ain't that a bitch.

beauty.
weddings.
scars.
swollen legs.
lack of boobs.
open sores on arms.
open sores on legs.
chubby.
chub rub.
fat.
sweaty.
super pale (like see-through).
yellow teeth (thanks chemo).
tattoo peeling off color.
cavernous cellulite.
double (triple if I smile) chins.
ridged nails (thanks chemo).


 So you know what this girl is going to do about it?  Walk the runway at the Northwest Hope and Healing Fashion Show (again). suck it cancer. 

Celebration of Life

I have talked a lot about my friends and family on my blog, and the caregivers and docs that I have had.  Today, and on every March 21 (since 2007) I need and want to talk about my dad. People tell me that the reason my dad and I didn't always see "eye-to-eye" is because we were very similar. We didn't take any shit from anyone, cursed like sailors, may not start the fight--but would put an end to it, we also cared for our family and knew that family came first--always.  Unfortunately for my father I was a bit rebellious (to put it mildly) through my high school and undergraduate years at Western.  I grew up a country girl and still consider myself to be that, family comes first, 4 stations are programmed to country radio, I wouldn't start a fight but I would sure as hell finish it, and my mom is my best friend.  My father got to witness me change from a rebellious teenager to a stable adult, and that is something I am thankful for everyday.

When we lost my dad, it was the hardest experience for us Greenaway Girls.  We bonded instantly more than we had and I am happy to say that out of the tragedy of my dads death my mom, sisters and I became a pretty tight knit group of wise-ass women.  It is genetics, but it also could have been that first Christmas where we drank beer for days and watched all the Harry Potter movies, bonding comes in mysterious ways.

You always knew where you stood with my dad. Everything was black or white, grounded/not grounded, etc... He would follow you to the moon and back to encourage you, or give you a look that could make you run like hell to discourage you.  I want to thank him for helping put together the woman I am today. My thick skin and rowdy sense of humor, my ability to jump into any verbal argument and think I am winning, understanding the importance of small town, community, and taking care of family, and that even though I was born a girl, I can watch sports, cuss like a sailor, stand up for myself, and always, always stand up for others.

My dad used to write little poems to my mom, and my sisters and I (like in the yearbook for high school, or in a card) so we wrote one for his obituary in the paper. We aren't funeral people,we are celebration of life people. So today, on the anniversary of his passing, I want to share with you all the poem us 4 Greenaway Girls wrote--we have carried on the poem tradition in wedding speeches as well:

January 5, 1950-March 21, 2007
Rick Greenaway grew up an Okanogan hometown boy,
His family and friends was what he enjoyed.

Rick spent all of his life loving his country,
In work, and in play, and as an MP in the army.

We'll remember him patriotic, hardworking, loving and stern,
He taught us so much, but with so much more to learn.

Rick, a Tri-Chevy fanatic his entire life,
Traveling to car shows with his girls and his wife.

He spent time in the shop, working and building all sorts of things,
And always taking time to work on school projects and letting us girls spread our wings.

He loved watching the Speed Channel, NASCAR and football,
But going to Las Vegas Speedway, was his favorite of all.

His preferred place to be (away from Malott):
The goose cabin with his friends, hunting and playing and eating a lot.

His hair turned gray with a wife, three girls and no son,
But he taught us to work hard "Heads down, butts up, and carry on."

No father of three could have been prouder,
To have girls that "think for themselves" and speak even louder.

Bye-Bye Mold!!

Hi all!!! This is last minute and it is a bit crazy, but our small bathrooms have been overrun with mold. As a result, we need to remove EVERYTHING from our bathrooms. We are fortunate enough to have the labor volunteered, but we still need assistance. We would appreciate any financial support. You can click on the link below to help us by donating. The volunteers that are helping us with labor are available this coming weekend, which means we are in a bit of a rush....  



help!!

