My Fabulous Boobies!

Not all women choose reconstruction after mastectomy; the options are many - Health - MiamiHerald.com

2012-01-31T04:55:00.000-05:00

Not all women choose reconstruction after mastectomy; the options are many - Health - MiamiHerald.com

BY ALEXIA ELEJALDE-RUIZ

CHICAGO TRIBUNE

It had taken some years for Nicole McLean to embrace her God-given breasts, ample at size H cups. So when, at 39, she was diagnosed with stage 3 breast cancer and told, despite her adamant protests, that mastectomy was the best option, McLean never hesitated to pursue reconstruction.

For Barbara Kriss, a second breast cancer diagnosis three years after her first left her eager to do anything to prevent a third. So, at 57, she had both breasts removed — and rather than put her body through any more surgery, she let her chest remain flat.

Deciding what to do about breasts post-mastectomy — implants or natural tissue reconstruction, breast forms or nothing at all — is among the most personal and emotional choices women make in the breast cancer battle.

Some doctors and advocates worry women don’t know all of their options.

A survey last year by the nonprofit Cancer Support Community found that 40 percent of women didn’t receive full information about reconstruction at the time of their breast cancer diagnosis.

“Losing a breast is like an amputation; women need to know that reconstruction is available for everyone,” said Dr. Christopher Trahan, plastic surgeon at the Center for Restorative Breast Surgery in New Orleans. His practice sees many women who were inaccurately told they’re not candidates for reconstruction.

Kriss, by contrast, feels that doctors push reconstruction for women to “feel whole” and don’t acknowledge that breasts aren’t so important to everyone. Kriss, of Miami, was eager to get back to her active lifestyle without further complications, so she asked her mastectomy surgeon to leave her breast-free chest as aesthetically pleasing as possible.

“I didn’t find it very upsetting,” Kriss said of seeing her symmetrical incisions post-mastectomy. Kriss, now 62, wears breast forms under her clothes and runs the nonprofit site breastfree.org to offer advice and prosthesis resources for women who choose not to reconstruct or want more time to think about it.

Federal law requires group health plans that cover mastectomy to also cover the cost of reconstruction, including surgery to balance an old breast with the new, as well as external breast prostheses. Deductibles and co-payments must be the same as those for other conditions covered by the plan.

Women choosing reconstruction have many options, though they may have to shop around to find doctors with expertise in more innovative procedures.

In addition to silicone implants, which are the most common reconstruction choice, doctors can create new breasts using living tissue from the abdominal region (called TRAM flaps) or upper back (called latissimus dorsi flaps), giving the new breast a live blood supply and much more natural look and feel than implants, Trahan said.

While natural tissue reconstruction is more invasive and entails longer recovery than implants on the front end, implants often require more surgery down the road: Half of women who get silicone gel implants for reconstruction have to get them removed 10 years later, according to the FDA, which also advises those with silicone implants to check for subtle tears every two years with an MRI. Implants also run the risk of capsular contracture, wherein the connective tissue overscars and can cause hardness and pain, and they are not advisable for women who must undergo radiation.

One of the most advanced natural tissue procedures is called DIEP, which uses extra tissue and fat without disturbing the muscles and therefore requires less recovery, Trahan said. Doctors can combine fat taken from the abdomen and hips to create a breast, which is helpful for thin women who don’t have much fat to spare or those needing to match a very large breast, Trahan said.

On the implant end, a newer innovation is the adjustable saline implant, which is put in at the time of mastectomy and gradually injected with saline every week, during brief doctor’s visits, until the correct breast size is achieved, said plastic surgeon Dr. Jeffrey Weinzweig. Adjustable implants eliminate the need for expanders, which are commonly required before having an implant inserted to gradually stretch the skin.

For McLean, who chronicles her experience on her blog, “My Fabulous Boobies” (fabulous-boobies.blogspot.com), getting a new breast was worth the long journey.

Because she required radiation post-mastectomy, McLean held off on reconstruction for 10 months, an “unbelievably difficult” period because the prosthesis she wore on her breastless side was smaller than her natural breast, and she was self-conscious about being lopsided.

Reconstruction, when the time came, was a 12-hour surgery for the TRAM procedure with an eight-week recovery at home. A few months later, McLean had her natural breast reduced to match the new one.

McLean, now 42, has no sensation in her new breast and the scars remain. But she likes that she can wear a halter top if she chooses — and a flatter tummy is a nice bonus.

“It was the only thing that I thought would make me feel more normal after everything I had gone through,” she said.

Read more here: http://www.miamiherald.com/2011/09/27/v-fullstory/2426079/not-all-women-choose-reconstruction.html#storylink=cpy

Why I don't care about a bald Barbie

2012-01-28T09:29:00.001-05:00

In case you've missed it, there has been a huge social media push for Mattel to produce a bald Barbie doll. [bald Barbie makes the news]

The supporters of this movement believe that the bald doll should be created in order to support children who have lost their hair to illness or cancer treatment. And to also help children to ease their fears and concerns when someone they love loses their hair due to cancer treatment. I think the intention is noble. I really do. But bear with me as I try to explain why I am torn on the issue.

I am an African-American woman. I am also a breast cancer survivor who lost her hair during chemotherapy to treat stage 3 breast cancer a few years ago. I wear my hair very short (nearly bald actually) and that is for two reasons. One, it looks good on me. And two, I have no patience to sit in a hair salon for hours every week to be styled and I don't have the money to support such a habit. Be clear, hair is a big damned deal for black women. A really, REALLY big deal. Ask Chris Rock about it. He produced a stunningly interesting documentary about some of the issues surrounding black women and their hair a few years ago. If you haven't seen "Good Hair" please do check it out. [Wikipedia link on Good Hair] I promise you that you will be stunned and amazed at the efforts that black women put forth in order to keep their hair perfectly coiffed. And the amount of money. Sisters will go into debt over their hair. Seriously.

(this is Nicole boobies-blogger)

The fact that black women spend 9 BILLION dollars on their hair should tell you just how deep the hair issue is for us. It is not a game. Hair matters.

And I know that hair matters for women of all ethnicities. In many cultures, a woman's hair is her crowning glory. Without hair some women feel like they are not a woman.

So, a bald Barbie doll for a girl like me, makes my heart swell with pride and crack with pain at the same time. Having the "right" hair not only affects how you look at yourself, but your job prospects, your love interests and how other people judge you. I don't want to seem dismissive of how much it can affect a child to lose her hair. It brings grown women to their knees. Believe me, I get it.

I understand that losing your hair can be so heart-breaking that you lose your sense of yourself and your beauty. Barbie dolls have fans in every age group -- from kids to grandmothers -- and we love Barbie because she is a stylized icon of American beauty. But that is where I am challenged about a bald Barbie.

Barbie is a concept of beauty based on European standards. Her features are distinctly white and "non-ethnic". In all honestly, that's fine. That is who Barbie is and we love her for that kind of beauty. Today, Barbie has ethnic friends (dolls created to reflect different races) However, Barbie's friends look like Barbie with a tan and a different hairstyle (still pretty European looking). That image of what defines beauty challenges me. A bald Barbie is still Barbie. A gorgeous and flawless face, with flawless skin and unrealistic body proportions. Taking off her hair still presents a little girl with very unrealistic standards of beauty.

