I could use a wish right now

Yep, they're mine, well at least for the next 24 hours........

I wish I was anxious for something else.........but I am not. I wish I didn't have to wake up early, just to wait, but I do. I wish my loved ones, friends, and family weren't going to be going through this....the waiting, the worrying, the bullshit.

I will wake up tomorrow and begin the process of having surgery. I should be in surgery around 1:00pm, with surgery around 4-4 1/2 hours, then 2 hours of recovery, then I will be in the hospital for the night (cross your fingers it is only one).

Lots of love to those who are sending all the positive vibes my way. I embrace them all!!!!

I am tired, I am ready..........goodnight.


Now I lay me down to sleep,

I hope tomorrow they don’t cut too deep.

I would like to make it through the night,

To wake up and fight this fight.

"How do you feel?"

I keep getting asked the question, "how do you feel?" So I thought I would take some time to answer it....

I feel a lump in my breast. I feel the tears that rush to my eyes, and hold on the brink of a waterfall when I think of the road to come and others who have taken the path before me.

I feel ashamed for being consumed with myself and not connected with women who have walked the road before me. I feel guilty when I go to bed feeling sorry for myself, when there are others in different shoes, struggling...alone.

I feel alone, even when I am surrounded by those who love me.

I feel angry--at the world, at myself, at my body.

I feel like a want a donut.

I feel like ripping open a pillow and throwing stuffing everywhere.

I feel strong.

I feel a lump in my throat.

I feel like hiding under the covers.

I feel like laughing and crying at the same time.

I feel like I don't want to talk to anyone.

I feel like I want to talk to everyone.

I feel that we need more aggressive research.

I feel like women are the strongest beings on the planet.

I feel supported.

I feel loved.

I feel lucky to be who I am.

I feel held.

I feel nurtured.

I feel tortured.

I feel like I am sick of having to feel.

I feel terrified.

I feel out of control.

I feel like I am blooming into something beautiful.

I only cried twice

Today I was cancer free. I woke up and had no tests to rush to, none of my veins were poked, I wasn't weighed or measured, I wasn't given the half head-tilt "oh poor girl" look from medical personnel, and I only cried twice. Today I was me again, the me that looks in the mirror and smiles, that doesn't worry about cancer spreading, that can have a normal conversation with her husband that doesn't involve the words chemo, cancer, breasts or fear. It felt damn good.

Days like today are a few and far between lately--I think that is just the way it goes. I can't control the wayward emotions that come with a diagnosis, or the flood of tears that come out of nowhere. I just get up, ride the roller coaster and do the best I can to keep my eyes open while the ride is in progress, then go to sleep to start it all over again. I am not expecting immediate acclimation to this new life of mine, like anything, it will come in stages.

Today I was reminded what it was like to not "be" a diagnosis. Thanks to baseball and a manicure and pedicure with good friends I felt free. Small things, even like the sunburn I got today, have such a dramatic impact on me now. My emotions are close to the surface and I am doing my best to rein them in--I just keep questioning if I will be able to do things in the future, starting thoughts when "I wonder when the next time will be that I..."

I am taking this weekend to process everything that has happened. I felt I haven't been able to be alone with my thoughts since all of this started. I am a processor--not like for food, but for thought. It really takes me awhile to get into the depth of things, then slowly I drudge my way through my thoughts until it all sits comfortably. So that is my weekend. I will be alone with my thoughts, nap on the couch, and enjoy the air conditioner my gracious husband put in the window.

drinking wine and thinking bliss is on the other side of this

Well, there is no more basking in the denial centered movie reel that has been playing in my head. No more "hurry up and wait" scenarios...as much as I wanted surgery to come, it jammed a rock so far down in the pit of my stomach I feel a gaping hole, exposed, and insecure. My surgery is scheduled for Wednesday, yep, next Wednesday--three weeks to the day that I received the call that I had breast cancer. It hasn't even been 3 weeks and I feel like I have aged a year or more and have created a footing where I am balanced, unnerved and forcibly realistic.

Now that reality has smacked me across the face I am trying to find the path back to denial. It is was lovely there. I mean, I knew I had cancer, I was making appointments, putting my body through a battery of tests, taking notes, doing research, asking questions, crying, laughing, and dancing in the shower. But I didn't have a date, there wasn't a "beginning to an end" if you will. Now I have it. I am terrified.

