the sacred ordinary

Go Angelina!

2013-05-14T10:27:00.001-07:00

I have so much to tell you about, almost one month out from my DIEP breast reconstruction. Wow, hardest slowest month ever. I thank you so much for all your love and support during a challenging recovery, and will be blogging about it this week.

I wanted to share this with you though, another Sister, a famous Sister, who was not diagnosed but I still regard her as part of our sorority. She took her health into her own hands with the fearlessness she has always been known for, and then spoke about it! Bravo! Bravo!

Click on this link to read her statement.

I applaud you Angelina, for your practical, brave decision, nevertheless it made me very sad. Of course, when faced with the decision between our breasts and our lives, we choose life. We choose life.

That is not to say it makes losing your breasts any easier, even with all the love and support we receive from the men who love us, and the plastic surgery options available for reconstruction.

Early prevention is just not enough.

It hurts every time I hear of another woman whose breasts are butchered and altered because of breast cancer. Not to mention all those who die from breast cancer every year, despite our best efforts and advances in treatment.

Early prevention is just not enough.

We want a cure.

We want a cure.

Rolling in the DIEP, Shall We Try Again?

2013-04-08T11:34:00.000-07:00

So I'm just over a week out from checking into a five day spa visit in Oz, otherwise known as Stanford University. I got a date with a wizard there named Dr. Lee, and all his peeps who gonna make me over.

Cut cut here,
Snip snip there,
And a couple of new tata's,
That's how we keep you young and fair
in the merry old land of oz.

FLOPSY AND MOPSY, THE SEQUEL!

Oh Jesus Lord in heaven, Lord I just have to trust that all the times my plans got jinxed and dashed and I was QUEEN OF THE GLITCH, it was because you had something BETTER for me. Is this it?!? Tell me this is it.

I need to graduate from cancer camp folks! Although I'm almost three years out from diagnosis, I still feel like cancer girl every time I look in the mirror, every time I get dressed, every time I look down and feel these hard Nerf like footballs stuffed in my chest! I will not have made safe passage out of The Kingdom of the Lost Breasts until I can buy a bra! I haven't worn a regular old bra for 2 1/2 years!!!

So here's a reminder of what we're looking at:

DIEP, or Deep Inferior Epigastric Perforator

It's a good illustration that gives you an idea of what they'll be doing to me. Mine is a little different though. My incisions will be directly under each breast. They'll take the tissue expanders out, and plop the whale blubber that is my muffin top in! Voila, foobs! No implants, just my own tissue stuffed in there.

It's a long surgery because it's two in one, tummy tuck and breast reconstruction. It's a long hospital stay, about five days, so they can closely monitor my tissue graft to make sure it has a good blood supply and lives. Living foobies!

Oh breast cancer, oh breast cancer, what a party you've thrown for me Baby, aren't you fun?!!

Oh and don't forget, my nipples will get moved around too, so they'll be in the right spot once the reconstruction, reduction and lift is done. Pray for me nipples that they survive the journey!

Recovery will be about 6 weeks, once I've passed through the initial phase of hit by a train, run over by a bus and pink steam roller, then dragged like a rodeo rider whose foot is caught in the saddle! Rumor has it I'll be coming home with four to six drains hanging out of my new body, oh joy oh joy.

YOU KNOW I LOVE THOSE DRAINS. Emptying em, stripping em, trying to figure out where to pin em, hanging them up in the shower, gettin in bed with em!

Some party, eh?

Start your praying for me early, that Jesus has his hand on me, giving me courage and strength and humor, and more importantly GUIDES my surgeon and those who will be taking care of me.

I can't look, am I almost there yet?

THURSDAY, APRIL 18th - FLOPSY AND MOPSY, THE SEQUEL!

Stay tuned...

I am. This day.

2013-03-18T21:29:00.000-07:00

God said I am.

Not I was.

Not I'm gonna be.

I AM.

THIS is the day the Lord has made.

THIS DAY.

Hmmmm. Blond brain at work here.

I AM.

THIS DAY.

Not yesterday.

Not tomorrow.

Right now.

This moment.

You got it?

Amen.

I Surrender

2013-03-15T15:08:00.001-07:00

There is always so much to pray about, friends and family whose hearts are burdened in dark valleys looking for answers and God's comfort and a way out. Isaiah 65:24 Before they call I will answer, while they are yet speaking I will hear.

In addition to my Bible and other current reading, there is a little book I keep on my nightstand,

I read it every evening before bed, and then look up the Bible verses she references. The way Sarah Young has written each daily devotional, it's as if Jesus is speaking directly to me, like the loving Father Redeemer Healer Counselor he is. It's so comforting and reassuring. (Hello my Midgey Midge, don't go buy this, I already bought one for you and will mail it, kiss kiss)

For those following Cara's story, she recently marked the milestone of her one year "cancerversary" as we call it in the business, one year out from diagnosis and a year of the wild roller coaster that is leukemia treatment. We are grateful and praise God that Cara is in remission, but her treatment continues and has been full of very challenging side effects and collateral damage. Most recently she suffered a bout of shingles and was back in her old stomping grounds at UCSF for a week. She is home again now, and I know her beloved at-home nurse and furry angel is very happy to have her home.

Cara and Sunny

My son Adam aka Batman and his girl, Cara

Your continued prayers for Cara and her complete healing and recovery are most needed and appreciated. I'm sure God has had His hand on this sweet girl; her smile and spirit and courage and sense of humor have touched so many people. Even those of us who already really loved her. She is a real warrior, just doing what she has to do.

