Saying good-bye to my Best Frenemy (friend/enemy)

 Back in 1975, when I was born, the docotor saw a vagina and wham, "It's a girl!"  Being a girl growing up, was rather a sterotypical situation.  Cute pony tails, dresses, necklaces... being told I was pretty.  Oh, and I am "a girl" it's totally how I identify.  

However, being a "girl" has certain serious suck points.  One of these complete point of suck is my Frenemy.  

A definition: Frenemy- is an oxymoron and portmanteau of "friend" and "enemy" that refers to a person with whom one is friendly with despite really not liking the person.  For this blog, my frenemy is not a person. We will get there.

My Frenemy was really fine for the first 13 years of my life.  I knew it and it's friends were there, but, we had a nice relationship.  I did my thing, it did it's thing.  Until the day it "really" did it's thing.  One day I woke up, not feeling particularly well, so I stayed home from 7th grade.  Little did I know this was one of the best decisions of my life.  Like any girl of a certain age... you know "it" is going to happen.  Sadly, we never know exactly when.  Well, for me, that March day, was the day Aunt Flo came to visit. Completely unprepared, there I was in my grandparents bathroom hoping that toilet paper was a good substitue for proper feminine hygine (spoiler alert, it's not). I called my Mom at work and informed her of Aunt Flo's visit.  Her first words to me, "Are you sure?!" This is one of my core memories - and something I SWORE I would never ask my daughter when her visiter came, alas, I did ask the same question.  More out of internal giggles to myself... ANYWAY....back to 13 year old Kim....

My Mom informed me there were "pads" in the closet and we would talk when she got home.  I will never forget, that pad.... If a Chipolte Burrito could be a unit of measure, and then add anout 12 inches in length.... that mwas the pad.  It was like a damn giant burrito.  Like any resourceful 13 year I cut that guy in 1/2 and used surgical paper tape to close the open end.  It was like wearing a pillow between my legs, but still, better than the toilet paper.  I felt like I was walking like John Wayne when he dismounted a horse.  I had a weird swagger. Anyway... THAT was the first time my frenemy really introduced itself to me.  And our exasperating relationship began.  

For about 13 years after our "formal introduction" we just co-habitated.  Monthly, I was aware she was there.... 21 days out of the month were heaven.  However, when she made her self known... it was a rough 7-10 days...always.  I had to do medication to control her, and her evil ways.  Then, many moons later, my beloved husband and I decided it was time to have children.  I threw away the controlling uterus and friends pills and away we went....and.....nothing..... ???

They had a job, monthly, drop an egg... allow in some sperm, and lets have a baby!

Instead, I had... nothing. I found out, I had a tight cervix. That sounds fun, right?! Nope, it's not.... Then a near 7ft tall, ex-college basketball player, turned OB/GYN tells me he's gonna dilate my cervix.  While, I know he was using medical grade chopsticks... I swear he used a damn baseball bat to dilate it. Let's say, it was more than a "slight pinch."   Still nothing...

Uterus, cervix, ovaries and friends were being jerks...FINE. 

Then came years of infertility treatments...Things were never explained.  My ovaries dropped eggs, my uterus was cleaned up and ready... nothing.  Just nothing.  The only explaination we were ever given was, my eggs had a "hard" shell. 

Obviously, the end of the story is my amazing son via adoption and my incredible daughter who was a cosmic surpise!  Evnetually, ute and friends, played well.

Many years post kids, things were not so good.  The horror-mones due to my Frenemy caused post pardum depression, which also let into some pre-menstral distress disorder... and brought me to my friends Zoloft then Lexapro. 

When I was 40, we learned about breast cancer and how my cancer cells liked to live off the horror-mones of estrogen and progesteron.  But, we had to keep my Frenemy.  And I did. 

For almost 6 years, I was on a drug named, Tamoxifen.  I'm going to skip a bunch of the crazy it caused, but the big problem it left me with was issues with my uterine lining.  I just dealt with it all, because that is what you do.  Until, I stopped tamoxifen, and my blood work came back a little off.  Problems with ute and friends, plus weird blood = let's do a biopsy. My long time OB/Gyn (and football coach of my son) called back with things look good...but... He and I had a long converstaion about the but........

If you have read this far, you know ute and friends, and I have had a very rough relationship.  Knowing the horomones it creates makes my cancer cells grow, plus other issues... it's time to kick her and her shitty friends OUT.

On November 7th, they will be evicted. I'm not sure how this will go, but she will not go quietly into this night. Nope, she's giving me one more Aunt Flo visit for the road.  It's been a 47 plus year relationship, but, it’s time we say good-bye.  I am a bit concerned about being thrown into menopause and not being able to use HRT (horomone replacement therapy) to help. The rest of my body and I have been through a bunch.  So, I'm sure we will be fine. 

Frenemy, you brought me tears with miscarriages, and joy with my miracle baby girl.  I will always be thankful that you did your jobs 100% and brought me CC.  Thanks for your effort with everything else.  But, for now... your service is over.  Please go rest in the uterus and friends afterlife.  

Surgical Pre-Op

February was a flurry of workouts, gymnastics meets, work, and enjoying life.  I had my pre-op appointment on March 8^th, so I was looking forward to that.  I asked Jeff to attend with me uncase I forgot something and, let’s be honest, I wanted the support.

Now, let me explain what I thought was going to happen.

Here is a little information from Wikipedia:

“A DIEP flap is a type of breast reconstruction in which blood vessels called deep inferior epigastric perforators (DIEP), as well as the skin and fat connected to them, are removed from the lower abdomen and transferred to the chest to reconstruct a breast after mastectomy without the sacrifice of any of the abdominal muscles.”

