Hello Dolly.....

I love my friends.  Apparently, I have been quite since surgery.  I thank all of you who reached out to me.  This surgery threw me for a loop.  I thought I had it all figured out; and I was wrong.

Let's go back to the day of surgery...

We dropped the kids off at school, and it was National Smile day.  So my girl was in heaven.

Jeff and I headed over to Church.  I lit a candle to pray for a successful surgery and for all my friends also on their cancer journey.  We went home and piddled around.  I asked Jeff to take me to the Zoo before surgery  I was tired of just wasting time around the house, and a walk sounded like an excellent distraction.

 Here we are near the Gorilla area.  We were almost late to surgery because those guys were putting on quite a show.  But, then it was time to go down the road to Christ.  In keeping with my photos from last year, I did my handstand, in this year's Crush Cancer shirt.

Then was asked to put on a gown....this one opened in the back :)

The goals of this surgery....
1. REMOVE LUCIFER!!!!
2. Correct my monster gap from my Foobs.
3. Graft some fat to create cleavage for my foobs to make them look more natural.

The day before surgery, I drove to Columbus for a pre-op.  Dr. Tiwari (Foob Creator), and I discussed size and such.  I learned my implants were 400cc, and he ordered 500cc, 550cc and 600cc implants to have on hand.  We discussed the 600cc implants may be too big, but, really I was open.  The initial plan was to do a larger implant, then fat graft 100-200cc of fat for the cleavage.

Best laid plans --- right?!

Like any surgery, all my fun docs came in to visit.  This time no selfies; I was ready to get this show on the road.  Doctor Miller (aka Lucifer Exorcist) and I had a lovely discussion.  My goal was to keep Lucifer; I wanted to mount that jerkface in a shadowbox as a memento of all the hell he gave me.  Well, thanks to the fact in was implanted in me, I was unable to keep him.  She promised a picture for me.  I'm still waiting for my 8x10 glossy of that asshat.

Dr. Tiwari came in and drew all over me with sharpie.  We discussed the areas that we would graft from and our goal.

Then at some point I received the happy medicine and went to sleep.  I thank the nurse who was holding my hand as that happened.  Not sure who you were; but it was comforting.

In typical Kim fashion, I came out of anesthesia horribly.  I could feel my lungs were "wet."  I woke up to someone giving me a nebulizer.  Apparently, my Oxygen sats were very low.  I felt like I was there for 45 minutes, I think Jeff said it was closer to 3 hours. Eventually, my body finally decided to cooperate, and I was allowed to change out of the gown.  As Jeff helped me get dressed, a suture pulled and I started to bleed--- a lot.  If you know Jeff, you know he does NOT do well with blood.  The nurse came in, got it all bandaged up, and finally we went home.

Things got fuzzy after that.  I slept on the couch, sitting up.  I thought that would makes things easier.  What I did not know was how horrible the pain from fat grafting my abdomen would be.  FYI- fat grafting is a kind way of saying.....liposuction then shove it in my foob cleavage.

The first two days were tough. I could not use my arms/chest to push up to sit up, and my abs were worthless.  Here are some extremely unflattering pictures of my post surgery dressings, and messy bedroom.

It's a safe bet to say I had some serious swelling going on.  How much you ask?  Enough that I dropped 7 pounds in 2 days.  WOW.

Back to the foobs.....right, so....Turns out that 700cc implants "slipped right in."  Turns out we had another issue.  I learned about this yesterday in my post op.  I asked Dr. Tiwari why he did not "harvest" more fat-- like we discussed,  Apparently, my fat is dense.  Nothing like being told, "You have the fat of a 20 year old."  I think that is a compliment, but that is a WEIRD compliment.  Unfortunately, dense fat does not lipo well.  So, he used a bigger implant to fill in the space, since we could not graft as much as anticipated.

After I escaped the post surgical dressings, I entered into the world of old lady support bras and spanx.  I was sporting this lovely ensemble under my elastic shorts and baggy t-shirts. Excuse the lovely hair- it's post surgery, give me a break.  It's real people!!!

Now, being me, I was planning on returning to work 4 days after surgery.  THAT was a mistake (hindsight is always 20/20).  I did return to work, I did go back too soon, I did get sick, and I did live.  I feel a LOT better finally, 10 days post surgery.  I can bend over to tie my shoes without thinking I may die.  For all my friend that have C-sections-- much respect.  That must have sucked to recover from.

Oh, the foobs?!  THEY ARE HUGE.  Like Dolly Parton HUGE.  Like finally, at 41 my Capannari boobs came in.  I had to make a deal with Dr. Tiwari, I am giving them 3 months to see how they settle in before making any decisions.  Also, I had to promise no running and no yoga for a month.  Apparently, I was already doing too much and I got my wrist slapped at my post op.  I need to wear my LOVELY spanx for 6 + weeks to assist with the healing from my "contouring" and I should wear 2 sports bras when I walk.  This is hysterical.  Remember, I went from a "full B" to now wearing 2 sports bra's in a year.  I figure if I lose my day job, I may have a future in topless dancing. There is always a silver lining.

So why was I quiet? I don't know.  I was tired, and I did not have much to say.... and I may have been binge watching some Netflix....

But, all in all I'm OK.  Still healing, but I'm OK!

365 days, the Foob and Cancer Edition

I'm not unique, many folks have had a year that changes them forever.  But, being my blog, this is for you and my kids- who may not have recalled crazy that has been my life for 365 days.

Waking up, briefly, post mastectomy, I remember Jeff telling me it was 10:30pm.  He told me the cancer was gone, and a lot of people came to visit him in the waiting room.  Finally, waking up on October 3rd, I recall a bit more.

My beautiful reconstruction team member (Dr. Chin), recalls me stating to her, "OMG, what is this gap [between my foobs] there is room for a THIRD FOOB!"  Apparently, I left an impression, she always associates me with that moment.  Which was hysterical. I remember waking up with oxygen on, finding that weird as all hell. Thinking, I know my sats [oxygen saturation] were fine, get this cannula off me [it's a problem being in the medical field and knowing too much].

I recall going home and being terrified of what was ahead of me.  Remembering how Jeff and I felt blissful, that I avoided chemo--- Oh, boy did we learn that the "easy cancer" roller coaster was about to start.  There is little bliss in this journey.

Jeff went to get my meds, including my hellish nitro cream.  My beautiful neighbor came to "watch" me and she brought me two extra pillows.  I remember sitting on one and placing one behind my back.  I was not comfortable.  Once night turned into day,  the pain meds began to wear off.  I had to use some of the new meds the docs called in.  I did not know my system would hate them so.  The worst part, was getting so sick.  FYI, they DO NOT want you to vomit post mastectomy, they DO NOT want you to stress your abs or pecs or anything.  I never remember feeling as sick as I did that night.  I was like a college freshman that could not hold her beer. I vomited, and it hurt-- EVERYTHING.  I peed the damn pillow I was sitting on.  I could not control any of my functions. I was horribly embarrassed I wet myself in front of my husband. I was 40 years old; yet I could not control a thing.  That pillow went straight into the trash.  Still, a year later, I can feel the frustration, embarrassment, and pain of that moment.  That moment is burned into my brain.

