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.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
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!
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!
Monday, December 10, 2012
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.
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.
Sunday, December 9, 2012
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.
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.
Friday, December 7, 2012
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.
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.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
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!
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!
Sunday, December 2, 2012
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?
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?
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