So, why was I pushing for this type of surgery?  Well, I had been doing a lot of research on breast implant illness.  I was hoping there was enough of me to be able to nix my current implants and be able to use the all natural chubby belly I’ve been toting around.  Luckily, I have had friends with DIEP (pronounced deep) Flap and have been very happy with results.  Plus, I knew if I was all natural, I would not have to ever deal with implant exchanging.  Implants have a “life span” of about 10 years.  Therefore, every 10 years, I’d need to flip out the old ones for some new ones.  My implants always got cold, especially on cold weather runs.  I would constantly ask Jeff, “Does this feel cold to you? Or just me?”  Yep, implants get cold, like cold enough I even researched the freezing point of silicone implants.  [Silicone freezes at like -67 Fahrenheit, so, maybe my concerns were a little over the top].  But, those guys do in fact get cold, and it’s noticeable.  Nothing like going, “Wow, my Foobs are freezing!” As if I was gonna ask someone to warm them for me?! And I digress…. Back to Kim’s Big Plan…

My plan was easy: remove the implants, remove the nipples! Dr. Chin stated she could fix my chest, so, chest muscle back to normal…Move my belly up to my chest, and apparently a “small” implant needed that will never get cold again (since it will be properly nestled in my belly-fat foob).  Piece of cake in the head of Kim….

Then there was the reality.

Waiting in the office for Dr. Chin, I was given two release forms to sign.  One release was regarding the DIEP, completely expected.  Then the second, regarding a tissue expander….. Whaaa?! We didn’t discuss that initially.  But, as Dr. Chin so bluntly explained, I don’t have much “real estate” for my belly.  I.E. I’m short. Mental face palm, I kind of never considered that.  So, if she uses what she has, we might need to make more space for a proper implant later, hence the tissue expander.  Nuts. I had been able to skip these devil devices.  But, now it’s a possibility. 

Let’s explain a tissue expander:

They sew those little tabs into the chest wall, then little by little fill the expander (think empty balloon) with silicone until the proper size is achieved.  Then the expander is exchanged for an implant of similar size.  The fill then every two weeks with the silicone, and I hear it’s tolerable, but just not all that comfortable. 

Jeff and I left the office with a good idea of what to expect.  I was very nervous, and she explained, that this is VOLUNTARY.  She was right, but as Jeff said, “You’re not getting any younger.”  They both has points.  I was tired of the pain, and I just want to feel normal-ish.  Remember I AM worth it, so here we go. The tentative plan (my laymen’s understanding):

1. 1.      Remove the current implants
2. 2.      Put my chest muscle back to where it belongs
3. 3.      Remove the nipples
4. 4.      Somehow “harvest” the Ab Flab for foobs.
5. 5.      Save some Ab skin to cover the “holes” left by my excised nipples – think pepperoni size, not salami.
6. 6.      The incision used would be the “lollipop.” Straight up and around the nipple.
7. 7.      Add tissue expander?

We had 8 days until surgery.  In those 8 days, lots of things happened.  Oncologist appoint (my 6 month check up), a CT scan, MRI, GYN appointment, pre-op blood work and covid test, and a pre-op appointment with my Primary care. I was seen by more people in 8 days, than I had seen in a year.  I had so much blood drawn and IV contract, my poor left arm was battered and bruised.

By Monday, March 14^th I was all checked out and approved for surgery.  One more sleep and it was off to be a new me!

Scheduling Surgery

I received a call around late December 2021, early January 2022 to schedule my surgery date.  In my brain this was going to be a quick in, quick out...maybe week recovery. 

Of course, the tentative date was in February, smack dab in the middle of gymnastics season for High School and CC.  Naïvely, I looked at the day, and figured it would be a good week so, we penciled it in... Then I started asking more questions...

1. Will I be able to coach the weekend after surgery... No

2. How about a week after.... No

3. Will I be ready in a couple weeks to start training for a 1/2 Marathon... No

I think it was around the third question when I was flat out reminded, "Hey dumb-dumb, this is like a MAJOR thing.  You WILL be down... This is not just a "little" thing."  

SIX WEEKS RECOVERY... every question I had, all answered with SIX WEEKS.

In my head it was easy, peasy.  I'd had my implants exchanged before, with a bit of lipo... I was down about a week.  

This was not the same surgery. Not by a long shot.  

I tried to do some research, on a Hybrid-DIEP flat procedure.  I never really found what I was looking for.  There used to be blogs, message boards, websites....Now, it's all Instagram and Tik-Tok.  I spoke with fellow friends to gain their insight on the surgery.  But there just was limited information on true first-hand accounts of what to anticipate.

I decided to push off the February date and was offered one in March.  This date would occur after our High School Gymnastics Season and this date felt right.  It gave me plenty of time to prepare.  Then I came down with COVID... like many folks in January 2022... It was a blessing that I pushed off that surgery.

During my Covid recovery and working with my TU group...I decided what I needed was a game plan. The beautiful month of January was getting ready to end, and the shortest, yet longest month of the year was upon us.... February. 

I was off tamoxifen for four months, I felt great!! I had been working out, mentally in a good place.  February would mark my 6th month of finding a better mental space, doing my "AM" and "PM" routines.  I discovered things like, drinking Sprite Zero at night instead of multiple beers was OK...Having a nice cup of tea was OK... Slowly, converting my questionable habits, into better habits.  Be accountable was still a mantra, but so was "Consistency is more important than perfection." Being such a Type A person, I was always doubting the perfection of things, so it was easy to simply NOT do them.  But, working to understand being more consistent and trying.... was better than nothing at all. 