I love you Cara, it won't always be like this Hon, it will get better and better!

I had a wonderful surprise message from Angel B, remember her? Her name is Becca, and she and Alaina aka Angel A, both from Novato High, made a pink ribbon blanket for a cancer patient, which ended up being me! I was blessed to meet these girls in person when I surprised them for a visit at their school.

Alaina and Becca, making my blanket

Becca has a friend named Amanda, another teenager diagnosed with cancer. Will you join me in prayer for Amanda? And for Becca too, whose love and concern for her friend inspired her to contact me.

After a cancer diagnosis, you feel as if when people look at you, this big letter 'C' is branded on you like the scarlet letter. What is it we want from you, you blessed Muggles who are cancer free? We know you can't fix this, we know we have to do this on our own, and there really are no words to take away all the fear and grief and uncertainty we feel. We just want to feel normal, we want to feel your love and quiet presence, and we really need your prayers. Those are really the best words you can give to us, your constant prayers lifting us up to the one True Healer.

I am about a month away from my upcoming reconstruction surgery, and I'll admit to you, the closer it gets, the more I am dreading it. I am praying hard every day for God's peace and comfort and strength. My courage ain't what it used to be, but I know for sure, this is a necessary passage of graduating from Cancer Camp.

I seem to be getting stuck in my head, revisiting the hard parts, and sometimes I still grieve for what I went through, what I lost, and for a body that still is so foreign to me. I pray that God will strengthen my resolve, keep me hopeful and trusting, and give me the physical strength to endure a long surgery and several days in ICU. I'd much rather be going to a different kind of Club Med, but I'm blessed that the Club Med I'll be going to is Stanford University.

Will you pray for me, that my fear and dread will be replaced with trust and faithfulness and I'll find my courage again? I seem to have lost it.

Little Muff, Big World

On our walks together, I'm walking Muff, and God is walking me. The world and my head can be so noisy. I go to my peaceful places so I can hear His whisper, and get rest in His presence.

John 16:33 I give you peace, knowing I have overcome the world.

Thank you Lord, for all the times I call out to You, and You answer with a "there there now Little Debbie."

Thank you Lord.

I surrender to you Jesus, every worry, every fear, every problem, every heartache, every ouch, every thing that does not serve You. I surrender to you, and open myself to Your perfect plan to take all this mess of my sacred ordinary and turn it into Your glory.

I pray
when others see me,
they'll
see
You.

Almost Three Years Out

2013-02-20T16:23:00.001-08:00

My friend Jenny gave me a great book to read, it's by Regina Brett, a breast cancer survivor and columnist for the Plain Dealer, out of Cincinnati.

I am really enjoying this little book of simple common sense treasures, and it's for anybody, not just my cancer peeps. I highly recommend it.

Jenny also forwarded me Regina's latest column regarding her fifteen year "cancerversary." In April I will be three years out from diagnosis, or as I like to say "From Stage Three to Cancer Free." Praise God.

I'll be celebrating with my reconstruction on April 18th, do I dare say the date? Oh Lord, deliver me to this date, healthy, strong and ready. I am so so ready to git her done and continue to move forward! It's crazy to think I'm almost three years out, my cancerversary is April 21, 2010.

I'm not surprised to read in Regina's article, that even after fifteen years of survivorship, the what if's still creep and linger. I imagine once you've been diagnosed, no matter how far out you get, there will always be a bit of looking over your shoulder. Cancer is scary. Cancer treatment is hard hard hard. There aren't always happy endings.

I have my days where I worry about recurrence, where any little pain or ache makes me pause and think "Uh oh, what's that?" I try not to focus on them, instead focusing on what I can to better my odds against a recurrence.

What have I changed since my cancer diagnosis? Way better at managing my stress, and investing in what brings me joy. More prayer. More nature. More whole foods. More greens. No artificial flavors, sweeteners or preservatives.

Mostly though?

Way way way more gratitude, seeking peace, avoiding drama, connecting daily with my Higher Power Jesus Christ, and being present in my life.

I sure have appreciated all the love and support I've gotten, but there's something that worries me now and then.

If I were to have a recurrence, I think you'd all be so disappointed and discouraged and angry and maybe lose hope. The beauty for me is this -

even if ultimately I have not been cured,

thank you thank you Lord,

for how my heart and blond brain have been healed.

No matter what happens, will you always, when you think of me, think of the joy and love and passion I live my life with?

Promise?

This is what survivorship is to me, it's not about the cancer or if it comes back.

It's how I live every day now, however many days are gifted to me.

Gratitude

changes

everything.

Try it.

1Peter 3:4

Glimmering

2013-02-09T17:18:00.000-08:00

That's how it feels sometimes, this gratitude in me, like I am glimmering, sparkly, like rays of sunshine through a crystal, exploding in rainbows out of my blond brain.

Well let me see, since I last saw you, I made a trip to see the Good Witch! Oh how I do love her, my Diva cancer doctor touchstone, but it's a struggle Baby, missing her and yet hatin to walk through those CANCER CENTER doors. My sentences do run on today, deal with it.

I have been on a schedule, like most cancer faithful, of seeing her every three months. Just shy of 3 years of doing that!

Imagine my glory and surprise and elation when she says to me "Okay, so I'll see you in six months..."

Huh? What? Stop the presses. Wait a minute Lady, could you REPEAT THAT PLEASE?

Like ice cream dripping down my chin on a 100 degree day, oh yes, yes, this is good good good.

My God is good good good.

"Wait a minute, could you repeat that please, and aren't you gonna try and strong arm me into a PET scan? I haven't had one since a couple months into chemo."

