Bahhhhh Humbug.

I suck. I haven't posted since August. Not that I haven't wanted to. I have had fantasies of writing eloquent, elaborate posts about my goings-on in my life with cancer.

But, it makes me tired and cranky.

So, there's that!

Anyway, I'm officially diagnosed as being in menopause. AGAIN.

First time was on the tamoxifen. Let's give Tamoxifen a big middle finger!

Now, Mama Nature has taken over, has checked out my cavity of warfare and destruction via Western Medicine, and has decided it's time to shut down some operations. Like, ability to make another kiddo. Because, quite frankly, who wants to get pregnant when they're condemned to a lifetime of cancer and lymphedema? I babysat an infant with hubs a while back, and I had to put him down quite often because of my arm. Not because of him - he is a soft, sweet smelling cuddle bug.  How would I cope with pregnancy? Sleeping less than usual? Changing poopie things, etc? Yeah... no. Even if I were wealthy and could hire a full time nanny? No. It's unfair. Not only because I can't really keep up with a baby and life, but because I could drop dead during their Kindergarten Graduation. Seems selfish, no? Also, I'm done having kids, and have known that since she was 3. She's in high school. Yeah. Done.

Don't get me wrong, I love my kid. Like crazy. Also, she makes me crazy sometimes. That never overshadows my undying love and unconditional cravings to just smoosh her beautiful face up and tell her that she can drop her anxiety, her insecurity, her fears. The world is a crazy place, and she's brilliant and shall overcome the BS of society. I hope.

Anyway, it's been very busy. My body has been rebelling in a million ways. Between the hot flashes, the weird dryness (my skin etc. are just dust right now, and I'm assuming my bones are packing their bags to join it, as well - remember when I had osteoporosis? Dear Jebus, I can't handle that kind of excruciating pain again, but I hope it will be more gradual this time)  Actually, this has been a little more tolerable - I guess because I didn't pop a pill every day that basically turned off my woman switch. But still - I'm too young for this crap. My white hairs are having babies. My skin is changing. People still say I look 15 years younger than I am, but dang. I do have days where I think I look exactly my age. Maybe, if I make it to 50 (my short term goal - yippee!) I'll treat myself to a facelift. Except I don't want elective surgery. After all of this? Zoinks.

I googled "plastic surgery gone wrong" and decided to not post a photo. Why? I'm not in the biz of making fun of people. But, I would most likely end up looking like a stretched out piece of cold cut. Eh.

As I think more, I think it might be nice to make it to the age of crows feet. No, I don't want them, but it's still a goal to reach! Let's hope the coconut oil I use on my skin keeps them waiting in the wings a bit longer - which will give me more time (in my fantasy world clock) to get there!  When do folks get those things, typically? I'm addicted to sunglasses, so that's on my side. But, I like laughing. Which keeps me feeling young, but, the wrinkles... ugh. *note to self - try laughing without your eyes*

Smiling, sans eyes.
Dagnabbit. Foiled again.

Well, despite my menopause, hot flashes and all - I'm still here. I may not be a crotchety old lady, but you kids still need to get off my damned lawn! 

Whoa... 3 months? I think I've only had one cycle since my last post!

Yeah. Life has been super busy - as always - but I just can't, or won't, keep up with everything. My brain races, by nature. I used to always follow it, in 47 different directions. Now, I tell it to shut up. A lot.  It's not easy, but I need some sort of breathing space. I'll let you know when/if I find some!

Life has been nuts. My neuropathy is still tingling. Some days, really bad. I don't care how foolish I look in public - some things never change! I shake it around like a rag doll. I work the lymph spots that are not thought provoking in public (I won't go as far as the groin clusters, but will do the neck and underarm and inner elbow spots as well as the whole arm/hand). I'm not embarrassed to do the groin, but in public - I certainly don't want attention from folks who might find that "interesting".

My weight has been frustratingly stagnant. I was actually on my way to the gym when I remembered I haven't sent an update out, via blogger. Even though this is sort of anonymous, I do have actual friends who know who I am. They see me on social media, but I don't post all, health wise.

I'm not sure about the weight, except my freaking hormones. My cycle used to be clockwork. Then, tamoxifen. It turned to painful chaos. It did come back, but my cycle goes from 2 weeks to (so far) 9.  It's been over 5 since my last hit from the uterus. About 2 weeks ago, and again 1, I felt PMS cramps etc. Nothing. Tumbleweeds. Not really - that would likely hurt. But, nothing.

So I have been working out more than ever, and my weight, which would normally respond, hasn't. But, I guess being active is better than not, and I'm not in a horrible place, just a few up from my happy zone. I guess I can't have a 20-something's body forever. There, I said it. I've been working so hard on my health and body, and yes - vanity does fuel part of my drive. But, I have a birthday coming up in a week and, as much as I hate it when I hear it, I do look pretty ok "for my age". Of course, I need to cover those pesky greys and we just had our bathroom remodeled. Why, when we're broke?

