Radiology pushed back...

Sigh. Got a voicemail that they can't start radiation until next Monday. Still mapping out my plan. Part of me is super pissed (my impatient part) and part is relieved (the holistic hippie part).

I keep wondering if it's been delayed for a reason. Should I not go through with it?

I also got another preliminary request for an overseas gig, in about 2 weeks for 5 days. Seems like a far cry - paperwork, negotiations, game plan etc. needs more than that time frame. But a part of me says, if they can make it happen, that will delay radiation further, and maybe this is all for a good reason?

Had acupuncture again today. Last night, we all went to a "fancy party". Hubby was playing the gig, and my girl and I got dolled up and people watched. She was amazing. It was packed, and loud, and even I was having some crowd anxiety, but she was great! At around 11:45pm, some folks came in with pizza (which seemed super tacky if you ask me!), but she was hungry - so we bid farewell to the band and headed to the local pizza joint. It was really good. I snuck a bite from her SECOND slice. Yes, my girl is apparently on yet another growth spurt. We decided to not head back to the party, so we hopped a cab and headed home. It was past midnight when we arrived, but she was wired! So we cranked up the Netflix and watched The Dick Van Dyke Show! Hubby got me into it, and she absolutely loved it. I finally made her go to bed at 2 or so - figured it's sort of vacation... and around 4am I realized that I had a 10am appointment for acupuncture! Oops. I got a few hours of sleep and went to my pincushion session. Basically slept through it, sort of.

Been having worries about Lymphedema, so I stopped into my breast surgeon's office and immediately saw his nurse! She gave me some info and we were chatting when she noticed I was missing an earring! "FOLLOW ME! I SAW IT ON THE STREET!"  Seriously? I was in that building for an hour, would it still be where she saw it? It was! I felt like so many things fell into place. Thank you, Mary - so thrilled to have my earring!

I have been looking at compression sleeves - most are plain, but these are fancy! Since I fly, use my arm a lot when performing and just practicing, end up carrying equipment and luggage, I can't change my life to avoid lymphedema. I could probably tolerate one of these once in a while. Though, to be honest, I'm not great at wearing crap that might help me - if it's annoying or looks dumb. We'll see...

I spoke to the OT who specializes in this stuff. Really nice, and out of network. $owch$  She seems to think that my active lifestyle up until now will help me avoid this in the future, and perhaps a sleeve is not a good answer, or at least in only extreme cases, like flying overseas perhaps, or long rehearsals. Or lifting heavy things like equipment, or furniture, or my fat cat.

We're cooking chili for our NYE dinner. We, meaning, my husband.  Lucky me!

I caught a brief nap on the massage chair and had a cup of coffee. I'm hoping that my brain can carry me to midnight. I need some sort of Clockwork Orange eye contraption. Or maybe, I can paint eyeballs on my eyelids. Just in case.

I've had to make some really difficult decisions this year. I've been diagnosed with one of the scariest "words" ever. I've gotten chopped up, slowly inflated, worked through some major physical and emotional pain, turned down a lot of work, and still feel like I live in this strange limbo where every decision will impact my physical and mental health for the rest of my life.

And I have my family. It's small, but it's amazing. So, here I am, being rebuilt, burnt, poked, chopped, advised, medicated, and all I want to do is be happy and be me - and be around for long enough to see my daughter fall in love, graduate high school and college, meet my grandkids if she decides to have any, and see what this wonderful little girl will grow up to be. I know it will be from the heart, because that's the only way she operates. So I guess if I drop dead tonight, I know that I have created a life full of love - I just want to be there to enjoy my gift to the world for as long as possible. I want to enjoy my brand new marriage until it's old enough to laugh about "the days way back, when he had to wash my hair after surgery", or "the days when he had to lift me out of bed like a damned forklift while I screamed in my head", or how about "the day I had reconstruction" or "the day I was told that the cancer was gone"... because I look forward to those days. Maybe someday I will look in the mirror and see my un-colored grey hair and remember these days when I tried so hard to preserve my youth all for the sake of work. Maybe someday I'll still be playing music and will toss my grey mane around, lecture to those "darned kids" about the joys of being a senior citizen and how wonderful the journey has been. I want to find myself there someday.

Time Flies!

It's been quite a few days since my last post. The medical clearance didn't go through because of the holidays, and while it would have been beneficial to go back for more guided imagery and mustard seeds yesterday, I opted out. My daughter was home, it was the day after Christmas...

My stepdaughter never made it to town. We don't know exactly what happened, but 3 flights were missed. There's only so much you can do when you're not the main household, but she'll be 18 in 5 months, and hopefully by then, will have helped us to understand why she didn't make it. We shipped her presents out yesterday and hope she's having a good time.

We have had a fantastic time, despite the sad news of her absence. I had my second gig since surgery, but really - my "comeback" gig. The first, I got to sit down, wear something simple, and play tunes for a few hours. It was difficult, but I got through it fine. Saturday - I had to wear a crazy costume, I think I had on 5" heels, did a fairly good job of evening out the girls (or girl +1), and had to read actual music to match the rest of the band, rather than blow tunes with some friends and throw solos around. And I had to move. Dance. Shake my booty. We all know one slice of me that can't shake... so I had to really strap in the bookend to really sell it. It was tiring. I did my best to breathe, to read music, to play, to smile, and enjoy myself. I can't believe that I actually pulled it off, but I did. I was exhausted by the end, and was a bit swollen the next day from playing so hard.

Christmas, well - I was raised to be a Grinch. Growing up poor, never asking for anything for fear of breaking the bank... getting strange things that I had to be happy with - my Mom really tried to do her best, and for that, I understood the art of gifts. But still, I always grew up anticipating disappointment. Until I had my daughter... now I love that I can watch her excitement. I don't really spoil her on Christmas, though the only times of the year that I really buy her anything is Christmas and her Birthday. She wanted Gundam models... got 3. I got her 2 Wii games (which she hasn't even opened yet!), some really hysterical tee shirts so I can finally donate a bunch that are WAY too small on her but she can't seem to part with... other fun stuff, but I can not get her nose out of the books she received! I also got her a great instruction book on drawing Anime. Hubby got her some great art supplies, fancy pencils, a super sketch book, different kinds of pens. It's funny. Being 11 but not being into clothes and girl stuff. She ended up with a bunch of books, a few games, and bizarre models to piece together. Last night we broke into her Doraemon DVD's - 8 of them in the set! And our house has been smelling wonderful due to the major cooking events.

For Christmas dinner, we had a couple of friends over and made a nice beef stew, rice, candied yams with pecans, sauteed asparagus - but our friend's mom had made a HUGE hunk of ham and there was too much leftover, so he brought it! It was seriously monstrous. And I never cook ham, though my kid and hubby love it. So there we were. I'm boiling the bone and remaining scraps that couldn't be sliced off - what do I do with that broth? I just know, growing up in a house where you couldn't afford to waste anything, even though I'm not a huge fan of pork, we will make something with the broth. We're talking about throwing in beans and greens and potatoes and making a soup.

Last night, actually, we made miso soup, with slivers of pork, shiritaki noodles (zero calories to offset the pork!), carrots and asparagus. I had a wild craving for ramen (the kind from Japan, not from a package in a college dorm!) while working out with hubby at the gym (Grandma took our girl book shopping for Christmas) and announced my Big Plans on the treadmill next to him. I'm getting better at trying to be me again. My arms look like girl arms, which totally blows (for me - I set some high standards years ago and it kills me as I disintegrate into old age and cancerdom) - and really, my guy was an amazing cheerleader as we lifted. My evil scar tissue that was killing me weeks ago is almost gone, and I think in part it's disappearance is due to overhead triceps and perhaps my deltoid presses. Just being able to put my arms at those angles rocks. Amazing what we take for granted, huh? Anyway, I'm very sensitive to what works my pecs, and I've found that I can do a bevy of weight lifting movements without engaging said pec. Really, sad pec. But the skin is stretching so well, and I assume, the muscle is tagging along. I miss doing manly bench presses and pushups and crap, but I guess I'd rather be cancer free.

But am I? Am I a survivor? I don't think so. I still have to embark on this radiation crap. I still have to *theoretically* take icky meds.

I feel like I will forever be a patient. Even when I'm given the All Clear. This shit will haunt me. I hear it from others. It ALREADY haunts me. I feel my expander side looking for my long lost lumps. I almost miss them. There was comfort in them (they were NOT my cancer, had them for years). They rolled around on the side of my breast like little beans. Marbles. Those little wasabi peas that make your eyes water, but you want more-MORE-MORE!!!!!! I also had something that I called my "flying saucer" on the other side of that same breast. It was a flat disc thing, and for years it got really big - while I went through some really stressful times (um, not like cancer, but still...)  My docs were always impressed with the vigor of my lumpiness. Apparently it's normal, for some people. I'm one of them. But it's like a false alarm, always. And when you go for a screening, part of you says that you have a bunch of lumps and they're never cancerous.

