Softness of Delivery

What a difference a year makes.

The time has been flying by.  I know that everyone feels the same way, except for maybe four-year-olds that are waiting to turn five (that was a long year for me), but it has flown by.  While in the midst of all the surgeries and recoveries, I told myself that I would do different things to commemorate the year and the process.  New Year's Eve was going to include a large bonfire and copious amounts of champagne and I was going to burn my boob binder and the four-inch stack of EOBs.  Well, after half a glass of Merlot, I fell asleep at ten.  I should probably recycle that paper anyway.  I thought that on the one year anniversary of the mastectomies, I might do something special...nope.  I think I was discussing cash flow with customers and complaining about my kid at Spring Soccer (not an enjoyable experience for all involved).  

I was a little annoyed with myself for not paying attention and not marking the anniversaries with a bit more fanfare, but as I started thinking about it more, I'm okay with it.  Right?  By not having those dates seared into my active consciousness, that means that those events are less of a defining moment than I had previously expected.  Right?  Maybe?  Who knows....

Being diagnosed with breast cancer and going through a year of aggressive surgeries and recoveries was a big deal.  But....  It's relative.  There are people out there dealing with a lot heavier stuff than what I had to go through.  I'm thankful for my circumstances and that it's over.  

Lately, certain social and professional interactions seem to annoy me much more than they used to.  I've been doing a lot of introspection and trying to gauge if it's a side-effect of forced menopause or if everyone is just a lot more annoying in 2014.  Part of it is the hormones.  Having 80% of one's estrogen shut down in one fell swoop can take a toll on one's "softness of delivery", but I also think I'm focussing on the little things too much.  In 2013 I didn't have the available mental bandwidth to deal with certain things, so they didn't even register with me.  I've lost some of that perspective.  I need to ask myself, "Is this really that important in the scheme of things?"  If not, then I need to try and keep it from taking up bandwidth.

It's possible that I'm suffering from a little PTSD (self-diagnosed, of course).  While I was going through the everything in 2013, I didn't think of it as that traumatic, but maybe it was.  This was a good realization to vocalize.  I'm not trying to compare my situation with returning combat veterans, but 2013 was traumatic for me.  

It was traumatic.
It sucked.
I was a badass, but it wasn't easy.
I pushed my recovery and tried to keep all the balls in the air.
I worried about how others were dealing with the situation.

That being said,

2013 is over.
2014 is happening.
I'm here.
I feel good.
I'm thankful.

Potential for the Positive

Ah, the new year.  I was so focused on getting through 2013 and seeing it die in a fiery blaze fueled by Hibiclens, bandages and whiskey that I was slightly disappointed when the good ole new year rolled in.  I didn't make any resolutions, but did give myself a few ideas for things that I had to put on the back burner in 2013.  I'm excited about trying some new things and go on a real vacation...a vacation that doesn't involve surgery and anesthesia.  I'm excited about the potential of the year.  

Potential.

I really identify with potential.  I love seeing people make something from just an idea, whether it's a product or a business.  I love looking at a piece of flat fabric and thinking about what fabulous clothing item could be made from it.  I love when someone confides in me a desire to try something new and I'm able to help them achieve that goal.  Exciting, exciting.  

And sometimes, potential can cause a lot of anxiety and stress.

I've talked with two women in the last month that are starring into the face of their own potential and their extremely high risk of breast cancer.  Ugh.  These women are smart and savvy and a couple of badasses, in my opinion, but they are are now spending much of their time addressing their potential for breast cancer.  It's heavy stuff.  There isn't a magic pill that will just erase away the risk...well, there kind of is, but it requires removal of your breasts and ovaries.  This isn't a option for women that are in the family-making mode.  The doctors usually default to the most aggressive course of action because they don't want to see the potential develop into cancers that are hard to treat and life-threatening.  Only the patient is the one weighing all the aspects and consequences of the potential cancer.  They are being asked to make static decisions about dynamics variables...talk about anxiety.

I remember those years.  The struggle with my headspace about my risk and what I should do.  Doctors that advised that maybe I should reconsider having kids because maybe I could pass the risk along to them.  Doctors that advised that I should have prophylactic surgeries that would have prevented me from having children.  Suggestions, advice, opinions....strong opinions.  The juggling of all of this can be exhausting.

But, it's getting better.  We have more choices and advances are being made every year that should provide even more choices in the future and hopefully a clear path to prevention.  When I think about my fiver-year-old daughter and the potential she has in life, the potential to develop breast cancer is low on the list.  I see her potential as a leader, a student, a revolutionary, a strong, confident woman.

I'm not glad that I was diagnosed with cancer and went through a year of surgeries and recoveries, but I'm glad it's over and I can spend my time thinking about other types of potential.  

Be kind and empathetic to women you know that are going through these situations right now.  Just listen and invite them out for coffee and happy hour.  Support them in their decision and help them feel comfortable and get back to thinking about other things....their potential...their potential for the positive.