Barbie, bald or otherwise, is still a reflection of a standard of beauty that is far more fantasy than reality. That comforts me (because that is who Barbie has been all of my life) and it challenges me (because I will never, ever look like Barbie). So a bald Barbie will be hairless and still represent unattainable "perfection". Does this help or harm a sick child who is even farther away from perfection than her healthy friends?

There is no perfection in cancer. Every scar, every surgery, every medicine, every treatment... changes who we are down to a cellular level. Removing Barbie's hair will NOT reflect those changes and challenges. It isn't possible to do so.

Will bald Barbie have scars? Will she come with props that include a hospital gown or an IV drip? Will a hospital bed become an option to purchase? The Barbie accessories are as important as the doll, as far as the experience goes. Will there be miniature MRI machines or radiation machines? Will Ken show up dressed in scrubs and present as Ken, doctor of oncology? I mean... all of those things are also a part of the experience of being a sick person who loses their hair because of cancer.

And since many of the purchasers and collectors of Barbie dolls are adults... can we get a Mastectomy Barbie too? A Barbie with tits that screw off perhaps? A Barbie who has the option to wear a prosthesis or sport her flat chest. Can she come with the requisite scars (maybe stickers would suffice so you could place them just so) and IV drips and hospital gowns? Is there a way that we can dial down her weight... to reflect the effects of the chemo? Or dial it up... to reflect the effects of other drugs and steroids?

See... just cutting off her hair sort of minimizes the entire journey. And while normally I'm all about taking whatever baby steps towards awareness that people can swallow... this is one that makes me very uncomfortable.

When I was in chemo in 2008, I came across a pamphlet advertising a doll for children of cancer patients. It was a soft doll (like a rag doll) and she had removable yarn hair. I believe that she was custom ordered so that her skin tone and her hair color matched the patient she was supposed to identify with. But since she was a cloth doll, she didn't have the exaggerated sexiness and cartoonishly perfect body that Barbie has. She was just a little rag doll with yarn hair and a scarf -- you could tie her head up with or without her hair. And she was totally adorable. In all honestly, I thought it was a fantastic idea and I felt that the dolls would probably make a lot of little girls really happy.

But Barbie? I'm not getting the same fuzzy feelings. I love Barbie. I spent lots of hours learning to play with hair and makeup on my Barbie makeup head. I was a girly girl who always wanted the newest Barbie accessories every Christmas. I must have had two or three Barbie houses, Barbie pools, Barbie cars and tons of those little stiletto shoes (that always managed to get lost). So, please don't take this long post as a bash on Barbie. She was a huge part of my childhood. I think of her fondly and I do still love her. However, I don't know about bald Barbie really helping the way that people are believing that it will.

Those are my thoughts. What are some of yours? Should Mattel go forward with creating a bald Barbie?

This toast is for the caregivers

2011-12-29T14:26:00.001-05:00

Over the past few weeks, I've shed tears for people I've never met but who I felt like I knew because I was friends with someone who loved them. All are people who lost their lives because of cancer and whose lives I only knew about because someone who loved them unconditionally chose to share their story (and their love of them) with me.

A new year will be here in a couple of days and as we all prepare to toast to the new year, and new beginnings... I have a toast that I must share.

This toast is to the caregivers. The watchers. The lovers. The siblings. The medical staff. The friends and the colleagues. This toast is for the friends who pray for us and support us when we cry or feel weak and get angry because of this disease. I salute everyone who has ever lost someone they cared about to cancer. Because I know... it ain't easy watching and caring for someone as their body changes and becomes something else. Even while their spirit and personality grows larger.

I say thank you... for loving me, for loving them. I say thank you... for tolerating my mood swings and my craziness. Thank you for hugging me, and laughing with me. Thank you for helping me to remember that I am bigger than this disease. Thank you for loving the other people who loved me too. Thank you for carrying my memory with you and sharing me with the world. Thank you for reminding me of how much God loves me by giving me a chance to share my life with you. Thank you for everything you ever said to make me smile. And thank you for letting me cry. Thank you for not turning your back on me... even as others may have.

Thank you. You made this journey so very worthwhile.

If you are, have been, or know someone who has been a caregiver to a cancer survivor... give them a hug and tell them thank you for your service and friendship. None of us get through this disease alone. It takes a team of medical staff and a team of personal friends and family... to help you fight back and keep fighting... even to the bitter end.

As 2011 comes to a close... for every person that the world lost because of cancer I would like to say to all of the caregivers out there... Thank you. Your light helped them to shine.

The beauty of tattoos and honoring my journey

2011-12-27T05:22:00.000-05:00

I am a pinterest fan. If you haven't tried www.pinterest.com, please do. Basically, pinterest is a virtual board where you can "pin" pictures of things you like that you see across the internet. It is a lot of fun and a cool way to visualize and categorize things you like in one place. It is also a social media site because you have boards created by other people that you can follow and if they post something you like, you can repin it to one of your boards. Its awesome.

I have several boards on pinterest and one is dedicated to images about being a breast cancer survivor. Another is of tattoos that I like. I have several scars that bear witness to my journey through breast cancer. I have a love-hate relationship with them. I am "slightly" vain (somewhere out there, roars of laughter are coming out). So, from that perspective, I sort of hate that they are there. Especially when I can clearly remember what my beautiful skin looked like before. But, I also love that they represent my struggle with cancer. The vanity is winning though and while I appreciate them, I want them to be prettier. And that's where the tattoo beauty is coming in.

To me, tattoos are beautiful and very personal works of art. I have two tattoos now and I'd like more. Because of the location of my scars -- across my lower belly, around my breasts and on my chest -- how I choose to accentuate (or cover) them will require a good eye and a great imagination. And also a fantastic tattoo artist. So... I'm on a mission to find the right art, the correct placement and the right artist to help me continue to recreate my vision of what a beautiful Nicole is now.

My beauty, much like my scars, will be my own. Very individualistic, very Nicole and hopefully very attractive to whomever gets to see them in the future. I'm not sure when I'll get it done, but I'm hoping to have a decision made by my birthday. As I've been trekking across the internet, I've come across some breathtakingly beautiful tattoos in remembrance of those who died from breast cancer, tattoos that cover reconstructed breasts, or just the scarring around breasts. And all of them have touched my spirit in some way. The reclamation of my beauty, of my femininity and of my life (including the dating portion that goes up and down, left and right) has been an epic journey. I'm finding myself... slowly and painstakingly to be sure but I am creating the Nicole that I want to be and that I want the world to know.

Nicole, the blogging breast cancer survivor, is a conservative rebel. I want to be known for who I am (yes, I know she changes often but that's part of the package). I do not want to be put in a box, or to have someone, anyone tell me who I have to be. I will be a moderately dressed, sexy lady in a beautiful dress and some killer heels... with skin covered in colored ink and breast cancer scars layered underneath. I am that. What you see is what you get and only the privileged will get to know the inner layer.

I like me. All of the contradicting beauty of myself. I am a rose with thorns, I suppose. If not for the thorns, my beauty might not be as appreciated. And I am slowly becoming okay with that too.