I was all prepared for her answer, I was ready for her, but she got me.

"Well, I probably would have liked you to have one last year, but you talked me out of it, and now you're so far out and doing so well, I don't see the need for one. We'll do one if we need to, if we feel like we're chasing something."

Yes we are chasing something alright.

JUST GIVE ME SOME HOPE TO FOLLOW AND I WILL RUN. Jarrod Gorbel

No oncology appointment, no lab tests, for six months? And no PET scan?

Yup. That's how I felt.

Almost three years out, from Stage 3 to cancer free.

Lord you see me dancing,

gangnam style?

Happy things

2013-01-24T11:49:00.000-08:00

You must focus on the happy things.
The things that bring you peace.
The things that bring you calm.
The things that make you want to try again.
The things that bring lightness
and joy.

You must focus on the happy things.

Happy New Year!

2013-01-02T14:38:00.000-08:00

Well the Clay family had it's share of hardship and sadness during 2012, especially Cara's diagnosis of leukemia and continuing treatment, and the loss of my Mother-in-law (Grandma Ginny). In my case, due to a pinched nerve from a couple herniated discs in my neck, and then, oh fun, a kidney stone, my reconstruction surgery was delayed yet again. It's still hard for me to believe that I am two years out from a bilateral mastectomy, especially since my original plan was for reconstruction right at the time of that surgery.

It was another year filled with many challenges to health and spirit, but that is not the focus of my post today, and it's no longer my worry.

There were so many ways and so many days our family was so awesomely blessed this year! Whatever came our way was no match for God's grace, love and comfort!

We will keep 2012, because along with all that struggle, came some awesome amazing moments for me.

I have to say one of the highlights for me were all the Relay's I attended and was blessed to speak at. The icing on the cake was closing out the season and speaking at the Benicia Relay, with so many friends and family and the Panther Band there.

How meaningful it was to walk the Survivor's Lap with my coworker and friend Liz, also a breast cancer survivor, and of course Cara Girl, a leukemia survivor. What a joyful thing, and how blessed I was to speak from my heart that chilly morning. Here is the link to that video if you missed it.

The other huge highlight for me was joining a church, I'm back in the fold after many many years away! Oh how God is blessing my faithfulness, and Husband has even joined me in attending church. How wonderful being part of a church community, it's blessing me every day, and jumping back into the Word has made such a difference in my daily life.

One night while reading my Bible, up very late, I stumbled upon a favorite parable about a woman in the crowd who came to see Jesus. I hadn't read it in many years, and it took on new meaning for me since breast cancer. The woman suffered with what is described as a chronic blood disease, but she knew, if she could only even get close enough to touch his robe, she would be healed. In all the chaos of the crowd, she was able to reach out and touch Jesus' robe, and he stopped and said "Who touched Me?" He turned around and saw the woman, and she told him her story.

Mark 5:34 Daughter, your faith has made you well. Go in peace, and be healed of your affliction.

The night I read this, it was as if the words in my Bible glowed and Jesus was speaking directly to me. I was so moved and comforted.

Debbie Clay, Daughter, your faith has made you well. Go in peace, and be healed of your affliction!

To all my breast cancer Sisters out there, to any Sister affected by cancer, please read this scripture for yourself, and trust in Jesus' word.

The truth is my breast cancer diagnosis was the least of my afflictions. What an opportunity to rediscover my faith, and let God do amazing things in my life. If you've followed this blog, you know all the blessings rained down on me! So much more is happening though, in my head and my heart.

As if locked doors are flying open,
shadows and darkness in my heart exposed to the light,
nothing left uncovered,
nothing left unseen,
laid out,
lit up,
blessed and forgiven.

How could I ever know on April 21st, 2010, when I was diagnosed with Stage 3 breast cancer and faced a year of cancer treatment and devastation thinking my children would be without me, how could I ever know that God would take all of this, and transform my wounds into wisdom.

Wounds into wisdom.
Lessons into blessings.
Grief into gratitude.

Thank you Lord, Thank you, for all that has happened in my life since my diagnosis, surely you are blessing me every single day. Every single day. You are making me and reshaping me and giving me the strength and the sense of humor and the obedience to let You have Your way with me!

Yes, I've been carved up and mournfully visited the Kingdom of the Lost Breasts, but God is setting my ache for my old body and my old life free! Every day I mourn less and less for what was, and lean into acceptance of how I am being remade. Praise God that this grief and burden of my self image after breast cancer is being lifted off my heart, and replaced with a depth of gratitude and joy I have never known.

They're just boobs for God's sake, I'm alive!

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Another huge highlight for all of us was when we were able to travel to Indiana for the DCI Drum and Bugle Corps World Championships, to watch Adam compete in his final season as a snare player for the Blue Devils. How awesome and amazing and joyful that Adam retired as a Blue Devil with another World Championship that he will always be a part of!

After it was announced that night in Lucas Oil Stadium that the Blue Devils won their 15th World Championship, we moved down to the bottom of the stadium to get as close as we could to watch their encore performance. After it was over, I saw Adam break away from the group and could tell he was searching for us. He walked with such pride and determination and honor and glory and joy.

I knew he was coming to find his Mama.
He had his phone in his hand, with Cara on the line to share the celebration with her back home.

LOL, I cried the ugly cry for a whole lot more than the fabulous Blue Devils win!

I will never forget the feeling, as Adam walked toward me. I had an out of body experience. For a moment, it was as if I wasn't there. In a split second, time stopped, I imagined this night and so many others that my boys would have experienced without me, if cancer had had its way.