Today we went to the science center - my friend from High School works there and has extended an invitation for years. I'm glad we finally took her up on it! We got to check stuff out behind the scenes, with the animals (where she works). We petted a fluffy little owl, watched her feed wormy things to some fuzzy dudes (yeah, I don't know what they were), my girl got to "pet" some fish with the other kids there (my friend's daughter and 2 kids of another employee) - we got to hold a *creepy* snake - which really only made me think of the awesome shoes my neighbor recently gave to me, one pair being snakeskin... a lot of cool stuff. Saw a 3D movie on Meerkats, which are super cute - though I don't completely agree with some of their ethics, they do work well as a team. Did I mention they're super cute?

On the way home, we stopped into Ricky's on a whim. I have been thinking of buying a bigger pad for my boob to even out with Robo-Franken-Boob. BINGO! Braza Liquid Edge!  It's really light and helps to even out so much better than everything else I have. It's like a prosthetic breast but with room to stuff mine under it.  And way cheaper than other pieces I had looked at. I only need it for the next 4 months or so... I love it when a plan comes together. I've been stuffing multiple pads in my nylon stretch bras but they never even out. I'm so much closer now with this one. Whew.

Tomorrow! 2 appointments! I got an acupuncture appointment at 9:30am (luckily there was a last minute cancelation, and unluckily, it was early) and a noon massage - all cancer center approved. I really hope that the pins and needles and massage strokes will somehow magically lift some of this damned stress out of my freaking soul. I really feel like I'm just full to the brim with it. No room at the inn. Thank you, don't come again. Closed for Business. Get the fuck out.

So, a nice little drinky-poo from our donated Christmas collection from a friend moving. I was never a big drinker, at least after my early 20's did me a bit of damage. But now? At night, I almost feel like I need a buzz. I still drink miniscule amounts, but that doesn't make it right. I'm going to try and get to bed early, since I have an early alarm (I'd like to get up around 7 to get some stuff done, including warming up my instrument, and maybe even do a short workout with my weights at home before I head out). We'll see how that rolls...

Mustard Seeds in my Ear!

Really!

The clearance for my acupuncture didn't come through yet, and you can't screw around with that stuff in a hospital, but we had a session anyway. Mustard seeds taped to my ears in the hot spots that my therapist found (relating to anxiety, the heart and digestion). Then a guided imagery. I could let go of my entire body, except my right shoulder. I hold a LOT there and always have. But it literally felt like it was saying, "Hey, bitch. I'm NOT letting go. I never will." Um, that's not cool. I hope that it can slowly let go over time. But at least the rest of me did!

Came home and felt good but, well, cancerous. What can I say? Every day I walk into a building that says CANCER CENTER in huge-ass letters, over and over, on banners that flap bravely in the wind. Yeah. Fuck you. Why not put something cool up there, like "Superhero Training Center" or "Secret Headquarters"???  Make me feel cooler than some chick with cancer. Seriously. Then, instead of looks of pity, people will whisper to each other, "I wonder what special powers SHE has" or "Do you think they shouldn't write SECRET HEADQUARTERS up there? It's not really secret anymore"...

Anyway, getting the house ready. My stepdaughter is flying in tonight. Really late. Hubs is working so I have to go pick her up - and living in NYC, we don't have a car, which means I have to haul my ass out there on 2 trains. Actually it may be 3. I need to look into this soon. I think she lands around midnight.

I hate feeling so down much of the time. It's not me. (I swear, Ma, it wasn't me!!!)

But, life is good. Except for the cancer shit, of course. Just need to get that crap out of me, never let it return. There's so much stress and decision making and bullshit to cut through in the process. I hate it. Everyone thinks they're right. Everyone knows what's best for me. Well, I like most of my docs, and finally finding the acupuncture etc. division - well, I felt like I found a home. I finally found someone who agrees with all of my principals. She knows all of my docs, and feels the same about them all. If I do end up taking shit that I'm not comfortable with, I know there is one person working in the hospital that agrees 1000% that I know my body better than anyone.

If only my right shoulder would leave me alone. When I got home, hubby was sweet enough to massage it and really dig in. I felt NOTHING but could hear it. CRUNCH. CRACKLE. I think if he does it every day for me, it may just start to break up whatever hell has settled in there. It's always been bad, but damn. Seriously???

I have a show tomorrow. What to wear? It's a funky one, so anything goes - and the stranger, the better. I found a black pleather dress in a cheapie store that has very wide straps and a high cut neckline in front and back. It's not as strange as I usually dress for this, and almost a bit too Matrix-y, but it camouflages a lot of what is bizarre. I wanted to find a pink belt or ribbon to wear around my waist, and have matching socks poking out of my boots. No luck today. Probably because I didn't look. I just need to obscure a few things and did find a black thing to wear on top, so the unevenness (though my very creative trial padding went pretty well) won't bug me out as much. I'm sure nobody else will notice, but you know when you feel awkward... it all shows.

I have so much to do, but I just want to crawl under my covers and go to sleep. I'm such a freaking wuss.

New Tattoos!

Ok, it's not as exciting as one might think. But I got 3.

Went back to the cancer center today. Sadly, they recognize us at the security desk. Went to get measured for my custom tan sessions. I mean, the burning of my skin and supposedly any wandering cancer cells that ran fast enough from the scalpel.

It was an ordeal. CT scan with my arm up over my head. Damn, that scar tissue! It was ok, but a real bitch when I was done, which was about 20-30 minutes. After the scan I had to lay there while the science club behind the glass checked out my images (hope they got my good side!) and then, one of the guys came in to measure. I have never seen someone's hands shake so uncontrollably like that, and I wondered how the hell he was getting any accuracy at all with the tape measure. When he walked out, I asked the assistant if they could hear us behind the glass, and when she said no, I asked if he always shakes like that. She said he does, but he's good at what he does. Perhaps the coffee machine in the waiting area should be inaccessible to him. Anyway, someone else came in to double check his work, which made me feel better. And the radiologist was hanging, and at some point he said to his assistant that she should see why he decided to skip lunch yesterday and hang with us instead. Funny enough, we both noticed his tummy growling. But we had no idea he skipped lunch to help us out!  Then I got my tattoos. Basically, with all the markings on my breast, the assistant took ink and put it on 3 spots, then proceeded to poke me with a needle. The first was numb. The other two, notsomuch. Especially #3 which was under my damn armpit. Old school tattooing. Glad they were just small dots. I never could have sat through barbed wire around my bicep. Hah!

After all of that, we were ushered into the alternative therapy room. We had mentioned interest in massage and acupuncture yesterday. Apparently I can get 2 massages through the hospital, as a cancer patient. I'll take them! They are trained to work with oncology patients, and I believe - breast cancer in particular. So, I called and got an appointment next Friday. I know it will be too mild for what I'm used to, but I need some damn relief, and they know how to bolster us, what is uncomfortable. In fact, the woman on the phone said that she had the same plastic surgeon for her reconstruction as I do! 9 years ago!

Meanwhile, while we were there, the woman who runs the hippie room does acupuncture. She asked if I was interested and short of jumping up and proposing to her, I said "Definitely". I've had and loved acupuncture in the past. Please help me with my stress and anxiety and discomfort. She asked how soon I'd like to start... next week, maybe? I asked if "in 5 minutes" was too soon, so she checked her schedule and got me in tomorrow! We need some clearance but that should be a non-issue. Please, turn me into a human pin cushion and let me meditate in my porcupine costume.

She also does cupping and gua sha and reiki. I'm SO down with the hippie joint. I'm not sure how long I'll be able to access it, probably through my radiation. She said that after my 2 massage sessions, she has associates who can work with me at a discounted rate, and perhaps even make housecalls. I've been PETRIFIED to go to a massage therapist that doesn't get cancer, the reconstruction process, etc. So, there it is. Thank you, universe.

I need to get so much done - damn. I did finally color my hair tonight. I'm not sure when the last time was, but I didn't realize until a few weeks ago exactly how much grey is now in my hair. I'm sure it multiplied since cancer. And I know I haven't been coloring my roots because of the chemicals, but also because - who the hell cares? But I'm working again, and will be around more and more in the real world. Nobody cares about a few grays at the hospital. In my world? Bad idea. So that was a nice treat. I really have to find an effective natural hair color - if anyone has any that they like, please let me know. Geez, everything we use in here is natural, except my damn hair color. I guess it's a pretty good ratio, but if I can make it better, I would love to.

Off to redo my nails - gig Saturday and I need Christmas cheer on my fingers and toes. And my stepdaughter arrives tomorrow night. Late. I have to pick her up at the airport at midnight or so - hubs has a gig. I hear the new Newark Airtrain is easy, so let's hope that's the case! Speaking of her visit... I have to clean tonight! Crap.

Looking forward to my zen moment tomorrow. Looking forward to starting radiation Jan 2 (just to get it done, you know?) Looking forward to the skin craziness fading. I guess I can even out with some self-tanner. This will be a task but hopefully I won't discolor too horribly. I've seen some photos and, all I can say is - YIKES.

Radio City

Met the radiologist today. In the initial 5 minutes, I didn't think I'd like him. I was right. I loved him! Hah!

Super clear, super honest. He recommended radiation, but not the whole shebang, just partial. Not even any lymph! Hallelooooooyaaaahhhh! We discussed the pros and cons of Doing vs. Not Doing. I'm scared as all hell to Do, but I am convinced that it's the best course of action.

