We all knew my boobs were trouble.

X marks the spot 

I recently had my 13 year mastectomy anniversary. 13 years ago my boobs tried to kill me, so I got them cut off! It was the first "choice" I was able to make. It was recommended that I just get my right boob removed but that seemed nonsensical to me--so I said "take 'em both." My first choice...everything swirls around you, like a tornado of information and opinions when you're diagnosed. The first thing I was able to get my hands on was making the surgical decision. 

MRI of right breast...full of tumors

I had a pump-up party pre-surgery! I had friends rotating in. My dear friend Patti taking photos and I even ended up standing on my hospital bed wearing pink boxing gloves. I didn't go off the rails...those rails on a hospital bed are just too hard to get down.

party over.

The nurse came in and started my IV, the parade of visitors was called off and I took out my contacts and put on my glasses. They put medical tape over my nose piercing and a very sexy hair net on. I was riding pretty high after seeing everyone, until I heard the click the brakes on the bed make when they are taken off. My stomach dropped and caused water to well up in my eyes. I was all alone. There was a fear I've never felt before circulating throughout my body, causing my hands to clench. 

post-op

Then I woke up, alone. Far from the fanfare I had pre-op. I was wheeled into a room, but no one told the nurse or my family. They hadn't put my glasses on me so I was blind and in a lot of pain, as no meds had been administered, because I didn't have a fucking nurse! Slowly I was discovered and my pain evened out. My family was found and brought into my room. Things became as normal as they were going to be via this particular hospital stay. 

I am now a surgery pro. I have had countless types of breasts, infections and surgeries. I have been left with a right breast that has been seared and contains a portion of my lat muscle that once carried an infection that put me too close to death. My left breast has character. It looks like someone ran over a pancake, then reversed back over it. It doesn't resemble a breast at all. These pair of knockers are ornamental but the combo hasn't tried to kill me so I'll keep them around.

My 4 Legged Therapist

I am volunteering at a breast cancer resource organization, Living Beyond Breast Cancer, and wrote a blog about my experience with equine therapy. The blog and a link to LBBC is below. Here are a few thoughts that I didn’t turn in for the LBBC blog. During my sessions I was wearing neon pink and with neon green accents, to be precise, shoe coverings. Imagine a snow boot made out of rain jacket material with a zipper all the was up in the back with boot tread on the bottom and even a tiny little pocket. It was reasonable to wear them, as the corral had mud and a bit of poop. I didn’t want my shoes to end up the same, so I figured it was a perfect time to break out the “boots” that are so neon you must squint a little when you look directly at them. I am almost positive the horses were either blinded by them, or were extremely disappointed in my fashion sense.

The horses offered me little morsels of love, a side-eye here, a mane shake there—all giving me fluttery jitters. I decided not to give the horses food—that is pure bribery, and I wasn’t going to give myself that false sense of flattery. I want them to like me, for me… At my third visit some of the horses met me at the gate. Either they remembered me and were excited or they were like “I really don’t want to stand in the same spot for an hour just to put this bitch in her place” and they were choosing me over mind-numbing boredom. In all seriousness, the experience was a part of a tremendous turning point for me. I loved getting uncomfortable—in all senses, it was fucking freezing! But I loved the little attention, to the full attention I was getting. I had to stop because the weather got too cold and my bad leg, with limited circulation, was getting too cold. I get to start back up in the Spring, this time I may have to bribe the troop to get them to love me and my neon pink shoes. I could figure out how to make the link connect so you will have to use a few key strokes and copy/paste the link... You can find my full blog post at: https://www.lbbc.org/blog/healing-with-horses