Flashback to "death kitchen". I had our kitchen totally demolished and rebuilt, custom cabinets, ridiculous gorgeous tiles, the works. Even a wall knocked down and a half wall built as a breakfast type bar. Or, a bar type bar. It handles both positions equally well. Actually, we don't eat breakfast, so bar bar wins.  Cheers!

This is "death bathroom". Our place is nice, but they sure didn't think about style or function with these essential rooms. If you recall, if I posted, I had always wanted a dishwasher. Got it. I also have always wanted frosted glass shower doors. I hate the curtain thing. Hate it. Hate. It. Got it. Again custom cabinets (matches the kitchen!), gorgeous marble counter, fancy dual-flush toilet, slightly deeper tub (had to do a dance to approve via co-op, apparently), big tiles up to the ceiling, a splash wall of yellow tiles, and voila. Death Bathroom. Honestly? We can't afford it. Another moment of honesty - I don't give a crap. Well, actually I do, since that's one function of said room.

Ok, off to the gym now. I'm not sure how much I can accomplish, but I'm bringing a book so that I can park my butt on a bike at the end of my rope (physical or mental pooping out) and burn a few more. I do enjoy the sweat now - started getting workout clothes that encourage sweat. They work! I used to never really sweat much in the gym, but this is really good for my lymph and circulation in general. Ironically, they're slightly thick, so I look bigger than I am, but I'm not out to impress anyone at the gym. I'm out to make my life as good as I can. Who knew that sweat would help? (and yes, I do sweat in real life, but the gym? They're too cold, in general! Hubs always sweats, but that could be a boy thing).  Until next time... hopefully sooner than December!  ;)

News Flash! I mean, Hot Flash!

Jeez. I know I'm not great with updates recently, but with this epic hot flash on a cool Sunday morning, 3 fans focused directly on my misery, all I can do is try and not pass out. Hence, I type.

This is still early for menopause, of course, but with the Tamoxifen Games, my hormones hate me. These flashes have been sneaking in and out. My period goes from every two weeks to a panicky 8 weeks.

It was hot as heck yesterday and the day before, but today? Nice and cool. Thank goodness this flash hit me in this. Nausea, profuse cold sweat, panic, wanting to peel my skin off like an amphibian. I'm sitting here in the kitchen, while hubby sleeps, in my undies with fans focused. I can't really take much more off, so I sit and wait as my entire body gives my spirit the middle finger. 

I'm going to have to start carrying around my Hot Girls Pearls bracelet for real.

When I was on the Toxicphen, my most major flashes happened in winter - I'd be walking around in the snow, stripped down to a tank top. Now? Egads. Between the flashes and lymphedema, I'm going to dislike my favorite season... a lot.


Anyway, went to my oncologist last Friday - 6 months late for a checkup. Why? I'm tired of docs. I saw all the others - GP, OB/GYN, dentist, blahblahblah. Had some work done on my tamoxified teeth. Everything else ok, blood a bit wacky but we're adjusting my supplementation and are going to recheck in a bit. But oncology? UGH.  Anyway, though we hate the hospital, our doc is cool. He knows we hate it. He booked my appointment himself. He spent extra time, as he always does. We like each other. He said, as always, I look great. It's cool, I'm taking extra good care of myself. Neurotic about working out and eating well. If I look at a photo of cake, I gain. It's a combo, in my opinion, of the tamoxifen screwing so badly with my hormones, and possibly aging. But my metabolism took a serious nosedive. Luckily, I have major OCD and have been too stubborn to let it go for too long. I've decided that I want to die totally hot. Life goals? Death goals? Eh. It's just a funny thought that when I'm cremated, I want to have a 6 pack. Hopefully that'll be less time in the cooker, and perhaps a little discount in the process.  ;)

Ah. These fans are keeping my nausea in check. I was about to dress and go to the gym, but I'd hate to have a hot flash there. Between the smells of smelly gym people, the looks of curiosity, the "are you ok" BS, and the fact that I don't want to know 97% of the people there, I'll wait it out.

I'd love to spend Mother's Day with my mother, but cancer stole her from me, 26 years ago.

Days like today are bittersweet. I can't walk around without seeing families taking mothers out, she in her "coolest" dress, holding dying flowers, children and husband slightly uncomfortable in their Sunday Finery, wishing that they could just hang out in sweats and eat microwaved popcorn in front of the TV. While they facebook on their phones.

Ah, Mother's Day.

I remember when I had a mom. It was a long time ago. She was the one person on the planet that I could look to when everyone else hurt me.