5 days a week for 6 weeks. What the hell was I thinking???

So there it is. I feel like a resident at the cancer centers. But like a young person who lives in a retirement home. It's not ALL old folks, but seriously. Oddly enough, my building is like that, so I'm used to it.

We had deep discussions about the Tamoxifat. Basically, he seems to think that I will kick ass on it. But, he admittedly doesn't know my system like I do. My system hates medication. But, he has had patients who are fine on it even if they hate all other meds. And he said: Stop taking it if you hate it.

Just like our Plastic Surgeon said yesterday.

But, he doesn't want me to start until after the radiation. So that saves me almost 2 months to gear up.

I asked if the radiation would make me lose the 10 lbs. of stress and surgery weight since diagnosis. He said "Sure!" and I thanked him for lying. Because, maybe I can find a way to convince myself that it WILL help. Maybe the smell of burning flesh every day for a month and a half, and the pain of my torn up skin will help. Hopefully I won't smell like Kramer. Though, the poultry thing is still not appealing for some reason, so I'll just hope that Newman isn't hanging around in the 'hood.

He also said something very telling. I had a moment, hubby was crying and I started. I apologized for my raging PMS. I then asked if I should have just had both cut off. He said no way... blah blah blah... you made the right decision... and then after a while he said something to the effect of "I can laugh at you because your prognosis is good. If it was bad, I would be in the hallway crying right now". And I realized, that once again, we have found a good doctor. One who wants to save me with the best outcome coupled with the best quality of life.

He also recommended calendula for the radiation site during treatments to help repair the skin. I mentioned that I had a spray bottle of it and he asked me to bring it in. I also mentioned my obsession with Creme De La Mer since my daughters first surgery at age 4 months. It made the redness of the scars disappear immediately, literally, immediately. I started using it on my face and I really have noticed a difference, or perhaps no difference - after over 10 years of using it. My skin seems to not really age. I have had mild sunburns where I apply the creme and it instantly feels better and is usually gone by the next day. The crap was invented by a NASA scientist who totally got screwed over with a chemical explosion in his face. Um, yeah. It works. And a 1oz jar lasts me at least 6 months so it's not as awful an investment as it may seem (I only use it at night). I am sure that it will be disappearing a lot quicker during this ordeal, but of course, it's going to be totally worth it to save my skin. I really, really, really hope that my skin can handle this. It's generally resilient but I'm so scared of this.

Duh. I'm scared of it all. I asked if the Sharpie was going to hurt. Kidding, of course, but I'm so used to everything being painful or creepy now.

Our breast surgeon came into our appointment and it was super amazing to see him. We love him so much. He is the kind of person that deserves a Nobel type of prize for best bedside manner. But it's not even something that he consciously does - it's who he is.

The oncologist... remember her? After letting the visit sink in, well, on our list of docs, she ranks last on the Homecoming Queen ballot. We may just stay with her, I feel like her job is to write the prescriptions and pick who needs chemo, who needs hormones. All of our docs say that another doc would say the same. Perhaps delivering it in a nicer way. But, years ago, after I stopped nursing my girl, I was put on a very low dose of anti depressant, apparently between my unemployed and useless husband and the hormones, I was really pissed off and couldn't stop crying. You know how my body goes stupid on meds? The lowest dose of welbutrin worked like magic, and the psychiatrist said it was too low a dose to do anything, but there it was. I told her. Duh. Anyway, our very expensive visits consisted of this conversation:

"So, how are you feeling?"
"Same."
"Any thoughts, feelings or concerns?"
"Nope."
"Ok. Here's your prescription."

At the 6 month mark I told her I was done. She hated that. I guess she wanted me to keep coming back for our Groundhog Day conversation. She told me that I'd have to wean off the pills, but... I was on the lowest dose. Not much to wean off of. So that was that. Goodbye, Doc.

I'm thinking this is my oncologist's role. Check in, write a script. And she's in the same building as our Superstar breast surgeon and radiologist. And if I tell the Tamoxifat to shove off, I may pass her in the hallways occasionally and ask how she is. Because I have a feeling that I'll be spending a lot of time there, for a long time, even after the exchange surgery. Which is now going to be in April instead of February. Crap.

I was so looking forward to a brand new breast for Valentine's Day. "LOOK BUT DON'T TOUCH!" Well, it will still be that scenario, but instead of a new implant, I'll have burn marks and probably some nastiness with the skin.

Dear Hallmark: Please make a card for cancer patients.

"Sorry to hear your boobies got hacked off. I still think you're hot"
"The flame of love got just a little too close to your heart"
"You're so hot, your breast is on fire!"
"Nice new implants. Wanna go steady?"

I really can't think anymore. I just finished my Pumpkin bread marathon. A dozen loaves are wrapped and ready for teachers and a load of Pumpkin muffins are bagged up for the front office folks, and the crossing and security guards. Shoot. These people are watching over my kid. The least I could do is feed them! I even type up a little label with all the ingredients in case folks have allergies. Yeah, I'm a dork.

This is the first night my girl has gone to bed before 10. It's been really trying, with the late homework and crap. But, today she did something so amazing - she auditioned for the school play!!! Something I would never have done at her age. Yeah, I'm a musician, but that allows me to hide in a group. I don't do that anymore, but back then? Heck, yes.

She asked me to come in. It was awkward, as I was the only parent. But, she seemed to not know the kids, they were all older than her. She barely practiced her audition piece but she MEMORIZED it. I typed it for her and made little signs to show here where to breathe, slow down, enunciate. I'm SO proud of her, no matter what happens! One of the teachers was excited to see her audition as well. My girl said that if she didn't get that role (it is a really huge one - Mrs. Peterson) that she would be cool with being a screaming girl. Or building sets. THAT seems like something she would really enjoy. Who knows? I was definitely nervous but I think she was fine. I wanted to cry several times, because I have RAGING PMS but also, because I'm so proud of her. She is becoming so brave. Way more brave than I will ever be.

Off to wrap the last loaf which has hopefully cooled off. I'm packing the bread with my CD's. A new crop of teachers, and I feel it's my duty to remind them that I'm a musician - and if they want some musicians for the pit of the play, maybe they could talk hubby and I into it. Maybe we'd even bring Pumpkin bread to the rehearsals. Huh.

Aw, Sweet Pumpkin...

BREAD! Loaf 8 is in the oven. Somehow I've managed to misplace (probably burned something in it and just tossed it) one of my loaf pans, so now I have one. Yes. The woman who loves to bake has one loaf pan. And it's old as heck. But, the evil voices in my head told me that the teachers would love a big, gorgeous loaf of pumpkin bread as a little holiday thanks. So here I am. Middle School. Um, I have to bake maybe 12 or so of these suckers. Lots of teachers, and you can't forget the crossing guard, or security guard, or front office...

I can't believe I haven't tried it. I did bake some muffins so my girl could - and she said they were incredible. Great, thanks kiddo. But that wheat gives me mucho inflammation, and the sugar ain't super for me. I do make it with organic coconut and olive oil, so it's not a total wash. And, I'm not saying that I didn't have some batter during clean up time. I'm not. What? You heard that? But still, a huge improvement - I'm the queen of denial batter eating. Cookies, cakes, and of course, Pumpkin Bread.  I am going to have to bake some gluten free for us at some point. Well, maybe not. I may not want to smell this for a while - it's been nonstop deliciousness wafting in from the kitchen! OH, THE TORTURE!!!

Do I seem like I'm happier today? Well, after seeing the plastic surgery team, we talked about the tamoxifen. Yeah, I still think it's the devil. But doc said "If it sucks, stop". He's right, but that doesn't mean I'll start. It just means, yeah, just because they say 5 years doesn't mean that I will. If I decide it's best to try it, well, we can see how it goes. But, that's NOT why I'm happier.

*NOTE: If you don't care about the gym, this next paragraph will totally suck for you.

I got the ok to work out! Not my pecs and nothing heavy, but I went to the gym and did 21's on a 20 lb barbell (my last weight was 30 and too light, but 40 was a real bitch). It felt easy, but I wanted easy - we'll see how easy it was when I wake up tomorrow. I did overhead presses and lateral raises for my delts, again really easy (10 and 5 lb. weights, when I normally will do 25's and 12.5's or so...). I did overhead triceps on a 17.5 lb - usually around 25 but again, I want to feel alive tomorrow, not like I had mastectomies all over my body! I also did some careful obliques - tried a lat pulldown but that was obviously a horrible idea. I did end up turning my grip around and focusing more on my biceps. And I got on a treadmill!  *Disclaimer: I hate running. I used to run and love it, but screwed up my knee.* Anyway, I walked a little, ran a tiny bit, walked, ran, for about 15 minutes and actually broke a little sweat! Got on an elliptical for 45 and watched mindless reruns - Everybody Loves Raymond (which I'd never seen) and Seinfeld (which I was addicted to back in the day).

I had to get out because I needed something to eat, and had to get my daughter from school.

But I felt like me, even for a couple of hours.

I do hope I feel a bit of soreness tomorrow. I miss feeling my body like this. Even though I went really mild, I knew I was being safe with my pec.

