Surgery IV

Breasts, boobs, twins... they're referred to by many different names. I like to refer to mine as foreign pieces of plastic Tupperware that are as hard as rocks, round as oranges and as uncomfortable as you can imagine something would be that is sitting inside your body, stretching your skin and muscle more than it's ever been stretched before! I've lived with my expanders for almost a year now. The first pair were put inside me on January 11th, when I underwent my double mastectomy and reconstruction. That pair was removed in July when the stretching was too much for my body to handle, tearing my skin and exposing the expander to the surface. A new pair was placed inside me, a slightly more narrow pair that was supposed to fit my body a little better. Who would ever imagine I'd have 4 sets of boobs in one year!

Expanders are definitely odd things. Not only are they uncomfortable, they cause shooting pains through my chest for no apparent reason. Massaging them is supposed to be good for them, although I find it can hurt, especially right in between them. Although it's given me a sense of what my breast size will be, they're so incredibly unnatural that I don't even acknowledge them as breasts. The breasts I once had (yes, the ones that tried to kill me), have been disposed of... to some lab or trash or wherever Doctors get rid of them. The breasts I once had, had sensation. They were "private". They were me. These breasts don't feel anything when I accidentally cut a corner too tight and hit the wall (yes, this happens quite often!). They aren't sexy and private like breasts are supposed to be. I feel like I could put them on display and I wouldn't even blush with embarrassment. Hopefully they have done their job well. Hopefully my skin and muscles have stretched out to create a nice spacious home for new little bags of silicon gel. But I won't pretend to miss them. I will not miss the self consciousness when someone hugs me and I know they feel 2 rocks pressing up against them. I won't miss sleeping on my back which has caused such horrible back pain this year that I went to the Oncologist and got a bone scan because I feared something bad was going on. I won't miss looking in the mirror and seeing 2 things that are so foreign and unnatural, reminding me of what I went through this year. My Doctor has told me that people have described going from expanders to implants like going from ski boots to UGG boots. I can't wait to get my UGGs, because these ski boots have overstayed their welcome!

Which brings me to my 4th surgery of 2013, just a few short days away. On Monday December 9th I get my new UGG boobs! I will check in at 5am to St. John's in Santa Monica and undergo an approximately 4 hour surgery where my Plastic Surgeon (the wonderful Dr. Grunwald) will remove the tissue expanders and replace them with silicon implants. While she is in there, she is going to add more allograft (donor skin) to thicken my very thin skin. I'll wake up to new soft luscious boobies, ones that will hopefully jiggle a little when I shake! Unfortunately I will have drains yet again, one of the worst parts of these surgeries for me. But hell... it's a small price to pay for the long term benefits of new boobs that will hopefully look and feel a lot more natural than what I have right now, and won't be a living reminder of the pain I endured this past year. I'll be on "bed rest" of no activity for 2 weeks, limiting my arm range to elbows and below. And hopefully before I know it, I'll finally feel like my old self, something I don't even remember what was like.

You're probably wondering what's next. Whether I'll be done and can close the chapter on the hospital visits. Although I wish I could say it is, I still have a few final touches to be 100% whole again. In a few months, once I heal from the implant surgery, I will undergo another minor surgery where my Plastic Surgeon will create nipples by doing what she refers to as "origami" with my skin (no, she's not Asian!)... little folds and tucks to create a nipple. After that I'll go through around 4 rounds of tattooing to get the nipple color I want. And of course I continue to take Tamoxifen, something I will likely be on for 10 years, as well as the never-ending appointments with my Oncologist, Breast Surgeon and Plastic Surgeon. That said, this should be the last "major" surgery, and definitely a milestone I'll want to celebrate!

I do find it a little ironic that my very first blog post was exactly 1 year from Monday (my surgery date). Just this past Tuesday was exactly 1 year from the day I was diagnosed. I can't tell you how thrilled I am that 2013 will soon be coming to a close. I'm ready for this year to be part of my past.

Last, I wanted to share a little something I'm proud of. A few months ago I submitted my experience to the New York Times for a feature they were running called "Faces of Breast Cancer". They finally posted my story. If you've been following my journey, you've read these words come out of my mouth before... but I'm still darn proud that it's out there, and will hopefully inspire and help others who are going through similar experiences. Check it out here.

And one last closing video, for those few of you who didn't see this when it was making the rounds a month or so ago. I love this video, it's so inspiring and shows that although we may be dealt difficult challenges in life, it's the way we we deal with them that makes all the difference.



Click here to read the article about it.

Give Thanks

I can't believe today is Thanksgiving. The other night Jon and I were recollecting what we were doing last year at this time. It feels like yesterday, at the same time it seems like a lifetime ago - it's an odd duality. With all my health issues this year, I feel like I'm a completely different person than I was a year ago, that I've changed more than 1 year could possibly change a person. But my mind has also protected me from really remembering the hard times of this past year, the sadness, the shock, the set backs, the pain, the intense fatigue. So at the same time, last Thanksgiving seems like yesterday.

I do remember feeling optimistic last year at this time. My in-laws were in town, and I had already found the lump, gotten a mammogram and ultrasound, and had just finished getting the biopsy. It was this weekend that I was to "wait out" the results of the biopsy. I remember telling my in-laws about the lump, and feeling 99% sure that it was going to be benign. I mean, who thinks they have breast cancer at this age? I was healthy, I exercised, I ate decent enough... I was invincible. I mean, sure I drank on the weekends, worked 24/7, and powered through my days at a stress level of 10. But cancer? No way. I remember telling Jon that he had to come with me to get my results that upcoming Monday, and feeling bad that I had to pull him out of work for the morning.

When I was diagnosed that upcoming Monday, I can still feel my heart drop. I can still see the look in Jon's eyes. I can still remembering how similar to the movies that moment was... where everything gets foggy, time slows down, voices become background noise, and you're so in your head that you can almost hear your brain processing the information. So although last Thanksgiving seems like yesterday, I also feel like I've gone through a lifetime of changes in the past year.

I guess the holidays make us sentimental. They make us reminisce about the past year. And the beautiful thing about Thanksgiving, is that it makes us think about all the good things in our lives, all the things we should be thankful for. I am thankful for so many things... I am thankful for being well enough to enjoy this Thanksgiving, I am thankful for the gift of discovering myself this past year, I am thankful for my beautiful short hair, I am thankful for my furry little best friends who have slept by my side this past year, I am thankful for the most supportive husband I could have ever dreamt of, I am thankful for the laughter and support of my friends, I am thankful for the unconditional love of my family, I am thankful for this body which continues to fight on and be the army of my soul.

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you. I am thankful you have followed my journey, and continue to help me heal.

And here's my babies showing some Thanksgiving love to me last night...

Pain Threshold

I am officially back to work after my last "relapse", again slowly trying to acclimate myself into the routine. I'm trying to be attentive to my body, not pushing myself too hard even though I may think I can do it. I know all too well what happened last time I did this, and I'm gravely scared for something to happen again.