3%

3%

He thinks there is a 3% chance of reoccurence.  He, the oncologist.  I think I can live with 3%.  I probably have a greater chance of getting smacked by a bus while running across the road to get coffee one morning.  There's probably a greater chance of dying from stupidity now rather than cancer.

I think I'm ok with 3%.

There is a possibility to lower that even more if I wanted to engage in a drug regime.  Right now, I think I'm ok with the 3%.  My husband reminded me that this is not a static decision and that we can reevaluate later, if we want.  The side effects and risks of the drug regime may not be worth the extra percentage point reduction.

I'm still processing this scenario.  For the last year, we have been focused on the "plan".  Now, aside from getting some areolas tattoed, the plan is complete.

Now what?

Does there need to be anything else?  

While adhering to the plan, I felt like I was doing something.  I was taking an active role is combating cancer and not letting it kill me.  Now I need to be comfortable with a less active strategy.  Yes, I need to eat healthier, exercise more, increase my calcium intake (but that is due to going through menopause twenty years earlier than normal) and other general health initiatives, but am I ok with not having an active fight on my hands.  I know that seems crazy, but I'm trying to challenge myself to not worry about that 3%.

And with that challenge, do I remove myself from this cancer-centric community I've created.  Can I even do that?

What do I write about now, if not cancer?  Do I write about my experience with other women that are going through this?  Do I keep updating people on my fake boobs (um, no).  There are still plenty of issues that I am going to struggle with that pertain to breast cancer.  I have baggage.  I have twenty years of baggage.  Keeping myself in a positive head space may be a real challenge for me.  How do I keep myself from extrapolating my mother's experience to my own?  How do I not become consumed with fear that this disease will affect my young daughter's life before we are prepared for it?

It'll be interesting to see what I want to keep writing about.  Maybe it will be canning or Junior League or guns..... stay tuned.

Pink vs. Purple

Oh October.

You month of cooler weather and football.  You month of autumnal colors of yellows, oranges, reds, browns...pinks and purples.  Don't think those last two fit?  Think, "boobs" and "bruises".

October is National Breast Cancer Awareness (pink) month and Domestic Violence Awareness (purple) month.  

You kind of forgot about the purple, didn't you?  

Yep, October has been pink-washed.  There are ribbons everywhere, tshirts, NFL shoes and gloves, pink ribbon bagels, pink-outs at high school football and softball games, and special pink-labeled products for just about everything you can imagine.  It's everywhere...you can't escape the pink.

Purple...not so much.

Breast cancer is easy for most people to identify with.  Have a friend with breast cancer?  Hold her hand, drive her to chemo, bake her a chicken enchilada casserole after her surgery and joke with her about future cup size and crazy wig styles.

Have a friend whose significant other is beating her?  Not so easy.  Do you get involved?  Do you say something to the authorities?  Do you even fully believe her?

I don't want to be negative against the pinkified movement.  I have benefitted from the pink.  I received amazing care and support when I was diagnosed and many of those things were made possible by funds raised through "pink" merchandise (although, I would STRONGLY encourage everyone to know where their funds are going when they purchase their next bottle of 10W-30 or vibrator...um yeah, seriously).  One of the reasons I persevered through years of screenings and appointments was because of the media attention that the disease received and I knew I was in a high-risk category.  Given that my course of action is so fresh in my memory, there is a part of me that thinks about how my situation would be different if I was in an abusive situation.

Let's just work through that exercise.

As someone in a controlled relationship, I would not have been allowed to go see my doctor on a regular basis.  If I was allowed to see my doctor, my partner would have been with me every step of the process.  Not to offer support, but to make sure that nothing about the abusive relationship was revealed.  Those pesky medical professionals and their court-mandated reporting.  My personal health would not have been a priority.  I would have been focusing on my partner and doing anything possible to keep from being abused or having my child abused.  Maybe my partner would have allowed me to see a doctor or I would have been able to sneak into the office, but I wouldn't have been able to pay for the the copay or the deductible because he controlled all of our funds and any money that I needed to spend had to be itemized and accounted for...by him.  Maybe I would try and confide in a family member about my inkling that I might be having a health issue, but my partner would have spent the years eroding my relationship with my family and convincing me that they are part of the problem and that they don't understand our "love".  

It would have been a much different scenario.

Why go through that icky exercise?  One in four women will experience domestic violence.  Arkansas is routinely in the top ten for most violent states in the US.  Domestic Violence is still a HUGE issue.  It's not a cancer that can be cut out or zapped or poisoned.  It starts in a manipulative, seemingly loving manner and develops into something that kills and injures (physically, mentally, emotionally) too many women (I acknowledge that men are victims of domestic violence as well, but 85% of victims are women).

Thank you from the bottom of my heart (which is behind my fake boobs) for your enthusiasm about and devotion to breast cancer awareness.  Thank you for carb-loading in the name of my boobs and in memory of too many of my sweet family members and friends.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.  