GYM CRAP OVER

Tomorrow morning we see the radiologist. PLEASE tell me that you don't have to zap my poor little boobie. I mean, she's been through so much already. Seriously. I feel like the whole act is similar to dipping her in a deep fryer at some greasy spoon, the oil has all sorts of remnants from 50 years ago. And my breast to be? Why would you dip her in there and fry her up like a chicken leg?

Which brings me to another quick diet thing. Chicken used to make me super nauseous during pregnancy. Well, it does again. I never really loved it, it was always a thing that I could easily not have in my life. My girl loves it, though. Now, I'm not saying I don't love a nasty plate of super spicy buffalo wings, but we all know that has nothing to do with chicken. You could put that sauce on a piece of plastic and it would be just as amazing. Well, the plastic would be tough to digest... but you know what I'm saying. I feel like my body has been saying, "hey stupid! I don't like this bird!" and I've been dealing with it for my daughter (except for the aforementioned wing incidents). I realize that my diet will end up being different than hers (for instance, the 4 pumpkin muffins she inahaled, compared to my sneaking of batter when done baking - and that too should change... I suppose...) I think I'm strong enough to handle it. Sounds dumb, but it's hard to sit there and watch folks eat stuff I love(d) to eat. But now? Well, I'd like to keep the cancer to a minimum, and maybe my body is trying to tell me things. I just need to listen more closely. I'm pretty good at it (the wheat and dairy elimination years ago, with an occasional sneak, but never a habit).

I've been cutting down on meat, a lot. I guess I've been cutting down in general, but I'm making sure to eat stuff on my GOOD list, which, after investigating the world wide web, seems to have tons of veggies and fruits, which I adore. Not a ton of animal products. The only ones I really seem to use are red meat and eggs (and I actually don't love eggs on their own. Another "EUREKA!" moment!)  But, I love meat. Grass fed, free range, massaged by angels, I like the best of the best. But, I need to eat in moderation until someone tells me it will kill me. Can I cut down my animal products to a few times a month? Since I avoid dairy and can avoid eggs easily, the only thing would be red meat. I think I could, and I could DEFINITELY afford that. Sheesh.  And I'll bet it will be more exciting and delicious, or it will make me turn my nose up like the chicken. And the egg.  But, which came first again???

Well, let's hear it for weight lifting endorphins. That shit rocks. Let's hope I feel a little soreness and a lot of inspiration tomorrow. Maybe I can do squats and lunges. Hmmmm...

And, the Worst Mom of the Year goes to...

ME!

I've been so stressed out since everything, since the diagnosis, since the crap that led up to the diagnosis... and I just keep blowing up at my kid with homework when hubby is not around.

She has fallen so far behind in math. She has not handed in 2 weeks worth of homework! What the hell happened??? But she hadn't brought it home to be done, and I had no clue what was what. The school has a website and teachers update when they can, but they're so overworked, so it has been hard. Finally I got through to her teachers and she brought her missing assignments home today.

2 weeks plus a day of math is a lot. Not to mention all of her other classes. But math is one that is particularly hated by her. I get it. I hated it too. Funny, I'm good at it naturally but HATED it in school. I think my high school geometry teacher smacked that final nail in my Math Coffin - but it was a long process of lowering me into the ground on that subject.

She gets frustrated. I get frustrated. She yells. I yell. Several times in the past 3 hours I have told her that I quit. But I can't quit. She needs me to help. I just don't know how, sometimes. My temper gets the better of me, especially these days. Because of this fucking cancer, and the surgery, and the lack of work, and the lack of exercise, and the stupid meds they want me to poison myself with so I can live like a fat, cranky old lady who is two steps away from putting her head in the oven. Yeah, I'm stressed.

A glass of wine while I sent her to take her shower. My heart is palpitating. I can't stop crying.  I hate myself at these times, and am so mad that hubby is out working. Yeah, he needs to. But I need him so badly right now. My daughter deserves more than I can give her.

And he does too. Who the hell gets married thinking that his brand new wife will be diagnosed with cancer a month later? Part of me wants him to leave me, and have a happy life with someone healthy. But I need him so badly. We need him. And I'm useless.

Imagine me on tamoxifen? If I react violently to the most mild birth control pills, how the hell is this not going to kill me in a week?

I had my teeth cleaned today. I had put it off for a year and a half. I know. And I'm neurotic about my teeth. Thank goodness, because they always comment on how great it is that they don't have to scrape the shit out of my teeth. Yeah, I'd rather use a sonic care and floss than go in every six months to hear and feel the awful scraping of metal on my teeth, which always makes me think that my teeth will fly out of my head.  Yuck. I can still hear the minimal scraping in my brain. But, since I'm so type-A about my oral health, they admitted that my teeth were better than a lot of folks after just 6 months. Thank you, and goodnight. Why couldn't I figure out how to scrape the cancer out myself???

Anyway, my dentist actually had liver cancer a few years back. I remember the ordeal. He's cool now, as cool as one can be after having cancer. I can already see from talking to "survivors" that you never really feel safe. Even if you're on some ridiculous preventative medicine, that also prevents you from being happy, or healthy, or mildly interested in your partner. I'm a newlywed, for goodness sake!

Anyway, he went to see a local doc who is the only dude who works with Ozone therapy infusions. I was overwhelmed with info, but his name is Dr. Howard Robins. And apparently he's a genius. And expensive. But I'm going to call him. Because I'd rather spend money and remain myself, perhaps become my OLD self again, not the OLD LADY that the crap that insurance will pay for will turn me into. I want to enjoy my life.

Quality of life. That's why I didn't just let the cancer fester and kill me. I had my breast removed, and a bunch of lymph nodes, too. I'm going through this awful process of rebuilding, so I can at least fool some of the people some of the time. And allow my self esteem to remain intact when getting dressed, or undressed, or being dressed for a show. Yes, I have all of my body parts. Why do you ask? Oh, these scars? Yeah, I had cancer. But I decided to live.

Is Tamoxifen a decision to live? I am not convinced. It is a decision to prolong life, maybe. Not guaranteed. It's a decision to give in to Western Medicine. It's a decision to sustain a lifestyle that might not be conducive to being cancer-free. I mean, if you have smoking induced lung cancer, do you continue to smoke and take meds? Some do. That's their decision. Me? I need to look at my life honestly and figure out what is wrong. Major amounts of stress. Some dietary issues. Personal products for the body and home. We have made SO many changes over the years, and went into high gear upon diagnosis. By then, I had the tumors. But if I continue to look honestly and change my life honestly, aren't my chances better in having a beautiful life? Can't  I be in control of my health? Of course. Our docs over here don't totally get that. That's fine. Their job is to bring in cash. And yes, they do care, but their values are different than mine, and others. If your house is messy, do you sweep the dirt under the rug your whole life? I hope not. But some do.

So I stare into my salt lamp, breathe deeply as my daughter continues on her math homework quest, and realize that THIS is a good life. The one where I decide to breathe, the one where I enjoyed my thimble full of wine to allow me to wind down where I had no opportunity to meditate or find relief from my parenting duties. And maybe in the future, I will be able to tap into my calm space without blinking an eye.

She wants a clementine. I know. She needs a break and asking for a piece of fruit seems like the safest route. Her bedtime has passed but she has a ton of work left. I can't let her fail. Math or herself. She's a smart kid - and stubborn. Wonder where she gets it from?

I want her to have balance, too. I want her to find her inner Om. And I want her to find success in school, make sense of her brain, find a way to control and nurture it.

Finally in bed. She finished much of the overdue homework, and I hope, her current homework. I'm so frustrated with myself as a parent, but I know we all go through this. I made sure to tell her how much I love her, as I always do. I just feel inadequate sometimes. Like I can't handle this huge boatload of responsibility that has landed at my dock. I'd been a single mom for years, and did everything (see: any previous post about my ex). Now, I have help. Which is amazing. But with the stupid cancer? I feel so fragile, like I could crumble at any second. I could blow away in a strong gust of wind, being mixed in with sand, or dirt, or trash. Just blown away into a million little bits. Because I'm not strong enough to keep myself together.

What to do... what to do...

Well, last night, after much inner struggle with myself beforehand, turned out to be a successful night. Making music with 2 people I adore, at a swanky but downtown crowd party, being hit on by a famous screenplay dude (who really had no play at all - cute and nice, but certainly needs to work on his game a bit!), and walking out with some Christmas cash and realizing that I survived on 3 delicious grilled shrimp and a club soda with a splash of cranberry. And... people liked us. I'm used to being liked as an entertainer, but my brain has been haywire with all of the activity (or inactivity, really).


I had a hard time picking a dress. I finally settled on an elegant black dress that drapes and hits at the knee, suspecting that we'd be seated. I couldn't find a bra for the life of me, but ended up in my old standby - the black one I "borrowed" from my daughter. It actually brought the neckline up a bit, which covered up the awkwardness of my new shoulder pad - a.k.a. boob in the making. I feel like I'm at freaking Build-A-Boob, but it's not fun. And I'm bad at it.