All I want for Christmas... is a cure for cancer

2011-12-01T05:42:00.000-05:00

Like most children, I loved Christmas growing up. It was a magical time and the anticipation of receiving all the gifts you asked for was fantastic. Christmas took on a bit of a somber tone for me when my grandfather passed very close to the holiday when I was 10. It still was magical, but just a smidge of sorrow was mixed in too. Of course as I grew older, stopped believing that Santa was real and generally shed that wide-eyed, glistening innocence of my childhood... Christmas changed a bit too.

I know that some people just love this time of year. As the year draws to a close and I start to focus on the new year that is coming... I find myself thinking about people that I miss, friends and family members that may have passed on during the year... and it gets sad for me.

I know that cancer isn't the only disease in the world that wrecks lives and changes the trajectory of life for those afflicted and affected. However, cancer is so far-reaching and widespread that it is difficult to take two steps without running into someone whose life has been affected and changed by it. Right now, I have a list of people that I pray for daily because they or someone they love is fighting this disease. The list seems to grow each month and it bothers me that we just don't have enough answers.

So... for all of you with the hotline number to Santa Claus... can you help me get a wish to him?

All I want for Christmas is a cure for cancer.

I really have been a good girl this year... Promise.

Thanksgiving Eve 2011...

2011-11-23T15:20:00.001-05:00

OMG... I feel awful. I feel sick. I am weak and a little wobbly. And more than anything... I am only slightly upset about it. Its Thanksgiving. Well, the night before Thanksgiving and I am reflecting as I reposition my heating pad on my back, and try to pretend that the smell of Ben Gay isn't giving me a headache. I feel bad because my menstrual cycle showed up yesterday. And... I'm more than annoyed that it came back less than a month after it left.

What is this? Two months in a row? Again with this madness? *deep sigh* I know some of y'all are pretty young and haven't hit a stage in your life where you no longer have a cycle but while I cried and was upset when I had my ovaries put to sleep three years ago when I started chemotherapy... *looking around sheepishly* I LOVED not having a cycle for two years. Freaking loved it.

Man!! You don't realize how much of a pain in the behind all of this cramping and back ache and bloating and PMS is... until you don't have it. *sigh* Oh well... I still love being a girl.

This post was supposed to be about what I am thankful for this year... and I suppose that as nutty and crazy as it seems, especially since I feel so freaking awful, I am thankful for my menses. Because it is normal for a woman my age to have them. Normal. That's what I am now. I am normal. Post breast cancer, regular ol' broke chick normal. I go on bad dates. I eat great food. I laugh a lot. I have a crush on a cute boy. I send texts. I write in my journal -- well, not exactly my journal, but I write down my thoughts. I look for a job, like everybody else in the unemployed world. I drink when I'm out with my friends -- or when I'm just feeling like a little something at home. I watch the Food Network. I am normal.

Isn't that just a blessing? Three years ago, I was fighting to be brave. I was "Weeping Wanda" who cried pretty much all day long. Now, I laugh more than I cry. I tell myself corny knock-knock jokes and fall out laughing as though Bernie Mac was giving me a personal comedy show. I worry about wearing the right shoes, or the right dress... which earrings to wear... all of that silly stuff that just fills up your day. I do that now. I don't have to go to the hospital every few days. I could go on and on.. Granted, normal is different now but it is mundane, just like every one else's life.

I think that finding normal has made me the happiest that I've been in three years. And for that... I am thankful and grateful.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone. I am grateful and thankful for your presence and your support. You rock!!

~Nicole

What I'm reading now: The good girl's guide to bad girl sex

2011-11-22T04:00:00.000-05:00

I have a personal theory about why nerds make good partners. Besides the obvious (assumed) reasons -- they are smart, they will be loyal, they probably will make good money -- my theory that nerds make good partners is based solely on the notion that nerds know that they are nerds. The bad boy and the player... know that they are attractive. They work diligently to look great, to be smooth talkers and to dress the part. The drive the right cars (or motorcycles) and they tend to have this delicious swag that makes you catch your breath when they pass you by. For those guys, the work goes into the appearance.

Nerds are different. Nerds know that they aren't the flyest guy in the spot. Nerds are naturally inquisitive and they tend to be studious. They apply the same enthusiasm they have for a new subject to someone they are interested in. They learn you. From head to toe, inside out... they figure out what you like, what makes you smile and they work to perfect those transitions so that even if they aren't the flyest guy, they know that they can make you happy.

I've also learned, that nerds tend to apply that same fastidiousness to their sex lives. *eye brow raised* Yep, I'm telling y'all the truth right now -- so take notes.

Next time you're hanging over your favorite nerd's house, check out his library. If he's really a true nerd... somewhere in there (might be hidden from view) there will be books, videos and other tutorial aids that will help him figure out how to get YOU where you want to go. Ever hooked up with a guy that you weren't completely sure about? He was nice... but something was sort of missing? And then, he kissed you, or he brought you your favorite flowers, took you to your favorite restaurant... complimented your new lipstick, hairdo... something small but it was powerful? He may have complimented you with a sincerity that made you blush. And if you stuck around with that nerd, perhaps... he blew your socks off when you got to the bedroom. You were sitting there, curled in a fetal position with your thumb in your mouth trying to figure out when Clark Kent turned into Superman?

(sigh) Yep. I've been there. :) *That's why I like nerds*
So... for the nerdy girls out there -- though with girls, its not usually that we're nerds as much as we're stuck in the "good girl" zone. Personally, I think that whole damn term "good girl" needs to die. Like now. At any rate... if you're stuck in the good girl zone... and you're wondering how it is that so many chicks just seem to naturally connect with their inner sex-pot... well, you need to pick up this book.

"The Good Girl's Guide to Bad Girl Sex" written by Barbara Keesling.. is actually pretty good. (laughs) I bought it on the sale rack at some book store just because the title was hilarious to me. But... the author has done great job of breaking a lot of things down. She addresses how to dress, how to walk, how to talk and she also gives detailed (though not embarrassing) instructions on how to get to know yourself.

I highly recommend picking up a copy of this little book. It has some good stuff in it. Being a breast cancer survivor, some days its a challenge to connect with my inner sex kitten. Sharing my body with someone has so many emotional mines that it can be really hard to keep my head in the game. Literally. So, I read books like this, to reconnect with my body and stay intune with my innate sexiness. Despite what happened to my body on this journey to wholeness... I am still a very sexual person. (Plus, my hormones won't let me forget it even if I want to try) I connect with my inner nerd and I'm trying to be Lois Lane for my next Clark Kent... I can't be the only one curled up with my thumb in my mouth.

**Note: Nerds and shy guys are not the same thing. A nerd can be outgoing or shy... if you've got a shy nerd on your hands, you might have to work a little bit harder to get him out of his shell. Personally, I don't date shy men. Its too frustrating for me. But, plenty of my friends are shy and date shy guys... so don't discount the shy fellow. Just find a way to connect with him and watch him blossom under your attention. **

Chapters:
Bad girls feel good about being bad
Bad girls have sex on the brain
Bad girls dress the part
Bad girls walk the walk
Bad girls know how to talk sexy, in and out of bed
Bad girls know their bodies
Bad girls touch and tease
Bad girls love to climax
Bad girls play with toys
Bad girls break all the rules

I'm telling you... its a good book. I am currently trying to figure one thing out... and when I do... watchoutdernow!!

The perspective of what freedom costs...

