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. 

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....

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.

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. 

Chemo #3

Chemo #3- or alternative title, Shit Got Real

This post will be filled with truth and probably a ton of profanities.  I did try to write it a couple days ago to make chemo #3 all up lifting and jolly.  How fun, a Chemo recap looking through rose colored glasses.  But, a day later and a few doughnut holes later, it's truth time.  The truth with cancer treatment is not pretty at ALL. Chemo sucks.

Breast Cancer is a weird thing.  I am now part of this weird cancer sisterhood. I have to share a couple quotes from a new friend, Adrienne, that I keep going back to.

"...I think you will find it's all okay in the name of getting to live.  If you just remember we are doing all of this so we don't die; it makes more sense."

"[My] Doctor said, 'There is nothing normal about Cancer.' He advised me to try and do my normal stuff, but not to forget I am forever changed."

Cancer has changed me, chemo has changed me.  Part of the changes will be temporary, but I know some will be a life long change I will carry with me.  Luckily, this stupid chemo mouth taste thing will go away with time, but since I can actually TASTE chocolate, that would be where those doughnut holes come in. PS- I am typically NOT a chocolate doughnut eater, this again, is the weird ass chemo side effects.  I do typically love water, but it tastes HORRIBLE, and smells are getting to me again.  It's like a bizarre pregnancy, I can't eat or drink, or deal with smells, and I'm gaining weight.  Comparing this to pregnancy, when this is all over, I will be birthing a life-- mine.  A new life, cancer free when I can live again and the memory of chemo will fade away, just like my new stretch marks.  

Right now, my life is modified.  Like Adrienne reminded me, I am doing all this chemo crap to LIVE.  I really want to live.  I am beyond lucky to have a treatable cancer.  I have learned since chemo #3, treatable does NOT mean easy.  There is a billboard on my way home from chemo and the oncologist office stating, "No treatment cancer is easy." None are easy, all treatments are different and sucky in their own ways.

Cancer treatment is damn hard.  Even with all the support, prayers and love (it does help a ton- I could NOT imagine doing this all alone), it's fricking hard. I am trying to be as "normal" as possible.  To me, my new normal is being able to run a 5K the day before chemo, but, 3 days after chemo, walking up a flight of stairs is like running a marathon.  My new normal is, for one week a month I can really TASTE foods, and enjoy life.  I feel myself one week a every 21 days, the other 14 days, honestly, I fake it.  Apparently, I fake it so well, my daughter never sees me as sick, she sees me as "Mommy is being lazy."

Only through the eyes of a sweet, well meaning, 6 year old, can I be called lazy.  She was frustrated that I would not get up to go play outside with her.  It was post chemo day 2, I was in energy conserving mode to make sure I would be able to attend her Christmas Concert.  She did not know.  She just wanted Mommy to play, and I wouldn't.  It's hard having these moments.  I really wonder in the future, what Connor and Calista will remember from all this.  I really hope they do not remember much.

I am still bouncing back from this chemo.  My mouth feels as if there is a film all around it, my tongue has sores and feels fat and heavy.  I debate everything I put in my mouth, it cannot be crunchy, or too acidic, or hard.  Doughnut holes are surprisingly soft to eat-  healthy NOPE, but at least I can taste those.  The downfall of those are, my stomach hates them.  TMI here, but, there has been a gastric issue I cannot quite shake, compliments of chemo number 3.  I am growing frustrated with feeling like blah.  I am desperately trying to get out of this, but the fatigue and frustration are eating away at my resolve.

Tuesday was ugly.  It was ugly enough that at 6:20am Jeff and I were terrified.  Luckily, that eventually passed and I spent the day on the couch.  Wednesday, I went back to work.  Smart idea? I'm not sure.  But, I am trying.  The cumulative effect of this treatment is a pain in my very social ass.  I know this will pass in a few days, it always does. But, right now, my port hurts.  I went in yesterday for blood work and fluids.  Now, Lucifer is angry.  My hips and back are killing me from the Nuelasta shot.  I'm tired of feeling tired, I'm crabby, and in general I'm tired of not feeling like me.  

