The Exchange

The exchange date has been set for June 22. On that date, the surgeon will remove the tissue expanders from my breasts and put in nice, soft implants. He will go through the same incisions from the first surgery and I don’t anticipate much pain. It is an out-patient procedure and I am expected to go home the same afternoon. I am sooooo ready… but it is still 7 weeks away.

Afer writing my last cranky post, I decided that part of the reason I was so uncomfortable is that I had over-expanded my breasts. The surgeon had been reluctant to add the last expansion injection, but I pressed him. Turns out he was right; I went too far. I could feel my breasts under my arms and I was beginning to have compromised chest strength. I went back to the surgeon and had him withdraw some saline and I immediately felt better. I am much more comfortable now. I even raced a sailboat this past weekend and my chest didn’t hinder or bother me.

Isn’t it funny that I can add or subtract saline until I find the size that’s right for me? Wouldn’t it be fun if I could change them on a daily basis based on my mood? Double D for a trip to the beach or maybe a small A cup for a dainty camisole… it’s an amusing idea to ponder.

Missing Parts

I miss my breasts.

There, I said it.

Don’t get me wrong, the reconstruction is going just fine and things look good. I have great doctors, I am happy and have no regrets about my decision. You might even call the perkiness of my new breasts an improvement over the old. Yet, they are very round-looking and they will never look like what mother-nature gave me.

I try to keep a good attitude about my Foobs (Fake Boobs), but the adjustment to this new body is hard. I know things will get somewhat better after we get rid of the expanders, but the truth is I miss my old body. Having the expanders is kinda like wearing a coconut shell bra UNDER your skin. On second thought – it is EXACTLY like that.

The foobs don’t move or bounce or jiggle. They are Barbie boobs. When I lie on my side, I’m used to my breasts draping towards the bed. Now they stick straight out like a metal Viking bra! The foobs get in the way of my arms sometimes and I still haven’t found the best position for sleep. It’s all very weird and uncomfortable.

I am including a picture of the expanders that are in my breasts. You can see the oval plastic collar and the metal ring. Think about having that under you skin! Again – I know the permanent implants will be softer, but I can’t see that it will be a drastic difference. I am truly, truly thankful and glad to have foobs versus no boobs, but I really, really miss my squishy, jiggly, movable breasts. A lot.

I miss my hair. The short hair makes me feel old and matronly and I have come to the realization that it will be another year before it has any length. Everyone said it would come back thicker than it was before, but so far, that is far from the truth. Sigh. The hair is very thin and I can still see lots of my scalp. I feel like Miss Jane from the Beverly Hillbillies! I have even taken to wearing hats again. Please, I loved my thick hair more than anything and I want it back – curly or straight, I don’t care. Just don’t leave me with a half bald head.

Come to think of it, the two things I have always liked best about my personal appearance were my breasts and my hair. Now they both have changed in a major way.

I am tired of being the cancer patient now and I want to get back to normal. The problem is, I can never get back to the person I was before the cancer. The sooner I let go of that idea, the better off I will be. So what is normal for me now? As you can see, I am having an internal struggle with the external presentation - among other things. So, if I see you, I will smile and tell you I am feeling much better these days (and I really am). I will tell you that I’m thrilled with the reconstruction (and I really am). But just know that there is still a part of me working to convince myself that I am happy with this new normal.

You may have heard the saying, “Going through the motions changes the emotions.”

Well... I’m going.

I Am Not My Hair

Let the battle begin! No - I'm not talking about a battle with cancer. I'm talking about the battle with my hair! I am finally beginning to get a good bit of hair on my head and it is wild. It is definitely curly and has a mind of it's own. It sticks out every which way it chooses and no gel or mousse can control it. I have bedhead extraordinaire!

I have pretty much given up hats and scarves, though I have to admit I feel kinda naked without them. I still wear them sometimes because my head gets cold and because I think I look strange with short hair. It's funny - but people are having trouble recognizing me! They are used to the hats and scarves and seeing me with short hair is a whole different look. You'd think after six months I'd have more hair than I do! That's right - it's been six months since my last chemo! It's gonna take awhile to get some length - and I wonder if it will ever be as long as it was before chemo. I don't recognize that lady in my mirror either.

But it is hair.... and it is progress.... and it will keep growing :)

The expansion process is going smoothly and I think I am done with injections. (It's kinda weird trying to decide how big you want your boobs to be...) I am pleased with the results thus far and it looks like the exchange surgery will be in late May or early June. They still feel very foreign on my chest but I assume they will eventually become a part of me. I am missing the way hugs used to feel. It now feels as if there is a pillow or something between me and the other person and I keep thinking I want to pull them closer. I hate that. Remind me that it is a small price to pay in order to have any hugs at all.

