about 2 hours sleep I'm guessing before hitting the road at dawn for a gig far away. Me? I slept. I did wake up to stop the extra alarm we had set just in case. But I woke up and realized, I had a decent sleep! Had a breakfast of cottage cheese, flaxseed oil and strawberries, a cup of coffee, 2 glasses of water, a cup of kombucha... and then after some contemplation, I picked up my instrument. I warmed up gently, softly, and without any kind of pressure on me to sound good. Guess what? I sounded like me! It was hard as hell, I have no range, at least I couldn't try because that might screw with everything... I did stop when my chest hurt a little, that is a lot of deep breathing. So now, after 2 advil, I am dressed in gym clothes. I may just take up that invitation from my docs to go sit on a bike and ride like a fragile old lady for a bit. I may even try the red light therapy for my skin health - I did a lot of research on it (heck, I have time these days for such foolishness!) and it is good. Maybe a short session to see how I feel about it.

I'm not going to lie. I'm scared to leave home without my man. PTSD? Who knows. I'm afraid of irrational things. Like people bumping into my arm. It's ok, I was bumped yesterday and I instinctively braced my arm, so it didn't affect my pec much. It didn't hurt but it freaked my brain a little. I'm well nourished so I have no reason to pass out and fall. My coordination is good. I'm cautious. So I think I should haul it out there. Even if I pedal like granny for 10 minutes, that's progress.

We also noticed a new takeout massage joint nearby. I think it was $38 for reflexology - not sure how long, but I think I deserve to check it out. I know how much my body craves a massage. This is the closest I'll be able to get for a long time, other than a massage chair or hubby rubbing my back while I sit awkwardly in front of him. We'll see how brave I feel. Yesterday I was brave enough to enter and browse a busy store all by myself.

The first step is putting on my sneakers. Here goes...

Late night visitor, the Four Agreements, Can't get Up.

Last night a friend came to visit. He had a meditation class and showed up close to 10pm. We stayed up, ate some treats (thanks to some wonderful friends, I received about 20.000 calories in the mail - home baked goods!!!  Rye chocolate chip cookies, and nanaimo bars - a Canadian delicacy!)  Perfect timing, more than anything these days, I crave comfort. Of course, I also crave 10 lbs less on my body - all this healing is ruining my usual workout schedule! But, heal first, and maybe I'll be so immune to this whole surgery deal that I'll just go have a plastic surgeon rebuild me, around my new breasts. Hmmm.

Anyway, it was nice to see our friend, have a drink, eat lots of calories, talk about life. We started talking about The Four Agreements - hubby and I are huge fans, and in fact, the audio book was his first gift to me. I listen to it all the time, it starts where it stopped, and always is appropriate. I had the book out to show him last night (I think he wants his own copy, and quite frankly, the audio book is way better!) so my daughter saw it on the couch this morning and started reading. She does that - she loves books. Fast Food Nation is something on her must-read list, simply because it was out one day. She used to get in trouble in grade school for reading while she was supposed to do other things, but I think her teachers appreciate her love of books in Middle School. She still should be paying attention, but hey - I'm glad that reading is her worst offense.

I woke up to get her in gear for school and hubby took her. I was so tired, it was stupid. Sat up and trolled facebook, deleted a shitload of email, and when my man returned, he announced that it was time for a nap for him - he's got a very late work night later on and won't be home until 2 or 3am. So I followed him in after 2 advil (I woke up in a lot of discomfort - hence the "Can't Get Up" heading) and laid down next to him. We chatted. I feel so fortunate that I finally met and married my best friend. I also feel fortunate that he's adorable and pretty smokin', too.  That's the vanity in me, but the truth is that I love being attracted to him - something I haven't had a lot of experience in with former relationships. I think I picked men that I found a lot of fault in, to try and fix. Projects. I wouldn't change a thing about my man (though I did sway him to more unusual socks, as well as a slight shoe fetish to match mine!) But, I cried this morning as he rubbed my shoulders which hurt like hell. I cried for all the women who don't have their best friend in bed, rubbing their shoulders, as they recover from cancer. I think of my mom and how alone she must have felt.