After the last surgery, I basically had to start back at square 1 for my "fills". I was previously at a good solid C-cup, but during the surgery they had to completely remove my old expanders and replace them with new ones. I woke up after surgery at the start of the alphabet again... "A" may have been what I strived for in grades, but it was definitely a letter I was looking forward to leaving behind me as a "silver lining" from this whole experience! No luck, I had to start over. So over the past few weeks I've been visiting my Plastic Surgeon, slowly progressing up the alphabet of bra sizes again. But this time it's so different. The pain is unbearable. This past Wednesday I went in for one of my fills, and I asked my nurse if it was normal to feel this pain. She told me that everyone was different... that some people don't feel it at all, whereas others say it's worse than surgery. What's so funny is that during my first round of fills at the top of this year, they didn't bother me at all. I remember hearing stories that fills could be painful, but besides a little heaviness in my lungs and chest, the pain was close to a 1-3 (if you've ever been to the hospital, you know this pain scale well... with 10 being intolerable). This time around, it's a whole different ball game. My theory is that my nerves are finally coming back (this is the good news), that after my January surgery where they removed basically everything in my chest, including nerves and some muscle, that my body has been hard at work re-building those nerves and muscles. Wonderful, right? Well... I guess unless you need to get fills when you have some feeling up there! All I can say is the pain is probably one of the worst I can remember experiencing, at least for an extended period of time (mind you, I was so drugged out after the surgeries... perhaps I was in this much pain but my mind erased it!). Jon asked me if it was a throbbing. I told him to imagine the absolute worst throbbing he could think of, then take out the part of the throbbing where the pain subsides every second or so. That's how I felt, an ongoing continuous pain at the peak of the throb, so deep and intense that it literally paralyzed me. The pain is focused to just my chest, but it's literally the entire depth of that chest area. I felt like if I could simply cut my body below my chest and above my chest and sow myself back together, I could remove the pain all together. An odd thought, but believe me, the mind races everywhere when you are in pain. I can honestly say if I was in the hospital, I'd be telling them I'm at a 9. In fact I was cursing that I only had Valliums and Norcos to "help" with the pain, because they did very little to numb it and I wished I had an IV pumping something stronger into my system so I could at least tolerate it. The only word I feel I can use to describe it is debilitating. It's such a debilitating pain, you can't do anything. Breathing, laughing, moving... it all makes me scream and want to cry.

The good news is that the first 24 hours are by far the worst. Today I woke up and feel 25% better. I'm actually sitting up, typing... something I couldn't do yesterday. The pain no longer makes me feel like I'm going to lose my breakfast from sheer pain (a scary thought I was having yesterday since the action of that requires so many chest muscles that I was doing everything possible to make sure I didn't get sick). Hopefully tomorrow I'll feel even better, and the worst will be behind me. After this, I'm crossing my fingers I only have one fill left. You see, they like to go a little larger than the actual size in order to stretch the skin and muscle in preparation for the implants.

So you ask... what does a fill require? It's actually a very odd experience. The doctor gives me a shot on each breast to first numb the area. After the numbing works, she then proceeds to stick a needle in each side and injects saline into the expander. As she's doing this, I feel my breast getting larger, I feel the skin getting tighter, I feel the muscle getting stretched and I feel my lungs getting pushed on. Then voila, I'm a little larger than I was 15 minutes prior.

That's where I am today. Sore as hell, but better than 24 hours ago.

Onto a better topic. Jon and I recently returned from a very romantic trip to St. John. Jon had booked this trip back in February, when we realized we needed something good to look forward to given everything we were going to face in the upcoming months. St. John was amazing. We relaxed, went to some of the most gorgeous beaches I've ever seen, shopped, watched the sunset, and enjoyed each other and our life. Each night I made Jon walk with me down to the secret hammocks so I could swing on them and watch the night stars. There's something about me and hammocks... they give me a sense of peace and tranquility I can't find elsewhere. Our vacation was so very needed, perhaps a little break from the emotional roller coaster of this year. Don't cheat yourself out of one, they are so important for your mental health and I'm sure any doctor would prescribe one at least once a year. It reminds me of a quote I recently read from my Surgeon Kristi Funk (who was recently on the cover of LA Magazine as one of the 10 Game Changers who have transformed the future of Women's Health - of which I am so incredibly proud of!). She says... "...what is life but a long series of moments? So the more moments that are powerful or joyful, the more impactful and wonderful your life." Remember this and subscribe to it... it's those moments that count, not necessarily the ones you are stressing about right now.

P.S. A very special prayer goes out to my college friend who was around 1 year ahead of me in this horrible breast cancer battle and has been dealing with some complications. You know who you are, and I am thinking and praying for you every second of the day. Much love.

Mind vs. Body

I'm still home from the last surgery, slowly trying to build my strength in both mind and body. The odd thing about this latest set back is that I feel so much less "healed" than I did at the first part of the year. If I were to put them side by side, I would say that the first part of this year was more focused. I had a job to do, and that was to take care of my body. I knew mentally I had to stay strong, and I always had a plan for the next steps I needed to take in order to get better. My motto was to take things minute by minute - day by day, and to not get caught up in questions about the future.

Although it was one of the hardest challenges I've ever been through, a part of me almost yearns for the mental focus and the clarity of the next steps. My Oncologist warned me about this phase in the cancer fight, but it's deafening to be in the middle of it. It's been a scary realization to see that perhaps I don't have as clear an understanding of the limits of my body, and that the definition of "normal" is different for my body than it is my mind. I've always felt that the strength of my mind and my will has been one of my strongest traits. It's what pushed me to excel in my career, pushed me to establish a wonderful life with a home and a family, and continually pushes me to do better. But I see now that there needs to be a balance between mind and body. That for all the amazing strength the mind gives, it would be nowhere without my body. My problem is that I don't know how to listen to it. I've lived my whole life "assuming" that my body could take all that my mind willed for it. That my body was stronger than it was telling me, that it could take everything I sent it's way. But what became crystal clear after this last set back was that sometimes the mind can trick you into thinking the body is stronger than it really is. Perhaps I needed the consequences to be as drastic as they were, otherwise I'm not sure I would have listened. The problem I have now is whether I will hear the next time my body cries for help. And it scares me to my very core because I know how bad the consequences can be if I don't listen.

So this is where I am, one of the many many battles I'm trying to get through.

On a side note, I am happy to report I've pretty much thrown out the wigs! My hair continues to slowly grow, and I'm confident enough to go out without the security blanket of synthetic hair (plus I can sit under a heater without the fear of lighting on fire!). The other night I was sitting on the couch watching TV with Jon and I slowly ran my fingers through my very short hair. It was amazing... the feeling of hair running between your fingers, hair that is strongly attached to your head, hair that won't fall out from a simple gust of wind or a rest on a pillow. I know this may sound so silly, but it was the most wonderful feeling in the world at that moment, and I am so grateful to be able to do it. So run your fingers through your hair today and take one moment to be thankful for all the things we take for granted in life.

Secret Renewal

Recovery from this surgery continues... my chest is still really sore and tender, more enhanced with the surgical tape that's been on since the surgery, as well as the ugly medical bra I have to wear 24/7. I'm happily a tad more mobile without the drains which were removed last Friday, although I'm still not able to move my upper arms. As always in these situations, you never realize how much you take for granted until it's taken away from you. Without upper arm mobility I can't lift, I still can't shower on my own, driving is incredibly challenging (specifically the turns), and applying make-up is like competing in the Olympics! But all that said, once the drains were removed, things have gotten a lot more comfortable. 

In writing this, I realize that "drains" may sound rather foreign to people. This is the second time I've had them, and I already despise them! Basically, drains are placed inside someone during the surgery. They help to "drain" out all the extra fluid your body produces after the surgery. Think about the last time you cut yourself. All the white blood cells (etc) swarm to the cut site to heal it, and while doing so they produce a lot of fluid (that yucky yellow stuff you see on the band aid). Similarly with this surgery, a lot of extra fluid is created in the body and there needs to be a way to excrete it, thus the job of the drain. The drain looks like a little balloon with a long flexible straw attached to it. Half of the "straw" is inside my body, the top of it placed where all the extra fluid is collecting. The other half extends outside my body, exiting via a little hole the surgeon cuts on my side. This is attached to a balloon like device which collects all the fluid and needs to be emptied 2x's/day. Jon is the lucky caregiver who had the task of emptying my drains. I've included a little diagram below for those interested. I will disclaimer that I am not a doctor, so my explanation of the medical need for these drains is quite limited!