When Adam touched me and hugged me, it was as if I came back into my body, I'm here, I'm here, I'm here to see this, I'm here to share this,

I'm here!

Praise God.

Cancer effing sucks, there is nothing good about it or cancer treatment, but let me tell you, I walk this planet

CHANGED.

I AM SO DAMN GRATEFUL FOR EVERY NEW DAY.
HIS BLESSINGS NEW EVERY MORNING.
Oh what gratitude can do in your life.

My breast cancer was part of the growing and blossoming of my life and soul, from woundedness to healing, and the catalyst for my return to faith.

Praise God.

This is why, in this New Year, I have one simple resolution.

LESS IS MORE.

Less stress. Less drama. Less worry. Less anger. Less gossip. Less unhealthy foods.

Less things and paper and possessions that clutter my life and really don't matter.

Less of letting others TAKE MY PEACE.

Less weight. This chubby body has to go.

Less being so connected to technology.

More.

More love. More prayer. More service to others. More connectedness to my family and friends and planet. More discipline. More obedience. More patience. More healthy clean food. More exercise. More praise. More playing my piano. More writing. More kindness. More time in nature. More time with my head in my Bible. More more more of these.

LESS IS MORE.

To you Dear Reader, I wish the happiest and most blessed of New Year's, but mostly for you I wish -

A leap into faith,
See what God can and will do with your life.
Lead with Love.
Lead with Gratitude.
Rest assured that when you walk in faith, every single thing that happens in your life leads you to grace and blessings.

Every new morning is a holy gift.

What will you do with this day?

John 14:27 Peace I leave with you. My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.

Receive this gift. Find your peace in 2013. You don't have to earn it. You don't have to buy it. Just receive it.

John 3:16 For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.

Thank you Dear Reader for taking part in this journey with me.

God bless you and keep you in 2013.

Here I am, meet Itchy and Pokey

2012-12-10T23:48:00.002-08:00

Hello Dear Reader,

I've neglected you as I was swept away in a storm of current events, and I've been trying to get back on the pony again for some time. Thank you Faith & Hope, for looking for me, and so I'm climbing out from under this writer's block of a rock. Thank you for your concern, one and all, here I am.

Here I am.

These last two months have been very challenging, starting with my tissue expander surgery on October 8. I was beside myself dealing with the breast drains that are mandatory torture of that surgery. What a relief when I got them out, and felt like I was coming around again. Then I was washed away again with the passing of my beloved Mother-in-law, Ginny Mae, on October 17.

October 25th was my 26th wedding anniversary, and my son Adam's 22nd birthday. We did our best to celebrate that and Halloween too, although we were in the thick and the heartache of planning Grandma's funeral.

Husband, Son and the famous Muffity Muff

Happy Belated Birthday on the blog Adam!

Halloween at our house

Right around the same time, Cara Girl spiked a fever and ended up in the hospital for three long weeks, held prisoner by ANC numbers that got as low as 0. They should be at least 1500, but need to be 500 to get released. The sign she held below is not thanking Dr. S for letting her out, it's a plea to Dr. S - "Let me out!!!!!"

I love you Cara

We had a lovely Thanksgiving, which was also my birthday this year, despite being our first one without Grandma, and missing Cara as she was still in the hospital. This video was one of the highlights of Thanksgiving day, as our Miss Muffin was quite smitten with a visitor named Raider. (for some reason, this video is present on the blog if viewed on the computer, but not from my phone.)

Then we had a hell of a storm, rain and wind and flooding like we've never seen in our neck of the woods.

Our patio gazebo blew 30 feet, like a toy.

What a rough rough couple of months, punctuated with little safe havens of quiet peace and joy. Oh this life, this sacred bittersweet ordinary life. Oh this life of mine.

So, where were we?

Let me catch you up on the business of this blog, my progress since having tissue expanders in. I've had four fills over the last two months, with the last one this morning. I had Husband take photos today so you could see what this process has been like.

At the time of my surgery, the expanders were only slightly inflated with sterile saline, and then about every two weeks, I've come back to have them "filled" at each appointment.

The expander is like an implant, except it's got a valve. In the first photo, the nurse uses a magnet to locate the valve. (Thank you to the lovely and gentle as she can be while she's stabbing me, Miss Kathy, my beautiful filler of Itchy and Pokey!)

Finding the valve with the magnet

She makes a mark where the center of the valve is, so she'll know where to insert the needle. In this photo of my right breast, you can see my port scar.

A small amount of Novocaine is injected into the skin to help with the discomfort of the fill.

The area is sanitized with betadine, that goopy orange liquid that completely sterilizes the area.

She then inserts the needle, which is attached to a small line, which runs into a kind of plunger, which is connected to a hanging IV bag filled with sterile saline.

The first few fills, the needle going in was not as bad as a bee sting, but close. With each fill, as my breast tissue stretched and thinned, the poke didn't hurt as much. Ironically though, as the pokes got better, the discomfort from the filling and stretching got worse. It is tolerable, with plenty of ibuprofen. It's not fun, the whole process is rather freakish, but you get through it. Typically this phase takes a couple of months, and then you need a month or two before surgery is scheduled.

In the photo below, here's the plunger that injects the sterile saline into the expander inside my breast. As a reminder, I had a skin sparing nipple sparing mastectomy, so I have a lot of skin, but the expander is opening up that skin to make a pocket for my reconstruction. I also had a lot of scar tissue on Flopsy because of being radiated, and the expander has helped to fill out that breast and stretch the skin so there's a little more symmetry with Mopsy.