Then I think of "little me" and what I did for her. In hindsight I would have done more, but I was a kid. I cleaned the house as much as I could. I remember once scrubbing all of our pots and pans with brillo until my arms were swollen and throbbing, and my skin was raw from the water and cleanser - we were very poor and never had new stuff. I wanted so badly for my mom to have nice things. Later in her life, near the end, I finally convinced her to polish her nails (yes, at 49, she had never used nail polish!) and I sat in her hospital bed and painted them fire engine red. I bought her black lacy panties to wear in the hospital, because I knew for real that life was too short for her, and that she was a beautiful woman who never did or bought things to make herself feel that way. Not only modest, but also very aware of our dire financial situation. I couldn't say exactly how poor we were, but there were holes in our walls in our house that sat in front of a power plant. Everything in it was cheaply built, ceilings sloped, bats in the attic, nothing could be considered nice. It was the only house they could afford that would enable us to move out of a tiny apartment in a small suburb of NJ so that we'd have more space. I always hated our house. It was a shambles and a mess - and as my mom got sick it got worse and worse, hence me cleaning all the time. My father was a hoarder, though I didn't know the term at the time. But I could never have friends over, except for birthdays when my mom would clean nonstop, no matter how she was feeling. She would make homemade pizzas and homemade ice cream. My friends never knew that this was NOT my life. But I loved her endlessly for it. And I know she wished it could be our life. I definitely carry those memories into my life now. And today, in my state of discomfort, a bit of pain now and again, and exhaustion, I managed to vacuum and rearrange my daughters room a bit - including moving some furniture. Maybe I'm an ass. But I feel my mom in me, and I AM able to do a lot more than she could. I don't want my girl to look at me as I did my mom - feeling awful for her and feeling such responsibility to take over as an adult, missing childhood.

Though, I wish she would clean her room without prompting. She's getting better and we talk about it a lot.

Time to try and do some stretches, maybe even attempt to lift my old lady weights again. My pec is pissed but maybe I can sweet talk her over time to not only behave, but act like a team member again. Seriously, can she be mad at me forever??? I didn't want this. I want to be on a bench press right now, lifting Man Weights. Instead of these lame ass ones. I might as well wear a big flowered housecoat and curlers in my hair, yelling at the kids to get off my lawn.

Nah. I'll work my way back to Man Weights again. I'll be telling my guy to shut up as he tries to encourage me in his hysterical way as I struggle for the last rep of 21's. I'll someday see my deltoids pop out like I have shoulderpads built in under my skin. Unless I do that whole body plastic surgery makeover. I would DEFINITELY get delt implants!

Unlikely. I want them to work, not just look cool.

Doc the vote!

Yesterday, I went to see the breast surgeon for my follow up with him. Now that his office has power. He was pleased to see me in good spirits - a.k.a. lots of makeup and jewelry and a smile. My surgery apparently looks awesome. I still think it looks like a muppet, and perhaps if it didn't feel so weird, I would paint it blue and have my very own Grover... I know it will look like a breast eventually. RIGHT???

A few friends came over last night for a visit. It was nice. I was tired, but glad to see them. Clementines and chocolate breasts. Yes! I love fruit! It's really what I crave now and what I've been eating a lot of. Chocolate? Definitely craving. I need comfort food. In the shape of breasts? Amazing! I love my friends!!! I can't wait to eat a chocolate boobie tonight - I think they're dark chocolate and butterscotch. Mmmm.  Nipplicious. 

I actually had a dream last night that I put on a shirt and was bummed that I was missing a nipple. In the dream, I found a nipple shaped thing and put it in. I am pretty sure that the nip-pops inspired that one.

This morning, my daughter and I headed out to the plastic surgeon's office for another visit and fill up. They finally got power as well! A nice, though brisk, walk. I got another 60 cc's of saline in the expander (last week was 100!) and the good news is that no fluid needed to be aspirated. All looked good. For a Muppet breast, I guess. I peeked at it this evening and was pleased to see that it looked less weird. It sure is firm though, I'm going to miss that. Hubs and I talked about maybe discussing keeping them fake looking, since the righty will eventually balance out the lefty. Not talking politics by the way. But we'll see, maybe someday I'll actually want them to look real. I have a bit of time to consider, I suppose. 

Hubby flew back just in time to meet us at our favorite burger place for lunch! Bareburger is amazing. All the meat is organic, free range... basically not full of sh*t. It was much needed. We all enjoyed our burgers and fries - I think we were all craving some comfort food! Then, off to vote. My daughter, at 11 years old, seems to think that she should be able to vote as well. I have to say, for as much as she knows about politics, versus what I heard people saying on line as we waited, I kind of agree. But, those are the rules, and someday she'll get her chance to rock it. I like that she's interested and involved!

Homework. A grapefruit for dinner. That burger really did me in, though she wanted Udon Noodles - 2 bowls! Where the heck does she put it all??? I'll probably get the munchies in a bit - we'll see. 

Oh! Both docs said it's ok for me to work out very gently. Walking (duh!!!) but of course I can now walk on the treadmill at the gym and stay warm. Also, mellow biking at the gym. The PS's office recommends that I not sweat. I'm ok with that. I need to work more on my flexibility. Lifting my arm forward is not as bad as sideways. It scares the heck out of me, but I need to keep stretching that poor pec. The last thing I need is to be all locked up! 

That's all the news that I can think of - other than some Christmas presents starting to be delivered. I knew that recovery time would come in handy! Online shopping! $owch$ It seems I purchased some shoes for myself. I'd like to blame that on the medication, but I really didn't take much. Glad for a good sale. Maybe I can wear my new heels around the house to distract from Muppet Boob!