That was probably the moment, were I realized, I was no longer in charge.  My body was.

Jeff then had to call doctors and fine me new pain meds.  This was totally out of his comfort zone.  Doctor calls and health related issues, were my job, not his; I had that background. He stepped up and learned on the fly.  I am grateful of how he kept me safe and comfortable those first few days.

I further realized, Jeff was next to me, in step, living the vow he took. In sickness and in health.

He was in that role for a year.  Doing whatever he could to help.  Yet, feeling helpless he could not just fix me.  I think that was hard for him.  He's a fixer.  I was broken, but he had to trust our team to fix me, and so did I.

The amount of stress and extra things he had to do this last year--- I could never thank him for.  Knowing Jeff, he does not want a thanks, he just wants to fly under the radar in all this.

To my friends who organized a great basket of food gift certificates, the little pick me-up gifts, and organizing 6 months of a meal train for my family. How can I ever show my appreciation? My friends who watched my kids when I could not, arranging after care at school for them.  Thanks is not enough.  The cleaning service so many folks donated to for me -- that was such a relief to not have to worry about.  To my friends that said, "I am doing this" versus "Call me if you need help" -- thank you.  It is SO HARD to ask for help.  Especially, when you can't get out of bed without the room spinning.

It's been one crazy ass ride. I think of friends that went through difficult time, and I know I kept them at arms length.  I just did not know what to do.  Now, I know you just jump in, you help, and they appreciate every single thing. Don't ask; DO.

I am changed by Cancer.  I am surrounded my a great family and community.  My community is people who see my daily, and my online Moms that I have known for 9 years.  My thanks, will never be enough.

I still have all the cards and gifts.  They sit in a lovely white basket.  I have not had enough nerve to revisit them.  Then I ran across an email of a fellow fighter, that reached out to me.  I cried, re-reading it.  She lost her battle this year.  Her journey and her family, are in my heart always.

It's hard.  I want to be like,"Wooo!!! I kicked it's ass!!!"  But, that voice, a nagging feeling of, did a cell go the wrong way? Did that beer just morph into estrogen and cause a new tumor? I am finding a way to balance the fear and living life.  If I have a new rouge cell in my body, nothing I can do about it now. I just need to have faith all my treatments have worked.

I was just running my fingers through my new hair.  That last time it was this length it was falling out.  I was almost surprised to not have a pile of hair come out.  My hair is rooted in, my chemo did it's job.  Now my body tries to find a new balance of normal.

I'm still about 14 pound more than I was a year ago. Which sucks, however I'm not 28 pounds above that number. I'm not sure why that number matters.  To be, I think it represents "normal."  When I get to that number, I'll be "normal."

Normal is gone.  Cancer took that away from me and my family. CC is still traumatized by my last year.  Separation anxiety, grips her little body when I'm gone.  My next surgery, on October 7th, terrifies her.  I just found that out.  Here I am thinking I can tell her what is going on, and she gets to spend some hours with her beloved Aunt and Uncle.  She wants nothing to do with it.  She was to be with Daddy at the hospital.  I've got five days to figure out how I help her.  I keep telling her this is NOT an over night situation. I will come home and she will be home with me.  She is frustrated, she wants to be with us.  Mommy and Daddy her safe zone.

Connor internalizes it, until he has a massive meltdown and lashes out at something.  During treatment, he accepted me as me.  He never cared if I was bald, or swollen on steroids.  He was just happy is "Momma" was there.  He enjoyed watching age inappropriate movies with me (Waterboy), and enjoyed the silly slap stick of old SNL star movies (Benchwarmers).  That was how we were able to bond.

It's been a year of change.  Our world is going to keep changing.  I thank you all for helping me on this crazy ride.  Next up, new Foobs on October 7th. Yep, in 5 days.  Fingers crossed this will be my last surgery for a VERY long time....

Herceptin number 16....And a stupid reality Check

** This is likely to be profanity ridden, raw and not lady like. I will most likely need to attend confession after writing all this words.  There is my disclaimer...*

I absolutely despise treatment days. I want to really type I fucking hate treatment days.  But, as I tell the kids, "Profanity makes you sound dumb, not smart.  Get a thesaurus and find a better descriptive word." Then, Connor and CC look at me, perplexed and flabbergasted, as they have no clue what a thesaurus is. Like all of us did when we were 7 and 8, I think they think a thesaurus is a dinosaur.

Still even this is the "easy" herceptin, it still sucks.  Lucifer the port has been a bigger jerkface the past two visits. Luckily, today Lucy cooperated and is currently passing herceptin into my body.

Like every visit I usually see the Doc or the PA before my infusion.  Today was Dr. Cody.  The visit began with cordial general chatting...Then I got felt up (well I did pay a $40 co-pay, so I did expect a some action for my $$).  Funny thing, I still cannot feel much on my chest. So, while I know what he was doing, I felt nothing.  Something every man wants to her from a woman, am I right?!

Anyway, I lamented how excited I am to get done with the herceptin treatments and how I am ready for my tumor marker test to get the "all clear." Then the bomb dropped. Can't lie, I know this stuff, I just never like to hear it, or worry about it.  His words essentially stated I will never have an all clear.  For the next 20 years my chance of recurrence is likely.  Luckily, my cancer cells are nice and have lots of treatment options.  But, the thought of having this dark shadow following for the rest of my (HOPEFULLY LONG) life sucks ass.  Sitting here typing this reality just tears me up.  This sucks. I'm forty-one-- in twenty years, I'm sixty-one, still too young to retire.  Now I hear it's very plausible that I will have to go through all this tomfoolery, again. Fuck you cancer, I simply don't have time for you to intrude on my life again.

It's another gut check moment of, what do I want to do with my life?  Where to I want to be? Who do I want to be with.  Jeff and I, like many couples, have pipe dreams.  The reality of my health, is making us re-evaluate our pipe dreams to turn them into a reality.  We owe it to us.  I now see how fragile health can be, and how a vast majority of us take it for granted. We assume we will always be healthy.  We assume bad shit will only go down when we are old.  We will be a worn out, wrinkled shell of ourselves, taking our last breath, surrounded by our grown up kids and grandchildren.  If this happens to you or me, we are lucky as hell.

Staring at your own mortality is the most frightening soul searching you can do.  This Cancer journey has changed me. My family, my immediate family, is my number one concern.  I can see how I will fiercely protect this bond, and us four will come first.  I really have made changes in my life and really have said, "Nope I can't do that I need to go help CC with reading and bedtime."  At 41, I am done over extending myself to do pointless shit that people can do for themselves. Don't get me wrong, I'm a helper, but (in some cases), I feel my kindness has been taken advantage.  No longer. Sorry- but not sorry.