Each breast, at each fill, was roughly filled with approximately 125 cc's of sterile saline.

I feel like I've been going through a time lapsed puberty, watching my breasts fill out.

Flopsy and Mopsy have been through so many incarnations since my bilateral and radiation, in this phase I've named them "Itchy and Pokey." As the expander has expanded and the breast skin is filled up, the variety of side effects I've been dealing with include very itchy skin, a tight feeling as if the skin is going to rip, some poking of the implant inside me, and depending on how I am laying on them, some very weird shapes. The expander is rather hard too, it feels nothing like a soft breast. I've also noticed some discomfort in my left arm, which gets bothered by the process, all probably related to having lymph nodes removed on that side.

Itchy and Pokey don't even remotely look like breasts, especially because my nipples are below where they should be. I realize now, what plastic surgeon gently tried to tell me and knew I would come to accept, all of that extra skin including my nipples, has to go. We could try to graft them where they should be, but it doesn't make for a good result. Another layer of loss washes over me, and sometimes I still wonder why events occurred as they did so that I was not able to have immediate reconstruction. Now I'm so far out, it doesn't seem as important as it once did. I just want this over with.

That's not to say I don't have the occasional pity party cry, I had one today. I know I can't look back or get back my old self, but every now and then, I still can't believe all of this has happened. I miss my old me. I often waffle and shuffle between grieving the losses of my breast cancer, and the deep gratitude that I'm still here.

I am grasping as I go through this process and get closer to reconstruction, that what I will end up with will be a reasonable facsimile, but nothing like my former breasts. That's why they call em "foobs."

New nipples will be created and tattooed for me, but of course, like the rest of my new breasts, they will not really be a functioning part of my body, they're for looks.

I never thought Flopsy and Mopsy would go through a phase of being filled again, but with no nipples; I'll just have two mounds of flesh I can put in a bra. Weird. When you see a breast without a nipple, it's interesting, it's not erotic at all. I never really thought of that before, how the nipple is what makes a naked breast erotic or beautiful. At least to me.

I've been reminded that after reconstruction, there are usually several revisions to clean things up, including construction of the nipples and tattooing.

I'm just trying to find a way to live my life while in this metamorphosis that never seems to end.

The good news?

I've found a church and joined. Husband is going too. It's my first Christmas in many many years where I have a church home. It's awesome. Every week, as the week progresses, I think "Is it Sunday yet? Is it Sunday yet?"

I keep thinking about that Martin Luther King Jr. quote about faith.

Faith is taking the first step, even when you don't see the whole staircase.

Gosh this first step since diagnosis two and a half years ago has been a doozy.

My Pastor's wife, Rev. Monica, said during service last Sunday, "You can have a heavy heart and still be grateful."

That's where I seem to perch.

Somewhere between heaviness
and light.

Gettin Jiggy Wid It

2012-10-17T00:53:00.000-07:00

There is a monastery in Bhutan; it is called "The Tiger's Nest." Sometimes in your life it feels as if you've been scaling a mountain, bloody hands and feet, clinging to nothing, trying not to look down or look back. This week was like that for me, in my body, and in this head, and tonight it feels as if I pulled myself up and over and now I can rest inside the temple.

I've been in a war for awhile now, and even when I think I'm out, I'm back in again. This week was a real challenge for me, and even though I was prepared, I was not prepared.

I have been reminded, again, that you can do what you think you cannot do, if you do it in baby steps and surrender to it. And pray real hard. I pushed through some long days, sleepless nights, and discomfort that gave little rest. Although this journey is at a new beginning, I'm only on the first step but at least that first awful step is done.

Faith is taking the first step, even when you don't see the whole staircase. Martin Luther King Jr.

Thank you Jesus, the breast drains came out today. I had to take a deep breath when right after removing the first drain, the resident micro-surgeon says "Now that wasn't so bad, was it?"

I could have done the flying kitty bitchslap on him. I could have, but I refrained.

Not sure how to describe to you what Flopsy and Mopsy look like right now, but it's rather freakish. Not even remotely boob like. More alien like. Like two alien eggs have been implanted into my chest when they took me up into the spaceship that hovers above Stanford. The alien eggs will grow and stretch my skin until they are ready to hatch. They are high up on my chest, I suppose where perky boobs once used to be, but Flopsy and Mopsy haven't seen those heights in 30 years.

Every guy has his technique I suppose. When breast surgeon, The Wizard, pulled out drains after the bilateral, he told me to cough and ripped them out of me with a yank, like pulling on a lawnmower cord. It was startling but over before I finished the cough.

The guy today was nice, Dr. Careful, and his technique was "Let's pull on this as slowly as we can" and no coughing necessary.

I'm going to swear now.

Damn I hate those breast drains. I hate em going in and I hates em coming out. Like a damn snake slithering out of your body and biting you as it leaves. I agree with the TMackQ, they are primitive instruments of torture that should have no place in modern medicine. Thank you Sister. They are just plain wicked, painful, a bother, annoying, and I'm going to swear again.

Damn I hate those breast drains.

Tonight if I could,

and had the shoes for it,

I'd be doing Riverdance, if not for this pain that happens when I jiggle.

I'd be doing it Baby.

One week after surgery, I've now finished up the Vicodin, the stool softeners and laxatives. I've taken the last of the antibiotic that wreaked havoc on my flora and fauna. And let there be music, the drains are out and I've had my first shower in a week.

When you've been through hell,
you are reminded that the simplest things in this life,
like the kaleidoscope of Fall leaves all over the front yard when we got home today,
are heaven on earth.