2011-11-17T08:41:00.001-05:00

We've all heard (or said) that freedom isn't free. Somewhere, someone is paying the price for the freedom that we may take for granted. This saying is usually said in appreciation of the sacrifices that our military makes on our behalf. And they do deserve our compassion, support and understanding. No doubt.

But, we can also look at what we gain when we lose some (or all) of our freedom. A prison isn't just a place with four walls and guards. Some of us are imprisoned by our minds, our circumstances and our bodies. The freedom of believing in yourself, of having the opportunity to follow your dreams or to simply walk on your own, or raise your arms over your head... cannot be underestimated.

I am coming to a place of peace in the journey with breast cancer. I do still have questions and moments when I look around and just wonder ... what in the hell? But, peace is coming to me and settling on me. I have moments when I look at a commercial or a television show and I watch a young woman do something as simple as lift her hands over her head and perhaps sway to some music... and I sigh. I took that simple motion for granted my entire life... until after I had my mastectomy and I couldn't reach up with my left arm. Today, my range of motion is much better, though I have to constantly massage and exercise that arm. I can lift both arms over my head but its not quite the same. The motion is not as fluid and I "feel" it more. But... I am free from cancer. So, the price of my freedom was losing a bit of my gracefulness and a smidge of my motion. Was it worth it? Absolutely.

I often have moments when I look at women with full breasts, or deep cleavage and I mentally flashback to my days of larger breasts and exorbitant cleavage (laughs). I sigh sometimes and I think about where I am today. My boobies are still a nice size -- do not feel sorry for me -- but these boobies are not the same boobies that I had. I took that freedom for granted. I didn't appreciate all the ways that my breasts helped me to feel like me. I always just knew that when I had kids I would breast feed and then after that, I would consider a breast reduction. And today... even if I could have kids, I can't breast feed. But... I am free from cancer. So, the price of that freedom was the loss of one breast completely and the reduction of the other. I lost a bit of my curves in profile and also the frustration of not being able to fit certain clothes because of my breasts. Was it worth it? Was the price for my freedom too high? No. It was not.

Today, I read a blog post written by an incarcerated murderer. He is in a program for incarcerted men that teaches them technology and partners them with a company in the Silicone Valley so that they can learn about technology and possibly gain employment after their release. These men are now embarking on a blog journey to share their stories with the world. While I'm not the bleeding heart softy that many people are, I do believe that you can learn from a variety of sources. The post that I read today was about freedom. "Doin' time or usin' time" And the post actually opened my heart today and reminded me that it all is about perspective. While I do not sympathize with this man... he took someone's life and for me, its just hard to come back from that... I do appreciate that he is learning that the price he's paying for that brutality is freedom. The same freedom that he took from someone else.

Today, I am accepting that while my body is not the same and never will be the same... the price that I paid for my freedom wasn't too high. Wasn't too much. And if I were faced with the same choices, I would make them all over again. I would cry in the same places, feel the same heartbreak and accept that sometimes you have to give something up, to gain something better. Freedom ain't free.

Do not allow the prison of your mind, your circumstances or your body... keep you from loving your life, from living your life and from being a blessing to someone else's life. Pay the necessary price for your freedom... and then USE IT!

My things have been returned...

2011-11-16T13:54:00.001-05:00

A few weeks ago I wrote about my frustration and disappointment that my purse and my shoes were "lost" in the back of a cab. You can read the story here: http://fabulous-boobies.blogspot.com/2011/10/on-faith-blood-and-being-completely.html

Well, this is a praise report. I have had all of my things returned. Every single thing. My purse was returned in its entirety and my shoes. While I still do not know why the cab driver chose to leave me stranded on a cold, rainy night I am truly grateful that my prayers were answered and he turned in my things. My faith in people has been restored.

While I was at the Taxicab Commission's office to pick up my items, I had a brief conversation with the lady who held my items for me. She offered a theory as to why the cab driver left me. She told me that some of the drivers are afraid of patrons who need to stop at an ATM or who are going a long distance. She told me that many of the drivers believe that if a patron needs to stop, they will run and not pay. Or they may be setting them up to be robbed. Though she did not mention race in her explanation but I still feel that race played a part in this situation.

I've had my things for over a week now and it took me some time to gather my thoughts about this situation and come to a place of peace and not anger. I suppose I should not presume that just because I was well dressed and coming from a place as fancy as the Kennedy center, that someone could not look at me and see a criminal. I sort of understand that. But I find it hard to imagine that if I were a different race heading across the bridge into Northern Virginia and had made the same request to go to an ATM to get cash so that I could pay the driver... I really doubt that I would have been left on that cold corner. But since I am not a different race and I don't live in Northern Virginia, I can only accept that for whatever reason... that cab driver did not want to take a chance on me. I suppose that he didn't realize that as a single woman traveling alone at night... I too was taking a chance on him.

Look, I know that we live in a world where people will try to take advantage of you. I know that probably better than many people do. I struggled with whether to deal with this gentleman directly. While at the office, the lady gave me a copy of the form that the driver completed when he turned in my things. The form had his real name and his full home address. She gave it to me when I mentioned that I asked him to stop so that I would have enough money to pay him and when she realized that he wasn't paid she offered me his address so that (if I chose to) I could send him money to pay him.

*slow blink*

I smiled sweetly, folded the paper and put it in my purse. My immediate thoughts were far from sending him a thank you note and some cash to cover the few blocks that he drove me before leaving me stranded and helpless late at night on a DC street corner. But after thinking about it for some time, and praying about it daily... I have decided that what I can do is to call it even.

I thank him for returning my things. He did not have to do that. But that is as far as I can go. I am a work in progress, I will admit that. Perhaps I should send him a few dollars and a note to say thank you for the effort of returning my things. I'm still not there yet. When I recall how I felt that night, and how sick and anxious I was that following week... and how I had to change my travel plans because my identification was now missing... there is still anger there. I'm just not completely there yet.

If more punishment is due him or to me, karma will have to take care of that. At this point, I simply wish him peace and blessings and some understanding that not every person is a criminal trying to take advantage of him.

Returned: One vintage purse given to me by my mother.
Returned: All contents of said purse, including makeup, cellphone charger and ear buds.
Returned: One fabulous pair of Betsey Johnson shoes.
Restored: My faith that people do have some compassion for other people.

I am blessed. And I am thrilled that I have my things back. God remains a wonder to me.

My new daily habit: detox tea

2011-11-12T05:27:00.001-05:00

If we're Facebook friends then by now you've noticed my many statuses about my regular consumption of detox tea. I drink tea daily... and I rotate which type of tea I have, depending on my mood. Some days I'm all over ginger-peach. Other days, its chai -- oh, how I love chai! But lately, I've been alternating between detox tea and senna tea. Senna tea is a mild laxative (hate to be gross but.. eh) and it helps keep me feeling "light" on the inside. (laughs) But, as much as I believe that detox tea is good for the body... I didn't find any that I enjoyed that much.

Until I found "get clean" by The Republic of Tea. I am a Republic of Tea fan thanks to their very wonderful and tasty ginger-peach tea. It is FABULOUS! But this detox tea is now my new favorite thing.

Seriously.

It has a mild flavor with a little hint of sweetness... sort of an almond flavor to it. It is rooibos tea with milk thistle and dandelion to cleanse the liver. Its supposed to have a ton of anti-oxidants and all other yummy, good-for-you stuff in it. But what I can tell you is that with just a smidge of agave nectar, it is absolutely refreshing. I really can't describe it, but I just feel better after a couple of days of drinking this tea.