I asked myself, “What could I control before surgery?”  The answer was simple... ME. 

Drawing from my last breast surgery with lipo (which- that HURTS), I remembered I could use my arms pretty well, my abs were blobs but my legs and quads--- THOSE were my saving grace.  Since I had already survived the double mastectomy - you know the hard part- I assumed my arms would be basically OK.  I figured my abs would be trashed again, but my legs... again, would be my saving grace. 

January 30th, I started my preparation to go into this surgery as strong and as healthy as I possibly could. Surgery date set for March 15th. My goal, workout EVERYDAY of February.  I was coming off Covid, so I did start a little slow.  

Every week, I journaled my workout schedule for the week, and our meal plans.  I set out to do at least 3-4 Miranda workouts a week, plus 50 minute cardio workouts (my goal was typically 4 or 5).  I had a plan, now the only person that could either find a way to get it done or find an excuse was me.  See, here I am still being accountable for me.  Miranda and the TUs knew my goal and helped me stay motivated and accountable.  

Twice in February, I adjusted my definition of workout...one day things went completely sideways and all I was able to fit in was a 12 minute ab circuit.  The other "not perfect workout" day, I was at an all day meet moving mats, coaching, cheering...and I was simply exhausted at the end of the day. I moved that entire day, I closed my stand and calorie circles- I counted it a win.

And then I exited February about 30 pounds lighter and a lean warrior princess!!!!

HA. NOT.  Not even close. 

However, I did exit February in a great mind space, great cardio endurance, and strong.  Looking at me, I was still me. But, I was stronger, healthier, and happy.  I was a damn JOY to be around! Ok, maybe not everyone thought I was a joy, but I felt like I was nicer.  

Recap: February...Prepare for surgery by being as strong as possible.  Schedule March appointments, pre-op with Dr. Chin, pre-op with primary care, and 6 months oncologist appointment.  Oh, and that work stuff get paperwork in order for that 6 week leave.  Yikes.

I Am Worth It

There is a long back story to how I've gotten here, in this moment.  I'm going to do a quick Reader’s Digest version. I’ll begin with the downward spiral.  Well, it wasn't quite that dramatic, but it makes for good reading when you can make it seem the protagonist, has had some dramatic back story.  However, in this, I am the protagonist and the back story, well that is my life.  

More likely than not, if you are reading, you know me. Many of you really know me, a few of you know my more perfect Facebook version of me, a few may know me as a coach of your child, a few of you are in that close inner circle that truly know that crazy that is Kim.  Disclaimer time here:  This is me, likely my filter is off, and all the stories and opinions are my own. If you are squeamish or become twitterpated with four letter words, you may want to stop here.  I am here to type my truth as I know it.  Every few years, I turn these blogs into a book.  A little personal history so my kids can explain to their kids, who I was.  Let us begin....

My Dad passed away in December of 2019, before the word COVID was even a thing.  That hit me a lot harder than I expected.  I loved him, he loved me, Jeff, the kids.  All in all, he was a good Paw-Paw.  He instilled his love of fishing with us all.  Of course, there is more to that story, but I'm not ready for a full dive into that.  

As we all know in 2020...that was COVID...a very weird time.  Periodically, I would run/walk and do some online lifting with my trainer friend, Miranda.  I was as committed as any semi-committed person could be.  I was unable to visit my Mom in her facility, due to stupid COVID.  In 2020, we lost my Aunt Georgeann, that December her husband, my Uncle Paul.... and I lost the ability to see my Mom for fear I'd introduce COVID into the facility. We would talk on the phone, then one day the phone stopped ringing. Mom had COVID, but survived.  I would do window visits, and eventually in person. But the person I saw was not my Mom.  I would go visit, and she would just stare into space.  In the year of COVID, I lost my Mom. She was alive, but not living, or really interacting.  Literally, a shell of herself.  Out of the blue in July 2021, a guardian angel called me to say, there has been a change, something is not right.  Mom and I had two moments in the end of July when I knew she knew me.  The next weeks were a blur with hospice, having family visit... I just cannot type everything, yet. Mom passed in August 2021.  I was at the lowest of my low. I wallowed in the low for a bit. [Aside here, Mom now resides on my bookcase.  We talk daily.  It’s a HUGE comfort she is with me. I teased she was gonna be “Mom on a Mantel” like Elf on a Shelf.  Likely she hated my humor, with that comparison (I also considered “Nana on the Nightstand”) but I know I like her just being here.]  

By mid-August, I had two decisions, wallow in the shit or get my act together.  Right at this turning point, I received an email from my friend and trainer, Miranda.  FYI- this is not some push for M or her services, but this is my story and she (and my group) play a huge role.  Miranda was explaining to me this new program she was starting, a very personal group with mental training, physical training, check-ins, bi-weekly member meetings, one-on-one check in and accountability.  Not just "fitness" but the WHOLE person.  It's called Transform U.  

At this point in my life, I was pushing 200 pounds, eating junk, drinking more than I should, and just low.  The stereotypical drown the pain with food and alcohol.  I was still on tamoxifen, still fighting the effects of that stupid drug.  And I was just in a funk.  I reached out to M, the program was what I needed, but the price tag was my challenge.  I was dealing with all my personal stuff, an atrocious boss at work, everything was just a clusterfuck, and I was simply trying to hold it together and survive.  I'm sure on Facebook we still looked like a delightful family and perfect.  That was exactly what I was ready to portray, only Jeff really knew the truth behind the curtain. 