I am taking off shoes,
lighting a candle,
chanting prayers of gratitude
inside the temple
that sits on top of the mountain
inside my head.

So much of this life are these solitary journeys we take, even when those we love are all around us.

Drains Drains Go Away...

2012-10-13T17:21:00.001-07:00

Sleeplessness, constipation and tenderness at the surgical site aren't a barrel full of monkeys, but they can be tamed and managed and drugged. For me, it's the drains that are the most difficult to deal with.

You have to empty them and strip the line two or three times a day, measure the output and keep track on a little chart, but mostly it's the drains themselves - they hurt and are annoying as hell.

I have two small incisions at my rib cage on either side of my chest, and the drain tube is stitched in place where it comes out there. It's as big as aquarium tubing, and you feel very vulnerable wearing these things, always trying to secure the slack so that you don't accidentally pull it or catch it on something.

My first go round when I had the bilateral, I had to wear the drains for two and a half weeks. I'm hoping this time will only be a week. They are driving me freaking cray cray; oh did I mention you can't get them wet so you pretty much sponge bath it while they're in.

Husband accidentally poked me in the chest this morning, and I went all Exorcist on him, I swear I did.

Even those of you who know me well would never recognize the guttural deep tone of voice I do have when conditions arise that necessitate it. I startled the shit out of him; he forgot about that voice.

This stuff really wears on you day after day after day, I'm not the patient patient I once was, and I got a long way to go.

Will you pray for

Husband?

:)

Remind me, why am I doing this?

2012-10-11T23:30:00.000-07:00

There is not a whole lot to do when you are recovering from surgery. It's all about what time is the next pain pill, and balancing the stool softeners and laxatives so you can poop, but not too many cause you don't want to poop like crazy.

You have a little something to eat, you take a pain pill, you take a little nap, you watch a little TV, you read, you make some tea, you pet a dog, you empty drains and record how much fluid was in each, you take another pain pill, you check Facebook to see what every body else is doing, you take another little nap, you brush your teeth and wash your face, you take a shallow bath cause you can't get the surgery site or drains wet, you try to arrange your sports bra so that you have just enough compression on your chest but not too much cause it hurts so you stuff some soft socks in there to help, you have a little something to eat, you buzz through your email, you check Pinterest, you check Facebook again to see what every body else is doing, and

you just keep repeating all of it again and again like in the movie "Groundhog Day."

When you are recovering there is not much to do but recover. You can't skip this part. You have to go through this to get to where you want to be. It's kinda boring. It's real boring. It's kinda lonely too but you don't really feel like talking to anybody, cause you're tired and you might have to poop, unexpectedly.

You miss doing the regular things, the little things that are part of your routine that you take for granted but now you miss,

like driving your car, or going to the grocery store, or going for a swim or a walk or lunch or work. You miss the little things like getting dressed without it hurting, and not having attachments to your body that need to be monitored and emptied and fussed over.

It occurs to me right about now a little crazy that I am going through all this just so I can have boobs again, boobs that won't ever really look or act like my old boobs. It does seem a little crazy.

Maybe it's just cause I have too much time on my hands,

and all that poop I'm not pooping is making me delusional.

Your life is lookin pretty good right about now, ain't it?

Unwrapped

2012-10-10T16:58:00.000-07:00

I unwrapped myself today.
Unwound Ace bandages,
pulled on long ribbons of gauze,
emptied bloody drains
and took my first look.

Here's the latest incarnation of Flopsy and Mopsy. The expanders aren't inflated much yet; just enough to see a bit of fullness on my upper chest and a wee wee bit of cleavage. Haha.

Ouch.

Oh the joys of the first 48 hours after surgery, not sleeping, not pooping, bad sore throat still groggy just plain stupid stage.

They say you gotta go through it to get to it.

I like what Winston Churchill said.

"If you are going through hell, keep going."

Thank you Winston.

That ain't fruit punch Baby.

How was your day?

3 am

2012-10-09T04:17:00.000-07:00

Ah, the life of a breast cancer princess, after surgery. She goes to bed with pillows fluffed and ready to sleep on her back, she tucks heart pillows under each wing, and bloody breast drains into the pockets of her white camisole. Her nightcap is a Vicodin, followed by a stool softener chaser. And then she dreams, of perky breasts and new lingerie.

"Sleeping Beauty, oh Sleeping Beauty..."

The pain wakes.

"Wake up Bitch, we need our meds."

She stumbles and shuffles to get the pill and the sip, removing the cap of the prescription bottle. That's ironic, the cap is pink with a pink ribbon on it for Breast Cancer Awareness Month. She cannot escape the pink ribbon. She sips and waits for the good news to kick in, so she can return to a slumber filled with sugar plums and perky boobies of all shapes and sizes topped with whipped cream and a cherry, thank you Katy Perry.

3 am.

Yes, I remember this. You and I shared many nights together like this. Hello Dear Reader.

So the day that took forever to get here finally happened, and Flopsy and Mopsy have made their first real step out of the Kingdom of Lost Breasts, and into the futureworld of life after breast cancer.

Flopsy and Mopsy the Sequel is finally in production.

It was a hell of day and fairly rough start, sick as a dog from anesthesia, with nausea, dizziness and vomiting that rivaled the good ol chemo days. The Queen of the Glitch rode again when only the antibiotic was received at the pharmacy and not THE PAIN MED prescription. Never fear, Husband got on his white horse and remedied this for fear of his life. By night fall things were better, thanks to pretzels, Vicodin, Ativan, a Muffin puppy sharing my bed, a boy who cuddled me after I threw up, and a patient Husband bowing to my every command.