I guess that is a gift Cancer has left me.  To protect my family time and see our dreams through.  One of our dreams -- for the four of us -- is to live in a coastal area.

 [Funny aside here, I accidentally mis-typed coastal, and it auto corrected as coital--- NOPE, not the right word, we are NOT moving to a coital area!!!].

The new place must be no more than 30 minutes from a beach, have a pool, have a great local school and reside in an area to give the kids a permanent residency for a decent SEC school.  I am lucky we have sometime to set things up for this.  This move will not be next week, but we are researching.  While researching I am now looking at my house with new eyes of thinking, what renovations do we need to do to sell and get the best bang for our buck.  Jeff and I are ready, heck the kids are ready.... But, before this can happen...

I've got to finish these treatments.

So, ONE MORE herceptin left. ONE.

What after that???

We wait...we pray.... then in three months, we have my tumor markers checked.  This every three month thing will eventually turn into every six months.  All I can do then is pray, be healthy, and pray some scientist can help end all cancers.  

Weeds

My front garden is atrocious.  Some would call it an abomination.  It's horrible and nowhere near the standards of a garden in the middle of a hood in the burbs.

We have become "that house" this summer with the unkempt garden.  Think I'm kidding? Here is photo documentation....

They are tall, thick and really need to be eliminated from this area.  Yet, they live.

While some (or many) see it as an eye sore, to me it's more. It's the reminder that I spend my summer doing more important things than weeding my front garden. [Aside: Our Back Veggie garden was very well tended this summer.  My veggies and herbs ARE a priority.]

My goal was to spend as much time with the kids, Jeff and family as I could; and I did.  Looking at the pictures, I see Zoo trips, nights swimming at Coney, grilling out with family, impromptu family dinners, visiting friends, Baseball Games, Cheerleading, camping, Chicago, Reds Games, concerts, adventures, pulling out carpeting, helping others....

The list goes on and on.

Weeding this garden was not on my list.  In fact, I think it was the last thing on my list.

I have learned a few life lessons the past year.  I'm not sure if these will stick with me forever (I hope so), or evolve into something else. The first thing I think Jeff and I learned is, we can say "No." As stupid as it sounds, it is difficult to use that word.  Cancer treatment has given me the nerve to say, "No."  Or as lovely Yoga Irena tells me, "If it doesn't serve you, don't do it."  There you go.  I said No to weeding.

Another thing, walking around with a bald head, and looking physically sick, I really learned:
1. Vanity is a choice.
2. I do not care if how I look makes you scrunch up your nose in disgust.

Cancer, pretty well took the last vain bone in my body.  Walking around bald, with glasses, bloated, without make-up (there was not enough make-up to camouflage what was going on) was my norm; it was me.  What was important, to me, as taking care of my skin.  So I did. I invested in me and started using a few R+F products.  I think that even helped me feel even MORE confident to walk around in my chemo state.  Now, 6 months after my last chemo (2 herceptins lefts still), I will walk out of the house without make-up, in my new afro hair-- and I really don't care.  I'm alive and my hair is growing (thick and crazy-- but growing).  I just do not have the urge to be vain, any more.

One of my major lessons, that just finally dawned on me this month is, "I'm tired of waiting."  Cancer sure as hell did not wait for a convenient time to pop into my life.  It made my world screech to a halt.  Everything turned on it's head, and I was numb. I had to wait for surgery, then wait for chemo, waiting for my hair to grow, waiting for my chemo weight to leave..... Damn it, I am sick and tired of waiting.  If I want to do or try something, I will -- and in pretty short time.  On a whim, two days before Connor's birthday, asked Jeff if we could go camping.  Two days later Jeff, the kids, the dogs and I had a great night of camping and fishing.  I have now camped twice in 41 years.  I am pretty sure we will do that again.  We did a trip to Chicago-- we always talked about going--- but we WENT; we did it.  So, maybe it's follow through I learned?  Less talk and more action?  Yes, I like that.

All in all, I am just ready to live and I want to try to enjoy every moment.  I am carving more time for me, and giving myself permission to do more for me without the guilt.  Like many Mom's, I focus on my family and I am a distant last.  Now, I am holding us all on the same plane.  I am not last; I have got to take care of me as well as them.

Living to me, is not pulling weeds.  Those weeds are a physical reminder, that I have been living, and I have been enjoying every minute.

5

This usually starts to happen in June.  My whirlwind of memories that come flooding back to me each Summer. Some memories are fresh; wounds still sting a bit.  Others are older, and have a bit of a scab on them, some are building their callus, so I cannot feel them as much.  Then I have the JOY memories, when I look at my son and memories are still at my surface.  Like wearing my heart on my sleeve.  

There is always a day, I simply need to download my brain to let this all out.  It's the same story every year, however each year it is new an different.  

In the span of a year - 

It all began with breakfast.

   

Oink Oink

A little over two years ago, my crazy neighbor and I had this great idea to try to run a half marathon.  I am pretty sure she was high or drunk when this suggestion was made.  By, high, I mean a runners high, by drunk, drunk on life.

We were two ladies, that started our journey by walking our geriatric dogs.  One mile turned into two, then we would walk a mile with the dogs, then run one with the two of us.  Next thing I know, we are running 6 miles on the weekends, and doing a little walk with the dogs at night.  It was our release, our therapy.  

Then 6 months into our journey, Chellee brought up doing the Pig Half Marathon.  I honestly laughed and thought she was nuts.  Certifiable.  But, I thought, Why Not?  We signed up, and pledged to walk, run or crawl to get through it.  

We did it.  We were not the fastest, or the slowest, just two ladies enjoying a nice 13.1 mile jaunt through the city.  We loved it.

Next she brings up, "Let's try the three way next year!"  Again, I figure she's drunk.  I am pretty sure I said, "Chellee, you are drunk. Why the hell do we want to run a 10K and 5K in one day, then a 1/2 marathon the next?  Only crazy people do that."

Then a friend from grade school posted pictures of her running the 4 way (go Emily!).  

The challenge was accepted.  Chellee and I signed up at her house one late October night, then celebrated with an adult beverage.

Chellee and I are a good match.  We trained together.  Even when my Mom was sick, Chellee still got me out there mile after mile.  We did a few "test" runs of doing a 10K, taking a 30 minute break, then running a 5K.  We were ready.  

Not only did we do the 3way challenge, we knocked off some serious time from our previous 1/2 marathon time.  All summer we talked about signing back up to do it again.  I was pumped!

Enter in Breast Cancer. Double Mastectomy. Port. Chemo. Blah

The best time to sign up for the Three Way or the 1/2 is in October.  Every doctor I asked in October, said running a 1/2 marathon was a bad idea, and running the 3 way challenge was simply not an option. Chellee signed up, and I told her I'd come cheer along.

Damn.  

Sometime in November, I read an article about a lady with metastatic Breast Cancer running, and running marathons during treatment.  Here I was, barely walking a mile without my foobs killing me.