Aside from the healing, Jon and I are now happily in our 10th year of marriage! This year has been one of extremes... the highest of all highs, and the lowest of all lows. The other day my wonderful friends gave me an evening that will forever go down as one of the happiest nights of my life. As I mentioned in my last post, not only was I upset about this set-back from a physical and mental state, but I was also very much looking forward to celebrating Jon and my 10th year anniversary by renewing our vows in Vegas with our friends. To have to cancel the trip was heartbreaking. To my surprise, our friends were secretly planning something the minute they found out we had to cancel the trip, and Jon was in on the secret as well! Although still tender from the surgery, Jon urged me to get out of the house for a visit to our friends gorgeous new home. I get a little stir crazy sitting at home all day, so I knew it would be good for me to get some air and see some friends. As the door opened, I was in complete shock to see all my friends gathered to celebrate our anniversary with us. They quickly whisked me into the bedroom for "more surprises" as they told me! They undressed my all-black attire (the mood I was in!) and threw me (very gingerly) into a white dress. From there they walked me through the house and into the backyard where all our friends had gathered and Jon was standing under a beautiful white arch with Elvis by his side! And just like I had imagined, Elvis conducted a beautiful ceremony with all our closest friends, renewing the vows Jon and I had taken 10 years previously. But this time those vows meant so much more, this time we really understood the definition of "in good and bad", and we knew how much stronger our love has become. 

It's times like this that I am reminded how lucky I really am. For all the bad that has happened this year, I know it could be so much worse. I have an amazing husband, fabulous friends, a loving family, a beautiful house, and two adorable dogs... I am one blessed lady. 

Unveiling for the first time... the new "no wig" me.

Beyonce, Riri, Miley... eat your heart out. I win the contest for shortest cut!
I do give credit to Charlize for inspiring me to just throw off the wig... believe me I realize I don't have her beautiful face. :)

Image of drains after a mastectomy.

Unexpected lessons

I had good intentions to stay on top of this blog. Although it was breast cancer that inspired me to start the blog, I didn't want breast cancer to define the blog. The same thing rings true for what I have been emotionally struggling with over the past few months. Who am I? What am I doing with my life? What drives me? What defines me? And how do I answer all these questions without giving BC (breast cancer) so much power over me? I'm not sure when I will find the answer to these questions, but I will tell you right now I feel a lot of resentment towards it. Hopefully you don't fault me for these feelings, nor for taking this long to post an update which of course centers around the infamous BC.

I apologize right now for starting this post with what may seem like sudden frustration, a change of tune from where I was in my last post. But I hope you can understand the ebbs and flows of the emotions that I am going through. The one thing I've always promised myself is to be true to my feelings on this blog, to not hide the good, the bad and the ugly. It's what has made this blog so therapeutic for me. There have certainly been some beautiful lessons I've learned from this. Lessons that have been a blessing, as I believe they've made me a stronger, better person. But I'd be lying if I told you I am continually thankful for the struggles.

This past Tuesday I was admitted to the hospital for an emergency surgery. A complete turn of events as my next surgery was not scheduled until August 13th where I was to undergo one of the final stages of reconstruction by getting my tissue expanders finally replaced with more natural looking implants. Additionally, right before the 13th Jon and I were happily looking forward to celebrating our 10 year anniversary in Las Vegas by renewing our vows in Elvis-style with our closest friends. It all began last week when I traveled to San Diego for work. Those in the industry know that every third-or-so week of July is one of the biggest events in the Entertainment industry: San Diego Comic-Con (SDCC). With a big film opening on August 23rd (The World's End), SDCC was a major marketing and publicity platform for us. Given the importance of this, and feeling like I was getting better every day, I personally made the decision I could work the conference. I knew it was going to be tiring, but I promised myself to not push my body, to listen to it when it needed rest, and to take it easier than past years. Again, good intentions, but not always the easiest to put into action. What I didn't plan for was the intensity of the walking, the overwhelming fear of the crowds bumping into my chest nor the fact that I'd be seeing all the wonderful business friends who have been following my journey since last year. As I've been very strict on limiting outside meetings given my constricted hours in the office, I haven't seen many people except those at my company. The overflowing love and encouragement of seeing people in San Diego was nothing short of inspiring for me, but in hindsight a bit overtaxing on my body. Who knows if it was any of this that caused the following set backs, or if it would have happened no matter what. I like to think the latter, as it was 100% my decision to take on the challenge of SDCC. All I know is that on Friday late night I started feeling intense pain deep in my right chest. I tried to sleep it off, but when I woke up the pain was still throbbing through my body and I soon discovered an odd oily fluid secreting from under the bandages on my chest. Thankfully my husband was with me, and we immediately called my surgeon who prescribed me antibiotics and scheduled an appointment for Monday. She said it sounded like I had an infection, and the drugs would hopefully clear things up. We took the train home and waited it out on Saturday and Sunday. On Monday I went in to see her and held my breath as she pulled off the tape that had been protecting my right breast since January (and was to remain there until my implant surgery 3 short weeks away). As she gently removed the tape, I instinctually took a quick look down and have since regretted that glimpse. Although the past year has certainly hardened my queasiness to needles, blood and all medical ailements, I was not expecting to see what I saw. I literally looked down into an open cavity on my chest. My skin had ripped, and the entire tissue expander was exposed. All I can say is my heart sank, and I looked up at my doctor who sighed and told me that my skin didn't make it. I could see her brain working as she was thinking out loud the options available to fix it. I remember asking her with tears in my eyes... "so, the worst case scenario happened to me, didn't it?", and she looked at me and confirmed that yes, it did. But the thing about my surgeon is she is one amazing positive woman, and she told me that it was all going to be OK, and that although it was a set-back, we would get through it. She finished by stitching me up in the office, something else I wasn't expecting otherwise I would have prepared myself with a driver (Jon) and some pain meds, something I definitely regretted as she sowed the last stitch in a place where my nerves had managed to come back to life. The pain only subsided when she gave me a numbing shot. (Perhaps the good news out of this is apparently I have some feeling back in my chest!) From there she told me I needed to report to the ER for surgery the following day so she could clean out my chest, replace the expander and add some Allograft (cadaver skin) which would add more skin to my very thin chest. The same would have to be done to the left side since I was now to delay my implant surgery another 3 months, increasing my risk of the same complication happening on the other side if I didn't fix it now.

So Tuesday I spent 4 hours in surgery again. I won't go into detail the pain of the IV as the 2 nurses spent minutes (felt like hours) moving the needle inside my arm trying to find a good vein, which I knew wasn't going to be easy since half of them are no longer working from the chemo. Jon was by my side as always, but this time before surgery I couldn't help but feel a bit deflated. It wasn't the first time I was scared before a surgery, but it was the first time I was worried about waking up. I don't know why, and of course it's silly now to think, but I think the emotions took the best of me.

I returned home on Tuesday night, but the recovery hasn't been easy, contrary to what myself and the Doctors were expecting. Wednesday I fought a 101+ fever, and my stomach and head were hurting so bad it was almost worse than my chest. I came home with 2 drains attached to my side again, and am on pain meds 24/7. I also seem to be fighting an allergic reaction to something from the surgery as I have hives all over my neck and arms. The good news is that I am slowly getting better. The first 48 hours were almost unbearable, I honestly must have blocked out how bad it was after my previous 2 surgeries. Beyond the physical ailments, perhaps it's also a combination of mentally being so frustrated with feeling like I was getting so close to seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, only to find out the tunnel is much longer than I anticipated.

I am again reminded how humbling it is to not have the ability to wash my own body, feed my own mouth and stand on my own two feet. Perhaps the human mind erases these things to help us cope, and it shakes my core again to be reminded what life was like in January and February. 

Today I'm feeling the best yet... I am well enough to write this post, something I've been meaning to do on better days. I'll have to start the rehabilitation process again, as I am not allowed to move my upper arms for 10 days (I feel like I look like a t-rex in those cartoons with little arms wavering about). And I have positive hopes that I won't be starting at square one this time, perhaps just a few steps backwards and not an entire mile.

I guess things just don't always go the way we plan in life, and I need to be ok with that. Another lesson learned.