I am still all bandaged and packaged up, won't remove those for a couple of days to get a real look, but have already emptied bloody drains and taken a sneak peek. It's been almost two years sjnce I took that first hesitant peek of the emptied out Flopsy and Mopsy, and this time I spy a slight fullness. Where once a very concave top of my chest used to be, I now have a slight glimmer of cleavage where the expanders are. There was a very large fold at the top of Flopsy, where radiated tissue had tightened and pulled and created a canyon. Now I see the beginnings of what expanders will do. That fold is filled.

Yes my Sister Debra, you were right, it feels as if I'm wearing a life vest, under my skin. Yes Sister, you were right. My own built-in floaties. And many thanks Sister Teresa of the TMackQ, for your lengthy emails giving me the goods on what I might expect in the land of tissue expanders. And of course the President of my Fan Club, Faith and Hope, thank you Sister for being such a loyal follower.

My Sisters, you are still the starlight in my pocket.

Despite the pain and bloody drains and anticipation of constipation and 3am wake up call,

I see a glimmer of Flopsy and Mopsy leaving behind their pancake status, and returning to stitched fullness.

A glimmer.

That feels good.

What feels even better?

Having that day behind me.

Today will be better.

Ah, the meds are kicking in.

See you on the flip side.

Thank you for praying me and loving me through it.

You schedule your mammogram yet? It is Breast Cancer Awareness Month you know...

Surgery Eve

2012-10-07T20:38:00.000-07:00

Thank you very kindly to my friend Kim, nope not American Cancer Society Kimberly, and nope not Relay Kim. Affectionately known as Uncle Kim, an old friend from back in the day, who graciously used his travel rewards to get Husband and I a room in Palo Alto the night before my surgery. Thank you Courtyard Marriott for the free wi-fi, so I could talk to you tonight.

The Husband and boys in the house will tell you I was cranky today. Uh huh. Yes I confess. I had all kinds of nervous energy whose only salve was a vacuum and bossing boys around. Oh and thank you Javi for the hug and an offer of a french fry "It's fresh Mama."

Yes I am relieved to get this show on the road, but it brings up a lot for me. When you're a cancer survivor, no matter how hard you try, there is always a tendency to look over your shoulder and worry about the what if's. This is the first time since my bilateral they'll be opening me up. I surely hope and pray the good guys have been winning and the bad guys are nowhere in sight. This I pray. Hear my prayer Lord.

I am not a morning person, never have been, so a 6am check-in tomorrow morning sure makes me anxious, but at least we didn't have to travel from home to Stanford the morning of! My last morning appointment with the plastic surgeon took just over two hours to travel there, because of commute traffic.

I have the usual pre-surgical instructions, nothing to eat or drink after midnight, and stop use of any NSAIDS and fish oil one week prior to surgery. I've been instructed to shower with a special disinfecting soap bar they gave me; it's wrapped in foil and looks like a brick of butter. Will be buttering up later.

Yesterday being Zac's birthday was a great distraction for me, today not so much. I got a little weepy earlier today, I suppose anticipation, excitement and dread all stuck in my throat.

I made the mistake of watching a plastic surgery video of tissue expander surgery a couple nights ago, yikes Baby! Poor ol Flopsy and Mopsy, getting filleted like salmon again.

It's an outpatient procedure, which means I'll be in recovery longer than I'll be out! I plan on blogging regularly again throughout this process, so stay tuned for all the fun.

Writergirldreams rides again.

Please send me all your good thoughts, prayers, moco chocolatte ya ya and whatever else you got that might be helpful.

Got courage?

I seem to have depleted my supply.

Send back up.

Ok everybody,

here

I

go.

Set me free Doc, carve until you set me free of this body that still looks like Cancer Camp.

Set me free.

Happy Birthday Psycho Baby

2012-10-06T18:25:00.001-07:00

His cousins nicknamed him "psycho Baby" when he'd get an evil look in his eye, and chase them around our house and growl.

He turns fifteen today.

His brother loves him.

His Daddy loves him too.

He makes me laugh.

I could not have survived Cancer Camp without him. I never thought at 12 years old, he'd become a caregiver for his Mama.

He is everything to me.

He is everything to all of us, we waited for him, especially his big Bro.

I am blessed as a two year breast cancer survivor,
I'm still here today,
to bake his cake for him.

Zac, I love you so much Son.

I pray wherever your path takes you in your life,
you always know
how very much you are loved.

Happy Birthday Son,

love Mommy

Under Reconstruction

2012-10-05T23:59:00.001-07:00

So Monday is the big day for me, after almost two years flat.

I'm anxious.
I'm excited.
Not sure what to expect regarding pain or recovery,
or how I'll look.

This is only the first phase and plastic surgeon has cautioned me, don't expect much. This is just a prepping stage. It's going to look strange.

I feel a little like "Sally" in "Nightmare Before Christmas."

Have you made your mammogram appointment yet?

If my blog inspired you to do so, will you let me know?

Sometimes when I'm going through this stuff,
it helps to know that because this happened to me,
and because I wrote about it,

it inspired you
to leap.

The Old Me - October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month

2012-10-04T14:23:00.001-07:00

Self Portrait, just before starting chemo

Sometimes I miss her, that me, up there.

I miss my old body, even my not so perky Flopsy and Mopsy. I miss stuffing them into a bra, I miss making sure nipples were both pointed in the right direction LOL, I miss what was once my body.