The more I considered that "price tag" which was holding me from committing to TU, the more I realized I pissed that amount away on amazon purchases, target trips, etc.  It was time to put that money to good use.   Finally, it was time to transform. I decided I was worth the investment, my health needed to be primary.  If I invested in me, to be a better Kim, I could be a better Kim all around.  This was for me.  Just me.  This change had the ability to impact everyone I love in the best way possible.   I had to.  My first journal entry...

August 18, 2021....Step 1- Be accountable.

So, I began.  I signed up for a 1/2 Marathon, and wrote out my training program.  I followed my TU group mental challenges, our daily gratitude journaling, nightly wins, and the very cathartic "write and burns."  I learned quickly that finding gratitude daily was easy but forgiving yourself for mistakes in the day or negative thoughts was difficult. Looking yourself in the eye, and telling yourself, "I love you" - much harder than I anticipated.   I worked the program.  I wrote myself a letter on why I decided to do this.  My big AH-HA of my letter is this statement, "Be the example." I want to be the example of what a strong, healthy, smart woman is.  I want my kids to look up to me, I want to be a good example for the kids I coach.  I want to live that life honesty and integrity.

I decided I was worth it and I needed to fight to be the best Kim I could be.  Step 1- Be Accountable.  I started with the 1/2 marathon training, added in some online lifting classes with M.  I began making a weekly plan and making it happen. I was accountable. Just a little progress each day.  The fitness portion was the easier part for me.  The other portion was, be a grown-up. Go to your 6month Oncologist appointment and call a plastic surgeon and discuss the foob issues.  YOU ARE WORTH IT, now pick up the phone.

1. At my routine oncology appointment, we weighed the pros and cons of staying on Tamoxifen.  For over 5 years I was on this drug and dealt with the side effects. Finally, we decided, based on the "calculations" my recurrence was low, I did my 5 years, and I stopped. The drug. The doc seemed “doubtful” all the side effects I felt were due to tamoxifen, but more due to being in my late 40s. 

2. I finally made an appointment to get my Foobs examined.  Since my last surgery (2016), I've had problems.  Everyone LOVES to tell me how nice they look.  That is great! They are pretty! But they are assholes!!! No one told me by saving my nipples, the ONLY sensation I would have is PAIN.  Imagine a spiderweb and your nipple is in the middle.  Every time I bent down to tie my shoes, the spiderweb would pull and cause pain. Turn too far one way, pull.  Constant, daily pain. I just dealt with it.  Besides the pain, the stupid nipples were always "ON."  I would tease they always were waving, "Hello" for all to see. The nipples were just an annoyance.  The real issue was my chest.

My implants were placed under my chest muscle.  This is simply how it was done in 2015/2016.  They moved my chest muscle and placed in a giant implant under it.  ANYTIME I used my chest muscle, the muscle would flex, flatten the implant and create this gross deformed chest.  This made me feel less than sexy during intimate moments.  If you watched me get out of a pool, by pushing up with my arms, you could see the massive defect.  Remember, the foobs were pretty and us cancer girls, well they just do the "Best" they can...I essentially surrendered to the fact little could be done about that, but I did know we could possibly fix the nipple issue.  I picked up the phone and made my appointment with Dr. Chin.  She was there for my previous surgeries but was still learning about the microsurgery for performing DIEP flap reconstructions.  

Dr. Chin confirmed we could fix the nipple thing, then asked about my defect animation (my chest deformity), and said, you know we can fix that. MIND BLOWN. She explained there are new techniques, and my chest muscle could go back to its intended position. Then I asked about removing the implants and using some of my belly fat to use for a DIEP Flap. Let's just say, being short, I don't have a lot of real estate between my foobs and hips.  We discussed a hybrid DIEP flap.  Some of me, and some implant help.  SIGN ME UP.  They would call me with a surgery date.

During my first three months of the “Kim is Worth It” journey... I've been working on mental and physical health, stopped a cancer drug, and decided to fix the foobs.  I cannot lie, I thought this was all a little vain, but I wanted it.

By December 2021, I had lost about 12 pounds. I worked out regularly, started cooking more at home, cut out lots of adult beverages... and felt great.  One morning I woke up, and it was the first time since 2016 I did not feel like the Tinman.  Every morning on tamoxifen, I was slow. It was hard to get up, hard to walk, hard to move.  But, that day, everything was different. And since that day, it's been different.  Again, I had no idea how shitty I felt, until that moment. Everything tamoxifen took away was back.  My joints felt so much better, I felt like a woman again...I saw a huge glimpse of Kim pre-cancer.  It was amazing. I had no idea how shitty I felt for all those years.  I was told, if I wanted to live a longer life, feeling like shit was my trade off.  Talk about quality of life. 

As a cancer survivor I was led to believe, if I wanted to live, I had to accept things. Daily pain, zero sex drive, painful intimate moments and weight gain from tamoxifen. I had to accept painful nipples, and a chest that looked pretty - but did not function properly.  I want to live, so I figured that I would deal with the shit to live. Not ONE doctor told me, this is temporary.  Medicine and technology advanced in six years.... it never dawned on me to just ask the questions. 

Once I decided I was WORTH IT, I started asking. My friend Amy, who I met in a chemo chair next to mine, told me early on to be my own advocate. I finally started advocating for myself. I AM WORTH IT, and this was how it started. 

Masks

It's officially been 5 years since I was diagnosed with Breast Cancer.  5 years.  And you know what, every single doctor's appointment is just as terrifying as it was, five years ago. 