I forgot to mention that the feeling in my fingers has finally returned (thank-goodness!) but the toes are still numb. At my six-month check-up, the doctor said it could take up to a year for the toes to get better. I am used to it now and it doesn't bother me so much (hopefully the same will be true of the boobs someday) but I do wish they would re-gain feeling. Isn't it amazing, that six months later, I am still feeling side effects from those damn chemo drugs?

Ahhh... but it is springtime. The sun is shining and the flowers are blooming. I put the top down yesterday and took a long drive out to the lake and soaked up as much vitamin D as I could. There is nothing like a good dose of sunshine to brighten my mood. I may be numb in several places, but I can still feel the sun and the wind on my face.

And it is glorious.



BTW - The title of this blog post, "I Am Not My Hair," is the title of a great song by India Arie. If you have a minute, check out this song and it's lyrics on Youtube:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OZH6lKxA_q0

Cancerversary

Yesterday was my "Cancerversary." One year ago the doctor called to say the biopsy from my breast was positive for invasive ductal carcinoma. Upon hearing the news my husband said, “I’m sorry.” I replied, “Don’t say you’re sorry. Just say we’ll fix it.” In my head I was thinking a small surgery to remove the tumor… maybe a little radiation therapy. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine 6 rounds of chemo and a double mastectomy were in my future.

Wow - I can’t believe it's been a whole year! Thank you to everyone who has supported me and my family during this time. Your help and your words of encouragement mean more than you will ever know.

It has been a long journey and it isn’t over yet. I’ve learned a lot of things and accomplished many milestones. When I think back over the last year, there were some pretty bad days. I find that I am much stronger in many ways, more vulnerable in others.

It is difficult to process the journey of cancer and what it means for my life. Who am I now that I have survived cancer? What am I here for? What brings me joy? What is most important in my life? I've been granted this time; what do I use it for?

Those answers will come; I know they will. For now - I'm just glad to be here.

Here They Come Into The Stretch!

I love the horse races! And on President’s Day, I had good reason. I went to the races with my husband and some friends and walked away a pretty big winner. I bet on every race, ate and drank all day, and still walked away with $75 MORE in my pocket than when I began. Not bad, eh? I even hit a trifecta bet – that’s where you pick the first, second and third place horses all in the correct order! All in all, I cashed in 7 winning tickets! That’s what you call a phenomenal day at the track! We also got to see Old Fashioned (see photo) win the Southwest Stakes. That means he is now the leading favorite to win the Kentucky Derby – and who knows, maybe even the Triple Crown.

I wish I could say I won because of my genius ability to read the race form and calculate all the odds. I do know how to read the form and interpret some of the data – but let’s be honest – there’s an awful lot of luck involved! One time I bet and won money on a horse simply because I liked her name – Tricky Jo.

It occurs to me that treatment for cancer is a little like the horse races. You do the research, you weigh all the factors, you consider the odds, and then you choose the treatments that are best for you. I think I have done well in that department. I looked at all the options and made the wisest choices in my cancer treatment. I think I have done everything possible to eradicate the disease. But in the end, it still requires a little bit of luck. Did we get every cancer cell that was floating around my body? I sure hope luck is with me.

My mastectomy recovery is still going well, albeit a bit tiresome. Indeed, the first expansion rounded things out a bit and the second expansion is set for later this week. I have to say, these lumps on the front of my chest may look like boobs but they do not feel like boobs nor do they feel like a part of my body. It feels as if someone strapped two tin cans to the front of my chest with tight elastic straps and some days I am simply ready to take them off. Everyone swears the permanent implants will feel much softer and I sure hope they are right. I guess I need to adjust and set my own heart straight. These lumps will be with me until the end of May or the beginning of June. I still have a ways to go.

One of the best parts of the horse races is when you hear the announcer say, “And here they come into the stretch!” It means the horses are nearing the finish line. The tension builds and everyone jumps to their feet with excitement. Can the leader hang on? Who’s that coming up on the outside? People screaming, “Go horse! Go!” And then in a blink… it’s over.

I can’t wait for the day when I can say, “And here she comes into the final stretch of her cancer treatment.” It won’t be too much longer, but there are a few more months and a few more surgeries to go. And then in a blink – it will all be over.

Isn't it funny how I can turn even a fun day at the races into a cancer analogy? Ah well... this too shall one day pass:)

Mark Twain

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover. "

Mark Twain (1835-1910)

Just Call Me Skipper!

I'm not crazy - she did exist! Growing Up Skipper was released in 1975. Turn her left arm backwards and she grows a modest bust line, slimmer waist and becomes 3/4" taller! Turning the arm back again reverts her to the previous shape. Here she is in all her glory:

And just so you can see that I'm not making this up, here are photos of Skipper's "expansion:"

I wish my breast expansion was as easy as turning my arm around. And I wish a slimmer waist and a bit of height came along with the whole package!