Homecoming

I'm officially into my second week of work after being out for 5 months. It's been a big change for my mind, my body and my soul! My homecoming was incredibly special. All my co-workers decorated my office with the most amazing pink parade of streamers, signs and lanterns. I was so thoughtfully greeted with yummy treats, a birthday cake, and most special to me, everyone wore their IWBF t-shirts! It was a homecoming for a queen, and I am so appreciative of all the wonderful colleagues who have been following my journey from day one.

My body seems to be reacting decently to the Tamoxifen, besides perhaps a heightening of the current chemo side effects of joint and muscle aches, fatigue, hot flashes and night sweats. One of the hardest parts of this is the lack of a full night of uninterrupted sleep. The hot flashes usually wake me up several times in the middle of the night... quite frustrating for someone who has always had a hard time falling asleep. I'm not sure how long I'm going to have to deal with this, but a lack of sleep combined with fatigue is a dangerous combination for me!

Work has been flexible with my schedule which has been a blessing. I've been trying to get in after rush hour and leave before rush hour. The only problem is that with Los Angeles traffic, there doesn't seem to be a "non-rush hour" time of day. My commute is a minimum of 1 hour each way, and sitting in my car for 2 hours a day is really tiring for me. It doesn't seem to matter when I leave, it's still an endless row of red lights. I have been able to work from home a couple days which has helped break up the week.

I do have a better understanding of why my Doctor was hesitant for me to start work. Stress causes a major physical and mental strain on the body, and I'm much more conscious of it now. Although I've limited my hours, I still require a nap when I come home. On top of it, I'm struggling to find my balance, to teach myself how to take it slow. My instincts are to work at 200 mph, I'm trying to unlearn something that is almost part of my DNA. I also realize that with a wig on, I look like my old self. Even I forget that only a few short months ago I underwent 2 surgeries, and a few weeks ago I was at City of Hope getting 5 hours of drugs pumped into my blood stream. The drugs were so strong they killed my hair cells and burned my veins to the point that they no longer function. I can't expect myself to hop back to normal after everything I've been through, but sometimes appearances can be deceiving.

It's so easy to judge a book by its cover, but this journey has taught me that you can never assume to know what's truly behind a face and a body - even my own!

A New Normal

Monday starts a new chapter in my life. I'm finally heading back to work after 6 months of focusing on my body and fighting the breast cancer that put my life on hold. To say I'm ready would be a lie. Can anyone say they're ready to go back to "life as it was" after facing such a life changing experience? I see things differently, I react to things differently... I'm a whole different person. My perspective on situations has changed. I like to think I've learned some very hard lessons, the kind of lessons you typically ignore until you are faced with the reality of how precious and short life really is. In addition to a whole new perspective, I'm physically a different person. No, I'm not talking about these new c-cups I have! Physically I don't have the stamina I used to have. I tire easily, I still get spells of nausea and my body feels like I'm an 80 year old woman where every movement causes aches and pains in my joints and muscles. I have no idea how long these side effects will last, but I do know I need to try to slowly acclimate myself back into work at some point, and I put a date on that for June 3rd. Ironically June 3rd not only marks my first day back to work, but it is also the day I was brought into this world many years ago, as well as marks 6 months to the day when I was diagnosed with breast cancer (December 3, 2012). June 3rd will be a very remarkable day this year!

Besides mentally preparing myself for work, I've been slowly pushing my body to take on "challenges" it hasn't done since the surgery. I've grocery shopped, I've gone to the beach, I've put air in my tires, I've cooked dinner for my husband. These may seem like standard activities, but they are things I haven't done for 6 months and are now monumental events for me! I definitely cherish the reality that I am slowly building the strength to do them now.

I also had my first "post-chemo" appointment with my Oncologist yesterday. Starting tomorrow I will begin taking a drug called Tamoxifen, who's job is to block any remaining cancer cells in my body from growing. I'm still perplexed that currently there is no way to confirm whether any cancer cells remain in my body. After a double mastectomy and 4 rounds of chemotherapy you'd think there would be a test to confirm those major procedures did what they were supposed to do. Unfortunately there currently isn't a test, and by taking Tamoxifen I lower my chances of the breast cancer metastasizing by 33%.

So that's where I am. Monday begins my new normal, and with that I plan to "live for today and be positive for the future." - a quote I'm stealing from the amazing breast cancer survivor Betsey Johnson. Feel free to take it as your own, and live up to it. I certainly plan to!

The Aftermath

Hurray, I'm officially past the one week mark of my final chemo treatment. The week has been what I'd call "standard", with Friday, Saturday and Sunday being the worst. Those are the days that I literally lay on the couch or bed trying to find a comfortable position. The pain is so difficult to explain, it's like a combination of flu aches with a complete loss of energy and mental interest in anything. These are the days where I just don't want to see, talk or hear from anyone or anything. There is a small bubble of reality in my mind which makes me realize it's the weekend and I should enjoy having my husband home from work all day. But I can't enjoy it, so it makes me sad.

The good news is that I'm past that! This is the week where I slowly start recovering from chemo. Where other side effects become more evident because my body isn't completely shut down. I've written about most of the side effects, but some new ones have started to appear or old ones are more pronounced... probably part of the "cumulative" thing. First are all the side effects that come from premature menopause, with the most apparent one being the hot flashes and night sweats. If you know me, you know I'm always cold. I walk around the office with a blanket, I walk around the house with a vest, I rub my cold feet against my husbands warm legs in bed (a habit he absolutely hates!), I run to the store during a night out with friends to purchase a new sweatshirt (yes, always an excuse to shop!). I'm the cold one, I've always been! I wasn't prepared for such a drastic change in body temperature. These hot flashes are the strangest things, and they appear for no reason and with no warning. I'm experiencing around 10 a day, and it feels like a sudden internal fire has abrupted inside and quickly starts to spread outward towards my skin. I immediately throw off my sweatshirt, pull off my cap or bandana and watch as my body starts to perspire for no apparent reason. If I can make my way to the backyard to cool off in our 50 degree ocean breeze, I immediately do so. My biggest sympathies for all the menopausal women who deal with this. I won't know for at least 6 months whether I will be 100% in menopause. Although being this young and already in menopause breaks my heart, there's a part of me that feels like if I have to do this, let's only do it once!

Another side effect that seems more pronounced is the loss in taste buds and this constant horrible taste in my mouth. Many have described it as a metal taste. But when I hear metal, I think of the taste of blood, which in all honesty would be a much better taste than what it is. It's more like my teeth have a constant grip on a piece of aluminum foil. The hard thing about this is that the chemo in general has made my appetite slim to none. Doctors orders are to eat and drink, with water being a very important part of my healing. When I first started I thought the 64 oz of water per day prescription would be a piece of cake. I've always loved water, I could easily drink gallons a day and never understood people who didn't like water. Guess what? I hate water now. Water just amplifies the aluminum taste in my mouth. So trying to drink 64 oz per day is like torture. I've started cheating with Vitamin Waters and Orange Pellegrinos... those seem to go down a little easier. But in general, my body just doesn't want to eat or drink right now. The food it does want is definitely a complete 180 from my previous diet. I crave meat! And not filets, but the good juicy tasty sirloin cuts, tri-tips or hamburgers. Plus bring on anything super salty or super sweet. Kraft mac & cheese is divine, pizza is heaven and strawberries with doses of sugar is delectable. Thankfully my doctor prioritizes eating over anything, even if it means putting processed and non-organic foods into my system. The goal now is to get through chemo with energy (food = energy), I can focus on a healthier diet once I get out of the deep end.

What else? My nails have started to get really sensitive and are slowly turning purple. I don't think I'm going to lose them, although I've been watching them closely. And I'm still experiencing the rashes that started last time, so I've been popping Benadryl's each night to keep the itchiness under control.

If all goes well, I'll be able to slowly start back to my normal routine at the end of the month/top of June. Although my Doctor feels it's a little pre-mature, he understands I've put my life on hold for 6 months and I need to make sure the things that have taken a back seat are attended to. The one thing he's concerned with is what he calls a very typical "PTSD" that cancer patients often battle with once the chemo is complete. It's definitely something that's been on my mind since rounding chemo 3, and I'm scared for it, but as with everything I've dealt with... there's nothing to do but face it and deal with it when it happens.