Hope everyone voted today. I wasn't feeling great and was very uncomfortable - but I wouldn't miss it for anything!

I went out last night, as if I had all my breasts on!

Hubby really wanted to go out last night, to our favorite jazz club. I figured it probably wouldn't be super crowded. It was pretty packed but I got a stool at the bar and guarded my left side with my life (of course that's the side that everyone had to walk by unless I sat backwards). I had a hard time deciding what to wear - ended up with some skinny pants (even though I've gained a few lbs. through this ordeal) and a camisole over my 11 year old's bra with a baggy button down top. I never took off my scarf - I felt like it masked what was going on. I also put on bronzer, fake eyelashes, and lipstick. I figure, it would be easier to distract people with big-ass eyelashes on.

Some folks knew what was up, but many didn't. I had weird pains now and again - phantom or real, I felt them. I'm sure my pec is still pissed off, poor girl is stretched to the outer limits and this is just the beginning - but maybe my nerves are starting to come alive again? I know hubby was rubbing my back and some spots hurt so much - I think I overdid it on our cheap massage seat when things were more numb. But that's ok. I'm alive. I wish I could go get a real massage. I wish I could get rolfed - I did it a few years ago and it helped tremendously. I'll go back when all of this is done and over and I get the okey dokey. My body is going to need some serious realignment!

We've been talking about a little get together. I'm a hermit by nature, contrary to what many believe. I have this reputation of being a social butterfly, but really, I crave silence - alone. All my life. I love my friends and I need to invite them in more. With all of this downtime, and once school is up and running again, I will have more alone time through the healing process. And I will begin to get stir crazy. And if it snows, I will be paranoid to go out and risk slipping on ice and allowing my left arm to break my fall, ripping my muscle and somehow, having the expander flop out of my body and into a snowbank. All that work for nothing!

Of course, I'm kidding. But still. I feel pretty paranoid. I walked sideways past people last night so there would be no chance of them catching my shoulder. It was suggested that I could wear a sling but I think that would not help my recovery. Though I'm still considering it just when I go out. Probably not, but a good idea nevertheless.

Time for a cup of miso broth. My breakfast of banana and peanut butter was good, but I need something warm and reminiscent of my mom. It's funny how you crave things that remind you of who you wish could be with you at the moment. I don't even think that was a proper sentence, but I'll leave it as is. I might even pour a cup of coffee - that also reminds me of her. And might bring my mood up a bit.

Once upon a time, I had 2 breasts.

It's Saturday. I made it to another day.

Yesterday, our photographer friend came for dinner and delivered the disc. Of photos. Of me. And hubby. Gorgeous, thank goodness for her vision! I nearly chickened out but am so glad I didn't. The photos hit me hard - they seem to be of another woman.

I took a shower all by myself this morning! I even washed my hair, though I think my guy does a better job. I carefully washed that damned left armpit, and when I emerged and started to dry off, I realized that some of the scabbing from the lymph node thievery came off. It's a pretty deep scar, but I know it will fade in time. But it's nice to have less of the scabbing. I bet it will be gone in a few days.

My so-called-breast looks a bit bruised up, weirdly wrinkled, a huge gash across the front (and yes, that's pretty much all of it) and it creeps me the f*ck out. But I'll have to get to know it - seems I'm stuck with this alien. Funny, I've been wearing a bra that belongs to my 11 year old, it's just a stretchy vest that is really soft, like thick pantyhose. With it on, I look sort of balanced. Without, a walking nightmare. At least to me.

My daughter asks a few times each day if my arm is healed. She sees how I move, and she wants to hug a lot. It's better every day. I love her optimism! It helps me to feel better. But damn, I'm still super uncomfortable. However, my game face is BANGING!

I've been enjoying a lot of green tea with roasted rice. I call it popcorn tea - it makes me remember my mom, it's yummy, and it's a good anti oxidant. Drink up, folks! I still have a bit of coffee but only for the taste. Hubby makes it perfect.

I piled on some bronzer and makeup so I don't look like I forgot to remove my corpse mask from Halloween. I had to get out today.Yesterday I planned on it, but I had a bad day. Basically, my body was mad at me. I can't blame it. Things didn't work right, and let's just say - I spent a good portion of the morning and afternoon in pain. Luckily, I found some relief before our guest came over. At one point, my daughter crawled into bed next to me with tears streaming down her face, and I told her to remember yesterday - it was such a good day. She massaged my feet. She brought stuffed animals. I love her heart and hope it never changes.

So my daughter and I stopped off at a Halloween store, 50% off! I had to grab a pair of metallic eyelashes and my daughter scored a Ninja Sword. I think we spent $6. Headed to K-town and dropped a LOT more, but hubby met us there (he was at the gym) and helped us carry home udon noodles, lots of bean cake products, weird asian candy, pocky, rice crackers, and of course, got her a Ramune soda and an aloe drink for me.