Now, let's turn that enthusiasm and devotion towards the issue of domestic violence awareness.  Let's talk about it openly and OFTEN.  Let's teach our young boys and girls about healthy relationships and treating EVERYONE with respect.  Let's be sensitive to situations in our workplace, church, book club, basketball team, etc.  Speak up when someone says something that is negative and demeaning.  Open your eyes and ears.  It's all around us...all the time.

Enjoy those fall colors....

#ebj35

I threw myself a birthday party.
It was awesome.

Starting last fall, I told myself that 35 was going to be the difficult year.  35 was the age my mother was when she was diagnosed with breast cancer.  35 was the age that I referenced over and over when discussing with doctors about my family history and risks.  35 was going to be a bitch to get through mentally.

35 is going to be a breeze.  
I welcome 35.
I embrace 35.
35 is the year that I will get this whole cancer thing behind me.

So, back to my party.  It was held at my new/old favorite bar, Maxine's.  The owners, Rebekah and Hannah, are formidable Downtown Fayetteville Mafia broads that I love.  They know how to throw a fun event and take care of the birthday girl.  Make sure you frequent their local businesses, Maxine's, Little Bread Company and Terra Tots.

Now that 35 has happened, it's time to work on my personal goals for the coming year.  Here is my list, in no particular order:
-  Learn how to back up a truck and trailer effectively, without taking out any other cars, kids, etc.
-  Become range certified and start teaching women's handgun classes.
-  Build my napping house.
-  Convert over to Wordpress (sooner rather than later)
-  Engage in more public speaking, maybe even an open-mic night (eek)
-  Try something that makes me uncomfortable...maybe pilot lessons or scuba diving...maybe coloring my hair.

It's going to be a good year.  Even if it isn't, it's going to be another year and I am thankful for that.

Fipples

"Oh no, I can't do that Wednesday.  I'm getting nipples that afternoon.  Can we schedule my hair appointment that next week?"

Ok, so not your typical rescheduling excuse, but it was mine.

Nipples are coming...or at least fipples (fake + nipples = fipples).

When it comes down to it, I guess I could forego the nipple reconstruction and just live happily ever after with my nice Barbie breasts with the scars across the front, but what is the fun in that?  If I'm going to be living with these fake knockers for the next sixty years, I should have some nipples or at least fipples.

The Promoter

In the last couple of weeks, I have had a number of people tell me that they have been reading my blog and that it has helped them through their own difficult time.  I've met some of these women face-to-face and some have messaged me.  It is actually a little overwhelming for me.  I started this blog as kind of a vent session, free therapy, f-you to cancer.  "Take that cancer.  I'm going to fight you tooth and nail and I'm not going to let you take a foothold in my life.  I'm going to be funny and irreverent and I'm going to let everyone marvel in how well I'm handling it all."

You like the slight overtone of martyrdom in that line of thinking?

I've had people tell me that they just don't know how I keep things so positive and that they would never be able to have such a good attitude about something like this. It's challenging to respond to those types of comments.  I almost want to apologize or try and minimize my situation.  Look, it's been a shitty, but people go through all kinds of hardships and trials in their lives.  I've had a number of years to think about this possibility and to wrap my head around it.

Do I feel sorry for myself sometimes?  Yes.

Do I wish I could go hang out at the beach for a week rather than hanging out in bed watching Firefly (I could write a whole post about why that show needs to be brought back)?  Yes.

Do I want my old body back without the eight latest scars and combined 800 cc's of silicone.  Yes.

Did it kill me?  NO!

So, there you go.  It didn't kill me and some would argue that it has made me stronger.  I'm not sure about that, but it has definitely helped me relate to other people that are going through similar things.  And this is how I've realized I can help other people.  I'm that plucky, slightly unpredictable friend that is going to offer to do anything to help you get through your difficult situation.

I'll listen. 

I'll acknowledge that it's not fair, but neither is life.

I'll help you come up with a plan.  I'll remind you that the plan will change and we'll change with it.

I'll advocate for you.

I'll fight for you....and I mean backwoods, Madison County fight.

I'll add people to your team.  You probably already have them waiting on the bench, you just need some encouragement to put them in the game.

I'll tell you all the things the doctors won't and help you get ready for them.

I'll tell you that you are strong, resilient and that you are ready for this fight.

I'll show you my boobs...if you thought that would help.

Not everyone can handle every aspect of that friend in their life, but you can choose which part of me you want (except the boob showing, that really needs to be in-person and only special situations).  Read what you want, skip over the other parts that annoy you.  This is me.  I'm a Virgo, a fixer.  I'm the "Promoter" personality on the DiSC profile.  I was voted Most School Spirit in high school.  I want to help you realize your potential.  You can do this!  You too, will get through this. It may not turn out the way you wanted and the path may be difficult and rough, but there will be bright spots and there will be positives.

And really...what's the alternative?