So that's my latest update. If the last 2 chemos are similar to this one, I'll hit a fatigue wall today or tomorrow which I believe is a side effect of the steroids completely leaving my body. But my appetite should start to pick up, and hopefully my taste buds will eventually come back to normal. Or perhaps they will completely change and one day I'll enjoy things I used to hate like blue cheese, tomatoes and cilantro!

Thank you for all the congratulatory notes. Your love continues to push me forward. It's still hard for me to believe I've battled breast cancer, 2 surgeries and chemotherapy... but you'd be amazed at what your mind and body can accomplish when put to the test. Treat it right, pat yourself on the back for everything it has given you to date, and make sure to listen to it when it's trying to tell you something. After all it's given you, it deserves to be heard!

Neulasta No More!

Rejoice, today is my very last Neulasta shot! I'm feeling decent after chemo yesterday. Standard immediate side effects... no taste buds, upset stomach, overall fatigue. I've also oddly lost some hearing. If my lessons from previous rounds holds true, everything will hit me more drastically in a few hours.

After today I won't have to make this drive for another 4 weeks. When I do come back for my post chemo follow-up, I will learn some tips on how to stay healthy to avoid recurrence. I'll also get my next phase of treatment which is a pill called Tamoxifen. Tamoxifen is a hormone receptor who's job is to block any rogue cancer cells from growing in the chance Chemo didn't kill all of them. I'll be on this for 10 years unless new research comes out which can cure this disease all together.

To celebrate my last Neulasta, I've pulled out my new purple wig. I haven't named her yet, I'm open to suggestions!

Enjoy the beautiful weather today for those in California. It's gorgeous outside, don't forget to smell those beautiful roses!

Hurray! Chemo is officially complete!

To celebrate my freedom I took off the wig. Ok, still hiding behind a bandana, but baby steps! :) Cheers to another major milestone completed.

Chemo 4: Last One! May 1, 2013

Counting my blessings on this last chemo! Third try with the IV finally worked. My veins are going to celebrate after today. They are not happy with me, especially when the needle broke on the nurse's second try!

I'm rockin' out with the Roxy wig today. And I'm posting the best chemo accessory ever... a fingerless glove! Thanks to my chemo buddy Molly for the tip. My hands get super cold during the infusion. This is a must-get if you are going through chemo without a port.

Nearing The Home Stretch!

I can see it, my last chemo is right around the corner! Wednesday May 1st will mark my final (knock on wood) chemo infusion. I am elated, excited, anxious and scared all at the same time.

Part of me can't believe how fast this has gone by. It feels like only yesterday when I went to Torrance Memorial and heard the results of my pathology report. I can still feel the sinking of my heart and still see the look on Jon's eyes as we both stared in disbelief, listening to words we didn't understand like "invasive ductal carcinoma" and "Ki-67 levels". I remember how much I prayed back then to not have to undergo chemo. There were so many unanswered questions back in December, and so much to learn about this disease. I remember burying myself in books, internet forums, doctors appointments - trying to grasp and take control of something I knew I had very little control of.

The other part of me feels like I've been to hell and back since December. I won't ever forget how hard it was to lose complete control of myself - to be 100% dependent on others. There was a time when I had to get spoon fed by my Mom for the first time since I was a baby. A time when I lay in bed literally 24-hours a day, not even able to shower on my own. I still can't believe I was so incapacitated that I'd have to sit on a stool and have Jon sponge me down with hot water and soap. I remember finding out I had to go through chemo, worrying about losing my hair and thinking that perhaps there was a chance I wouldn't lose it. I remember laying in bed wondering why my skin wasn't healing from my first surgery, then finding out that I had to undergo a second surgery to remove the nipples I so desperately wanted to keep. I remember going to chemo for the very first time, scared out of my mind for the unknown and meeting a wonderful woman who helped to distract and ease my mind from the medicine pumping through my IV. So although this experience has gone by fast, it also feels like it's been a decade. And here I am, 3 days away from my last infusion!

So what's next? First (and priority #1 for me), getting through the last chemo. My body has reacted differently each time, so I'm focused on keeping my body and mind strong to make it through. After that, I'm honestly not quite sure. You'd think with as much as they've researched this disease there would be a test where they could confirm I have no rogue cancer cells in my body, that the chemo did it's job and I'm cancer free. Unfortunately there's no such thing. I have to trust in my doctors and the treatment I underwent, to listen to my body if something doesn't seem to be right, and to prioritize my health and get check-ups when needed. I'm thankful I will have an even more watchful eye on me now, that tests and ailments will be scrutinized even more closely to ensure nothing has come back. I'll also be able to dedicate my focus on the cosmetic part of my treatment. My skin continues to be rather thin, so my Plastic Surgeon is keeping a watchful eye on it to ensure the skin doesn't die. Assuming the healing goes well, I'm scheduled for a third surgery to get implants in August. After that I'll get one more surgery where she'll make the nipples, and the very last thing will be some "tatooing" where they add the color into the nipples.

So although I still have some hurdles ahead of me, I can see the light and it's glorifying and terrifying at the same time! I'm slowly starting to mentally prepare myself for the real world, to step outside the comfort of this world I've created over the last 6 months. I find myself telling myself to remember the lessons I've learned from this, to never forget how precious this life is. To remember how much it meant to me when complete strangers lent a selfless hand to me, to remember how strong it made me when friends and family sent a simple "get well" card to help me through the day, to remember how blessed I am to have an amazing husband, dogs, family, friends, career, house... everything that makes me so happy each and every day.

Thank YOU for reading my blog. For keeping me strong, for keeping me honest and for helping me share my story. This journey won't ever be over, but one of the hardest parts is about to be!

It's all cumulative

I'm beginning to better understand the meaning of "cumulative effects" first hand. This third round of chemo side effects has not only been hard, it's been different. I guess the one thing you hope when undergoing your first chemo is to learn how your body reacts so you can prepare your mind and body for the next round. Perhaps the hardest part of my treatments is that I seem to have different side effects every time.

This round has been harder than the last. The fatigue and body aches are similar, but unfortunately they were accompanied by intense heart burn and nausea. This weekend was a blur... another one of those weekends where I don't leave the comfort of my king bed and down comforter. The heart burn was so intense and it flared up every 30 seconds. I think that contributed to my overall queasiness, which of course lead to other unfortunate things. When I finally made it out of bed on Sunday night I realized I had a rash all over my body. Apparently I'm having an allergic reaction to the Taxotere (one of the drugs I get during the infusion). Being a rather allergy prone person (nuts, legumes, crustaceans and more), I'm staying calm and popping Benedryl's when it becomes unbearable. Rashes and itchiness are certainly annoying, but I think I've built a certain tolerance to allergy attacks given my history. Next time my doctor may try to increase the steroid dosage to address the allergies, although the steroids come with their own list of side effects. It's crazy to realize how many drugs you layer on top of each other to fight side effects of other drugs. It's like a constant battle of which side effect is worse and what are you willing to tolerate?

All that said, I can certainly see through the fog to appreciate that I'm almost done with the infusions. And I am so grateful that I am able to rest and focus on feeling better while the earth continues to revolve, movies continue to get marketed and the south bay sunshine teases me into looking forward to a bikini filled summer with my new boobs!

I close this post with a outpouring of love to those in Boston who have been affected by the bombings yesterday. It saddens me so much to see something like this, and it puts into perspective the importance of living each day to it's fullest and appreciating the things we have. Life's short, let's not take for granted the moments we have on this earth.

Here's a video that always puts a smile on my face, hopefully it will put one on yours! I find watching it before my chemo infusions always helps me feel a little "stronger"!