Once my foobs were cleared, I made small running goals.  In December, I asked for clearance to run a 5K.  Both my Plastic Surgeon and Oncologist called me crazy, and cleared me.  My instruction - just be smart. I ran/walked the Frozen 5K in January.  The course was nice and flat.  For me, it was by far the most difficult race I have ever participated in.  My legs were so heavy, I was heavy, and loaded with chemo.  But, with Jeff and the kids by my side, we finished.  I just wanted to finish.

From all the doctors, I knew I would not be able to participate in Pig.  I decided to sign Jeff and I up for the Beer Series.  Three races, the first a 5K in March, a 1 mile race on Pig weekend, and a 14K in September.  I figured by September, I should be able to do a 14K.

In March, we ran Bockfest and The Heavenly Hog 5K.  My chemo was over and my herception only started.  My body started to recover and my legs started to feel better.  Still lots of run/walk outings.  Which is fine for me; it's my thing.  

I kept running in March and April.  Last Tuesday, Chellee and I were able to go out for a run.  It was a good run.  We talk about Pig and how mad I was I could not participate.  She talked how the race would be different without me huffing on her right side, and how we would miss our yearly selfie with the Elvis in front of Krohn Conservatory.  

Once home, I shared my frustration with Jeff. His words, call the docs tomorrow and see what they think.  Remember this is the guy who runs 1/2 marathons without training.  He's all about mind over miles.  His words, if I was mentally ready to do it, my legs already know how.

Wednesday, I made the calls. I explained what I wanted to do.  I want to do the 1/2 marathon, I promised to run, and walk and stay hydrated.  Each physician office had the same initial response, "You are crazy!!" Then:

Surgical Oncologist- 
Cleared -- just make sure to take walking breaks and stay hydrated

Foob Doc- 
Cleared -- my foobs will not fly off my chest renaming the race "The Flying Foob Marathon."   

Oncologist-
Cleared-- just take walking breaks and stay hydrated

Cleared. How about them apples!

To check that I would be physically ready, Chellee and I did a nice 9 miles walk/jog Sunday.  Our average time was 13 minute miles -- not very fast.  Very comparable to the first year we did Pig. My legs felt good, I felt good, my port felt good.  My toes--HURT.  So, I'll be bringing band-aids.

Sunday night, I signed up. 

I'm doing the 1/2 Marathon every Physician said was impossible in October 2015. I know it will not be my best time, I know I am not my most fit ever.  But, this is a mental challenge.  It's another way for me to tell Breast Cancer to piss-off and get out of my life. 

6 month Foob-a-versary

I cannot believe I had surgery over 6 months ago.  Surgery feels like it just happened yesterday; yet also feels a life time ago.  I've been so consumed with writing about chemo and it's fallout, I have not updated on the foobs.  To continue with the brutally honest posts, this one is no different.  I will have pictures and descriptions on what is currently going on.  Yes, I took them with my selfie stick too!  My photos are a bit graphic and explain the reality of what a post "direct to implant" breast (ha-ha --foob!) looks like.  Also, they show what a 41 year old (who just finished chemo and is a little fluffy)  looks like. Don't judge, I like beer and chocolate and my lack of a 6 pack shows that.

Here goes.....

Let's start with some basic stuff.  I still have a lot of numbness.  Lately, I have been having foob pains, which I think are nerves or something healing.  The achy feeling is annoying.  When I run, the achy is different, I can feel the attachments of the alloderm.   The sites are at my sternum and on the lateral side of my rib cage.  The white part of the diagram below is close to where my alloderm is located.  It makes the pouch or hammock for the implant to sit in.

Now, this next picture shows how my chest muscle is used to hold my foobs in place.

This means, for me, I have a lot more "animation" in my foobs.  Periodically, I will feel the foob/chest muscle tense up, then relax.  It's is odd.  It's not like I'm walk around flexing my chest all the time, but it certainly feels that way.  If we are talking sometime and you notice my left foob is twitchy, please ignore it.

Now that you know the anatomy of what is happening under the skin.  Here is what the foobs look like in their relaxed state.

Now do you see where I could add in a third foob?  I have a good 3 inch or so gap there, when standing. My saved nipples do not really face forward.  Both are looking off to the side, which I guess is better than them being cross eyed.

A note about the nips.  Simply put, they have a mind of their own.  Ladies know when their "head lights" are on, you can feel when that happens.  With my new setup here, I have no idea when they turn on.  Besides that, the "low beams" seem to always be on.  I am not sure if I will ever regain full sensation of them.

Next up, a flexed view.

This is the reality of what having a mastectomy has changed. When my chest tenses up, my nipples go wide and flat and the foobs spread to the side.  It's all due to the new physiology of how I am constructed.  I typically do not walk around like this, so it's not a problem.  But, when using my chest muscles, I can feel how malformed it must look.

Side view.

This is my right side.  I highlighted how my surgical incision, so you can tell where they cut.  It is really healing nicely.  My node scar and drain scare are still there.  I'm 99% sure my dreams of being a topless model are over.  Oh well.

If I was to bend over, you would be able to feel and see the rippling of the foob implant.  This is a limitation with doing straight to implant versus expanders.  When doing skin expanders, you have more control over the skin and the breast pocket.  With my direct to implant, they could only work with what was there.  Plus, trying to save the skin and nipples, became paramount to a big set of jugs.  This is why I knew I would eventually need a revision surgery.

Laying down, I can feel both foobs drift off to the sides.  Mine not only drift, but leave a few canyons open.

The implant moves leaving that gap (and you can see a bit of my incision).  The gap annoys me.  I really thought I would lay down and the foobs would never move.  Apparently, mine move a lot.  I am hoping revision surgery will help this.

All in all, the foobs are healing.  I expected to "feel" more in 6 months as well as, no longer have the stretching sensation when running.  When my rib cage expands for a breath, I can feel the pull of the alloderm.

Besides the foobs, I will say, I have lost some shoulder flexibility, and obviously upper body strength.  Now that chemo is over, I am now able to work back on that.  But, I doubt I will ever do a real pushup again.  I have changed my focus more on retaining flexible chest and little strength.  I fear doing too much pec/chest work will affect the foob.

All in all, 6 months post surgery, I'm not doing too bad.  It was a LONG ROAD those first few weeks, but now I don't even remember the pain in the ass called "drains."  I cannot find a comfortable bra.  A lot of that has to do with the location of Lucifer.  I am still in sports bras and a few non-underwire bras.  Since I know I will be having a revision, I am trying to hold off on getting any more.  But, wearing grandma bras is getting annoying.  I fear trying on a swim suit, but I guess I have to get that going soon.

Oh well, first, let me get back to my normal weight, then I will worry about a swim suit.  At least I have some new floaties -- i.e.foobs -- to use this year!!!

You Are Done, Right?

No. No, I am not.

I have now had 2 herceptin only treatments.  Every 3 weeks until October, I will have them.  All a long I thought it was 12 herceptin treatments.  Nope, it is 12 MONTHS of herceptin treatments.  A big difference.