Well how the hell are ya?

my baby girl Lucy

I know, I know, we have been apart much too long. After the first month went by, I just kept pushing writing further and further away--which is literally taking away part of my healing process, so you can imagine the space I have been in for the past few months.  I will try to remember things that have transpired to get you up to date, and then I will tell you a story....

After the surgery that I thought was going to be the beginning of the healing process (read: boob sacks) I was doing good. I actually traveled the day after surgery (probably not my best idea) to Scott's high school reunion. My incisions didn't hurt, I had drains in on both sides so I stuck those grenades in my bra and I can't lie, my rack looked good. I did a lot of sleeping and lots of water drinking and actually the trip was great, we got to see friends and family and we weren't in a hospital!! I also attending a wonderful wedding and birthday party with my drains as boobs--if it wasn't for my swollen face and belly from all the fluid, you probably wouldn't even question what was going on in my chest. But lets tell the whole truth....I may have had a glass+ of champagne and was taking out my "boobs" to show my friends. 

me showing drains....and getting a LOT of antibiotics

In my last post I showed you a picture of how I looked. No biggie. But then things got worse, very, very, very fast. A few weeks after surgery I started to get sweaty and really tired. My right skin sack (the radiation side) was starting to look weird and get hard in spots and in one spot it sucked in a inch long hole in the middle of my boob. It started to get hot (warning! warning!) and I started to go downhill FAST. The day after I noticed the inch long hole I spiked a 103 fever and was seeing spots. I couldn't hold my head up and I felt like I had been run over by a truck...........a semi-truck.  So Scott rushed me to the ER, I called my plastic surgeon and he advised me to request a transport via ambulance to UW (where my new surgeon lives).  So we went to the ER and my fever had gotten higher and the nurses who know me so well said "you should have came in sooner" (and I agreed...at this point I know my body pretty well as soon as I started to not feel so hot I should have went.....but I also panic about crazy things all the time, which then drives Scott crazy, in turn driving me crazy times 2..........so I choose my "we need to go to the ER" until we can both deem it necessary and it is not because I was on Web MD all day.  By the time we got to the ER my boob was huge it was swollen and bright red and it was really painful. They pumped me will fluids and pain medication and I spent the night in the ER until they made room for me at UW. 

took them awhile to find a vein upon arrival at UW

When they finally made room in the hospital we were told that Scott couldn't ride with me in the ambulance. You have to be fucking kidding me! I am sure I yelled that through my drug induced slow, slurred speech. Scott said he would drive up, they said they weren't sure if he would be able to stay in my room, read previous fucking kidding me speech. So we decided that because I was exhausted and he was exhausted he would stay home and come early in the morning. And guess what?! When I got to the hospital the room was HUGE and they had a bed brought in for my companion.................FUCK. 

my companion began to wipe down the room as soon as he arrived

My 6 day stay at UW went something like this: wow, ewww, look at that, would mind if our interns take a look at this?, 2 biopsies on my right arm (you know, that arm that I can't even have my blood pressure taken on, sure cut the shit out of it, I bet it will go well.....) more antibiotics than once person should be on in their lifetime, they weren't sure what was causing the cellulitous and infection so they had me on everything at once, when they finally found the bacteria that was causing the infection I was switched to just one really, really strong antibiotic. My boob still needed two drains, but it was starting to hurt less and look better. When I was released they gave me more antibiotics to take, at that point I had been on some sort of antibiotics since June-no joke.

Me wandering around at UW, not sure if you are supposed to, but Scott and I took many adventures like this

So here I am at home after maybe 10 total hours of sleep after my 6 day stint in the UW joint and Scott and I were stunned. We didn't see this coming at all, another hospital stay?! WHAT?!!! It took us awhile to recuperate. Scott had taken the time off work and stayed with me in the hospital. But I am a hard patient....pain medication makes me crazy and paranoid, so I didn't sleep at all, I talked nonsense and Scott can only handle so much crazy (he went on a lot of runs).  So we were back to having hospital stays and ER trips looming over our heads again--we had just gotten rid of them....