So, I picked up my prescription for my fat pills today. But I'm really on the fence. I get what they do. They squat in my estrogen receptors so cancer cells don't grow, while I'm on them. Getting fat and going through menopause. Then what? What about the lovely side effects, like different and exciting kinds of cancer, bone loss (though, I've never had a cast, that might be fun), the attractive hot flashes and pounds building up despite a healthy lifestyle (other than the cancer, and - oh yes - tamoxifen)... I mean, I'm not sure about the trade off. Does it guarantee that cancer doesn't return? Maybe for the 5 years I'm torturing my body.


Western medicine is all about chopping things off and popping pills and maintaining an unhealthy lifestyle. I do live a clean life, but it could be a LOT cleaner. I'm contemplating this as I look over what the role of tamoxifen is, and how I might be able to replicate it without poisoning my body further. It's bad enough that I'm on antibiotics for the next 3 days because I'm getting my damned teeth cleaned tomorrow. But I can handle a 3 day med much better than a 5 year marriage to one.





Lifestyle - diet, exercise, stress management, avoiding toxins. Won't that make my cancerous tendencies chill out as well, if not better, than this crap? And, if I make extreme changes for my LIFETIME rather than 5 years of torture, doesn't that mean I'll have a BETTER chance overall of not having it returning?


Most home, garden and beauty products contain hormone-like compounds in them. We have been meticulously replacing our evil stuff with happy, tree hugging stuff. And you know what? We LIKE the natural stuff better. Ok, maybe I do and my family doesn't care either way, except that it's BETTER for us. My daughter is very much on the natural vibe. I wish I knew this much as a kid, but when I was her age, it was a different world. We didn't turn ordinary veggies into monsters. We didn't pile chickens in big warehouses and feed them hormones and have them grow so large that they can't walk - even if there was anywhere to walk. I'm so appalled by the "food industry", and we spend a shitload of money on groceries because of THEM. But you know what? It's our choice to respect our bodies and our health. And we've been ok about it, but now? I'm going all in. Good thing we've decided to change our eating habits, because I have the appetite of a lumberjack. A really, really hungry one. And my husband's nickname is Snacks for a reason. You'd never guess by looking at him (he has been accused of being an Olympic Swimmer, one of my favorites!) but with this more conscious way of living, I'll bet he could win the f'ing Olympics. Or at least have a six pack. I had one on this diet (when I worked out 3 hours a day), so maybe I can come close again. But, the most important thing is that I hate the thought of introducing crap into my body like that. I told my guy that I'd go Raw Vegan if it meant saving me from cancer again. We'll see what we need to do.


I think my Oncologist is going to be pissed.


Another thing we do, other than our old takeout food containers (which will be very few and far between now!) for giving leftovers away at parties, or delivering holiday cookies (oh crap, that's going to be a tough one to avoid), is we store everything in glass containers. I might have to bag my Vitamin Water on gigs habit, even though the ones with Potassium save me (reduces swelling)... I'll find something else or just start making my own juice and bringing it along.


Exercise is huge. Exercise helps to reduce excess estrogen from the body and being overweight boosts the body’s estrogen levels. Obesity increases insulin levels that have a growth promoting effect on cells, especially on cancerous cells. Inflammation is also a cancer promoting environment in the body. I guess that is partly why Turmeric is super cool to take. And it's delicious to cook with, if you dig that kind of flavor. I mean, the delicious kind.


I hear that lignans in flax are phytoestrogens, but in reality they bind to estrogen receptors and work a bit like Tamoxifen, as they hop on the estrogen and bind up these hormones and carcinogens and flush them out! Lignans are also found in most unrefined grains (barley, buckwheat, millet and oats), soybeans, and some vegetables (broccoli, carrots, cauliflower and spinach), but flaxseeds are apparently the bomb-diggity in awesome binding sweetness. Plus, I love the taste and texture in my protein shakes, or yogurt, or salad.


The Liver. I'm glad I don't have to consume it, 'cuz that sends some nasty chills down my spine (which currently probably has decent bone density!) But it's important for elimination. Calcium, veggies, squashes and melons, oranges and apples, and also Milk Thistle is an amazing supplement for the liver. I cured someone's Hepatitis C years ago by suggesting it. Turns out, this person's numbers are so minimal that he no longer has to claim it as a health issue on official stuff. Cool. I guess I should drink less than a thimble of wine. Been reading a sliver about NAC (N-Acetyl Cysteine) which seems helpful. Must read more. Brain in overload. Bitter greens (which I adore! And apparently my girl likes arugula more than spinach in a salad???) They help your liver dump extra hormone overload. Shoot, I eat at least 2 or 3 cups of arugula a day now anyway! Dumpity-dump-dump.


I had a massage therapist who was obsessed with pomegranates years ago. They fixed everything. They always seemed to be a high maintenance indulgence, but I do buy them more often now. The act of de-seeding them is kind of a nice zen exercise. Lots of antioxidants and crap. The phytochemicals may suppress estrogen. Score! Apparently raspberries can do this too. Delish as well!


I know I need to drop the caffeine down a bit. I guess I have 1-2 cups a day of delicious, caffeinated ground up beans of joy. And green tea - but I used to drink the tea primarily. I need to flip that around and go old school on myself in the hot beverage area.


Quercetin - apples, red wine, onions, and green tea, screw with estrogen as well. Yippee! I am more of a white wine person, but I can make the switch happen. I'm THAT dedicated.


Broccoli, brussels sprouts, cabbage, cauliflower and kale, OH MY! They do all sorts of cool things, too. I'm getting bored with this entry - sorry.


I know stress management is the bomb, and so hard to get a handle on. I'm the WORST. maybe not THE worst, but I have a LOT of room to improve. Chronic stress exhausts our adrenal, which causes progesterone depletion. And estrogen wins. Crap. Om.


Okey dokey. I guess I need to call the Oncologist, who I really like, and tell her that I won't be taking these toxic little fat and sweat inducing pills without a thorough a/b of benefits of totally turning my life around.


Oh, here's something to chew on as well: Tamoxifen is now recommended for 10 years of sheer torture. And many women in the trial groups dropped out because it sucks monkey balls.

Taking charge, um, sort of...

Well, after a decent sleep, I woke up to a loving husband, a messy house, unwrapped presents, and a mission.

Before I was pregnant with my baby girl (who now wears my jeans... huh), I was really fit. I was a personal trainer for years and loved it. Perhaps obsessed. Whatever, don't judge my former six pack.

I tried all sorts of safe diets, and the one that ripped me to shreds was Body For Life. It was my duty to try all sorts of (safe) gimmicky methods that clients wanted to try. I really liked the eating plan on this one, it really broke my meals down into what they should be - fuel. Every few hours. And one day of insanity eating. The first free day consisted of 6 donuts, an entire pizza, and I believe anything else I could get my hands on that was not actual food. That got old fast, and while I still would enjoy my free day - which definitely helped to reset my metabolism so the 6 small meals were effective, I would eat reasonable meals - maybe more than usual or things that were otherwise taboo to me.

So hubby has agreed to eat like this with me. So far - a shake this morning, and a small helping of leftover healthy burrito mush with arugula and a few organic baked corn chips. Meal three will be upon us soon. And I can stretch the time a bit more I'm sure. Tons of water. I just wish I could lift weights like I used to, but if I can get my food in a better way, the workouts will fall in line down the road. I'm sure I'll have no problem breaking a sweat... geez. Menopause, here I come! I'm glad we don't want any more kids (though I'm pretty sure you shouldn't try to get pregnant on this or any other crap like it!) I guess the bizarre bright side is that if I had a moment of insanity smack me upside the head and give me baby fever, I couldn't even toy with the idea. I don't even understand the new baby carriages I see these days - they look like spaceship pods. Uh oh, I'm already turning into a cranky old lady and I haven't even picked up my prescription yet! When's the free day again? Might save that for when my stepdaughter comes to town. Hmmm...

Wrapped the remainder of the Christmas presents and placed them under our Charlie Brown tree. Now... the house needs some work, but I have to work tonight and am so exhausted. My brain has been in overdrive for way too long. Do I nap? At least lay in bed and listen to music? Do I get in my sauna bag and start getting used to the hot flashes?

Life offers us so little time, it seems. But in a way, we have control over what we choose to spend it on. I just want to be happy again. I want to feel useful, productive, and not like a pathetic patient.

The shooting yesterday really threw my brain off. In addition to my spontaneous cancer crying, I can't look at facebook without doing the same, for all of those children, those teachers, families. I can't comprehend anything anymore. My brain really needs a rest. Maybe I'll try. I do know that I'm happy to be alive and I love my family. And all I can do is do my best, which fluxuates daily, even hourly. Right now, my best is apparently staring at a wall. I should try and stare at the insides of my eyelids instead.

Tamoxifat

Well, we saw the oncologist. A very dry, nice, funny and no bullshit woman. I'd hire her as a lawyer in a heartbeat. And I'd hire her as an oncologist. Wow. That was lucky!

No chemo. We suspected, and I rejoice!

Still not sure about radiation - and I still have anxiety about it.

But - 5 years of Tamoxifen? As I asked questions about it, it seems I will be enjoying hot flashes and weight gain. By the time I'm off of it I'll be too old and fat to give a shit about anything.

This is a hard pill to swallow. Literally.

I thought maybe they could bring back the old Fen Phen, and I could take Tamoxifenfenphen.

I hate medication. What if they discover that long term Tamoxifen leads to new and exciting incurable diseases?