The herceptin infusion seems easier.  My personal side effects are just fatigue and general crabbiness that lasts a day or so.  Much easier than the 5 to 7 days of recovery after a chemo treatment.  Also, I have started my tamoxifen pill.  This pill is what will block my estrogen, since my cancer likes to grow and live in estrogen rich environments.  I will be on it 10 years. I am also in the major throws of medical induced menopause.  I certainly did not see that coming at age 41.

I cannot lie, the tamoxifen scares me.  The reason is totally 100% vain and obnoxious; it is weight gain.  While my physician assures me there is no well controlled study that concludes tamoxifen leads to mid-section weight gain, it happens.  This really pisses me off. I don't want to gain any more weight. I'm working hard at losing all the weight I have gained with chemo.  In 6 weeks, I've lost weight and inches.  So, I am on the right track.  Now, I have to take this damn pill. Hrre is how it works:

Then comes that little voice in my head.  "Kim, you have a cancer that is treatable.  You are not terminal.  Be thankful for that.  Who cares about a little weight?"

I get it; in the grand scheme of cancer crap, I seem to be treatable. I am beyond thankful for that.

But, it doesn't change that I had a real break down last weekend, because I do NOT want to gain anymore weight. I want to go back to normal for me. I want to go back to running, fit in my clothing again, have my sense of self back.  Apparently, I am a lot more vain than I thought.  Not vain as much as, the added weight makes it harder to run; my want to run is waning because it is harder with the weight.

As I go down the rabbit hole of self pitty, there is a glimmer of pre-cancer Kim.  I saw her on Saturday at yoga.  I looked over my shoulder and saw me in a high lunge.  Near perfect alignment, strong legs, flexible.  And I was happy with me and what I have accomplished.  I know I can get back, my fitness level I have let slip.  Knowing I have to take a pill that may possibly add weight to erase that work, infuriates me off.

Here are a few other topics to update....

Foobs.
My foobs and I have been having issues. Good stuff like a little more sensation, and control.  However, bizarre things like, I went to open a door and my entire right side of my foob flexed.  I felt like a body builder flexing her pec, but I was just trying to open a door.  I still have enough room for the third foob.  I cannot wait for that to eventually be fixed.  Wearing bras is something I am trying to work with.  Every bra strap hits Lucifer (the port) on a bad spot.  If I wear a sports bra that is too constricting, the foobs and Lucy hurt.  I need to find something, but do not want to spend too much, as I will need new stuff in October anyway.  LOL!  I am in foob purgatory.

Chemo brain.
It is real and it sucks.  I simply cannot recall so many things.  I hear it gets better, but if I see you or talk to you and forget it, I'm already sorry.  I try to keep a list of things, then I forget where I put the friggin list.  Then I begin another list, and lose it.  See my issue?!

Focus.
I have a MAJOR lack of focus, that is a side effect of chemo brain.  I will step away from my work desk to go get coffee.  On the way to the kitchen, I will realize I need something from upstairs, then I come back downstairs.  I pass the bathroom and decide to go, then realize I need to switch laundry, go do that, realize I need to change the hand towels in the bathroom, go do that.  Decide to wipe down the bath counter top, enter kitchen for Clorox wipes, see the dishwasher is full.  Empty dishwasher.  Then wipe down kitchen counter, remember I wanted to wipe down the bath counter top.  Then sit back at my desk.  Go to get a sip of coffee, and my cup is empty. This is my problem.

Hand Issues,
As a side effect of the chemo, I am having hand issues.  Swelling, lack of sensation, strength, etc.  I have burned my fingers a lot recently and my fine motor skills have been off.  I cannot lie, I thought I was experiencing a weird neurologic thing. Nope, side effect.  It may last about 6 months or more. If you see me without my wedding rings on, I assure you Jeff and I are still swimming on our wedded bliss.  It's just my fingers are swollen.

Hair.
It's growing!!! I decided to use some of CC's hair chalks on Easter for a little fun.This is 6 weeks after my last chemo treatment.

I think that catches me up on my stuff.  I have been hesitant on writing the last few weeks due just because I was feeling whiny.  I hate to post "woe is me" posts. I know people have things a ton worse than I do.  There are people sicker than I and who the hell am I to complain about weight and swollen hands.  I acknowledge my issues are a drop in the bucket, however I have been reminded to validate that my issues are real and do affect me.  Even if a swollen hand will not kill me, it's still a pain in the ass when you cannot button you son's pants for school.

Chemo #6 Re-cap

**Warning- this post is all over the place**

Chemo #6- over and DONE!!!!! Unfortunately, I was able to be lucky enough to develop a horrible case of bronchitis during it all.  So, two weeks later, I am NOW finally feeling better. Thank goodness!!!  I swear bronchitis has been worse than the chemo itself.  Furthermore, the lingering cough can leave at any time.  Really, leave.  I am so tired of coughing (and feeling like I need to wear Depends while I cough).  I'm over it all.

My mind feels clearer and my taste buds are coming back!!! But for now, let's recap number 6.

The morning before #6, I pulled out my trusty chemo notebook and wrote the following:

 

 
Like my lovely art? Yea, I know, I'm awesome.  But, these 4 things are how I wish to celebrate.  I closed my notebook, placed it in my chemo bag, and Jeff and I drove off to chemo #6.  On the way, I received some lovely emails and messages wishing me well.  Thanks to all who sent great vibes.

I was lucky to have a lot of visitors on chemo #6, as well as my chemo posse who keep chairs 19 to 23 fun.  There is a group of us who have the same seats every chemo.  We are our own little group.  On chemo #6, we had a new member.  As much as I love people, and new friends, I hate that she was seated in chair 21 next to me.  Her stupid cancer decided to come back.  She was now doing chemo for the second time.

It was at that moment, my world halted.

Relapse.

That word never ever dawned on me.  Until I met chair 21.

She was so upset to be back in the chair -- I mean who wouldn't be.  She is younger than me, her breast cancer a little different than mine, but also HER2 positive-- like me.  Crap.  We all offered our support and kind words.

Here I am celebrating last crappy "hard" chemo, and she's starting it all over again.  This was a reality that I did not want to see.  Chemo is supposed to kill this all.  The double mastectomy is supposed to make it all go away.  It's not supposed to spread to lymph nodes or any where else.  All the stuff I've been doing (and that she did), was supposed to make the cancer journey end.  Period,

I did my best to focus on my last chemo celebration and my friends.  Here are some pictures.

Once I got home, Jeff and I celebrated with our traditional chemo countdown beer.  I am happy to report, that 6 pack is EMPTY.

Cheers to chemo being done.

But, I could not shake this dread.

Relapse.

The chemo posse met up again on Friday (after chemo) for fluids.  We all talked some more.  We met again on Monday (fluids) and on the next Thursday (fluids for me, chemo for a few).  Wouldn't you know on Thursday, there was another new face.  Another lady with long beautiful hair. She also, had a relapse.  Shit.