Sometimes I don't know this me. This body is foreign, and feels foreign, and sometimes, I just don't feel like me.

Hearing the words you have cancer is hard, but moving forward as a survivor has its own challenges.

I have found that the more I look back, to the life that is gone, the more I suffer.

Lord help me everyday accept where I am today, accept my new body under construction, and remind me, when I need it, that all of this,

is better than the alternative.

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

Take good care of you.
Do what you need to do.

A mammogram may seem scary, but lemme tell you Honey,

it ain't nothin compared to Cancer Camp.

Just do it.

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month

2012-10-03T15:18:00.000-07:00

Can't wait to get rid of these things and get my new "foobs" aka fake boobs.

Prevention is the goal, but if we knew for sure how to do that, nobody'd get breast cancer.

Early detection is huge and can save your life, not to mention a pass on cancer camp. Hearing the words you have cancer is never easy, no matter what stage you are, but I sure as hell would rather have been diagnosed while I was still a Stage 0, 1 or 2.

Looking for a mammogram alternative?

Check out thermography. It's not meant to diagnose, but might be a useful tool without radiation to monitor changes in your breasts.

Whichever route you choose, just do something.

Know your breasts.
Be proactive about your health.
Stop procrastinating with your wellness.

And for gosh sakes,
if there is a history of breast cancer in your family,
be diligent, vigilant and informed!

Please.

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month

2012-10-02T23:01:00.000-07:00

This is one of my last photos of the original Flopsy and Mopsy. I sure do miss those fat bunnies.

1 in 8.

One in eight women will be diagnosed with breast cancer in their lifetime.

I've said it before, and I'll keep sayin it,

I hope I am the one in your eight.

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month

2012-10-01T23:39:00.000-07:00

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, and I'm gonna drive you crazy with this shit all month long.

I never ever in a million years want you to walk the path I had to walk.

Unbelievably, there are some of you, and you know who you are, very close to me, who are way way behind on the mammogram train.

For God's sake, just freakin do it.

This shit sucks.

Stepping Off

2012-09-28T14:14:00.000-07:00

Step Off:
The command that tells the band to start marching forward.

Well, after almost two years living flat, I am finally stepping off.

Meet my new surgeon. Dr. Gordon Lee.

Stanford Baby!

Surgical pre-op, Tuesday October 4th.

Surgery to implant tissue expanders into Flopsy and Mopsy, Monday October 8th.

Gulp.

Click here to read about tissue expanders after delayed breast reconstruction.

We cannot become who we need to be by remaining what we are. Max DePree

Benicia Relay for Life! My last Relay speech this year!

2012-09-27T12:04:00.000-07:00

I did it!

This was my last speech given as a 2012 Hero of Hope! Wow what a Relay season! It was great to be home, at my kids' high school, and among so many family, friends, Panther Band students and parents. It was a cold awesome morning, and I was so blessed to share it with Cara and family, and my coworker Liz, also a breast cancer survivor!

Liz and Cara with me! Yay!

These luminaries, made by my friend Kimberly at ACS, glowed through the night this year at the Fairfield Relay, Vallejo Relay and then made their final appearance at the Benicia Relay. I had to retire them Kimberly! They were ragged but loved after all three Relays!

Luminaries, for Mom, Cara, and me

Adam and Cara

Zac, Adam, Cara and me.

Until there's a cure...

Celebrate, Remember, Fight Back

I thoroughly enjoyed my year as a Hero of Hope for ACS! I met so many wonderful survivors and caregivers and volunteers. It was an incredible honor and healing experience to be able to tell my story, and get so much love in return.

Thank you ACS. Thank you to all the wonderful dedicated Relayers I met. RELAY NATION.

I did it!

Time flies

2012-09-24T23:28:00.000-07:00

Two years ago today I received my final chemo infusion, after five long months of it.. Time flies when you're having fun. And alive.

I will miss the taste of chemo, I will miss the blood return, I will miss the grogginess coming over me in minutes, like a warm blanket suffocating my head and closing my eyes without my permission. I will miss watching the drip drip drip of overkill to save my life. I will miss the cold sips of ice water out of a paper cup. I will miss peeing hooked up to a rolling IV, in the intermission between pre-meds and the hookup of da good shit. I will miss the strange colors and odors of my pee during and in the days after chemo. I will miss the stool softeners, the Ativan, the Vicodin. I will miss the seven days of shots for four weeks following each round of AC. I will miss the exorcist Port, and the PICC snake slack making its home in the tender skin of my arm. I will miss the constipation. I will miss the nausea and the vertigo, the fog and the fuzzy logic. I will miss the aversion to red kool-aid liquids, reminding me of AC.

And let's not forget the hair, falling strands turning into clumps turning into skeins turning into dead dreadlocks turning into a sore and tender scalp turning into bald as Kojak.

September 24, 2010

Vallejo Relay 2012 - Closing Ceremony

2012-09-20T12:35:00.000-07:00

Oh dear me, I am really behind on the blog while keeping up with my life! For those of you interested, here is my speech at the closing ceremony for Vallejo Relay for Life! Yay!

A special thank you once again to my friend Kim Cooper who invited me to my first Relay, and was a big part of events that led to me being a Hero of Hope for ACS. Thank you Kim. Love you.

Thanks to the love and support of many friends, family, and coworkers who I consider both, I raised $1,000 for the Vallejo Relay this year. Thank you so much, one and all!

Coming soon - Opening ceremony video of my speech at Benicia Relay, as soon as Adam gets it loaded on to Youtube. Come on Adam!

My first Relay, summer of 2010, 4 months into chemo