Me and Lucy finally sleeping after 6 days, it was amazing to be in my own bed

After I recouped from the UW business I started to see my belly swelling and having some pretty crazy GI stuff go on (I may or may not have "broke" 2 toilets at a friends house).  Things were coming out of nowhere, I would wake up and feel fine, then that afternoon I would spend on the toilet. One day my jeans would fit and I could make it to the 3rd notch on the belt, the next day there was like 2 inches between the button and the button hole (and no I didn't put them in the dryer). My stomach continued to grow and I felt swollen everywhere (still do) and the pain and bathroom crap (HA) was too much. I went to see my gastroenterologist, he said that because I had been on antibiotics for 4 months straight (and high doses) my GI track had no good bacteria.........................results in an infection of sorts that my body just doesn't know what to do. So he put me on another antibiotic that kills bad bacteria and helps good bacteria grow--I just finished it two days ago, so lets keep our fingers crossed that I don't spend Christmas on the toilet.

Whew....there were lots of great things that happened since I wrote last--I will write and show pictures in my next post. But here is a little taste of what I have been going through.....this experience happened to me just yesterday............

My first question is this: Why do stores fold their jeans and put the big sizes at the bottom (I have gained about 20lbs with the GI stuff and being immobile for awhile)? Seriously....my chubby ass doesn't need to try to balance on my feet, keep my purse together and teeter-totter. I don't need to rock back and forth and try not to fall backwards onto some skinny bitch looking at the size 0 on the rack behind me, the small sizes should be on the bottom, those girls can balance just fine. I want my sizes at eye level--ridiculous! So because of the weight gain my jeans don't fit every day, some days my belly isn't swollen, others it looks like if I squatted down to look at jeans I would pop out twins. So I went to buy pants at the local Target (I know, I know, big spender!) I had about 20 pairs of pants....I had no clue what size I was and if my belly was going to cooperate. The first 6 were a no go, I brought them out to the lady and exchanged them for the next 6, all 6 were once again a no go, I brought them to the lady to exchange them for my next 6 and she said, and I quote..........."you are not wearing any pants."

I will give you a minute for that to sink in.

Not wearing any pants? What is this bitch talking about..............................holy fuck, I drop the jeans and run/waddle back to the dressing room. I just walked up to the Target lady not wearing any fucking pants, how do you recover from that? What would you do? I was leaning towards crying (but I was worried that I would be arrested because I walked around in my underroos for no reason). I mean who does that? This girl. It was a complete and horrific accident. I was just so focused on trying to find jeans, off/on, off/on, off/on, exchange............. I just forgot the "change" into your own jeans part before walking out.  So I put on my jeans, went to get my next 6 and mumbled something at the lady about cancer, chemo brain,crazy day, while not making any direct eye contact. And the thing of it is, I didn't find one damn pair of jeans. 

I will blame it on a few things: 

1. clean up the dressing rooms, and people bring the clothes out (preferably wearing clothes) when you are done, my jeans must have got lost in the crowd of unwanted clothes on the floor

2. chemo brain--which I thought was getting better, for as long as I can remember after chemo I have never taken a shower and been 100% sure that I washed the conditioner out of my hair, I literally can't remember doing it. I know.....crazy! But for the past 3 days or so I could, so I thought my chemo brain was fading away................but it's not. Apparently my chemo brain wants me to be some sort of nudist. 

In the raw

I figured this was the best way to show everyone how I am doing.... Straight out of the shower with drains around my neck. This is going to be a long, long road. Not to mention the mind-fuck that happens when I look in the mirror and see this. The pain is its own battle.

D is for Dori, not my bra size

saying goodbye to my second set of boobs, that is two too many.

Well tomorrow is the day folks—I will be checking in at UW hospital at 12:15pm to have these implants removed. I am thrilled with my new plastic surgeon and I know that I am in good hands (literally). I have been miserable since the beginning of June when I had my right implant that migrated up to my collar bone removed, the radiation scar tissue scraped and cut out (cringing while thinking of that malpractice) and a new implant placed there. From there I have been on more antibiotics than most people should be in a lifetime and have open sores on my body, my hair is falling out, I am in constant pain and am achy like I have the flu. Not to mention not being my bubbly sunshine and rainbows self. (HA)

me loving my new boobs!