Just got back home, and I'm tired. What? We walked maybe a mile and a half total. I did my range of motion exercises and felt like a fool that my arm can't move. I am used to being really flexible, and now I joke that opening a bottle or a door, washing dishes and other simple tasks are now physical therapy. It's true. But every day, it gets a hairball better.

It's cold out - what the heck happened out there? Hubs wants to go out to a club that just got power back that we love. I'm nervous about the crowd and people not knowing that I just had a boob chopped off. You know, hugs and stuff. We'll see if I am brave enough. But for now, I'm enjoying the Edible Arrangements sent by my equipment sponsors. I will say it again - BEST get well gift ever. Especially now, the city is a bit short on fresh fruit. Our friend last night brought bananas and grapefruit - happy happy joy joy! The pineapple and melon and strawberries and grapes are making me feel like a millionaire right now - a millionaire missing a breast but thrilled to be alive. Now, with an abundance of fruit!!!

Post Op Visit! A miracle!!!

Late last night one of the nurses that works with my plastic surgeon called, apologizing for the late call (it was 9, nowhere near obnoxious, but she had been calling patients from home all day!)... she informed me that Dr. Smith was borrowing space for just today to see patients! 10am!

My daughter went to a friends house last night for a very small Halloween party. 4 kids. But, in times of crisis and no street lights, I knew there would be no trick or treating... so she put on her amazing costume and hubby brought her over. I wanted to go, but my costume of surgical bra and drainage bulb filled with red/yellow goopy crap was a little TOO scary. Not to mention I still am unhuggable and I still flinch when someone comes near my left side.

When they got home, I delivered the good news! Woke up this morning 2 minutes before my 7:30am alarm (that's 7:28am for those of you playing along at home!) and one by one (ok, there are only 2, but it sounds more dramatic!) the family woke up and got ready for our big outing. Keep in mind, I haven't been out in a week! Seriously! I can't even stick my head out of the window like a dog because we have childproof guards on the windows!  Arf arf!!!

I made us walk. Yes. I felt like a newborn foal on my wobbly limbs. But so excited to walk. It was a round trip of about 3 miles. That after a week of pretty much no movement? Heaven.

Did our usual routine of comedy. Oh, wait. That's just us.  But my daughter was in the room too, which added to my fun and sighing of relief. She's a trooper and a surgical veteran.

With fingers crossed, I wished upon whatever the hell was in the sky (star, cloud, sun, spaceship) that they would remove my drain. For a bit it seemed they wouldn't, but in the end they did and said that possibly they would aspirate next week. Fine. Whatever. They also filled my expander, which was my second wish (goooooo... spaceship!) and it feels really freaking tight but it already looks better. They said that sometimes with the filling, there is less fluid buildup. Um, yeah. There's no space!

Walked back downtown and marveled at how normal midtown felt. Everything was up and running, restaurants and stores open. We popped into what ended up being an AMAZING authentic Mexican hang.  I ordered a dish called Huarache which was corn tortillas with black bean inside (like a filled pancake), topped with steak, avocado and other Mexican-y foodstuffs. Topped it off with an extra dose of fabulous hot sauce. I almost cried, it was so good to be out and eating something that I rarely get to eat.

Another appointment on the way home. I felt nearly normal! And I no longer have to wear the surgical bra. In fact, I went braless on the way home, which I wasn't super comfy with, but I didn't bring an option. However, that newly expanded breast is rock solid. I guess with a double it would be really surreal. I can barely feel it. But it's almost like a Barbie boobie. I wonder if Barbie had a double mastectomy with reconstruction and no nipples made.

One weird side effect. My back KILLS me. I'd read about it, but now I know it's real. I already have chronic back issues from my scoliosis and occupation. But hey, death would be a worse option, so I'll figure it out! No way in hell can I get a massage any time soon, but hubby has done a good job and we have a little massage mat that I just sat on for 20 - and crap. I need more. I was looking online for a massage chair like before. I found a killer deal but have never ordered from this site - it's like Groupon on crack.  http://home.woot.com/offers/massage-chair-mc750

Do I drop the cash? We're all massage whores in this house. And I never bought that fancy handbag. Fuck the bag. I want something that will make me feel better! I wish I had experience with the site and also don't know how they deliver - it's a big-ass item! But I'm ready to drop the $. You only live once, and thank goodness my time was extended. So, I'll be thinking about this, but the sale ends in a few days. Tick tock.

It's hard to breathe sometimes. But I have a good family and a belly full of Mexican lunch. OLE', muthafuckas. Can't keep me down, even when I feel like crap!!!

I can't wait to feel like me again, but I really can't wait for the city to feel like itself again. xo