The road to eating clean(er) and healthy(er) for me is a very bumpy one. I like yummy food. I like having an "adult beverage" somewhat regularly - including wine, martinis, margaritas and other tasty concoctions. I like fried chicken and sweets like donuts, and cake and pies. In other words... I constantly struggle with balancing eating well, with indulging in what I like and what brings me comfort. Even after reading so much information about what's in our foods and how different things affect our body and our health... sometimes... a donut just whispers my name. Or one of those soft pretzels from the mall. *hangs head in shame... yes, I had one the other day*

So, to balance my up and down eating habits -- I do eat lots of yogurt, fresh fruit, and vegetables -- I drink my teas. If you're looking for a detox tea to try, I highly recommend trying the "get clean" by The Republic of Tea. I don't think you'll be disappointed.

Oh, be sure to read the label and know that you are not allergic to any of the ingredients in this product. I've read about some people having allergies to milk thistle. And, due to the inclusion of the almond flavor, this is not a product for people with nut allergies.

**This was not a paid/compensated post. This is truly my personal opinion.**

What I'm reading now -- Body Toxic (Nena Baker)

2011-11-07T09:32:00.000-05:00

I'm always reading something... I don't always finish what I'm reading but I've probably got 20 books in some stage of absorption right now. I'll continue to blame the chemo for my short attention span... and keep it moving (laughs).

I picked up a copy (picked up being a euphemism for strolled through Amazon.com) of The Body Toxic: How the hazardous chemistry of everyday things threatens our health and well-being. And in the first few pages I was smacked dead in the center of my eyes with a whole lot of stuff I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

I have a personal theory that our world is just so chock full of crap that its slowly killing us. I have no proof for this theory. I have no scientific background which I could point to that says... "you might be right Nicole". No, I have none of that. All I've got is this feeling... and I know that its lame to just have a feeling but eh. Its all I got right now, so I'm going with it.

This well-researched and clearly laid out book actually shows me that my non-scientific feeling could be very dead on. Even as our government agencies slowly do away with certain chemicals, their effects manage to continue to leach into our environment and accumulate in our bodies. The first few pages and chapters of this book are frightening. Clean living, healthy living, being diligent about what you eat, working out and all of that... doesn't stop these toxic chemicals from finding their way into our bodies. Though it can reduce our toxic load. And that is a step in the right direction.

I won't give away all of the great information in this book but if you are remotely concerned about how our environment affects the chemical load in our bodies -- and how that toxicity can affect our health -- please do yourself a favor and pick up this book.

Let me add... it gets a little heavy -- all the names of all of chemicals became a little confusing for me -- but the information is startling. The writer did a great job of providing a good historical background that explains how we got to this place and she offers reasonable suggestions for you to consider if you want to take action steps to lighten your chemical load. She's not suggesting radical life changes... just a few small ones that may help. Things like eating organic foods, no microwave popcorn, and not using plastic in the microwave.

Honestly, chemotherapy has forever changed my perspective about what I put in and on my body. The days immediately following my infusions, I could SMELL the medicine coming out of my skin. I hated that sick smell and I got into the habit of soaking with Epsom salt to draw out toxins during that time in my life. So, the few little changes that she's suggested, are ones that I will be sure to implement. We cannot avoid all of the chemicals in our world. It simply isn't possible. But, if you're like me, any few steps that you can take to regain control (just a little bit) of your life makes a difference in your outlook.

I'll never wear a wedding ring

2011-11-07T07:21:00.000-05:00

I call breast cancer the gift that keeps on giving. (laughs) I say that very tongue-in-cheek because I am always finding new surprises around the corner that breast cancer has gifted me with. You know that I wonder about love and dating and marriage a bit... But the other day, in the midst of a conversation with some friends online I had a startling revelation: I will probably NEVER wear a wedding ring.

*gasp* Clutch your pearls. Swoon. Faint. Get some smelling salts... did I really say that? Yep. I sure did. But that doesn't mean that I won't fall in love, get engaged or get married... I mean very specifically... I won't wear a wedding ring.

You know how we women get all giddy and giggly at the thought of having the love of our lives gift us with the most perfect expression of his love? How we dream about and drool over these shiny little baubles? Well, I'm not the biggest jewelry lover. I like jewelry, to be honest. But I don't like a lot of jewelry and I'm pretty particular about what makes my heart beat faster and what is just... well, nice but not my taste. So, here's the revelation I had... I have lymphedema. (But you knew that, right?) And my lymphedema is in my left arm. And lymphedema brings its own challenges (cuz... breast cancer is that gift that keeps on giving) Some of the challenges are interesting. I have to be very cautious about protecting my arm at all times. I am cautioned to avoid insect bites, bumps, bruises and such. I can't have needles used on that arm. Neither can I have my blood pressure taken with that arm. Those are tolerable nuisances. *though that mosquito avoidance gets real tricky in August*

But guess what else? I can't wear a watch, a bracelet or ... *drum roll*... a doggone RING! So, I'll never get to experience that exhilarating moment when the love of my life presents me with the ultimate gift -- that the whole world is supposed to use as a barometer to measure our love. (laughs -- we are so primitive sometimes)

Honestly though? I just added another line to my list of "it would be nice if he..." qualities that I hope to find in the man I've been waiting for. The new addition to the list is..."it would be nice if he was a creative thinker and could come up with an expression of love other than an engagement ring" because while I'm all about being a rebel and bucking the system... I'd hate to get a ring and never be able to wear it because it aggravated my lymphedema and my fingers swelled up to look like mini bratwursts or something....

Just another day in the life of a sexy, single, childless, still dating (though dating stinks), funny, sensitive breast cancer survivor. *wink*

Any suggestions for other ways that my love-to-be can lay claim to me so that the whole world understands that I'm taken? I'm thinking perhaps a lovely necklace or a ring on my right hand. What do you think?

Ending Pinktober early

2011-10-31T08:38:00.000-04:00

I'm not exactly sure why this Pinktober has been so emotionally draining for me this year but it really has and therefore I am opting to end the "celebration" of things pink for October a day early and just call it November in my heart.

I'm done.

At the beginning of October, I changed my facebook profile picture to one of me during one of my chemotherapy visits hooked up to my line. I wanted to give people a quick glimpse into life behind the pink ribbons and such. Maybe that powerful image affected me more than I expected. I don't know. But what I do know is that this month has been an emotional roller coaster for me.

I've been all over the place and not in a good way. I didn't finish my manuscript when I had planned -- I found myself blocked and simply unable to write anymore. I haven't revamped my blog page -- again, I found myself stumped and incapable of making any decisions or writing any copy that made sense. I could go on listing all the ways that I've pretty much been mired into non-movement this month. My blog posts are way down, which means that my numbers are way down, which means that my money is way down as well. Sigh. I've been absent-minded and mentally preoccupied with all sorts of dark thoughts. I've been smiling on the outside but crying on the inside. My sleep pattern has been interrupted again, the insomnia is back. However, by the end of September I had gotten a hold of my insomnia issues and was sleeping through the night peacefully. Oh well. Now I have to start all over again trying to get things together.