I had a necklace created for me with tomorrows surgery date and “done and done” (a favorite phrase of mine) stamped into it. The necklace was designed and created in front of my eyes by Bonnie of Birth Designs (http://www.birthdesigns.com). It is amazing and perfect and I can’t wait to see what else she will create.

I am fortunate enough to have extreme love and support from friends and family. I have been held up when I thought I was done and without all of you I wouldn’t be who I am today.  One of these people is my wonderful cancer doula Patti Ramos (http://www.pattiramos.com/photoshoots.html), who happens to be also be an amazing photographer. Prior to my bilateral mastectomy we took lots of photos of my old boobs and my dearly missed nipples.  I am looking to my surgery tomorrow as a new beginning. I am taking out these infected implants and giving my body a chance to heal. So following tradition we took some photos to say goodbye to these breasts. It was a great experience to take photos and have Scott participate. 

Scott and I in our police lineup



yep, I ran around naked in the studio and Patti covered me with lace

proud and infected

Not only did my real boobs try to kill me, my fake ones are too. So let’s start over shall we? Let’s try this again. I will take all the positive vibes and love you can send my way tomorrow.  Starting tomorrow I will be boobless, but if I could fill those ‘skin sacks’ with hope after surgery tomorrow I would be a DD.

sour hope

Well I wish I was greeting you with better news, but you know me, I throw a fit and then apologize later. So here it goes………..my implants have to come out, and by come out I mean removed, stolen, sliced, torn, dissected, leaving me with two (what I have lovingly decided to call) “skin holes” for at least 6 weeks. I have images of being able to “tie them over my shoulder” or the old lady Magda’s boobs on There’s Something About Mary (minus the nipples and tan of course) I have no nipples and I already had cancer once, I will pass on the tan—thank you very much.

So here is the story. I have felt shitty since my surgery on the 1^st of June. You are aware that I had an intense infection, drains, and more antibiotics than I can count. Nothing seemed to make a dramatic difference, and then rashes, sores, more sores and achiness followed (and has yet to leave). Yesterday Scott and I went to my new plastic surgeon at UW and within minutes he said that my implants had to come out—I am a textbook case of an infection and that there is bacteria that is clinging on for dear life to my implant.  And to put it gingerly my previous plastic surgeon fucked me big time. After the implant migrated to my collar bone on the radiated side there should have NEVER been a surgery to scrape out the tissue. Standard of care would have been to remove said implant and then being a surgery to create a new breast with my own tissue………that didn’t happen (and was also never mentioned) so here I am. I feel cheated. I feel like I should have been given the opportunity to have a fair shot this time around. I blame myself for not doing as much research as I had previously, but come on, really?! It is your job to be a plastic surgeon in 2012, not 1980 so get your shit together.

I heart my new plastic surgeon and he was very polite about telling me how wrong my previous surgeon was. I now just have to wait for insurance to approve the surgery and I will be in the OR as soon as possible to have the implants removed. I will then continuously be dosed with antibiotics and won’t even discuss another surgery to work with my Magda boobs. That will be an image that will take a bit of time getting used to, but if I can finally not be in as much pain I would let you cut off my foot and I would work with it.

Once my body has settled down and the infection, sores, achiness, fevers/chills, anxiety and pain are at a reasonable level we will shake things up some more by doing a very intense surgery that will use skin and fat from my stomach to create new boobs. And then after that another surgery to adjust the fat to make things more symmetrical. I will go into more details later on, because right now my body is literally too sore to type. My eyes are red and raw from crying and I am so drained I think I could sleep until Monday. But I only have these boobs for a little while longer so I plan to push them together in a bra, throw some glitter on them, and my milkshake WILL bring boys to the yard.  But first, a nap.