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....