My most recent traumatic experience with losing my purse finally convinced me that my mind is simply in turmoil. It might be because of something else but the most glaring thing that I can think of is... I'm sick of Pinktober. *shrug* So, I'm flipping the calendar ahead early. I need a fresh start and a wave of new energy to blow my way.

Come on November!! Bring all your blessings and cold air and renew my heart and my mind about this journey ahead of me. Maybe next year I will be in a stronger financial position and I can plan a happy getaway for the month of October.

What I'm reading now... Breaking the Silence: Inspirational Stories of Black Cancer Survivors

2011-10-30T08:25:00.000-04:00

Breaking the Silence: Inspirational Stories of Black Cancer Survivors, Karin Stanford, PH.D.

I received this book as a gift during the early days of my cancer journey. I will admit two things -- I don't remember who gave it to me, and I only mustered up the courage to open it a few weeks ago. The truth is that as soon as I received it and read the cover, I burst into tears. The person who sent it to me I'm sure wanted to encourage me and inspire me to see this journey as positively as I could. Unfortunately, I simply wasn't ready for it then. I was too raw and in too much emotional pain to read about someone else's chipper outlook. However, three years later I can say that it is a beautiful book.

If you don't know, I feel strongly about being a black woman who survived cancer. Cancer is a prevalent disease in the black community and we have a lot of ground to cover about awareness and eradicating fear about the disease. This book is a good one to give as a gift -- even if the recipient isn't quite ready to read about other people who survive the disease. The stories are reasonably short -- which is good -- and it is a lively read. Each voice is distinctive and filled with honest assessments about the journey with cancer. I recommend this book to anyone who wants to learn how other people view their particular journey with cancer.

Having an introduction by Nikki Giovanni is also a bonus. Although Nikki is one of my favorite poets, and she could write Happy Birthday and I'd think it was brilliant... (smile)... because she too is a cancer survivor, her words are particularly poignant and touching in this book. Because my world is all pink, all the time I think I gained the most from stories about different types of cancer survival.

Cancer is an umbrella term for a whole lot of diseases and a large number of these diseases affect black people disproportionately. It is important that we learn to face our fears about cancer and become much more proactive in our approach to health care. Many of us have lost a loved one to some type of cancer... these stories will help you put that loss into perspective.

Thank you to the kind soul who sent me this blessing. It was not in vain. The blessing just took a little longer than you probably expected for me to receive it.

Here's why I still respect and support the Komen Foundation

2011-10-29T06:26:00.000-04:00

I know that you've seen hundreds, if not thousands of pink ribbons. I know that you know that the pink ribbon is the mark of awareness for breast cancer. Perhaps this disease has touched your life -- a friend, a parent or grandparent, maybe your wife or girlfriend, co-worker, neighbor... or maybe yourself. If you're fortunate and very lucky, you only know about this disease on the periphery of your life. If you've been exempt from watching a loved one crumble under the emotional weight and devastating treatment then please know that I envy you greatly.

Millions of women around the world are changed because of breast cancer. We lose our breasts, our hair, our sense of femininity. Sometimes we lose our fertility and our confidence that the world makes sense. Some of us lose our mothers, our grandmothers, our sisters and our aunties. For too many, we watch this disease attack generation after generation of women... with frustrated anger because this ghost seems to be invincible. We watch helplessly as someone we love shows extreme grace and strength in the face of the possibility of death or a compromised and different life.

So a campaign like this one... with pink ribbons and charitable events and fundraisers and marathons... makes us feel better. Makes us feel that we are doing something, anything that is helpful. It gives us boxing gloves that help us swing back at an enemy that caught us off guard. As a survivor, I stand in awe of Nancy Brinker's accomplishment with the Susan G. Komen Foundation. I mean that sincerely. I know that there are many people and organizations out there who feel that the Komen organization has lost its way or isn't doing as much as it could do to change things. But, I don't feel that way. Not now anyway. And here's why...

I live in one of the most famous (and infamous) areas in the world. Everyone, in every country, if they are reasonably connected to the world at large knows that Washington, DC is the seat of power for the entire United States. It is one of the most powerful centers in our known universe. Things happen here that affect the world. And yet... in this most powerful city... black women diagnosed with breast cancer are more likely to die of this disease than our survivor sisters of other races and ethnicities. The DC metropolitan area has a large African-American community. While DC is a very diverse city, a large part of that diversity is black. For years, the nickname for Washington, DC was Chocolate City... a direct reference to the fact that the city was predominately black. Black and poor to be truthful. This region also is known for having one of the largest concentrations of middle - upper middle class blacks and some of the most wealthy black people in the nation have their residence here. We cover a wide range of socio-economic levels and professions -- entrepreneurs, government leaders, corporate executives, medical and legal professionals and more. In other words, we are everywhere, and if I'm honest, it is one of the reasons why I love my hometown so much. But our concentration in this region also serves as a constant reminder now that the disease that stole my breast and wreaks havoc with my emotions, also affects a whole lot of people. And that frightens me.

I regularly bump into breast cancer survivors and patients as I move about my area. And many of them are women just like me, young black women who never thought it could happen to them. Most of us don't have (or don't know) of a family history of this disease. We find ourselves diagnosed much later than our counterparts. We often have a strand of the disease that is more likely to kill us and we often have a strand of the disease that is the most difficult to treat effectively. Its different when you're a brown girl with breast cancer.

Why I respect the Komen Foundation goes beyond my admiration for their ability to build a global movement that literally changed the world's perspective about women's health. My respect for the organization grows when I realize that their work (no matter how you may view it) has an active effect on women (and men) with the disease. Seventy-five percent of the net money (not the gross) that the Komen Foundation raises in Washington, DC stays right here. It goes directly to organizations that play an active role in helping women deal with breast cancer.

From the Komen Foundation website regarding the National Capital Area Grants Program:

Through a competitive grant process, the Komen Global Race provides funding to not-for-profit organizations providing breast health services such as mobile mammography and other free or low-cost screening. In addition, the Komen Global Race provides grants to organizations offering treatment assistance and patient support services. All local grants are based on a community needs assessment that identifies and targets existing “gaps” in breast health and breast cancer services in the Washington, D.C. metropolitan area. We believe the key to eradicating this disease is through education, and we want to continuously spread our message of early detection. (Taken from the Komen foundation website)

I had the pleasure of attending the "Honor the Promise" Gala that was held on Friday, October 28th at the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts. Celebrities included Kerry Washington, Denyce Graves, Hoda Kotb, Jennifer Beals, Wolf Blitzer, and Betty Ford's daughter, Susan Ford Bales. Everyone was happy and spirited, dressed to the nines and simply effervescent. Pink ribbons, pink dresses, pink ties and pink accessories were everywhere. And all of it made me smile. But what really made me happy was learning that the Komen Foundation reached their fundraising goal for this past fiscal year. A whopping 2 million dollars was raised here in the DC area. So, of that 2 million dollars, up to 75 percent of the net will go to serve the under-insured, uninsured and low-income women (who are likely to be disproportionately black women). While I don't know how much of that 2 million dollars goes to cover Komen overhead... I do know that 2 million dollars is a lot of money that will go to a lot of reputable and credible organizations to do good work. This year, the Komen Foundation announced a 4.5 million dollar investment in breast health education and outreach programs for this area alone.