On Wednesday, exactly 5 years to the DAY, I had my biopsy completed, I had my 6 month oncologist appointment.  Thanks to Covid... my 6 month appointment was actually a 10 month follow-up.  It's been a little nerve wracking waiting.  

But, on my way to the appointment, I started rummaging around the car for a face mask.  Which lead me to think... I've already placed on SO many masks this morning, what is one more.  

My first mask was for me.  The "I can do this" mask.  The one that leads me to believing in myself, and convincing myself that everything will be fine.  The mask that leads me to perform a LOT of deep breathing... good air in, stressed air out.  Good in, bad out... You can do this Kim, it's just another doctor's appointment.  Everything is FINE.  Oddly, the "I can do this mask," is almost an identical mask to, "Lying that everything is fine, and I am totally calm."

My next mask was, my "Lying that everything is fine, and I am totally calm."  I had that mask on for the kids.  They were not allowed to attend the appointment, so, like any good liar, I mean Mother, I gave them the, "This is nothing to worry about.  It's just my 6 month appointment where they check my blood.  No big deal."  (or so I told them).  Secretly, I shit bricks twice a year with this appointment.  I *think* everything is OK, but then again 5 years ago, I never thought the word cancer would be uttered.  

I can NEVER, EVER let on that I am nervous.  If I'm nervous, both kids will freak out.  Using my, "Mommy is calm, everything is fine" has lead me to doing all kinds of things that scare the shit out of me.  Some of the things are: going to the oncologist, picking up a frog without gloves, picking up a katy-did, acting like everything is totally fine when a dog bites off your thumb.... you get the idea.  I'm guessing every parent does this with their kids.  I have figured, my smile is a HUGE mask for me.  

Back to the story, I parked in the oncologist parking lot, I placed on my actual mask, gave myself the "you've got this, you are calm" lecture, and off I went.  What I learned is, using my breathing techniques in a face mask, almost leads to CO2 overload and near hyperventilation.  That was unexpected.  But, I kept on my, "I am calm," mask the entire appointment. 

For some reason, it always takes two days and a weekend, for my blood to post.  My lovely CBC stuff, and general other blood results, pop up in about 24 hours.  But, that CA 27-29 number ALWAYS makes me wait. I waited to type this, until I knew my number.  The goal is under 38.  This month, mine is 29.  My highest to prior to this is 25, so, I'm told NOT to be concerned.... I pretty sure I'm always concerned.  I'll just place on my, "Everything is fine," mask until February....

My actual Mask, and the results of 5 vials of blood being taken :)

In the Middle of it All

It seems I get through my shit, by writing about it.  That's not to say, in the past years I have not been through any shit, I just wasn't in a place to write about any of it.

But, here I am.  Back in the thick of things, just like the rest of the world.

Let's see, the past almost 5 years, post cancer have been tough.  Don't get me wrong, I slapped that smile on my face and moved forward.  So much shit happened behind the scenes, I did not let anyone in during that time, except Jeff.  He has been the one that has stood by me through it all. All the good, and the ugly.  Trust me, there has been ugly.  Well, and the kids.... sadly, they have also experienced the good and the ugly.  How I wish I would have controlled some of my ugly better.  I hope to Jesus they remember most of the good, and less of the ugly.  Honestly, there were times I tried to drink and smoke my cancer away.  I was so mad.  Mad at my body for being an asshole, mad at God... I've spent a good part of 4-5 years, being mad, and looking to blame something, someone... But, there is no blame.  Shit happens and it sucks, big time.  At this point, I am blessed that all my family and friends stood with me, and helped me bear my demons.  Trust me, you never saw that shit on Facebook, because, I only try to show the happy there. 

I would say, it has taken me these past almost 5 years to heal myself, to find myself, and to be back to a symbalance of me.  Well, more like Kim version 2.0 - with giant foobs.  It's not been an easy road, and I certainly did not invite anyone on it, with me.  Now, that I'm 45, I've begun to delevope this new sense of self.  Crap, I even had on a two piece today at the pool.  Trying to prove to myself that I am worth ALL my self esteme, and to help my daughter learn that no matter how you feel you look, you are always beautiful in your own skin.  Sorry if anyone was offended, but damn it, this belly needs some SUNSHINE!  My belly is not near as tight and taut as it once was, but she has been through her own hell. Bulemia, IVF drugs, pregnancy, mis-carriage, preganancy (again), birth, depression, anxiety, cancer drugs, BEER.... my God we have survived a lot.  But, a friend made an off handed comment to me.  I was looking online for bathing suits, and my comfort zone is a tankini with shorts.  She popped in over my should and gave me a.... "Girrrrlllll, if I were you, I'd be showing off that body of yours and not hiding it!"  Perspective.  it was exactly what I needed.  I am aware my perspective of myself is totally squewed. 

Anywho.... It's time to start to write and post again.  I need to do this for me.  I have a TON of stories I need to write before they leave my brain.  And, I want to write for Connor and CC.  I want them to have a "diary" of their Mom's life.  Even if it's crass and uncensored.  I want them to know me.  Since my Dad has passed, that is what bothers me the most.  I feel like I never knew him.  I knew him on the surface, but never really knew him.  Maybe it's a regret of his? I don't know.  But, I'd rather create yearly books of my ramblings for my kids, to instill in the fact they knew me, and I was one crazy ass lady. 

Why July is an Emotional Month

July... This month brings up so many feelings...