I am doing all this to live, just like Adrienne reminds me.  It's not lost on me that not everyone lives with breast cancer.  I am a lucky one. I have a treatable cancer with great survival rates.  Knowing that, still does not mean chemo is going to get any easier.    I know it will get harder, and I will have harder days ahead.  

I will not give up, but I think it's okay to state, this shit is hard.  So far I've only hit on the physical aspect.  Emotionally and physiologically are totally other subjects.  I probably need a therapist, but whatever.  I am doing my self talk to allow my body to do what ever it needs the next few months to get through this.  I am giving myself permission to say, NO.  No is so hard for me.  I have been cancelling plans, and  I hate disappointing people.  Right now, my focus is on Jeff and the kids.  I want to use my energy for them.  So, please do not be upset if I say no, or have to cancel. I honestly cannot do it all.  Especially with Christmas a week away, I am terrified I am missing a gift or forgetting someone.  I know I am.  I have not had the energy to make my traditional breads, pizzelles, fudge or cookies.  I am hoping next week I will, but there are no guarantees.  

Bottom line, this is a post written by a lady who was smacked down by chemo 3.  I'm getting back up, just a lot slower than before.  I'm doing my best to do all things with grace and a smile, it's just getting harder. But, I can do hard. Three chemos down, three to go.  I'm ready.

In the words of Freddie Mercury:

"I'll face it with a grin

I'm never giving in

On, with the show."

-Queen

The Show Must Go On 

Bring on Chemo #4. 

Chemo #2 a ReCap of Fun

**Note, I initially wrote this in a chemo fog, re-read it, then basically rewrote the entire thing. WOW, writing in a chemo fog is NOT a good idea!!!

Well, that was a friggin mess. Chemo is a big, giant pain in my ass.  I am 1/3 of the way through, only 4 more left. Before 2016, I will have 4 rounds done.  So, yes, that means I will have two rounds in December.  I'm betting I will not be on Santa's good list.  But, if he has a crabby from chemo list, I'll be at the top.

The day of chemo, I decided it would be all cool and Rocky like if I went on a 4 mile run.  A great F-U to cancer and chemo, I'm going to run 4 miles.  Miles 1 and 2, were fast, I felt great.  I felt "normal."  Around mile 3 I knew I had a problem, and I was still about a mile from home.  By 3.3 miles, I had a massive problem, and I was NOT near home.  My body was trying to betray me and my stool softeners decided it was a great time to start working.    The mind- body connection, the brain versus anal sphincter connection---- it's bad.  Things did not end well.  I did not finish my 4 miles, and there is nothing like having internal dialog debating if anyone will see if you poop in the woods. 

Needless to say, I did make it to chemo (with clean pants- thanks).  Nothing exciting about chemo.  I sat in a chair while poison went in my body.  My fellow survivor, Heather, came to visit me.  The infusion center is a weird place.  Nurses try to be very light hearted and liven up the place a bit.  But, it is a sad place.  You can try to pump in as much joy and fun as you want, but it still feels sterile and kind of depressing.  Chairs line the walls, filled with people hooked up to infusion pumps.  Some have visitors that sit and read or talk.  All of us are just waiting to hear the beeping sound of the bag being empty to signal the nurse to hook up the next bag of poison.  I just want it to be over, so I can then worry about when will the fog hit me. How will the next few days feel, etc.  By the end of the evening,  I crashed.

Me sporting my plastic wrap over my EMLA cream to numb my port.

Chemo #2

 Day 1 post chemo seemed ok, then I received my booster shot.  That shot ended up being one of my biggest pain in the bones ever.  A side effect of the booster is bone pain, because it's job is to stimulate white blood cell growth.  How does it do it, via the bone marrow!  Welcome to science!!  Boy, did I have bone pain.  It woke me up from a dead sleep.  I now have a new appreciation for what our children feel with growing pains.   The doctors suggested Tylenol for the pain.  They might as well have suggested a nice glass of water.  Thanks.

My cranium

My sweet Grad School Roomie, Jen, sent me some new lipsticks. As Connor says this is how people will know I am a girl.

CC and I in our matching skull caps (thanks Jess)

The weekend was weird Day 2 and 3, I felt oddly good.  Really good.  We took the kids to the Festival of Lights, and enjoyed an evening out.  It was nice to be out in the fresh air. 