Because women in this area have the highest incidents of death from this disease in the nation the Komen Foundation decided that this area needed more help to educate women about breast health. An analysis done a year ago revealed that our health care system is highly fragmented and this fragmentation ends up becoming a barrier that keeps women from getting the help that they need to fight this disease. I learned this first-hand during my time in treatment during conversations with other sisters in treatment as well. Women were going from hospital to hospital to get the treatment they needed from different doctors. Hell, I experienced it myself -- though not as badly as some of my sisters in treatment -- when I found myself searching for physical therapists to help me with my lymphedema issues.

Can you imagine the frustration, the cost and the pressure of having one doctor at one hospital, another at a different hospital across town... getting surgery at a third hospital and then doing physical therapy in, perhaps, a fourth location? Can you imagine the frustration of trying to keep all of this information straight between hospitals and administrations? The chaos of dealing with financial issues? The costs of travelling between locations? What if you have to work? Just travelling back and forth, is a lot of time away from work. What if your colleagues and your manager aren't that understanding? The impact on your life is severe. And while you are piecing together your treatment options... remember that you are in the midst of treatment that makes you weak, fragile and fatigued. You're frail, vulnerable and highly inconvenienced while you try to get the treatment you need to survive. Now you see why a lot of women fall through the cracks.

If you're not one of the privileged with top-tier medical insurance... you are very likely to be shuffled from place to place. If you are lower income, maybe without a vehicle or reliable transportation... it gets to be frustrating.

So, while some of my more privileged and blessed pink ribbon sisters are tired of the pink ribbon campaign and they want to see a push beyond awareness into finding a cure... I am happy that the Komen Foundation saw fit to help the lesser advantaged among us to catch up and catch a break. I am happy that the Komen Foundation realized that a lot of women in my area simply don't know enough about breast health, about treatment options, and that even the medical community needed help to bridge cultural gaps that could be preventing women from getting the help they needed.

In other words, I am grateful that the Komen Foundation saw us here and decided that we were worth their attention.

While I probably won't attend anymore black tie galas (read the details about my night at the Kennedy Center), I will continue to raise money for the Komen Foundation and other local breast cancer charities. Many days I admit to feeling a bit of pink-fatigue. But I will not stop doing my part for awareness and I will continue to speak out about breast cancer's impact on young black women. My sisters are dying... I have to help anyway that I can. As long as the Komen Foundation does what they can to help other sisters, I'll do my part to help them.

On faith, blood, and being completely overwhelmed

2011-10-29T02:56:00.001-04:00

I just got home from a fancy black tie event at the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in Washington, DC. I've only been to the Kennedy Center a few times in my life but it is one of the premier event venues in the world. Artists and entertainers from around the globe look forward to participating in shows here. Going to the Kennedy Center for an event is a hugely big deal. When I received my invitation from the Susan G. Komen Foundation to attend the gala this evening, I was overwhelmed and excited. Of course, I would accept the invitation and I was sure that I would have a fantastic time with my date. Although, when I accepted, I didn't have a date in mind. (One of those things that happens when you don't have a boyfriend) Well, after asking a few friends and even my mother... it became painfully obvious that while I was excited about going to the Kennedy Center... I was alone in that excitement and I would be alone on the night of the event. I do a lot of things alone so, it didn't bother me too much. A little... but not a lot.

So, fast forward to the day before the event. I am feeling horrible. I'm flush, not exactly feverish but warmer than normal. I'm crampy. I'm cranky. I'm feeling just yucky. And then... out of the blue... my on again, off again... show up whenever it wants to menstrual cycle decided to make an appearance. That was a bummer. Since my treatment ended and after a 2 year hiatus, my menstrual cycle now is not like my menstrual cycle was before cancer. Before cancer, I was a 3 day girl...light to medium flow. My world didn't really stop when my cycle came on the scene. Now?? I feel like that little girl in the Exorcist. My body doesn't feel like it belongs to me. My head hurts, my back hurts, my stomach hurts. I'm nauseous and tired and achy all over. It is horrible. But the worst part of it all is that my flow is scary now. I am constantly slightly light-headed from the amount of blood that I lose during these horrible days (sometimes weeks) of my new crazy cycle. I used to hear horror stories about women who would lose so much blood during their cycles that they would be rendered useless during that period of time. (no pun intended) So now that it is my turn to experience this type of hell... I tend to simply remain still and quiet and just stick close to home. But... I felt an odd sense of obligation to attend this event even though I didn't want to go alone. I didn't want to wear the dress or the shoes that I had and I just didn't feel well. I went anyway.

The event was lovely. I ended up talking to two very important people who made me realize that there was an issue why this woman with an issue of blood pressed her way to this event. The first person I saw who was critical for me to talk to was a fellow pink ribbon survivor and blogger, Stef Woods. http://citygirlblogs.com/blog If you don't follow Stef, please do because she totally rocks! Stef wanted to discuss some new initiatives that she's interested in pursuing regarding women of color and breast cancer. So of course, I was all in. I mentioned to her how overwhelming the evening had been, how I didn't want to come and I was ready to go until I saw her and then *click!* just like that, I realized why I was there. I prepared to go home after she and I finished talking because I felt that I must have accomplished my mission and my cramps were so hard that I felt faint. A few moments later the lovely lady who had been sitting to my left very quietly, introduced herself and we began chatting. Turns out... she was the Deputy Ambassador to Ghana and a dedicated fundraiser for Komen Foundation. (smile) I breathed a prayer to God in thanks for this connection to Africa because my heart has been so drawn to that continent for so long that I knew sitting beside her was not luck or good fortune but a sincere blessing. She and I also shared a laugh about how much we didn't want to be out tonight -- it was cold and rainy and our beds really were calling to us but we both felt a compulsion and an obligation to show up and to represent for the millions of women and men who suffer because of this disease.

Imagine the horror I felt when I stood up to leave -- fancy shoes in hand, comfy ballet slippers on feet -- and I look down at my chair and realize that my friend was wrecking havoc and I was bleeding profusely. I excused myself to the ladies room, fleeing with my purse and my shoes in my hand. Thankfully, the bathroom was empty when I got there and I went to the farthest stall and sobbed. I was in pain. My cramps were horrible, I was bleeding everywhere and all I wanted was to get out of that very beautiful, very fancy event and go home. It was just before 11pm. I called my cousin and wept and cried because she would understand. I fix myself up, gather as much of a smile as I could and proceeded to leave. As I stood outside, I was thankful that the Kennedy Center is such a fancy place that they have a standing taxi line and I wouldn't be subject to flagging a cab on a corner in an otherwise very quiet part of the city.

Even though I sometimes feel like a fancy girl... trying to hail a cab in DC after dark is a great reminder that all things are not equal and racism is real. Cab drivers in this city do not like to pick up black people. Especially black people who live beyond the borders of the "acceptable areas" in the city. I am a black people who doesn't live in the city at all. I live outside of the city in the suburbs and its a nice ride from downtown DC. Ten to twelve minutes in the freezing cold and rain, I've been struggling to stand on my feet, to hold back tears, to not curse out the 2 inconsiderate women who butted in front of me in line to talk to their friend with not so much as a backwards glance to acknowledge my pretty brown face. *shrug* I'm used to it and yet, the sense of entitlement still makes me pissy and angry. But, my "issue of blood" was a far more pressing issue than the rudeness of two 20-somethings who acted as though just being at an invitation only event by one of the most prestigious charities was a privilege that perhaps only they should have been able to experience.