July 4th,  2008... we told our families that we would be parents.   Unbeknownst to us, we ended up having two weeks to prepare. Most parents get more time.  We had a car seat and pack in play (still in the box), random bottles and pacifiers.  Trust me, not much else.  We had a room painted in "viking blue," and hope.  Hope and faith in a young girl.  Hope that she would follow through with her adoption plan.  We did not want anything, just in case the birth mother wanted to parent.  Those were our early concerns of July 2008.

2015...

Sitting, near an acquaintance at Coney Island, asking her, "What was up with the hospital picture I saw on Facebook?"  She, much younger than I, explained, it was breast cancer.  A weird spot on her nipple, that eventually lead her to a double mastectomy.  She had (has) 4 little girls.  I thought, shit. I'm almost 40 and 1/2 better get that mammogram.

2018...

Healthy. Standing in our garage. I took a minute to fix the fan out here, to have one last beer and watch Hawaii Five-O.  It's my current Netflix binge.   Jeff and I love Hawaii. I'm a geek and dream of the next time we can go, with our kids. It gets hot out here in the garage.   No one is out here, and everyone is asleep. I take off my t-shirt and let the air from the fan run over me. Cooling me off.  I look at my foobs, all puckered and imperfect.   Toning my pecs has hurt my odds of nice looking "boobs." Hence, they are "foobs," my fake breasts. 

I recall getting that mammogram. I recall, being asked to go for a more diagnostic mammogram.  Jeff asked, "Should I come with you?" Me, "Nah." As my Uncle said, I come from the family of heart disease, dementia,   Parkinson's, skin cancer... we are not the  breast cancer family, so no... no need.  I went alone.

After the mammogram, the radiologist called me back.  He asked, "Do you have someone with you?" "No," was my response. It was abnormal. The diagnostic mammogram...abnormal.  I was then set up with a biopsy. No ultrasound, right to biopsy.  Of course, I played it cool with my husband.  "Painless," they say; "No big deal," they say... It hurt, it sucked. I went back to coaching Cheer camp that day.

"You need an MRI." "OK," I say.  Again, Jeff asking if he should come.  "Nah, MRI is a piece of cake."  That is until it's an MRI with contrast. They can find that "funny spot" and the "marker" placed in my by biopsy.

No marker found, more than 1 funny spot found.  Crap.  Yet, I did not know.

August 13th- my daughter turned 6. We spend the day at Coney Island... Waiting... for the call....

August 14th, at Target with my new 6 year old daughter. I was looking for pineapple tid-bids.  They had crushed, and cut. No tid-bits.  My phone rings.  A strange number, a doctor, who I have never met states,"You have cancer."

With a newly 6 year old in your cart, in Target, you cannot wig out. Maybe you can, but I knew I could not.  I finished my call, and went to check out.  I tried to be calm.  I tried not to vomit.   I tried to be a regular Mom. Yet, I was now a Mom with cancer.

On the way home... my thoughts, they went right to Jeff and the kids.  How do you say, "I have cancer." You've just done the Flying Pig 3 way. You run, you are active, you stopped socially smoking 7 years ago.  Cancer. WTF.

Somehow, I get Jeff in the garage. I ask for a cigarette. If my cells are gonna mutate and fuck with me, I'm playing that game.  I explain to him....cancer....we need to see a doctor.

With that our world changed from, "What's for dinner?" to "Holy shit, what are we going to do?"

What did I do?  I took a shower. In that shower, I prayed, and plead to God. " Dear God, I can deal with Cancer, and the treatment.  Just, please, please, Dear Lord, don't let this cancer take me from my kids in 6 months.  Let me fight. Let me see them grow up and get married."

Almost, 3 years ago, I prayed that prayer.

Yet, today, I have stayed up too late. I have a 6am yoga class I will miss... But, I needed time to reflect. Time to myself, to see how far I have come.  I still have 8 years of medicine to help me fight my mutant cells, who knows how many years of medicine to counter act that medicine.  But, I am here. Standing in the garage. Letting the air cover me, and watching Hawaii Five-O.  The journey has been strange, yet paved with beautiful people.  I hope to have the longevity of seeing my children marry, seeing my 401K mature, seeing me grow old with my J.

I'm unsure I will be blessed to experience all that.  I pray I will.  I am not the best daughter of God, or the healthiest of folks.  But, I hope, being me, in the darkest of hours, and in the light of day is enough.  Enough to see my children grow into adults, and to ensure my husband is loving retirement before I have to leave this Earth.

Please schedule your mammogram.

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Side note from Jeff...
      We all love you.   From J,Cand C     please stop dwelling on death and keep focusing on the future.    We have lots of time to spend together   sunny beaches and fun times.    You are a great mom and a great wife.      Most of all you are a fighter.   Many more days of notes on your coffee pot. 


we all love you to the moon and back

Tackling Tamoxifen- Entry 1

"The most difficult thing is the decision to act, the rest is merely tenacity. The fears are paper tigers. You can do anything you decide to do. You can act to change and control your life; and the procedure, the process is it's own reward." --Amelia Earhart

--- July 2017---

It's been 15 months since my last chemo.  All I heard during chemo is, after a year, I would feel myself and be back to "normal."  Friends have seen me grow hair, and run a marathon; to them, they can place me in the "cured" box and consider me fixed.  Phew.

But, I'm not fixed.

I'm a new type of broken, and after reading a LOT of information, I'm not the only "survivor" that is having these issues. While I thought dealing with the crap that was cancer was the hard part, I was so very, very wrong.  That was hard-- but, living post cancer is proving to be just as difficult.  While on the outside, and in my medical record, everything looks "great."  On the inside and outside, I feel a mess.