Not only will I wake up without my breasts, these lovely ladies that have been with me through it all--but I will be minus 20+ lymph nodes. I am crossing my fingers I won't wake up as terrified as I will feel when I go under. I am working on ways to relax prior to surgery--coming to grips with it, feeling centered, "being in a good place." All the somewhat condescending therapist crap I would use on a client, but when you tell yourself that in the mirror it doesn't seem near as professional, supportive, or appropriate....it seems like a cruel joke.

I know that surgery is the beginning of a road I don't want to walk down. But if this is the road I have to walk, (what a shitty, shitty road) then I guess I better get my ass into gear and prepare for the journey. There have been thousands upon thousands of women before me, paving the way. I have an entourage on this journey, a pulse to my emotions--an entourage of support that will keep me steady when I begin to fall, or give me a push when I begin to hesitate--after all "drinking wine and thinking bliss is on the other side of this."

crazy sexy cancer

I spent the evening with some of the inspiring women I am lucky to call friends (and all of them are amazing doulas or self-proclaimed "birth junkies"), I shared a bit of what is going on with me and left with the amazing feeling I always get--comfort, joy and a full sensation of love that is like the best pie in the world...

My last post was a bit bleak, but lets be honest here, none of you are reading to get the rosy-glow of what cancer does to someone. You are reading because you love me, because you know me, because you know someone who knows me, because you know someone who has cancer, because you have breasts, because you are thankful it wasn't you, or your mother, or your sister--or because it is you, your mother, or your sister. You are reading because you want to sort through all of the bullshit, you want to help but don't know what to do. You want to know I am not falling to pieces and that I am not my breast cancer. But I am a straight-shooter, I cut through bullshit and won't be feeling optimistic all the time, we are multidimensional and cancer throws a wrench in the whole damn thing.

I had a bone scan, they found a spot. Breast cancer likes to spread to the bone and the lungs and some other internal organs I can't remember. I will have an MRI on my femur to gather more information. Nothing changes really, if it is cancer........I will still have chemo and then possibly radiation on that spot on my leg. I met my surgeon today, my other surgeon is on vacation--wouldn't that be nice. I like my surgeon, I am waiting to hear from the office tomorrow to schedule surgery--about damn time.

Tonight I danced in the shower, A LOT. I danced for all the tears that I have cried in the shower, for the joy I was feeling, for my breast full of cancer and that I am a day closer to getting it removed, I danced to remind myself I can, mostly, I danced so I wouldn't cry... I wish I could tell you that things were getting better, that I was so positive in my thinking that I could heal myself with my mind. What I really feel like doing is lining up a bunch of melons and hitting them with a hammer, not sure what it would accomplish but I sense I would gather some sort of satisfaction........I will keep you posted if this comes into fruition.

Thank you to those who shared with me tonight, to those who are thinking about me now, and those who keep me filled with positive thoughts from miles away. I am not the woman who keeps her mouth shut, I never have been the quiet type, but in person cancer is a scary cloud over conversations and it brings tears along with gratitude to the well-wishing of others, so I stumble over my words...

Tonight I watched the trailer for Crazy Sexy Cancer--a woman I inspire to be, I am in awe and in solitude and as the heavy feeling of anxiety and the unknown washes over me while I lay down to sleep I hope that a bit of her will rub off on me... I am learning to be brave in my beautiful mistakes.

cancer has a hell of a grip

The twigs and brush you see on the side of a rushing stream--you know the ones, they are caught and mangled and are either here nor there. They have been broken off from what they were and are now waiting to be broke free and float along the stream.....there I am--broken from what I used to be, holding on, slowly getting pulled from the safety of the shore.

I now stand in the shower and feel like an anchor is tugging me down, deeper and into despair. As I wash my hair, making myself forget the fact that it will soon be gone, I imagine the rope that has been tied around my ankles, pulling me into a blurry mix of despair and pure exhaustion and failure. I try to step out of the rope, but it is tied tight......cancer has a hell of a grip.