Chemo Birthday All-In-One

Today marks my third chemo infusion. But more importantly today also marks the wonderful day that my beautiful soulmate was brought into this world. Happy happy birthday Jon. I love you more each and every day and I'm so very blessed we found each other. You have been my rock, my shoulder, my nurse, my inspiration, my cook, my playmate, my best friend...my everything. Who knew those vows we made 10 years ago "for better or worse" would really get tested to the extreme. You have certainly proven to me that you took those vows to heart and I can't thank you enough for that. I only hope you feel my gratitude and love for you in your heart. Exactly one year ago from today on your birthday we had the crazy experience of spending your birthday in the hospital as well. You had appendicitis and required an emergency appendectomy. I can only imagine the stress I've put on you these past 6 months based on how worried I felt one year ago. Here's a birthday wish to no more birthdays spent in hospitals. It's one tradition I don't want to keep!

For the rest of you, I'm hanging in there. The fatigue from this past round of chemo definitely seemed to last longer. Not until this weekend did I feel like I had around 75% of my energy back. And as many doctors and chemo patients share, once you start feeling better you go back to chemo to start the cycle again. Today will mark that new cycle for me. I'm also in a new hospital. My oncologist moved to City of Hope in Duarte. So we went from a 10 minute drive to a hour and a half drive. I was rather upset when I learned the news, but I love my Oncologist so much I felt he was worth the commute. Plus City of Hope is such a prestigious hospital for cancer, they will likely be on top of the latest research and treatments for me. Our day started at 7:15 am when we left to get here for 8:50 labs and a 10 am doctor appointment. We're relaxing in a little atrium until my 1:30 infusion. Tomorrow we'll have to come back for my hydration drip and Neulasta shot.

Other than that, I got 90 more cc's of saline in my tissue expanders. I think I've hit the size I'll likely go with permanently. My third surgery for implants is tentatively scheduled for the top of June, although my Oncologist is asking to push it back a little to give my body a rest from the chemo.

How else am I doing? Oddly I'm starting to get a bit anxious and stressed about being done. I know that's the strangest thing to say, but all I can say is that this experience has changed me so much and I know I will never be done with it. I will always be more paranoid about it coming back, I will always be second guessing little aches, bumps, bruises and pains. I also hear (and appreciate) all the enthusiasm from my family and friends (and myself!) that I'm almost done. But while it makes me happy, it also scares me because I worry people will expect me to be "back to normal" and I honestly don't know what my normal will be anymore. I hear stories of women who suffer through depression after chemo which doesn't surprise me the closer I get. It's like I've been so focused on the next step of killing the cancer, the thought of no longer having weekly doc appointments and check-ups, which keeps me tactically on top of fighting this disease, is a new and scary feeling for me. I also know that the chemo side effects will last up to years, perhaps life, and I need to make sure I remember that and don't get frustrated with myself.

Enough of emotional turmoil. For today I celebrate my wonderful husband as well as my third treatment (and second to last) chemo.

Love and health to all of you.

Here's a pic of Jon and I (sporting a long brown wig!)

Halfway Done!

I'm officially 50% complete with chemo and I'm thrilled! Last Thursday my friends Carla and Laura joined me during my chemo infusion. Decked in my pink ensemble, the 5 hours flew by quickly as my friends kept me occupied on stories other than the meds dripping into my IV. This time around it's been easier. I'm not sure if it's because I was overly sensitive to getting the same side effects as the first round and mentally prepared myself for the worse, or if it was because I took even more careful diligence to my medications and nipping side effects in the bud the minute I started to feel something. Either way, I plan on the same regime the next time in hopes it will continue to be similar. The theories are that chemotherapy side effects are cumulative, but the Neulasta side effects subside each time.

The main side effects this round have been intense fatigue mixed with bone aches. Fatigue is a strange thing. It's like the world is in slow motion yet I still can't keep up. On my daily walks, I've all of a sudden landed in the back of the group (Jon, 2 dogs and me). Usually I'm the one to run ahead and provoke the dogs for a game of catch up. This week they've all been looking behind their shoulders to see an out-of-breath me trailing behind at snails-pace! I eat slower, talk slower, breath slower, reach slower... it's a very odd feeling when you're used to moving 100 mph. I even talk softer which I didn't realize until the man in the check-out line aggressively asked me to repeat myself and I almost started to cry at his rudeness. Talking takes energy, doesn't anyone realize this!?!? And what's with the tears? When did I get so sensitive?!?!

Besides the fatigue, the bone aches have probably been around 1/2 to 3/4 the intensity they were the last round. One precaution I took this time was heading back to my Oncologist the day after chemo to get an 1.5 hour IV infusion of saline to hydrate my body. Surprisingly the nurse said my veins were already dehydrated which shocked me considering I was drinking water like a fish. Other than that, I have similar ailments as the last time such as flat taste buds, upset stomach, headaches, dry skin, sensitive mouth, emotional breakdowns, etc.

My hair loss continues. It's taken some time to get used to, but it's much easier now that it's shaved to a #1. I sleep with a nightcap on to keep the warmth, but always wake up to a pool of little splinters of black hair. At first my head looked like a cheetah, now it looks like a peach on the top with cheetah patches on the back. It's been interesting to unveil parts of my virgin scalp, finding little freckles in places I never knew I had! The wigs are always fun to play with (big thanks to my Publicity colleagues who sent over 2 new amazing shades, one being purple - the color I've been looking to buy). But I have started to enjoy the freedom of a bald head or simple scarf at home, I even had the courage to walk the dogs a few times with only a scarf on. When I do this I am very attentive to other peoples glances, trying to evaluate if they see a sick person or a normal woman walking past them. I know this insecurity will eventually fade, but it has taken a bit of courage to get used to. After all, it's all face now... I don't have the hair to hide underneath! But I highly doubt I'll be going to work or to a ball game without the security of a wig.

All said, last night I celebrated a new me. As I was walking around bald and glowing, I realized how free and invigorated I felt. It's been refreshing to know that the chemo is working and that anything "fast growing" is getting killed (and replaced if it's non-cancerous). No facial, body scrub, fast or diet could cleanse my body as good as chemo is doing, and it's an exhilarating feeling that I welcome. I'm like a lizard, shedding my old skin and getting ready to unveil a new silky smooth me!

P.S. I don't want to forget another shout out of gratitude for the new Instagram photos posted. The shot on Jurassic Park is of my Marketing colleagues who decked out in IWBF shirts, walked through Universal Studios Theme Park in support of me, and took a scary plunge down the ride. It's an amazing photo, I'm still trying to figure out if they actually carried the sign or photoshopped it in!

Chemo 2

Rockin the pink wig on chemo 2 with my girls! Thanks Laura and Carla!

Day 19

It's official, the day is here. It's day 19 from my first chemo, a day that I'll always remember. Just like December 3 2012 - the day I was diagnosed with breast cancer, January 11 2013 - the day I underwent a double M and January 31 2013 - the day I had a second surgery due to my skin not healing... March 18 2013 (aka Day 19) will be etched into my memory as the day I finally shaved my head. Tonight Jon will take me to the local Supercuts down the street to shave both of our heads.