I have got to dig deep in order to change myself and find an internal drive that I seem to have lost the minute the word cancer was uttered. My internal drive, my self-esteem, my "get up and go" seem to have been killed along with the cancer cells.

Here I sit still 15 months later, STILL with that 20 pound of chemo weight.  Still trying to eat cleaner, drink less, exercise more.... even when on my best behavior, I have only been able to get that scale to say 165lbs.  When I have spent a vast majority of my adult like in the high 140s to 150's zone (which I always said I needed to lose 10lbs), looking at a frigging scale say 170+lbs, and having to buy bigger and bigger clothing is just a serious blow to the small amount of self esteem I have.

------September 19, 2018------

Well, I never finished that blog post.  But, I am here to add to it.  This next part of my journey is a tough one.  To be completely honest, I was a horrible cancer patient.  I had a very lackadaisical  attitude about it all.   When I felt good, I would drink, eat, and the horror of all horrors- smoke.  How smart is that for a cancer patient?  Yes, probably one of the stupidest things I have done in years.  I had been a social smoker in college and after.  But, once I was pregnant with CC, I was basically done with the ole cancer stick.  That was, until I heard the word "cancer."

Knowing myself, like I do, I knew I had to essentially hit a spot where I really felt like I was ready to make a big shift.  I had that feeling towards the end of July.  I physically felt myself  ready to change.

My beloved yoga guru, mentioned trying a new online virtual yoga club.  It started in August, and I thought why not.  30 minute classes twice a week, I can do them live or on a repeat stream.  But, the kicker is you have 1 week to catch up. No slacking!

This new adventure had me waking up at 6am to attend a live yoga stream.  I NEVER wake up at 6 am unless it's to drive/fly to a beach.  I began my two day a week virtual club, and tried to catch a class in the studio once a week.  Irena's idea of bite sized yoga to sneak in your day, began working.

Next up, a former teammate, Betsy, was going to start up a 9 week boot camp of clean eating and strength training/cardio.  Since I had some decent luck with the online yoga, I thought it was worth a shot.  My upper body has been so atrophied since surgery, that I had to do something.

I received the data from Betsy, and laughed.  What the hell is a slam rope? Will I actually do this? A super set? Are you nuts?  Eating Ezekiel bread- WTH is that?! No alcohol- riiiiiight. Jumping jacks? I think my uterus will fall out.  But, I committed to try this.

Oddly, I read the "suggested" menu, and thought, well this might be doable- with some tweaking.  Give myself a weekend cheat meal or two and this is possible. I've had that coconut oil in the pantry collecting dust, maybe I can use it...

Why am I doing all this? To be Mrs. Fitness USA?  Nope.  It's all in trying to combat the one lasting cancer med I will be taking for another 8 years and 6 months.  Tamoxifen.

Now, tamoxifen is great since it's job is to keep my crazy cells from mutating to cancer again.  Tamoxifen sucks because it suppresses my estrogen, and makes my body act like it's in menopause.  It likes to collect fat in my abdomen and legs, it can cause hot flashes, ovarian cysts, and joint pain.  The list of side effects are long, and many folks talking this drug have various side effects.  However, like chemo, the benefit of the drug outweighs any of it's side effects.

I am now on my journey to tackle tamoxifen.  I have tried to research blogs about tamoxifen, and there are not many.  So, I figured I'd try to blog my latest journey of trying to get back to healthy, while on tamoxifen.  I have no idea if I will ever see my pre-chemo weight again, but I will try.  This is a HUGE lifestyle shift for me.

I have kept a notebook since I started with this breast cancer stuff.  It has symptoms, weights, measurements, etc. in it.  Looking back, when I started my journey, I was 154 pound.  For perspective, I was 143 when I was married and 146 the day I found out I was expecing Calsita.  I'm no light weight here.  The highest weight I have recorded is 178 - during chemo.  Since treatment, the lightest weight I have recorded is 165.

Do I have a number goal? Well, yes and no.  I'd simply love to see the scale less than 165--- ideally back into the 150s or less.  It took me almost 2 years to get to this point, so it's not going to melt off overnight.  Thankfully, I have real expectations, I'm pretty sure I'll never be 128 again, I have not seen that number since Kurt Cobain was alive.

Here are my numbers right before I began bootcamp:

wt: 170
neck: 13 3/4
r arm: 12 1/4
at nipple: 40 (I'm not sure if foob area will move, but let's see)
rib cage: 36
waist: 35 1/2 (hello round!!!)
Hip: 41
R thigh: 22 1/2
r calf: 15

Come along and be a voyeur, let's see if I can tackle this tamoxifen beast.

If you are interested in checking out Irena and Betsy- links below! And no, they have no clue I'm plugging them.  This is what is working for me, and I believe in it.  If you are interested, check out these wonderful ladies!!!

Irena Miller: http://www.irenamiller.com/

Betsy McNally: http://betsymcnally.com/

Vision

"The most difficult thing is the decision to act, the rest is merely tenacity. The fears are paper tigers. You can do anything you decide to do. You can act to change and control your life; and the procedure, the process is its own reward." 

Amelia Earhart

It began when the kids were 4 and 5.  We were on our annual trip to "Sunny Beach."  Jeff said to me, "Wouldn't it be great to live down here?"  I verbally agreed, but in my head I thought, there is no way we would ever really consider leaving Cincinnati.  