To say I was a trying to not spiral into the hole of "what ifs"  is mild.  I look for signs from God, from the Universe, from everywhere around me.  Why at chemo #6, do I meet two ladies that relapsed?  Did I need a reality check that not everyone is lucky to be placed in remission after all this?  Did I need a reminder to keep checking nodes and surface skin for changes?

I do not know why.  But, this was a reality check I would have liked to avoid.  I will go in tomorrow, for my herceptin, and see my chemo posse.  I will offer support and listen.  It's not much, but I can do that.

I do not want a relapse.  Until I met chair 21, relapse was not even on my radar.  Between the double mastectomy, chemo and herceptin, I have a great prognosis.  But, now, knowing there is another side of this "great prognosis" I am going to be paranoid.  They tell me, I will have blood work done every few months to check my tumor markers.  Chair 21 had this to,  Her tumor marker was 1 number over "normal."  One number, and she left a lump in her node.  One fricking number means the cancer is back.  I have a feeling, I am going to be paranoid every three months with this test.

Basically, for chemo number 6, the reality of cancer hit me.  Two acquaintances passed away due to their cancer/complications of cancer, and now two ladies relapsed.  Death and relapse.  While trying to treat all this, I forget some people do not get to experience the all clear.  I am still fighting my fight, but these four people will always be in my prayers and thoughts as reminders of every day being cancer free is a gift.  Life goes on, and my choice is to keep moving with it.

Six

Finally.

Last "hard" chemo will be tomorrow. I cannot tell you how excited I am to close the book on this chapter of my journey.  I know I will have 6 to 8 days of feeling like crap, but it will be worth it.  After tomorrow, I can officially give taxotere and carboplatin the bird and end our relationship.

But, this journey is still far from over.

After tomorrow, I will still have 6 more rounds of herceptin every 23 days.  I will still have to go the chemo center, but this drug is a "nice" drug and the powers that be tell me it is "easy."  They assure me that herceptin is not causing any of my gross side effects.  I hope to God they are right.  If my calculations are correct, my last herceptin will be at the end of June.  I'm 99% sure, that I will book our vacation to start the next day. Even if I am out of vacation time, I will be leaving to see a beach.

Next step, I will then go on Tamoxifen for the next 5 years or so. This is the drug that will block estrogen and progesterone receptors.  I have heard the side effects from this lovely drug vary far and wide.  I am hopeful that I will do well on it with few side effects.

At some point, I know I will also have a revision for my Foobs.  The girls have healed nicely, but we need to do a little tweaking.  I still have room for a third Foob, so I would like to get that fixed up, and maybe add some cleavage to the mix.  I have another follow-up with the Plastic Surgeon later this month.  But, no surgery will be done until I am back to normal Kim size (versus Kim on Steroid and Chemo Size, that is like Super-Sized Kim).

Well, at least step 1- "hard chemo" will conclude tomorrow, while the breast cancer journey will continue for the next five years.  Geeze.

I'm having mixed emotions, about all this.  Round 5 went pretty textbook for me, until I developed a cold.  I'm not sure if it was a cold or upper respiratory thing, but damn, it's been going on a week now.  The germ has been passed through all 4 of us.  Connor, just developed a cough, Jeff had a full out infection with fever, CC's morphed into a nasty ear infection, but me, just a long drawn out cold.  Which sucks since these "cold days" were supposed to be my "Kim feels awesome days." Damn it!

This is one dull blog post. Typing it, the words even feel flat.  I think it's the dread of today is the last "good day" before the spiral.  Again, I've been prepping for the spiral. All the laundry is done, food is purchased for the week, and I've got all the Valentine's stuff ready for the kids.  Come Monday, all bets are off when I am in the hole.  I hope to be coming back out of teh hole by Wednesday.  Fingers crossed.

We did complete the Frozen 5K I hoped to run.  I will say, I ran more than I thought I would, and the kids even ran more than I thought they would!  I was so proud that my family made me a priority and joined me on the run.  I think I was the only bald lady there!  Here are a few pictures from that.

A Flying Pig that Skates

Jeff corrected me, it is a Cyclone, not "Hey Look, the Tornado Guy!"

Ceese and me

The kids have officially retired the jogging stroller after this run.

See that pink coat up there in the distance, that is CC. Connor is in the red sweatshirt.

In this together.

 Since things went well, I have 2 more 5 k's planned for March.  I'm using them as stepping stone races to get me to a 14K in September.  That is my goal race, then I should be back to my normal running self.

So, if you have made it this far... Cheers to chemo #6!!!!!

Never a Normal Day

January 27, 2009.  That was the day that changed our life forever.  I vowed I would never ever treat January 27th as a "normal" day.

Here I am. January 27, 2016.  And I forgot. And Jeff forgot,  And probably a few other people forgot.

We all forgot.

And that makes me horribly sad and disappointed in myself. We vowed it would never be "just a day."  We vowed it would be OUR day to celebrate OUR family. And we forgot.

Seven very short years ago, we became a family.

Leading up to that day, we endured some very curious inspections and paperwork.

Being a prospective adoptive couple, we had to have our home inspected by the Fire Marshall. I was tasked with creating and posting fire escape routes from every room in the house.  We were looking to adopt an infant, and apparently this infant could read an escape plan?  Amazing! Everyone does that, right?  A little adoption humor.  The things we were asked to do, are things anyone who wants to parent should do to prepare.  Fire escape routes, fire ladders, fire extinguishers, smoke detectors; everyone should have those.  But, the State only checks those of us who wish to adopt or foster.  Maybe they want to see if we are extra prepared?

This fall, Jeff and I found ourselves in a mess of smoke/CO detectors that were "dying."  It took us a minute, but we realized their lifespan was 7 years.  So, this year we replaced every single one, laughing at the couple that was so nervous 7 years ago for their fire inspection.

Another fun visit, was our home study.  A few things to highlight for the home study:
1. All toxins locked up
2. Have access to a phone
3. Have running water
4. Room for child needs a window

Jeff placed all our toxic chemicals in a locked area.   We assured the social worker we HAD a working phone (bonus points for us)!!! We had clean running water, electric and a room for the baby.  Per the State,  the "baby" room also had to have a window; thankfully, the room had one.  Phew! Our home was inspected, baby latches in place, and boxes on the form were checked off to ensure we followed the letter of the law to allow a child into our home.  Our dobermans were well behaved, as were our cats.  Luckily, the law does not mind what pets you owned.  We were interviewed on how we would raise a child, and how we would discipline our potential child - because, as a non-parent, you have all the right answers.  We read books on Adoption, Reactive Attachment Disorder, Open Adoption, and Parenting Your Adoptive Child.  We learned to use positive adoption language.  We began to educate anyone who would listen to use the words "placed" for adoption, or "made a birth plan" versus hearing the words "gave up the baby."  I still give anyone the stink-eye who dares ask why "he" was "given up."