Then came day 4.  Day 4 is just evil. I did not want to do anything, my bones ached, my head was heavy, and I just felt off kilter.  The kids did not have school and thank God they were fine with playing electronics and watching TV.  Jeff had to come pick me up for a fun visit to see Dr. Chin and check on the Foobs.  The Foobs are doing great, and I have a follow-up in 6 weeks.  Oh, and yes, I got yelled at for doing too much.

Day 5. On day 5, a friend took the kids out (thanks Connie) for a few hours.  I was able to go grocery shopping and nap.  I must have looked how I felt at the grocery store.  I could feel people giving me the "oh that lady looks sick" look.  Well, breast cancer people even need a Thanksgiving turkey!!  My mother confirmed it when I went to visit her, she took one look at me and exclaimed, "You look awful."  Only my Mom can get away with that.

Day 6.  I was brave.  Calista talked me into wearing a wig.  So, I did. We went to lunch with family, and I swear I felt like that wig was moving all over my head.  It felt so odd, and hot. Wigs are HOT and not really comfortable.  I can see I will wear one when Calista asks me, but it really felt self-conscience in it. After lunch, I decided to hit up Starbucks and the grocery (because I forgot things the day before).  I was brave because I did each of those trips without a wig or a hat.  Me and my pretty bald head did it.  I don't know if people stared or even if they cared. I did not care, my head was hot.   When I got back in my car, I was proud of me.  I did not really give it a second thought, until I was ordering my drink, and realized I was bald.  I just continued on like any other day. 

Anita the wig and I (named after my Great Aunt Nita)

Day 7 was Thanksgiving.  Simply put, I did too much and was up too late. 

Took Jeff on a 2 mile run. I felt good, but, probably was not my best idea....

Sporting our Thanksgiving hats

All Smiles

So, that explains....

Day 8, blood work check!  Well, my white blood cells were good, but I felt like crap.  The nurses decided I needed fluids, so, 1 and a 1/2 bags of fluid and 2 hours later, I felt a bit better.

Fluid fun!

We rounded out the weekend with several family celebrations for Christmas which were a bunch of fun.  But, since I feel like a decrepit 120 year old, I was EXHAUSTED.  I am still exhausted.  But, I can't sleep. Food sounds bad, because chemo mouth is back. I am tired and whiney.  And I start back to work this week.

What I have really realized is, each round it going to get harder and harder.  Which I knew, but like anything, unless you live through it, you really don't know.  I hate that round 3 is right before Christmas, and that round 4 is right before the New Year.  And here I am complaining about it all. Woe, is Kim.  However, I should thank my lucky stars.  I met a sweet lady who has chemo every 21 days, and goes in the hospital for hers.  She is hooked up for 96 hours of continuous chemo.  She explained she goes in on Monday then leaved around Friday at 5:00pm.  Wow.  That is NUTS.  So, my little 6 hours every 21 days, is cake.  I am just not used to being so tired, so forgetful, and so not myself.  The forgetful, "chemo brain" is scary.  Chemo brain is like taking a glimpse into dementia.  I forget things, cannot come up with words or finish thoughts, it terrifies me.  I know what I am trying to say, but the words and thoughts are just lost in my brain.  I hear this side effect is typically reversible, but that it gets worse before better. 

Basically, today is 13 days post chemo, and I finally feel pretty normal.  This took 3 days longer than my first round.  Let's hope the next round is better.

On the work front, I am beginning back at work.  HR has my leave so messed up, it's imperative I get back to work.  I have 3 weeks and 2 days left of FMLA.  I plan to try intermittent leave, when I get back.  This will allow me to take off chemo days and bad days, and work the rest.  Hopefully this will work.  But, I fear HR will mess this up again.  I would kind of like to receive a paycheck at some point before Christmas.  I pretty well prepared for everything, except the issues with my leave.  That is as big a pain in my ass as chemo! The game plan is to use intermittent leave and see how far that goes.  Once that time is exhausted, my options are use vacation time or go on continuous short term disability.  I figure I will cross that bridge if it comes to that.