Each vacation on "Sunny Beach" we fall more in love with the area.  We explore more, we find ourselves day dreaming, visiting Carolina One reality web page.  Just looking.  Browsing... See what could be possible.  Wondering why we have not moved on this.

Well, that year + of cancer crap, kind of had me staying close to my doctors.  Close to family, friends and what is familiar.  We had enough going on, no need to rock the boat with pipe dreams.

However, this year, our trip was different.  We had long talks about our dreams and hopes; aspirations for our family.  Jeff and I came up with an awesome fictitious restaurant we would run down South.  But, neither of us have experience, other than that one summer I spent waiting tables.  Jeff and I had a serious heart to heart about could we make this happen?  Luckily, I have watched a good friend make her dream come true.  The sold their house and are exploring North America in an RV.  Their adventures are wild; they literally are living our their dream!  No regrets!

 There is it, regrets.  If the shit hits the fan and my health goes crappy again, I do not want regrets.  I want to know we lived, and we lived our way.

   

The Year of No Chemo

While my cancer journey began in 2015, most of that year was pretty ok.  It wasn't until my second chemo, in November 2015 when I really started feeling bad.

The holidays that year are a gigantic blur.  Looking back, all I really remember was feeling like shit and trying to fake feeling good.  No one wanted Cancer Girl to be Debbie Downer at their holiday party.  So, I slapped on my smile and put one foot in front of the other.

One foot in front of the other, continued into 2016.  Yes, once chemo was done, I did feel a little bit better each day.  While herceptin was supposed to be "easy"- I still did not feel myself.  Maybe it was because I was still in treatment? Could have been the drug? Maybe it was all in my head.

The 2016 holiday season, we had a blast.  Going places, having fun and living each moment.  Calista and I went to the Nutcracker with a few other Moms and daughters.  I had a vivid memory of doing that in 2015; but I do not remember my daughter's reaction to seeing the ballet or any of the dancing.  I remember feeling like hell, taking off my wig mid-ballet (because it itched) and taking out my contacts in the dark theater (because my eyes hurt so badly).  I remember wearing a horrible outfit that made me look like a bag lady, because only things with elastic waist bands would fit.  I felt bloated, and uncomfortable, and like hell.  But, I did it.

I have no idea how I did it.

I've kind of impressed myself.

I look back at the photos during my treatment at Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, my Birthday.... I see the smile- but it was my mask.  No one wanted to know how I really felt.  So, I kept showing up, kept smiling and did my best to live through it all.

Finally--- I would say in mid-October 2016--- The cloud lifted.  I truly felt joyful again.  My smile became legit.  I said no to so many things last year, because I felt like hell.  I have started using YES a lot more.  YES, we will do that; YES we will try that, YES I want to go do shots of moonshine!

Then a moment of reality hit me.  My family went on an adventure to the Festival of Lights (at our Zoo) without me.  I was returning home from a business trip.  My kids went to visit Mrs. Claus-- their favorite.  She remembers my kids, because we leave out a Miller Lite for Santa.  I guess they are a little unforgettable with that tid-bit.  According to Jeff, it was a nice visit.

Since I missed that outing, I drug my family back to the Festival of Lights at the Zoo 2 days later.  Our first stop was Mrs. Claus.  She saw me and gave me a hug and stated, "When I did not see you on Friday with your family...I was worried."  I assured her I was doing well.  But, there it was, that stupid cancer shadow.

The beginning of this post, I wrote in December 2016-- for some reason, I just could not post it.  The reality of an acquaintance not seeing me with my family, and thinking I may have passed-- really hit me hard.  Everything on this Breast Cancer Journey has been an eye opener, but that interaction was a horrible reminder, not all our friends fighting their battle make it out alive.

Here I am now in March 2017.  I have two "tumor marker" tests under my belt.  Although we are still waiting on results for test number two.  I am trying to be all calm about it all, reminding myself that I have really done everything I can to control that number, and my body-- well, it's up to it to decide if it wants to be cancer free.  My follow-up with the Oncologist yesterday, was good.  We had a long discussion about where to look if my cancer was to return-- I need to check my chest wall and lymph nodes.  We discussed why to keep my ovaries (better bone density, keep me from full fledged menopause and all those side effects-- even though I did that once with a chemo induced menopause), and why to keep my uterus (pelvic floor stability).  I go today for an ultrasound to check out my inner lady parts.  I have a history of uterine polyps and fibroids.  Why does that matter with breast cancer?  Well, the drug I am on, tamoxifen, has many side effects.  Luckily, I am a person that only seems to bitch about one-- weight gain.  In the grand scheme of things, that is petty, but it really pisses me off.  Another, side effect is increased chance of uterine cancer and increased growth of polyps/fibroids.  LOVELY!  So, this is why we are going to get the old Ute checked out.  Secretly, I think my body just missed all my "dates" with the dildo-scope.  It's been at least 8 years since my last visit with that ultrasound "wand."  Time will tell how that all pans out.  For now, I wait.

Re-reading the beginning of this post, I am still saying "YES" to more, and "No" to things I just do not want to do.  It's not that I am being selfish, it's more of a refocusing my life and what is important.  I am saying "yes" to me more.  I am training for the full Flying Pig Marathon (with my fabulous Neighbor Chellee). Jeff has been a Saint parenting the children while I go off and run 15 miles (and more to come).  An aside, they use "find my phone" to track where I am.  So, I get cute texts from them.

Basically, I'm still trying to make up for those months of hell.  My laundry may sit a little longer, my house might be a little messier, my kids may need more showers... but, even with all that, we are having fun, enjoying life and enjoying each other.

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!