Honestly, Death, I could have given you a long list of folks that you could have taken away instead of her. A bunch of motherf*ckers who just needed to go. Not her.

At least I was on my own when she passed. I think she tried to wait as long as she could, to make sure I was far away enough.  So I could try and stop that pain cycle.

Well, it's 26 years later. Amazingly, a lot of those folks no longer affect me from afar. Perhaps because I've physically removed myself from their realm, but it took a long way to remove myself mentally. There are days... trust me. Usually set off by a familiar looking stranger, or an action seen, or a voice - but I've gotten pretty good at turning a blind heart that way. Why? Well, what good would it be to send hate to a stranger that only reminds me of a bad space? That person can't help how they look or sound or act, even in the most douchebaggy of ways. At least, not at the moment it happens in my radar.

Yeah. Who actually enjoys these days? Sure, it's nice to acknowledge folks. But, it's harsh to pressure society like this. I like the Japanese holidays - children's, women's, men's, aged, etc... I mean, women who have lost their moms, who had abusive moms, who are moms to criminals and addicts, women who can't become moms, no matter what hocus pocus or medical miracles they've tried... so, a LOT of people take this day to say, "Hey! Society tells me I'm an asshole/loser/failure today! I'll go out and drink until I'm blind! Yay, me!!!"

I know of very few functional families. Mostly, what I see in my friends and acquaintances, is that we all are imperfect. WHAT???

Yup. All of us. And we don't need no stinkin' holiday to remind us. I think I'll take the American holiday calendar and edit for our home. I'm fairly certain that  a lot of Japanese holidays shall be celebrated. This can only mean one thing - MORE POCKY!!!

The Big Freaking Sleeve

I started physical therapy after "winning" my fight with insurance. They seemed to think that I should go to a different state for treatment - a 2 hour train ride (with a cab, likely around $50 minimum for the trip, plus my $50 co-pay). So, basically, living in NYC - a virtual haven of everything you ever need and don't need, I was being shipped out to try and achieve the impossible. For my medical condition, caused by my other medical condition's treatment.

I am grateful for the therapy. I don't think it's the best I could get here in town. But, the hospital and therapist are ok. There is a therapist who specializes in JUST breast cancer related lymphedema. She charges under $300 per session. I got my first bill for the hospital sessions, and each one is over $2000. My copay is still $50. Now, why in the hell wouldn't the insurance company send me to a specialist who is out of network, send her the $250 and make me pay the other $50? It don't make no sense.

So, because I'm a research fanatic, I probably know more about my condition than she does. But, because I'm thorough and don't take answers as gospel, it's going well.

I got a vibration plate. Sounds sexy, no? No. Unless you feel totally hot when every ounce of fat, loose skin, and your very soul shake at an alarming rate. However, I love it. It feels great all over - weird, but great. I sometimes watch Netflix on it. I sometimes exercise (obliques and squats) on it. I sometimes just think. But, that's rare. Anyway, if you have lymphedema, or not, it's a good thing. Hubby likes it for his back and tight hip. Daughter likes it (on low) when she stands upon it, holding our crazy cats. Purrrrrrr...

I also got a custom Juxta Fit sleeve and glove, to wear at night.  Egads. But, it actually is amazing. I am grateful, even though my stupid insurance has a $2000 deductible on equipment. Farging Bastages. It's almost like I have no insurance at all. Guess we'll be foraging for dinner in the clearance bins for a bit.

Bah.

I was really sick for a bit there, and give the credit to my post-cancer immune system. I'm going to have to put a new pre-cancer immunity on my Christmas list. But, I'm still one of the lucky ones. I'm still here and able to work and smile and wear sexy compression gear.  Though, I'm forever grateful for my LympheDivas. At least my stupid arm can look cool, even when it doesn't feel cool!

Immune to immunity

Well, I've been sick for over a week.

Naturally, this shouldn't be alarming, in February.

But, last weekend, after a stint as an undie model at The Javitz Center, (yeah, yeah, they wanted actual breast cancer patients for these "survivor" bras... I'm not changing careers to "old lady model" anytime soon - unless someone's asking?), I was exhausted after both show days. But, I'm used to being busy, working, not sleeping - this was different. I thought, maybe it was emotional, to be on the runway line with a bunch of 20 year olds who don't seem to eat a lot, and definitely can't fill in their own bras yet...

But, the day after day 2? Holy crap. Like I had just come home after a 2 month stint in the snowy alps, without more than a romper to wear, some flip flops, and a receipt from the grocery store. Any grocery store.

I couldn't move. I could cough and sneeze. A lot.

I continued the week as such. Until now.