I am beginning to feel that daily activities are pointless, I just don't have the energy. I put all my energy into not breaking; not having outbursts, and not sitting in the middle of the street, the waiting room, or the store and having a meltdown. Tears are beginning to hurt. Each one that runs down my cheek is a reminder that I am not me anymore. Each tear is a reminder I have cancer. A reminder that my plan, my goals, everything I have worked so hard for is not an option. that the family we wanted to start isn't an option. That me not having cancer is not an option. That I have months and months ahead of me that I already want to forget. Then in a few years I get to readdress my options...it is just to hard to comprehend that my life has been put on hold.

I try to stay strong for others, I have to. I burdened them with my situation...it is the least I can do. Also I do it for me. Not for the reasons you may think, not because I want to remain positive (which I plan to) and tears are weak (not true) but I do it because when I cry or break down in front of others they cry and try to comfort me....this resembles pity to me. I know it is not where the actions originate but that is the translation. I want to scream and yell that I am fine, I just have these damn tears that need to come out or I am going to explode! I am full of combustible emotion and I am not sure when or where to light the fuse, or if I even will....

Exploding may be a good idea. I could then pick and choose the pieces off the ground and put myself back together, maybe a little bit more patient, less of a control freak and calm. I could use that...

week in review

Last week was full of appointments and next week looks to be the same. I finished my 1/2 sleeve tattoo yesterday, I won't be able to have any other work done on my right arm in the future to avoid lymphedema. I had a MRI of my breasts done, the BRACA1 and BRACA2 genetic test done (won't have results for 3 to 5 weeks), and met with the oncologist. So here is some dry medical updates for those who are factual based and need to know the nitty gritty...

My oncologist seems nice enough, but if I have to get my height measured again I may scream and throw a two-year old tantrum. I am pretty sure that at the age of 26 I haven't grown or shrunk--I am being seen daily and I dislike the tedious process when all my energy is focused on whatever meeting or test I am having, I feel like my energy boils over and I make my hands into fists to hold myself back. I think that is a pretty good way to tell that I am wound tight and pretty stressed...but hell, I feel like a tantrum may be the release I need.

I will be getting surgery then after recovering from surgery I will start chemo. During surgery I will have a chest port inserted into, you guessed it, my chest. My chemo and blood will be inserted through this port. Apparently I am naive, I had no idea that was how chemo was distributed and that I would have it placed there surgically, not only poison in my veins but a foreign object in my chest.

I will be taking another medication along with chemo because the cancer is HER2- positive. HER2-positive breast cancer is a breast cancer that tests positive for a protein called human epidermal growth factor receptor 2 (HER2), which promotes the growth of cancer cells. In about 1 of every 5 breast cancers, the cancer cells make an excess of HER2 due to a gene mutation. I will be given a medication called Herceptin. I will also have to take a hormone blocking pill for 5 years because my tumor is estrogen receptor positive (ER+). This means I will not be able to get pregnant for 5 years.........

The irony of this is that Scott and I were trying to get pregnant prior to all of this happening. Now I am being told that there is a good chance that I may not be able to get pregnant or regain fertility after chemo, the herceptin, and the hormone blocking pill............that brings us to the first appointment of next week: a fertility specialist. Bright and early Monday morning Scott and I will be sitting in an office that we never imagined ourselves in.

I do babies.......that is my life, pregnant women, birth, and embracing new families. That is just what I do. I never would have thought that I may not have the privilege to be a mother, to give birth, to experience what I assist others in going through. To think that just a few short days ago I was so worried about breastfeeding, now I am worried about being able to start a family. Lets be honest, fertility treatments are very pricey. People say that babies are expensive.....but I don't think they expect this.

I follow the fertility appointment with an appointment with the plastic surgeon on Tuesday. I am going to be having reconstruction done. I am not particularly attached to my breasts, considering they are trying to kill me, but I do like an hourglass figure and have the option for reconstruction so I am going for it. I will meet with the plastic surgeon to discuss my options, but most likely will start the process right after the bilateral mastectomy. The plastic surgeon creates nipples but they are just made out of skin color. I will be having my nipples tattooed on from my favorite shop.

I also am having a bone scan and a CT of my chest, stomach and pelvis. Whew.....time for a nap.