What a crazy world we live in. Just call me Skipper!

Blow Up Doll

I am now officially a blow up doll! I had my first expansion injection on Thursday. What a strange experience!

The doctor uses a magnet to find the metal port in the breast expander and marks its location on my skin with a a sharpie pen. Didn't you think it would be something more high tech than a magnet and a sharpie? Next he inserts a needle into the port and begins to inject saline into the expander. Since I don't have any feeling in my breasts, the needle doesn't hurt. The saline, however, feels quite strange. It's kinda hard to explain, really.... I guess you would call it tightness and pressure. Certainly not a feeling I've had before. He injected 50 cc into each breast.

I felt a little tender and sore later that afternoon, but nothing too severe. I did take a sleeping pill that night and it worked like a charm. I have been sleeping on the couch since my surgery because I am still uncomfortable lying down. I have developed a nest of pillows that allows me to sleep propped up. It seems like the couch would be an uncomfortable place to sleep, but it's not for me.

The doctor says I will probably have 3 more injections spaced out at every two weeks. Once we reach the size we want, we will sit for two months before the exchange surgery. Two months! I didn't realize it was quite so long. What a strange process this is!

I have been having these "memories" about a doll that grows boobs. You twist her arm over her head and her boobs pop out. Twist it back and the boobs go away. Did I make this up in my imagination or was it real? I tried a google search but didn't come up with anything. Did I dream this? Maybe I just have a vivid imagination! If anybody remembers such a thing, please let me know. I feel kinda like one of those dolls.

So.... one injection down and three more to go!

Cancer Bloggers

I cannot begin to tell you how much this blog has meant to my recovery process. It has been such a great outlet for my anxiety and a wonderful way to keep in touch with family and friends. In fact, I have discovered a whole community of cancer bloggers on the net. Every time I have a new concern or face a new procedure, I search for the words of those who have walked before me. Their first-hand accounts are often more helpful (and more informative!) than any doctor’s explanation. Not to mention the fact that they are available 24/7 and I can access them in my own time from my own home. It is a virtual support group.

I have posted links in my sidebar to a few of the cancer blogs that I read regularly. If you have found your way here because you are facing cancer yourself, I encourage you to use the side bar as a starting point to connect with others. You’ll be glad you did.

Surgery Update:
My own recovery is still going well. The heat rash that is under both breasts and halfway down to my stomach is finally abating. The itching was driving me NUTS and I was worried that it was going to get into my incisions and therefore into my expanders. THAT would not be good! I have to say, my pain is still very prevalent. How do I describe it? Feels like they cut a hole in my chest wall, shoved a large rock inside, and then sewed it back up. Oh wait – that’s exactly what they did! The pain isn’t intense or unbearable in any way… it’s just every present. I feel okay, but I’m at that point right now where I’m tired of being sore and beginning to wonder if my body will ever feel well again. A little more time…. Just need a little more time.

I was planning to go to work for a few hours this week, but there is freezing rain outside tonight so I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere. Wish it would be a pretty snowfall, but it looks like it will be crippling ice. Keep your fingers crossed that we don’t lose power!

Eli

My most tender spot in this whole cancer process has been my son, Eli. I cannot bear to think of my sweet boy losing his mother. I think losing your mother at an early age is one of the worst things that can happen to a person and I would never want to fail Eli in that way. I may not be the absolute best mother in the world , but I am a pretty good one… and I am his.

The day before my surgery, I took him to my mom’s house to spend the night. When it came time for me to leave, we hugged and he began to cry – it’s the first time he has shown such emotion about my illness. I had been strong all day but when Eli started to cry and say he was scared of losing me – I started to cry too. I can’t stand the idea of him being frightened or hurt. I wish I had been a little stronger as I’m sure my own tears were not very assuring to him. But we both pulled it together and I assured him that I would be okay. We would get through this surgery just like we had gotten through everything else. Whoa – that was a tough moment. I cried all the way home.

I have tried to keep Eli’s teacher at school informed of my progress. I figure it helps if she knows about any stresses we are experiencing. She acknowledged that Eli worries about me and took a simple action to help him with his anxiety. A day or two after I returned home from the hospital, she asked each of his classmates to make a get well card for me! It was a wonderful way to help Eli to deal with his anxiety and get a little support from his friends. Bringing home the cards really helped him feel like he was contributing to my recovery. This project was a fabulous gesture by his teacher; some adults just get it. Here they all are:



The cards were adorable and a real treat. Here are a few of my favorites:

What fun! Thank you to Eli, his teacher, Ms. Smith, and all of his classmates. The cards made me feel great!