Although it may seem sudden, it's been a long week of anticipation. It started last Tuesday night when I lay on the couch and started to feel this odd tingling in my scalp. My head was sensitive, and I swear I could feel each strand of hair slowly letting go of it's desperate grasp of my scalp. That was the night it really sank in, that I knew in my heart that I was going to lose my hair, and that it was going to be very soon. I cried myself to sleep that night. Sure enough, the next morning I woke up to strands of hair on my pillow. I softly stroked my head and 10 or so strands came out. I tried it again, and 10 came out again. OK, this was happening, I had felt it the night before. The next morning I woke up and there was more hair on my pillow. Same routine, this time 20 or so strands came out. And besides a sensitivity to my head, my actual scalp hurt. It felt like I had worn a pony tail all day and my hair was aching from being pulled too tight for too long. That night my sister arrived in LA to visit me for the weekend as Jon was heading out to spring training in AZ for a much needed weekend of no responsibilities. I forewarned him I may be bald when he came home, and made him promise me he'd still love me (silly me, I guess I just needed to hear him say it). On Friday (day 16), after pulling out clumps of hair while showering, I decided it was time for a cut. The emotional toll of having a hand-full of hair in my hands when I shampooed was just too much to deal with. With the support and courage of my big sis, we went down to Supercuts, propped open my latest People magazine to a shot of Anne Hathaway on the red carpet at the Golden Globes, and told the stylist to chop it off and make me look like doe-eyed Hathaway (OK, perhaps a stretch)! Why Supercuts? Because who wants to spend big bucks on a cut that would only last a few days! And I have to say, she did a pretty good job. I walked out with my very first pixie cut. My sister and I laughed when we both recalled the last time I had a short haircut. I was probably around 5 years old and was adamant to get the "Dorthy Hamill haircut". My mom and sister took me to get it chopped off. Back then I think my Mom was more upset about my short hair than I was!

So this weekend I've been able to enjoy a very short trial of "Pixie Niki". I think it's done a lot for my mental health, preparing me for tonight. I've had a weekend to absorb the shock of waking up and looking in the mirror to a short haired me. The hair loss continues to progress quickly - each light stroke of my hair results in hand-fulls of hair. Who knows how much, I can no longer count. I've been walking around the house with a lint brush, as I leave a trail of hair every step I take. Funny enough, I now sympathize with my dogs for their tri-annual shed-a-thon and have promised to not get irritated with them anymore, and to be more gentle with them as I brush out their shedding hair!

I've decided tonight is the night for a few reasons. First, my hair keeps falling off into the back of my shirt and it's itching me like crazy. Second, I prefer to not have to sweep up layers of hair off of the floor. As it is, I see hair on each step of my stairs and every chair in my house! Third, Thursday is Chemo day and I'm preparing for another week of feeling yucky with body aches and not having the strength to leave the house. I don't want to layer the yuckiness of my hair falling out on top of Chemo, so I need to do it before then. And last... I'm ready. I'm strong enough and it's time. I'll be fine. It's just hair after all, and it grows back (hopefully with some waves)!

The good news to all of this? The Chemo is working and I finally have proof! Again words of wisdom told to me by my wonderful husband who continues to help me see the positive. It's so very true, and has helped significantly in my coping. I actually think that if I didn't lose my hair, I might be a little worried that the Chemo wasn't strong enough!

Speaking of Chemo and physical appearances, last week I was able to enjoy a free class provided by the American Cancer Society called Look Good Feel Better. It's mission is to improve the self-esteem of cancer fighters by providing free make-up and hair styling classes. Not that I need another reason to justify my shopping habits, but why not... it makes me feel better! So my sister and I made the trek to the mall this weekend and I purchased a pretty rockin' Chemo outfit for this Thursday. I figure if I'm going to have to do it, I might as well do it in style (and comfort). And guess what? My pink "Suki" wig is going to look amazing with the outfit. So although I'm not looking forward to Chemo, I am looking forward to accessorizing my new bald head to match my new awesome outfit. I'll be sure to snap a photo and post it. Think "Flash Dance" meets "Harajuku Girl"!

Last, I leave you with a photo of me getting my hair cut this weekend, as well as the very brief pixie cut I rocked this weekend. And in a few short days I look forward to telling you I'm 50% done!

Paying it forward

Hi everyone, I'm back from the living dead! What an intense past week it's been, today is Saturday and I still feel some bone aches, but compared to where I was last weekend, I have absolutely nothing to complain about. I'm downstairs, I have make-up on, I have clothes besides PJ's on, and I'm feeling pretty darn OK to be me right now!

Thank you for your kind messages last week, they all helped me get through it. Each prayer, good wish, thoughts of love, positive ju-ju... however you are sending them to me, know that I am taking them and using them to help me get through this. That YOU are helping me.

First big question I'm sure you all have... do I still have hair? As of the moment I type this, my head is still fully covered with shoulder length black locks. I haven't noticed any drastic shedding, but according to the stories, it's time to face the music. I've heard everything from 10 days to the second round of chemo (21 days). Today is officially day 10.

Second big question... did I get nauseous? Nope! See... you're positive prayers did help me. Bone aches have definitely been the worst side effect to date.

Third big question... how are my boobs? Well, perhaps that wasn't on your list of questions, but I'm happy to report they are healing quite nicely. Well enough that this Wednesday I went in and was injected with 70 cc's of saline on each side. I had heard stories that the fills could be quite painful, but the good news is that although I felt some pressure and aches, nothing in the world could compare to the aches I felt after Chemo. Scars and no-nipples aside, they are beginning to look like boobs, and I am happy to report I'm already larger than I was before this whole journey (I know, I know... it wasn't going to take much saline to get to that point)!

So that's where I am to date. Feeling better, not bald and walking around with a bigger rack! Doesn't sound too bad, does it!?!?

Something that really hit me over the head this week, and I wanted to dedicate this blog post to, is the unwavering selflessness of the community of cancer fighters and survivors I've involuntarily joined. I had previously spoken about the "Chemo Buddy" I met last Thursday who so knowingly saw the fear on my face when I walked into the Chemo room and tried to derail my attention from the nurse as she was fussing over my IV. Through her guidance of the "best" Chemo chairs to her funny reference of our Oncologist as "The Wizard", she provided the distraction, laughter and support I needed at that very moment.

Although this week was hard, and perhaps these are the moments when most needed, I have met or spoken to others who have held out their hand to pull me through this. This past Monday I couldn't make it to Physical Therapy as I was feeling so horrible from Chemo. I think I've mentioned that PT has been one of my favorite forms of therapy during healing, I absolutely love stretching and seeing my range of motion change from 0-100 in a short period of time. In addition to the improvements on my body, my Physical Therapist is the most wonderful woman. I almost feel like I get a free dose of psychological therapy while she's stretching and massaging my arms. When I missed my appointment on Monday, she called me to check in and see how I was doing. She urged me to call one of her patients who underwent Chemo a year ago, someone who knew a lot of the "tricks of the trade" that could possibly help me. If you know me, you probably know I'm not necessarily one of those people who just pick up the phone and call random strangers. Some people have that "extrovert" gene where it's easy to do, but besides me not having that gene, I also like to handle things on my own. I take a lot on myself, I try not to ask for help until I'm overwhelmed. I finally "cold called" this woman yesterday. She was a wealth of knowledge and spent an hour on the phone with me - a complete stranger - sharing how she dealt with her side effects, how she felt when she lost her hair, recommended support groups that I hadn't heard of, remedies I might try that worked for her, and has offered to be there for any question I have - any time. She wants to meet up for lunch, and I am looking forward to meeting this wonderful angel in person. I honestly never ever thought such kindness existed. I've lived in a very "dog-eats-dog" world before this experience. I was raised to do so, it's part of why I've made it to where I am in my life. A life of absolutes - you get what you deserve, if you work hard you'll reap the benefits, only you can make things happen in your life - don't expect anyone else to help. What a wake-up call this has all been. What a learning experience. These 2 complete strangers have made me realize that this week I did not wave my hands in defeat to the Chemo. On the contrary, Chemo has made me stronger. But not just physically. Deep inside me I'm realizing that sometimes the very definition of being fierce and courageous is to admit that I need help and to take the hand of the person offering it.

Breast cancer will make me a better person, and I vow to pay it forward.

The ugly truth

Chemotherapy has certainly lived up to it's reputation for me. Today is literally the first day I am able to sit up in bed and conjure enough energy to give you an update on how I'm doing. Here's what I'll tell you, I feel like I have the flu multiplied by 10. My body aches so bad, I lay in bed wishing I could just fall asleep so I won't feel the pain.