Once Connor was born, we had visits every month with our social worker.  She had to lay eyes on Connor, and both of us.  Probably like most prospective adoptive parents, the early visits, the house was immaculate.  I displayed pretty flowers on the table and I remember offering light snacks.  By the sixth visit, I was a Mom of an infant (who was also hiding a surprise pregnancy), the house was filled with all of the best plastic Playskool toys a 6 month old could want, bottles covered the counter tops, baby paraphernalia was everywhere; light snacks, flowers and an immaculate house were a thing of the past.

Then the court date was set.  January 27, 2009.

I was terrified our social worker or lawyer or Connor's birth-mom, or anyone would find out I was pregnant and take Connor from us.  Logically, I  knew my pregnancy should not factor into our adoption.  However, being pregnant changed me from being an infertile to a fertile.  Therefore, I felt a bit of a liar to all involved parties.  I felt it best to keep my blessing close to me, but looking back, it's pretty cool that CC was even there to share in our first ever family day- even of she was just a SeaMonkey.

The morning of the court date, was ice and snow.  4 inches to be exact.  For the next two days, more snow and ice would fall and close down the city, including the courthouse.  But, somehow, our court date stuck.  Our Magistrate arrived, our lawyer arrived, our family arrived and it was time.  I cannot recall much of that experience.  I remember walking into the courtroom, holding Connor on my lap, and just waiting to hear the sound of the word "finalized" and hearing that gavel hit the block.  Done. It was over.  We were a family.

We jumped each hoop, we rode that long roller coaster, we endured, we loved, we had faith, and we were finally a family.  After eight years we were rewarded two fold.  We had a beautiful son, and were expecting a SeaMonkey.  We vowed never to let January 27th be a normal day for us; it was our Family Day.  Our personal celebration for the four of us. We agreed we would take off this day and play hooky to be with each other.

I forgot Family Day today.  Jeff did too.  We have all been so consumed with trying to get me over the hump of chemo, we forgot.  I feel like a heel.  I'm amazed I forgot.  Like my birthday, we will just post-phone our celebration.  I will feel good Saturday.  We will have our post-family day celebration then, and we will have fun.  We will celebrate.

Pre-Chemo Blues

Years ago, my job was to travel around the country training hospitals, Doctor's offices, colleges, fitness clubs, and anyone who wanted a pulmonary function or cardiopulmonary stress machine how to use my product.  I was a trainer for the products I currently support at home. So, 5 days a week I was in and out of airports, offices, etc, always traveling and training.  I was able to keep this up for about 3 years before I was totally burned out on travel.  I saw some kick ass parts of the country, and some scary places as well.

Some days, I miss it.  I miss feeling like a jet settings adult, dressing like a professional, educating people how to properly use medical equipment.  Some days, I miss the travel.  I know Jeff and I both miss all the Delta and Hilton points I had acquired allowing us to take some awesome trips.  Once, I stopped traveling weekly, I developed an odd condition.

I don't know if it has a formal name, but now my friend Scott and I refer to it as travel anxiety.  Where you worry about travel the days leading up to leaving.  Work travel is no longer fun.  It brings me major anxiety, especially now with the kids.  Is laundry done? Does everyone know their sports schedules? Does anyone know the song to sing to CC if she had issues?!  Is Jeff going to let them live on McDonald's all week? Some worries are serious, others are nonsensical.  Obviously with my issues, I have missed a few travel trips.

I would say I now have chemo anxiety.  

I feel so good right now.  Like really good. I am on top of things, my brain seems to be back in normal functioning order.  I am able to concentrate on work and I can parent properly. I feel so good, I really just want to skip chemo so I can continue to feel good. I am kind of pissed that it's coming up.  It really, really sucks.  I feel like an angry teenager. Or like on Sunday night when you know Monday is the next day and you have to return to work.  I am dreading chemo, like I dread some Mondays.  It's a necessary evil.

I don't want to take my steroids tomorrow.  They make me angry and mean, hungry and fluffy.  I do not want to feel those things.

I don't want to sit for 5 hours while poison pours into me.  It makes me itch, it makes me tired, and bitchy, and cranky, exhausted, and pissy, and it makes my mouth hurt, and makes me spiral down to just feel super bad.  The thought of chemo makes me write grammatically incorrect sentence structure.  Major run-on sentences with lots of "ands" in them. Chemo and steroids will make yell at the kids, Jeff, or anyone in my area; it makes my temper very short. I get mean. I hate what it does to me.

I don't want that nuelasta shot.  It makes my bones hurt and I feel 100 years old.

I don't want do this BS any more.  I feel good; I want to keep feeling good. I don't want the spiral to start.  I just don't.  

So, yes, I have pre-chemo anxiety.

Like with travel anxiety, I will suck it up.  I will go on Thursday.  I have my game plan to try to make things NOT suck as much.  

This is just annoying; Cancer treatment is really just pissing me off.

But, I have to be thankful in this hell and cesspool known as cancer and chemo.  My cancer is treatable.  I should *only* have to deal with 6 chemos and 12 herceptins.  My cancer has a treatment plan, and it's one that works pretty well.  I know I was at least blessed with a *nice* cancer.  I can't complain.  I know too many people, in fact two last week, who passed away due to their asshole cancer (I'm not talking about Hollywood stars).  Their two different rare cancers that did NOT have a known treatment option. Two families are absolutely devastated due to the evil of cancer.  Cancer sucks on so many levels.  

Cancer devastates families, and here I am complaining.

Cancer sucks.

Chemo sucks.

But, I feel I cannot complain. I'm not dealing with the vomit until you weight 60 pounds chemo.  The demonic chemo of the past.  I dealing with nicer chemo.  Luckily, I have not had really bad chemo responses.  It's hard to look at the sunny side.  I just really want my cancer free life back.  I bet most cancer patients and families say the same damn thing.

I want my smile back - without a puffy face.

I want my hair back.

I want my waistline back.

I want my brain and weird thought process back.

I want my eyes back to normal so I can wear my contacts.

I want me back.

I want to not focus on the negative.  But, with chemo #5 knocking on my door and I feel so good, it's hard not to let the darkness in.

Cancer has brought me new very close friends.  It has brought a new appreciation for life, and family. It has brought me a new appreciation for all my friends and family that lift me up when I feel physically and mentally down.  Cancer has created this new version of Kim,  I know I will be changed forever by it.  I will never have "old" Kim back.  She is a memory.  I am different. Things will never be how they were prior to August 2015.  I am changed.  Jeff and the kids are changed.  

I guess change is okay.  But, cancer still sucks and I hate it.  

Vent over.  Time to get back to getting the house in order and creating play costumes for the kids.  Time to get back to my new normal.  Time to prepare for chemo 5.  

Chemo #4- The recap....

December 30th was chemo round #4.  Thankfully, it was MUCH nicer than the hell known as round 3.   I had my friend, Kate accompany me to this round, my friend Heather stopped in to say hey, and after I thought about it for 15 minutes, my Uncle Dan drove me home.