What if I just don't take it? I can hide the pills in a tissue and stuff them under my mattress. For 5 years. The princess and the Toxis-Tamoxic Peas.

Anyone reading this knows that I have a job that depends somewhat on my physical shape. I'm not a stripper (or I'd have already had humungous implants!) but I'm seen. A lot. How can I sustain a career while taking this toxic shit, huffing and puffing in my fat suit, sweaty as hell?

Yeah, I know. You're saying, "at least you don't have to go through chemo". And I know. It's true.

Am I going to go through early menopause because of this shit?

What about my bone density? My eyesight? Blood clots?

Shit.

So, I guess I'd better start stocking up on seqinned mumu's. And a LOT of Spanx. Can I get lipo while on this stuff?

I think the cancer and surgery were plenty, thank you very much. No need for more crap to deal with. I've had my fill of Awful Shit To Deal With.

I know. It could be a lot worse. But I'm just sick of it. Where's my life? I haven't felt like me in a long time.

Early to bed... in my dreams... wait...!!!

It's 11:20pm, and I'm thinking, if I could get to sleep now it would be sweet. I'm getting up at 7am, and I'm just under slept. I've definitely been worrying about tomorrow's appointment. But on top of it all, I didn't get a call back from my doc's office for the referral. So, I know things always work out, but for a 9:45am appointment, I'd rather know that the referral is already there tonight.

Thinking we should go early, check it out, and have a coffee (or two!) to pass the time. If there's no coffee time, then at least we can get things done so everything goes according to schedule. Who's schedule is it? I feel like I have no control over these things these days. It doesn't feel like my schedule at all. It's like my Robo-Boob is driving this cancer bus, and I've been taken hostage.

So, I'm going to crawl into bed. I'm still hormonal, but we ordered Middle Eastern food tonight and it was an excellent life choice. I really needed some lamb kabob, falafel, tabouli, and yes - baklava and bird's nest. Apparently, I'm the only one in the family that loves that stuff. Oh... poor me. I didn't have to share.  ;)

Fingers crossed for tomorrow. I wonder if they'll draw blood. I wonder if they'll look at me with sad faces and shaking heads. I wonder if they'll address me like an intelligent human. I suppose since this doc is affiliated with my current docs, there will be a respectful conversation. And, as always, I will sit like a deer in the headlights while hubby carries on said conversation. Because I'm scared shitless, and nothing will change that right now. Yeah, they cut my boob off. Yeah, it's all healing, and soon - hopefully - I will have the exchange surgery. But, I'm scared. There was cancer in my lymph. Not a lot, but more than none. The crap was close to my skin. Why'd ya have to swim so far away, you stupid cells???

So, off I go to bed. And I'll act like I'm tired. I'll yawn. I may not stretch since that feels freaky. I'll pretend to fight my lead eyelids - and of course be grateful that I'm not like the botched up eye-lift patient who can no longer blink.

Meditate. Yes. This is a good night to meditate in. Hells, this is a good LIFE to meditate in.

Here goes... but, what will I wear tomorrow? I'm meeting a new doc!!!  I'm sort of kidding, but not. I want all of my docs to look at me as a strong, hopeful woman. Which means, keep my shit together. This occasion may call for a swipe of mascara and some lip color. I want to look vibrant and happy and not needing any sort of radiation or chemo intervention. "Look at her! She doesn't need poison, she needs to go to a fabulous brunch with her adorable husband! Fuck cancer!"

Yes. Fuck Cancer. Indeed.  Om.

Cravings...

Weird. I'm craving a cigarette right now. I mean, REALLY craving it. I haven't touched a cigarette in probably 15 years. Maybe I snuck one here and there, but yeah. Craving. The whole act of it. Why?

I am hormonal. I did just finish almost all of the chili dark chocolate. I saved a square, maybe tomorrow I'll need it. It's not that spicy but it gives me ideas for baking.

But, I digress.  Yes. I'd love a few cancer sticks. Ironic, no?

I'm in SUCH a mood today. I blew up at my man right before he left for work. Sometimes shit just builds up and it's like an invisible practitioner sneaks up and gives you a brain colonic and all that shit just runs out of your face. I also do have PMS. But, I think with the cancer stress, the not working stress, the fear of people in the industry finding out too soon, the fear that I will never fully recover, or my expander will pop, or I will need radiation or chemo, or they will never find a cure and my daughter will live as I have, as my mom and her sister and my cousin have...

The good news? We put up our tree. It's about a 10 minute ordeal to pull it out of the bag in the closet, attach the feet, and set it on a table. The fluffing of the branches is kind of fun. The lights are pre-attached. Yeah. I rock. I never did get the whole thing about buying a real one, dragging it into the apartment, trying to fit it on those stands and remembering to water it so the apartment doesn't burn dow, the needles falling off, and finally - dragging the damn thing outside with a trail of needles, having to clean up all the needles afterwards, and then, you REALLY do it all over? Every year? No thanks. I much prefer my pre-lit forever symmetrical mini tree on a kiddie card table. There's tons of room under for gifts. And the cats can't get to the tree unless they REALLY piss us off.

So there's that.

Now, to figure out teacher gifts. And by teacher we include some other important personnel. I'm still waiting for any sort of disability payments. Apparently things got mucked up in the storm, and hells, I just hope I get the checks in this lifetime. Meanwhile, 2 starving artists, one with cancer. We're thinking of baking for everyone - pumpkin bread is my girl's favorite. We'll see how it all goes...

Stress. Agh.

Fuck.

Hate it.

But I'm SO happy that I haven't needed another fill! I mean, amazing!!! We go back on Tuesday when we know the Hulk Plan, A.K.A. whether we will radiate, or - hopefully, when we will rebuild my bionic boob. Fart putty? Fembot style? Or just *regular*?

I was at the gym and walked down the stairs behind a woman, older than me, very thin, with huge fake boobs. They looked surreal especially from above - they didn't move. Everything else did on her body, her face. And I thought, ok... I want regular. So this damned humungous expander is in here, stretching the hell out of my girl part, or where it used to be.

Ironically, I caught a special on TV while cardioing, about "plastic surgery gone wrong!" and I thought, wow. This woman went on a "surgical vacation" and came back thoroughly messed up, but also has lost her job because of this and has incurred so much debt to try and fix it. This other woman can't blink now. And sleeps with her eyes wide open. Seems she'll be blind soon. And I think - thank goodness nothing went wrong. My ex, upon hearing that I had cancer, suggested I go overseas for my surgery. Why? I actually have insurance, and we live in one of the major cities out there - excellent medical care all around. But yes, I should go overseas, to a strange land with a language I don't speak.

Naw. I'm cool with my top notch docs under my insurance.

I got the bill the other day. Mindblowing what is charged. I get it, for some things. The docs deserve a lot. And I know hospital overhead is ridiculous. But... wow. I would be letting my tumors grow and fester if I didn't have coverage.

And how many women have no coverage and know that tumors are growing, that their clocks are ticking... and they can't do a thing about it?

No matter how bad shit gets, it seems we can find a reason to breathe. Until we give up on life. I'm not ready.

It's almost 2am. I should go to bed, I can barely keep my eyes open. But hubby is out and I can watch his gig on my laptop. So here I sit, wishing I could tell him how great he sounds, how proud I am, how I can't imagine life without him. I hope he can feel me. I hope he can feel me a lot more than I can feel my fake boob.  We were talking and I thought it bumped into him but I couldn't tell. Glad it was him - but how awkward might that be in the future? Hence: fart putty boob. It's like a warning signal!

Gloomy Monday turned Brazilian Caffeinated Old Lady Celebration!

I woke up feeling down, and the overcast weather didn't help. But I kept a smile for my girl. She's in school now. I had Big Plans to go to the gym and try to let go of some stress, but was so hungry! In checking my Period Log (yes, I have an app to follow my cycle!), it seems I'm in PMS world. So after a protein shake, a very small piece of leftover steak with one egg over easy, one piece of Ezekiel bread with jam, and an apple, I still felt hungry. And these days, a shake has been more than enough!  Ah, hormones...

I warmed up my instrument because (drum roll, pretty please?)... I have my first gig post - surgery this coming Saturday! So I need to get my muscles flexing. I've been practicing on and off, but it's been hard, with the pain, the sadness, and the lack of a goal besides one that is a week after this Saturday, it's been easy to push aside. Not my usual self. So I was thrilled to get a call from a good friend and phenomenal musician for a private soiree! Can I do it? Well, I won't know until I try - but I think I can handle it! It's only a trio, which means more playing for me without rest, but I'm with 2 musicians I love. And, I need the cash.

After that, I SWORE I'd get to the gym. But, that wasn't happening. So, after wasting way too much time on the internets, I had a moment of scolding myself. I am ALIVE. I am LOVED. I have a beautiful family, a wonderful career, I love my home, my pets, my friends, my colleagues, and other than the cancer, I'm healthy as heck!

Oxymoron. Healthy Cancer.  Moving right along...