And today? Achy like a mofo. Been having hubby Gua Sha my back every evening. It never gets too red, but it happens fast, and it's gone by morning. My body has a ton of bad qi and heat. Before you judge or "ewwww!", try it. Find someone who does this (or cupping is easier to find and just as effective, but I like the scraping motion a little more, but that's personal taste!) or get a chinese ceramic soup spoon and have someone do it to you. Warm up the muscles with massage (ahhh!) and be sure to use a good lubricant or you may have damaged skin. I'm sure there's some good youtube available out there - I'm just too sick to look it up for you. See: first line of this entry.

So, I've made tons of soups this week. I've been doing my best to not die. So far it's going pretty good.

I was in so much pain that I rolfed!!!

Years ago, I went through a series of rolfing sessions - maybe 15 or so. It took my chronic, congenital scoliosis and helped me be in much less pain. Since cancer, and all of the burning and mutilation, I've been back once. We were unsure how to treat me, it was so close to my reconstruction (maybe 6 months) but it was still helpful. Unfortunately, Rolfing is expensive. It's worth it, but Cancer is also expensive. Back then, I put Cancer first. Now? I like my holistic ride. So, I emailed my Rolf Expert and found a spot to go in today.

My body is carrying stress and pain in completely different places, since the lymphedema. I've never had lower back pain. I mean, never. It was always my neck and upper back and shoulders, like a mofo. I mean, the kind of pain that makes you want to cry much of the time. I've lived learning to deal, stretching, and just accepting it as "my pain". Now? More. But also, a better head for this situation.

I was surprised when I started to feel my lower back during massages. My therapists before lymphedema (B.L.) were always shocked at how strong but free of tension my lower back was, considering the rest of my mess. Now? I guess I'm like all the whiners about their lower backs.

Everything feels different. Tension feels different. I can't take my health history away, so here I am.

I'm glad I went back. I am going to do my best to not wait too long - maybe a few months, but I think definitely by summer. Did I mention that it costs 3 times what I pay for a massage that ain't bad, across the street? It's also not a massage. It's better in most ways, but not relaxing. I need to chill more.

Hubby just flew home today and left for the gig deliriously exhausted. I think maybe I'll splurge and buy us a massage date day. Dinner plans with friends and gig tomorrow. We need more us time, including our old people aches and pains! 

So many calories, so little time.

Well, my quest continues. Which one? Huh. I guess all of them.

But the weight.

The funny thing is that, to look at me, I probably look almost the same at my current highest/lowest.

But I feel such a difference. And I can't seem to get to the good zone. I get close, and then the rubber band kind of snaps back in my ego. I never know what's next in the Life of My Uterus and other things that affect it.

I was so good today. Burned a ton of calories. Had a grapefruit and a lovely nut bar. Came home, had a super clean salad.

Then, my daughter crying and struggling with an assignment that should have been done centuries ago, requested pizza. I get comfort food (as I stuff a brownie into my pie hole). I ordered her a medium mushroom, an order of garlic knots, and a chef's salad. I know. I had salad. In fact, I put away enough in the fridge to feed a large rabbit family. But, I do things. I have quirks. I love unhealthy salad.

So, I guess I did ok, considering. My stress? How would you feel if you couldn't make heads or tails of your high schoolers math assignments? Oh. I guess that's likely true for most parents. I also guess that I felt this way since she entered 3rd grade. Color inside the lines? Hah.

Time to finish this homework. As much as I want to just figure it out and do it myself, it's the process for her, not the grade, that is important. Om. Seriously. Om. Come on... kick in... Om.

Burn, baby, burn!

Sigh. 2 nights ago, as I was making my 40th pot of soup for the month, (seriously, I've been a soup making fool!), the soup seriously jumped out at me - hit my right hand and my left upper chest.

Luckily, the lymphedema is on my left side. Oh... right. That's also where my missing breast's substitute sits proudly. Not feeling a thing.

I freaked out but luckily there was just a red splotch that went away yesterday.

What's crazy is not being able to feel your body.

I mean, sometimes I hug someone or bump into someone (usually it's their fault). I feel an echo of the bump. It's awkward. I remember once slumping on the couch with a mug of tea. I set it upon my foobie. I then realized, it wasn't hot. I then THEN realized, it was.

And, then, sometimes I have phantom feelings. Cold breeze. Hot flash. Hear baby cry. Eek.

Why do good boobies (people) die when bad boobies (people) live?

My hand still hurts and is red. It was freezing yesterday and today, and I didn't wear my right glove. Cold as heck, and 3/4 of my right hand wanted to punch me. But the 1/4? Like an old lady somehow possessed that burnt part of my hand and was having the most epic hot flash in a sauna with a heating pad suit on.  Yup. She needed the brisk air.

System is still messed up. I'm thinking I'm due to stay in this hormone hell until I'm gone. Cherish the journey? Yeahhhhh. I would it I wasn't having hot flashes and hormonal swings. Though, I guess it's kind of like a hot summer's day at Coney Island.