Here is the weird thing for me.  When looking back to the treatment, I remember Kate and Heather, but, I could NOT recall how I got home.  This is like the third round where, a couple days after chemo, I  simply cannot remember.  As I have mentioned before, chemo brain is a damn frightening experience.  I mean we all have lapses of memory, walking into a room and forgetting why, or driving and not paying attention and missing a turn.  But, chemo brain for me starts on chemo day, then the fog lifts about a week later.  Every day, things get clearer, but it really takes me a week to attempt to feel closer to myself.

Things I forgot that happened during chemo... Something is causing me to itch during treatment.  We cannot decide which medication is causing this since it happened with Chemos 3 and 4.  When the itch occurs, I win a second round of Benadryl!! Woo-hoo!!!   All of my treatments begin with a nice basic cocktail of saline, Benadryl, pepcid, and a splash of antibiotics (I ask for vodka tonic with a twist of lime in there, but I guess that is Benadryls job). And we all know Benadryl either hypes you up, or knocks you out.  For me, it knocks me into la-la-land.  That is why I wonder if that second Benadryl is also messing with my memory, since it makes me high as a .  Who knows, but if you see me on chemo day, don't be surprised if I totally and completely forget not what we talked about or that I even saw you.  This also, gives you an out. You can mess with me and be like, "Don't you remember I saw you last treatment?!" Of course, I'll be polite and say, "Sure, you got me those peanut butter crackers to eat. Thanks again for that!"  Yep, I'm a liar. (and really, my fav chemo snack has been, oyster crackers, dark chocolate acai blueberry (Brookside OR the ones I.B Back Fudge & Nut Hut are the best) or chocolate pecans (again, I.B. Back Fudge & Nut Hut).

ASIDE time....

First, let's note the fact, I do not care for nuts.  Oddly, during this whole chemo crap, I have actually enjoyed nuts. I LOVE peanut butter, yet despise nuts. I hate nuts in food; if you want to keep me away from your brownies or cookies, add nuts to them.  I will 100% avoid them, unless I am 100% desperate for a chocolate fix.  Yes, I do not really snack on nuts, but there is the exception for macadamia nuts from Hawaii, but I only eat them while I am in Hawaii.  OK if you go to the Big Island and bring me back a Donkey Ball, I'll eat that.  During chemo, I have enjoyed nice soy and wasabi almonds and chocolate covered pecans.  But, typically I am NOT a nut person.   I totally tried to stock up at Festival of Lights on the I.B.Back Fudge & Nut Hut chocolate covered pecans (a nut exception).  On a whim I grabbed a bag of the Dark Chocolate Aqui and Blueberries -- those are freaking awesome.  The sad note, The Fudge and Nut Hut is closed until SummerFair.  A total bummer. This is kind of a dumb aside, but at least I did get to type the words "Donkey Balls"- and that is fun for everyone. If you ever find yourself on the Big Island, I suggest Keoki's Surfin Ass for the best Donkey Balls.

Back to stupid chemo stuff, but I'd rather be typing more about Hawaii. ANYWAY...

The day after chemo, I had to go back in for my Nuelasta shot  That guy and I have a serious love/hate going on.  With the first few treatments, it caused a lot of hip and leg pain.  This time, it has caused sternal pain (i.e. breast bone).  I have to say, at first I pondered if I was having angina or a heart attack.  I would walk up stairs and feel a serious tightness across my chest, the proverbial elephant on my chest feeling.  Being an asthmatic, I can tell you, it was NOT asthma tightness, but different.  I am so very concerned that chemo will adversely affect my heart.  It is a known side effect of one of the drugs I take.  I cannot fathom if chemo causes me long term heart damage, that will definitely cause an issue with running, and will totally piss me off.  You can imagine, I am watching this very closely.  I will give cancer my boobs, and chemo can temporary have my hair and my waistline, but none of this shit better mess with me long term.  To quote an internet gem, "Ain't nobody got time for that." Today, I'm that nobody.

I have realized the that almost over-hydrating and getting supplemental fluids really helps..  This round, I went in for fluids on the day after chemo, 5 days after chemo (If you have ever watched Spongebob, I felt like a dehydrated Spongebob- i.e. kitchen sponge), and on Day 8 post chemo.  I do believe these extra bolus boosts of fluids (and a bag of pepcid) really help me get over the hump.  I had no idea I could ask for a does of pepcid. Chemo has caused me massive amounts of heartburn so, that dose of pepcid was awesome.

Me getting fluids! Notice I wear the same type of top to every chemo and fluid refill?!

The stupid thing is, I am finally figuring out how to help my body deal with chemo.  By the time I get my correct recipe, it will be over (Thank Goodness!!).  With my last two, I hope to make them as nice as I can to myself.

The thing that keeps sticking with me, which is totally dumb, is I cannot stand how much weight I have gained.  I can lie and blame it all on the steroids.  But, there MAY BE some ice cream involved. I have craved more sweets, than ever before.  I really am trying to keep active, obviously, I'm failing as the scale creeps up and the running/walking miles decrease.  Two sweet doctors have helped me blame the steriods on the weight gain.  One even said I looked Steroid Fluffy, not fat.  You have no idea how nice that sounded, LOL!  The emotional side of experiencing chemo, early menopause (yep that too), and watching the scale climb is hard.  I know my metabolism is completely messed up, heck my whole body is.  Again, I know this.  The science makes sense on why it is occurring; but it still pisses me off.  Then add in my glasses, since chemo has made my eyes so dry it is near impossible to wear them.  I feel like I'm going through a absurd version of puberty again. Oh and my head is breaking out from may hair regrowth. So, I have zits.  Total puberty #2--maybe if Jeff is lucky, I might even get boy crazy :)

On the complete flip side.  The kindness and generosity of all my friends and family is awesome.  If you have sent me a card, a note, a package, donated to the 'keep Kim's house clean' fund, cooked us a meal, prayed for me, sent me a positive thought, watched Connor and Calsita, or just thought of me-- I thank you from the very bottom of my heart (the ADHD part of cancer/chemo has me very behind on thank you notes, I am trying my best!!!). Everything-- just makes me feel so loved and supported.  I am so very blessed to have such a supportive circle of friends and family around me.  That makes my day to day dealing with all this cancer/chemo BS that much easier.

Heather's Dad said it best that "Cancer builds a community."  I am thankful for all of you who are part of my community, and part of my journey.  I'm not sure what I would do without you all.

Chemo #5 -- Jan 21st. Two more chemos left (then 6 more Herceptin treatments, which the people say are no big deal), and 8 more days of feeling AWESOME!!!!

Happy New Year from us!  

These three are the reasons I fight this fight and I write all this.  

Connor and CC, I hope this battle of mine is is blip in your memories. 

I further hope, by the time you are 40, science will have found a cure for all cancers. 

And I hope I look awesome at the age of 63 :)