So I poured a big cup of iced coffee, with vanilla almond milk, a nice dose of Xylitol (the chunky type, I like texture!!!) and stuck a big straw in it. This is a favorite treat of mine, and I know I shouldn't be OD'ing on the caffeine, but I'm SAD, damnit! Caffeine brings my qi up, and I don't care if it's temporary. It can lead to activity and thought patterns that will uplift my day. So... bottoms up!

I also put on some really fun Brazilian music. Who? I dunno. It's a sampler I got from Amazon MP3 - they offer amazing FREE music for download and really inexpensive others. If I were out of the cancer closet, I'd tell you to buy ME on there. Ah, that day will come. I really should look into how I can offer it for free, it would be lovely to widen my audience. I have really discovered some wonderful artists this way and have purchased their music. Anyway...

So the weights are out. I'm doing old lady weight lifting, all that I'm allowed to do. I wish Richard Simmons would bust through my door like the Kool Aid Dude and scream "OH YEAHHHHH!", but I guess I should just hope that my ink delivery arrives before I have to pick my daughter up from school. Plus, my big ass Himalayan Salt Lamp is on. It makes me happy. It helps me breathe, whether the effects are real or Memorex, I could care less. Orange glow = breathing. I could use all the help I can get!

Well, I'm feeling better already, so continuing on my iced coffee/old lady weights/Brazilian Bopping adventure - I'm sure glad I yelled at myself earlier. If it were anyone else yelling at me, I would have yelled back. Shoo, I have CANCER! But me? How can I yell back at me? It would go on forever, I'd lose my voice, and I'd get nothing done. Here goes...

*update*: While I feel a bit better after doing my version of Old Ladies Gone Wild, my ravenosity continues. I know it's not imagined, I know my hormones are screaming. So, the good news is that there are no longer leftover mashed potatoes OR gravy in the freezer. The other good news is that I actually heated them up, as opposed to what my lovely husband would have done. Yup. He likes to snack fresh from the freezer. The other night, after a late gig, I heard rustling in the kitchen and snuck in to catch him popping frozen shumai in his mug. I really adore him and find that hysterical. But, you won't catch me popping frozen shrimp dumplings, or potatoes (yes, I've witnessed) or anything else unless it's supposed to be frozen! His other snack love - pretzels or chips dipped into anything. Frozen Goulash? Pass the twists. I'll drill it out! Leftover pasta sauce? Hey, I found some pita chips!

Ah. Love. I can't wait for him to get home tonight. So we can Wang Chung tonight. Note: Do not watch this video if you have epilepsy.

Good choices in life.

Divorce was a very good choice, apparently.

My ex said he'd bring my daughter back at 2pm. I texted at 1:20 to ask if she'd want lunch when she got here. Nothing. 1:45 I texted to see if she was ok.  Nothing.  2:25 I texted to ask if she was still alive. I tried calling, no answer. I called his mother, and she said that they were supposed to come over there for dinner and she would stay with me tonight. That was NEVER the plan. I then divulged the secret that he hasn't paid child support in 2 years. She seemed to be surprised.  Yeah. Surprise. You pay his bills and not child support, and you're surprised?

I finally got them on the phone, probably after his mom called him. He said he was confused. How about answering your f'ing phone or texts. How about acting like an adult. You're 50. Stop acting like a 10 year old with no worries other than the fact that you're failing school. YOU ARE FAILING LIFE.

Yes, I'm pissed. Perpetually. I wouldn't care if he didn't have my daughter. I haven't been able to work for 2 months. He owes me 2 years of slacker child support - meaning, based on his record of unemployment. Meaning, the bare minimum anyone can be forced to pay. Not enough to buy milk.

How could I have been such an idiot? How could I have married someone who lives in a sea of lies? Everything he told me about himself was a lie when we met - so that I wouldn't dump him. He:  hated sports, was a hard worker, and many, many other things. In truth? All were lies. The only thing that wasn't a lie is that he is anatomically a man. It goes no further than that.

I'm taking a deep breath and trying to not eat every ounce of chocolate in the house. He said he would bring her over. We'll see. I should really call the cops on him, but what good would that do my daughter? I'd like to see him pay his dues for his lifetime of deceit and bs, but I don't want to hurt her.

What I do want is full custody. Hell, if he'll give her up and my husband can adopt her, he'd be off the hook for child support (not that he pays, though technically he does owe me 2 years of back-pay).

Hubby always reminds me - 7 more years. Can I last that long? Is he part of the reason I have cancer? Deep breath. I don't need to re-cancify myself. I wondered that about my mom as I got older. Was she sick because she was in a toxic relationship? I need to make myself immune to his poison. But when he affects my daughter so deeply, and tells her that things are my fault (he blames everything on me - the divorce, and things that date back to before I ever met him - heck, things that happened when I wasn't even born yet!)  I'm so sick of the lies.

I am happy that I found my partner. If I hadn't, I would probably think that there was nothing good to this world. That everything was a lie. That it's a game - get as much as you can before you die. Fool people into thinking you're what you're not. Find ways to be lazy. I've never believed any of that, but that's my ex's mantra - and many others as well. He lives in his own hell - I just wish my daughter didn't love him so much. It hurts me and it hurts her. She doesn't seem surprised that he forgets to pick her up. That he's late a lot of times. That he can't seem to do homework with her, or cook a meal, or clean his house. She thinks he works. She tells me what an important person he is. Really? Then why are his Mommy and Daddy paying his bills, even 2 gym memberships? Oh, wait. Of COURSE they can't help with child support. They're paying for 2 gym memberships, a fancy new phone, and god knows what else.

Yup. He's my cancer. I can't think of anything or anyone else in this world who affects me so negatively. I need to become immune to his bullshit. I have learned a valuable lesson. It's too late to take my time back with him, but I wouldn't have my daughter without him. Now that I have her, I wish he would just leave. His constant threats to "move to Europe" are so empty. Too bad.

A quiet evening, just the two of us.

... and by two, I mean my new breast and I. Hubby is out of town on biz, and my girl is with her dad.

So I've decided to try and get to know my new breast better.  Just because we got off on the wrong nipple, doesn't mean we will be at war forever. Heck, we're stuck with each other. So, here goes.

Spent an hour doing cardio this afternoon. It was tough. I just feel really down these days. (Geez, I wonder why???)  I can't even pad my bras properly, so I have to find really distracting ways to get peoples eyes off of my boobs. I was thinking of an Alice Cooper makeover, but that might not be enough.

It started pouring as I left the gym, and my pretty suede Puma's got a little gritty, but I have to let go of my Virgoness once in a while and jump in a puddle.  After the rain subsided, I put on my big ol' galoshes and went shopping. I promised myself that I'd be good with my food today - I've really packed a few on, and that is NOT helping my mood. So, for today, I've had protein shakes and produce, and a little cottage cheese with flaxseed oil. And a bit of greek yogurt with cranberry chutney leftover from my Thanksgiving extravaganza. I'm kind of starving right now even though I have eaten plenty - but it might just be the Peanut Butter Snickers in Fun Size that I can see in my daughter's snack drawer in the fridge. Yeah. My daughter has a snack drawer - much like myself as a child (I could keep an Easter Bunny - white chocolate and solid as a rock - in the freezer for a year, and nibble once in a while) she doesn't overindulge unless she's growing or hormonal. She'll generally grab fruit over junk - I recall one birthday party where she ate nothing but carrot sticks - I don't think she even had any birthday cake! Anyway, those freaking fun size bars look so innocent.  130 calories? Hello? I'd rather have half of a Think Thin peanut butter bar for 120 calories! Well, I can only play that game if someone is around to eat the other half. Remember Thelma and Louise? Geena Davis would eat a bite of chocolate, throw it in the fridge, and continue until it was gone.  Yup. I can do it sometimes.  But I have more control with fancy chocolate like Vosges Bacon Bar - I think I got one for Mother's day and it lasted until almost the next mother's day. It was INCREDIBLE, but I wanted to savor it. As a kid, we were poor, very poor, but one thing I could count on was a solid white chocolate bunny from a nice candy store for Easter. My mom made sure of that. And that was my Bacon bar of yesteryear.  One year, she was in the hospital, instructed our dad to get the exact bunnies, and he got a freaking Dog. Um, I wasn't even a dog person. What the hell? When she got out, I know she did something nice for us. But it showed me a lot about parenting. We can't always get our way as children, but certain things are magic. Like a bunny. One year for Christmas, she was sick yet again, and I asked my dad and brother to help with the tree. No takers, so I did it all myself. It was a familiar scene in my house - the women did all the work. Without a thank you.

I'm so happy to have changed the family structure in my head. My man does so much for us. He cooks more than I do, he does 97% of the laundry, he cleans without asking. And folks, THIS is what is meant by the term "partner". Something they didn't use back then. I know there are plenty of unbalanced families today. I know I've been in some mightily dysfunctional relationships in my life. Probably looking for one like the one I grew up under. What made me snap? I'm thankful for whatever it was. I think I gave up, really. I gave up looking for something that would make me happy, since I grew up watching unhappiness. I didn't "need" anyone. I had settled on the idea that I'd grow old alone, that I'd be a single, happy Mom. I swore I'd never live with anyone else again, I'd never get married... and here I am.

I guess in the same way that I've broken the dysfunctional relationship cycle, I'd like for my daughter to break the breast cancer cycle. Possible? I sure hope so.