It all started Friday afternoon. Surprisingly, the morning after Chemo I was feeling OK. I made it to Physical Therapy as well as back to the Oncologist for my Neulasta shot. According to my Doctors, it's the Neulasta that is causing my aches. Neulasta is a drug that helps increase my white blood count so I won't be at such a major risk for infection. Well, apparently it also causes such intense bone pain that I've almost been paralyzed to the bed. As I was dizzy with pain on Saturday night I started to realize just how fierce I'm going to have to be. Not just mentally fierce, but physically fierce. I have to fight - mind body and soul - and it's not going to be easy.

Not to dwell on this, but the thing thats killed me throughout this entire experience is the stories of the women who haven't been effected. I'm angry at the Doctors, books, articles, etc who have told me stories about the many women who don't feel any side effects, of the women who have managed to not miss one day at the gym during Chemotherapy. Who are these crazy women, and why did I get stuck with the short end of the stick? It's so unfair for me to judge myself next to these super heros, yet I do, and I somehow feel disappointed in myself for not being more like them. I felt the same way after my double M when I heard stories of women who went back to work after 2 weeks, whereas I laid in bed dosed up on pain meds 6 weeks after my surgery (yeah, I know, I had a second surgery which certainly delayed my healing). I can't help but to compare myself to these mythical creatures, and berate myself for not being more like them. I know it's not fair, and that every body is different and everyones symptoms are different, but perhaps for the overachievers like myself, Doctors can focus a little more on potential side effects so we don't all think we're losers for not feeling normal and healing as quick as we'd like.

Enough of my rant.

Besides the horrible aches, I've lost my taste buds, my mouth is sore and I have absolutely no energy. As the aches slow down each day, I start to realize the other side effects happening to my body.

Side effects aside... I continue to be grateful for the little nuggets of wisdom shared with me throughout this journey, this one from a wonderful Chemo Buddy I made on Thursday. I'm going to think small right now, think about NOW, be in the moment. I'm not going to focus on what I need to be 5 months from now, but I'm going to focus on making myself feel OK right now and getting through the rest of the day. And I'm going to try to be OK with that! I really am.

Not too bad yet...

Snapshot from the chemo room. On 2nd bag of Emend which hurt my arm, but nurse said it should dissipate now that I'm getting some Benadryl.

Chemo Day

Chemotherapy starts today, around 1 1/2 hours to be exact. I have a little secret to share with you. I'm scared. Chemotherapy stories are the ones you hear about as non-cancer patients. This is the treatment people associate cancer with. This is the therapy that will make me not only feel like a cancer patient on the inside, but look like a cancer patient on the outside. This is the thing that will no longer allow me to hide in the crowd as if I'm just one of you, because you will be able to see that I have cancer. Chemotherapy F'in sucks, and I don't want to do it, but I have to.

The more rationale side of me knows that this is an incredibly important process to my survival statistics. Chemotherapy will decrease the chance of the cancer from my left breast metastasising (spreading) to other areas of my body not already removed - like my lungs, bones, blood, liver. Chemotherapy is good. Chemotherapy will help me live a full life with the man I love and who has tenderly cared for me throughout this process, the family who has raised me and taught me how to be a fighter, the friends I adore and have shown me how to still have fun and laugh, the dogs I cherish and continue to give me their unconditional love and I know will be the only ones not judging me when I walk around bald. I have to do this, I want to do this, I'm just really really scared of doing this.

Jon will be with me today, sitting with me while I patiently watch the drugs drip into my IV. I've got my new favorite cozy blanket to keep me warm (thanks L&A), all my digital gadgets, my latest knitting experiment looking like it wants to be finished, and a new book in case I just want to escape into somebody's life that's not mine (which actually sounds quite lovely right now).

I'm finishing up my cream of wheat cereal (bland but high in iron, as recommended), my delicious vice of a hot cup of coffee, and am ready to pop 2 steroids and a colace for one of the many unfortunate steroid side effects.

I will continue to be fierce, I promise. But today I'm giving myself a pass to be a little bit scared.

Milestones

This past week has been one of milestones, mini-victories which I am proud to report and celebrate with you. As my wise husband told me at the start of this, "celebrate the little wins", and I will continue to do that and share with you these good little nuggets of gold that keep me motivated.

First, not only did I manage to wash my own hair, I also managed to take a shower 100% on my own! Yes, 3 months ago I certainly would not think something like this could create such overwhelming happiness, but believe it or not I have been incapable of showering on my own since January 11th. To be able to reach the top of my head and lather it with shampoo, to bend over and scrub my own toes... these are the things that make me happy now, these are the ways I measure how much better I am today than I was after my double M.

Second, I'm driving on my own. Not far drives, but local trips to my physical therapist or my doctor. As I still don't have complete range of motion, I'm definitely trying to avoid this as much as possible. But someone needs to "bring home the bacon" right now (yes, that would be Jon), so I'm thankful to have the ability to get to these appointments on my own.

Third, today my Plastic Surgeon removed the surgical tape which has been wrapped around my chest (both above and below) since January 11th. Not only did the tape make me feel like I was constricted by a corset 24/7, it also irritated my skin which caused a lot of itching and rashes. Although I've been sleeping nicely on Benadryl every night, I feel like I'm one of those girls in those period films whose been freed from the mean mother who tightens the laces on her corset as the girl gasps to find air!

Fourth, speaking of drugs, I'm slowly weening myself off of the pain meds from the surgeries. I hated being too dependent on these things, and I'm finally able to last up to 10 hours without anything.

Fifth, today I received my very first "fill" into my tissue expanders. My Plastic Surgeon numbed each breast and then filled each side with 50 cc's of saline. No pain, not even any pressure. I've heard this can be quite painful, so I'll see how I feel tomorrow as well as the next round (perhaps when they inject more than 50 cc's), but as of now I'm quite happy that I've healed enough to get my very first fill!

Last, my Plastic Surgeon gave me the green light to start chemotherapy this week. As mentioned on my last post, I've been full of anxiety about this next stage in my treatment. Last weeks delay was so disappointing to me, and I was very fearful it was going to be delayed again as I wasn't sure I was healing quick enough. I couldn't fathom having to wait it out another week, but luckily I won't have to. 

So, chemotherapy officially starts on Thursday February 28th. Here's what I know. On Wednesday I will go in and get my blood drawn where they will make sure my red blood count, white blood count, platelet count, etc are all in good order to start chemo. I will also begin the steroids I've been prescribed with, along with all the other over-the-counter meds to prepare me for the long list of chemo side effects. On Thursday I will meet with my Oncologist, and then they'll take me to the chemo room where I'll sit on a lounge chair, get hooked up to an IV and slowly get injected with Cytoxan and Taxotere - the 2 main cancer-fighting drugs that make up my "chemo cocktail". They'll also drip in some nausea fighting drugs like Emend, in hopes that I won't get sick from the drugs. My first session will be closely monitored, as a few people have allergic reactions to the drugs so they'll want to make sure I'm not "one of those few". It should last between 3-4 hours, after which I am told I should go home and "do nothing". Friday I will go back and get a shot of Neulasta, which will help increase my white blood cell count, but has a side effect of bone pain (apparently worse for younger chemo patients, which definitely includes me). So yes... more over-the-counter drugs to address that. Apparently the 4th-5th day have been known to be the worst, when the good drugs start wearing off and you begin to feel the effects of chemotherapy, so Sunday and Monday will be telling.

When do I lose my hair? I didn't realize that chemotherapy actually isn't something that specifically kills "cancer cells". Instead it kills "fast growing cells". The fast growing cells in our bodies (besides the cancer cells in mine) are things like hair, cells in our mouths, etc. So the reason for the hair loss is that chemotherapy is actually killing the cells that produce the hair. Apparently I should expect to lose my hair by the 3rd week. I have no doubt that will be a very difficult day for me. But I do have "Niki", "Roxy", "Suki" and "Crystal" all on stand-by for when that day happens. 

So the waiting will soon be over, and by this time next week I'll be 25% done with Chemotherapy. I'll keep you tabbed on how I do, your guess at this point is as good as mine. But I'm keeping my spirits up as promised, and celebrating my mini victories.