It was  pretty icky day for me. I know it's ok. I think it's important to have days where you aren't on top of the world. Days to question what's going on. But, I have a few articles in the works, and I need to get crackin' on them. One that was supposed to be published almost a year ago - and apparently fell under someone's chair... or something. I was told to update it to reflect the now. Not tough, but it is. Because I'm not talking about cancer. At least, I don't plan on it.

The other one is about cancer. Really, how it has affected me as an artist - and I'm hoping to apply it to help other folks with health issues that stop their careers for a bit. Hubs and I are going to share that one, good to have the partner perspective. Plus, he's super smart and eloquent. And he knows every thought that has traveled through my noggin, and understands the freelance artist brain, because he has one as well.

But, for now, I'm thinking of cutting myself a little slack and crawling into bed. I'm almost done with the latest Warriors book. Maybe time to finish the last few pages, and get to my Cancer Vixen book. Seems my daughter finished and I've only seen 2 pages.

We'll see. Maybe my brain can't handle more than finishing up Season 3 of Breaking Bad. After all, it's about cancer. Kind of.

Seriously! The last fill!

This was it, another 60cc's of saline. I thought I only had room for 40, but what the heck do I know?

I asked why it was the most uncomfortable week last week (other than after the initial surgery), and it turns out, as the expander nears capacity, it just becomes harder. Yup. I'm screwed for sure this week. BUT, I don't have to have another fill! I go back in 2 weeks, after we meet with the oncologist to find out if I need to be all Hulkified. I sure hope we don't need the radiation - and by we, I mean my fake breast and I. But if we do, it'll just suck a little more for a while. I still choose life.

We really haven't touched on chemo again - and I really feel confident that I'm in the clear. Besides not being a believer in killing every freaking cell in my body to get a few feisty ones, I think even if there is a smidge of cancer floating around, I can kill it off better while keeping my luxurious locks, and my lunch.

My daughter has been asking a lot of good questions after reading Cancer Vixen. Some wonderful friends sent it to me, not knowing that my breast surgeon is in it! I almost fell over when I saw his name, and realized the drawing looked just like him. Freaking celebrity. The truth is that he's so wonderful, he really should have a fan club.  I'd like to be president. My doc (actually nurse practitioner) said that everyone in her large medical practice really loves him. I know why.

My girl has been asking about lumps, tumors, and other things, but never with fear in her voice. Just questions. She wants to know about my case, and what she should be aware of in the future. How many 11 year olds know these things? How many mom's open up like this? I was so scared as a child, because I was told nothing, shown nothing. Just in the dark. I'd sometimes come home and realize my mom wasn't there. I never knew what she was going through, or how long she'd be away.

This weekend we were away, and there was a pool. I had a feeling that I wasn't allowed to go in the water (and confirmed it today at my appointment - not that I could wear any of my bikinis and look normal anyway!), but I remember as a kid not knowing why my mom couldn't go in the water. She was a camp counselor, and I had nightmares for the better part of one summer about her falling in the lake. Thinking it would kill her instantly, instead of just risking infection - which still sucks, but is not a death sentence. I like my method of being open with my girl. I know it's different times and Mom did what she thought was best, or what she was told was best. But growing up as I did, I know that I want my daughter to experience cancer with knowledge, not fear.

I found out that I can now do abs as long as I feel ok. Um, nothing feels ok. My pec was so full today after that fill that I dragged myself to the gym and labored over 30 minutes on the elliptical. I was gasping for air, the pressure was incredible. But I did it. I also hadn't really eaten all morning, I think the thought of another fill made me a little nauseous. I was thrilled to enjoy a coffee protein shake when I got home, and I dilly dallied on the internets until it was time to pick my daughter up. Thank goodness for Advil, or I never would have made it. I'm having pangs now, and it just feels like some invisible bully is poking me with a long needle. I know in reality that it's my muscle spasming, and I'm grateful in some odd way that I'm as numb as I am - but I wish I could get feeling back someday. I know it's not really a possibility. It's so weird. I'll have something there that is technically part of my body but is so separate. I've already experienced some bizarre phantom pains. Gee, thanks. I love that PMS still affects my breast that no longer exists.

My scar tissue in my armpit is still quite the little bitch. It has been worse this week, and my doc's assistant helped me by excruciatingly aggravating it to the point of submission. It's true, I can't massage it as hard as someone else can. I like deep massage, but not in my damned armpit! So I've instructed hubby that he is to dig in, and I will try to not hold it against him as I silently scream. It's a good thing I adore him.

So it's getting late, and I should stop pretending that I'm going to get something useful done and at least lay in bed. I can't even imagine sitting in my massage chair right now, I'm petrified of the new boob being jostled - heck, it bugged me just walking to my girl's school and back home. Breathing is not a picnic right now, either. Guess that means it's time for more Advil. I'm so not into meds - and I'm taking my turmeric and other crap that supposedly kills cancer - which also help with swelling etc. But I need the heavy guns for now. I'm actually scared to lay down - I know tomorrow will be a bitch in the morning. All I have to do is think about it and my face scrunches up. Will that cause premature wrinkles? I'm not in the mood for more crap to deal with. I really should ask my plastic surgeon if I can get a discount on future voluntary work for all the business my one breast has brought in. Of course, I really have a hard time imagining going under the knife voluntarily right now. *sharp pains shooting now - damned invisible needle dude*

Off I go to pretend to try and sleep. At least I'm honest! And alive!

You can't negotiate happiness. You know where it is. Get it!

Back from a wonderful weekend upstate. Fancy hotel. Ridiculous food. And I didn't even have to work! This time it was hubby... and we brought my daughter and I got to live like a Band Wife. That's not bad at all!  Ate about a squillion calories, but every one of them was worth it. Got all dressed up with my daughter who NEVER dresses up - so she ended up in all my clothes, even shoes!  (Luckily for her, I have some cute black flats by Puma, so they weren't *too* girly).  Lots of great vibes.

While hubby played his show, my girl and I wandered the hotel. The game room was great - pinball, racing, foosball, ping pong... I have to say she didn't inherit my mom's ping pong skills - way too impatient and forceful! But we can work on it. However, she kicked my butt on the race car game! I really had a knack for driving into walls. This ain't no Mario Kart, I'll tell ya that much! Of course, I was in very high heels, and it's hard to drive in them. Yeah. That's it. I did slay the pinball, but that's an old people's game.

We wandered back into his gig through the evening. But it was late! She hung out with her friend (another "band kid") and it was just fun to watch them interact. She was the oldest kid there in that crew, and she really does well with little ones. Obsessed with babies. There were 2. One was just 5 weeks old, and at the opposite end of our dinner table, so my girl naturally had to get up every time said baby cried. I really do wonder what she'll do when she gets older - she has such love for babies and animals. A vet? An early childhood specialist? Or will she combine it and open a school for babies and animals? Ok, it's definitely late.

So, my last fill still leaves me uncomfortable. It's been 5 days. Damnit. And my next fill is in 2 days. Double damnit. Oh, wait. I only need one filled. I think I've overextended myself this week. I used an elliptical the other day with moving handles, but I really was passive in the arms. I let them drape over the handles (not even the whole time) and let my legs do all the work. Still, that's really all I can think of. Other than the STRESS...

I've been talking to the people of a Big Artist. I've worked with them before, and all is cool. But there was such miscommunication about the scope of gig. And it was stressing me the hell out.

Tonight - I said no. I can't and won't commit to it. I could do a couple of months, which is what I thought it was - with options to continue as things happened. But this? Hells No. My happiness is in my heart, but the scope of this would have broken it down. I know how the game is played. And I can do it for a short time, but I can't drop my life. Yes, the bills would have been paid. But at what cost? And with the reconstruction, I did make it clear what time frames my medical needs would command, but when it all came out - the contract - I knew it was a re-cancerfication if I signed on. And not enough bread for what I would need to do to calm my heart down. And my girl, she's growing up. She still loves me AND likes me. How many moms can say that? I would have had to hire someone basically full time, since hubby travels for work too - it works out with our schedules now, well - before the surgery - and will again. But this scenario would have caused major schedule issues. For a year. I didn't agree to a year. I thought 2 months was the deal. We could have handled that - I would have come back super frazzled, but some debt would be gone and I could afford some sort of fancy massage especially for mastectomy peeps.

I choose happiness. We live comfortably. Yup, we'd like our bills paid, our debt gone. But, we're not starving. And our family bond has become ridiculously strong. Especially through this. You can't buy this shit. So I'm hanging on with my life - and having cancer has taught me that THIS is what helps you get better. Money won't wash my hair or change my surgical dressing or rub my back while I vomit. It won't ask me about my day, or if I need a nap, or if I can come to the big Cross Country Meet. It won't hug me at night and tell me it loves me. Don't get me wrong - if we could have the money and live as we do, that would rock. But I can't spend a year of my life - not knowing when my last breath will be - unhappy for a buck.

So I sit in my livingroom, listening to the clock ticking. Realizing that I really need to get to bed - tomorrow is a half day at school and I have to pick my girl up. I need to get my butt to the gym after all that damn FOOD I ate this weekend. Maybe I won't do the elliptical with the moving arms, 'eh?