Finally, it is my turn to get in a cab. I tell the driver where I'm going, he simply continues on his phone call. When he hangs up, I tell him again where I need to go and the best and fastest way to get there. I ask him whether he accepts credit cards and he says no. I ask if he would mind stopping at an ATM on the way so that I can have enough cash to pay him. He says sure. Less than 10 minutes later, he stops in front of a Citibank and I slide across the seat to exit and run into the bank to get the cash I need. My mind is preoccupied and I leave my shoes and my purse on the seat, while I grab my phone and my wallet. Two minutes later -- because the machines were down and I couldn't get cash at that moment -- I step out the door and he's gone. He's gone. HE'S GONE!! I scan the street, I don't see him. I tell myself that perhaps he had to move around the corner so as not to hold up traffic -- yes, it is 11:15pm in a business area but I'm grasping at straws. But... he's gone. Nowhere to be seen.

My knees buckle just as the rain starts to fall. I'm tired. I'm alone. I'm in pain. And now... I have no keys, no ID, no fancy shoes and no purse -- which means that my issue is about to become a huge problem. So, the tears fall. And fall... and fall. After several attempts (read -- 20 minutes on hold), I finally get through to the cab company to report that one of their drivers had stolen my purse. Yes, stolen. Because there was no reason for this man to take off and leave me. I was not belligerent. I was not rude. If he did not want to take me to my home, all he had to do was say so and I would have gladly gotten out of his vehicle and gone my own way. But he said nothing and he left a fare -- which is against DC law -- stranded. After freaking out with the stupid guy at the cab company, it is now 45 minutes later and I'm cold and scared and still alone.. but I still feel awful and weak and lightheaded because my issue of blood has about another 20-30 minutes before I'm going to have a problem. Again. I can't think straight so I call my cousin. I try to call a girlfriend who is better versed in DC cab-ology but she's asleep. I call a friend who is working in the area because after flagging down 10 cabs... I realize that fur coat or not, diamonds earrings and all, gorgeous gold and pearl necklace be damned... at the end of the day... I am a bald-headed black woman who lives beyond the boundaries of the "acceptable" areas of the DC metro area. No one wants to take me home. I have money to pay. They don't care. When they stop... which is about every 5th cab, they don't want to take me where I need to go. I call my friend and he's working and not due to get off until 1:00am. That would be 2 hours after I left the event. I am cold. I am cramping and I'm about to have an issue... with my issue of blood. *Once again, breast cancer is the gift that just keeps on freaking giving!*

I call my father and he agrees to pick me up. It takes him an hour to get to me. I've now been crying, praying, rocking... and running in and out of the bank's ATM area trying to flag down other cabs from the same company when I can... for two hours. I'm mad. I'm sad. I'm pleading with God to just touch that man's heart and have him respond to the request to return my things. None of the above work. My feet are soaking wet because the little ballet shoes that I packed in my purse were canvas... and it rained tonight. Cold feet. Cold hands. No purse. No shoes. And no way to get home.

What a wonderful night. I feel very grateful that I was invited to attend this obviously big deal event. But I'm pretty sure that I won't be going ever again. So, let's count up the costs of the evening:

Spent: $30 to get to the Kennedy Center from my home.

Lost: one vintage leather clutch given to me by my mother (cost: priceless)

Lost: one passport

Lost: One pair of too cute Betsey Johnson silk dress pumps

Lost: one set of house keys

Lost: one extra cellphone charger

Lost: one pair of pink ear buds

Lost: *deep sigh* All of my Bobbi Brown makeup and Nars lip glosses (yes, I carry my makeup with me in case I need to reapply)

Lost: (and probably gone for a long time) My faith in accepting that people have compassion at all

Gained: A reconnection with a totally awesome pink ribbon sister

Gained: one more beautiful event at the gorgeous John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts

Gained: a wonderful connection to a very nice lady from Ghana -- a place I have wanted to visit for many years.

I think that before I go to sleep -- and I see percocet in my future -- I will pray for God to soften my heart because right now... I'm pretty much feeling like... pink ribbons be damned, this Pinktober has been on my last good nerve for the past 28 days and I cannot wait for November 1st to get here. I'm done with all this foolishness around pink ribbons while we skip over the hard parts about this wretched disease. I'm sick of being nice. I'm tired of smiling when I want to cry. I'm mad as hell that there isn't a cure. I'm disgusted at the disparities in treatment for minorities, research for minorities and I'm tired that people don't get it. Sitting at a table with people who were more excited to snap pictures in their pretty dresses and tuxedos because they were just happy to be someplace that "just anybody" couldn't get invited to was just about more than I could bear.

IT'S NOT ABOUT THAT! Its not. Its not. It is not about that.

I believe that if I have faith the size of a mustard seed that I can move a mountain. Right now... that's all that I have. Mustard seed faith. Faith that I will be restored with my things. Faith that people will start to wake up and realize that this disease is so much more than pink ribbons. Faith that people will have compassion simply because what they do affects other people. But I don't have a lot of faith right now. I have it... its just not abundant and overflowing. But the mountain that I am believing will be moved is the belief that showing up to a society event with celebrities makes you a change agent. I am going to pray for a softening of my heart and an increase in my faith.

And I will be calling the Yellow Cab company of DC a whole bunch of times this weekend... hoping to find my stuff because I simply cannot afford to replace what I've lost. I just can't do it right now. And I need my ID because I have to get on a plane in about 10 days. To follow my dream which will allow me to continue to be a change agent in this struggle against this wretched disease. Please pray with and for me.

Dating post-cancer stinks, but my friends make it better

2011-10-24T06:18:00.000-04:00

Newsflash: Dating stinks.

I swear, some days it feels like I've been on this single-go-round for 100 years. It is ridiculous. 2011 was supposed to be my year of trying new things, expanding my dating horizons and being open to finding love no matter where or how it showed up.

*gas face*

So, with that mindset I have accepted dates with guys that I wasn't necessarily very attracted to initially, but who seemed like decent people. And to be fair and honest, I've met some interesting and relatively nice people this year. But, no love connections. The other day I had yet another missed opportunity/messed up connection with someone and the weight of the disappointment just made me so tired. I mean, I literally just got weak. My knees buckled a little bit and I just went to my room and got in the bed. Normally, my reaction would be to get really angry or very sad. To walk outside and scream to heaven... something like that. But, none of that happened. This time, when the disappointment hit... I just felt weak.

(confession: I did get angry the next day)

A couple of months ago, I had a really very interesting and inspiring conversation with a male friend. He is someone that I went out with for a short time some years ago, but we didn't quite work. Years later, thanks to Facebook, we settled into an interesting friendship. This particular friend is now a newlywed and I have never seen or heard him so happy in all of the years that I've known him. *People in love are just too doggone cute and their excitement is infectious* I don't remember what prompted our conversation but he proceeded to tell me the story of how he met his wife and about their romance. It was a very touching story. While he was talking about them... I felt like he was reading my mind. Long story short, he and his wife met on a blind date. And neither of them really wanted to go on the date. But it turned out to be the best thing they ever did. A year later, they were married.

Now, had I seen this story on Lifetime or the Hallmark channel... I probably would have yawned and flipped the station. But because I knew how cynical this man had become with dating and I know how hard it is in this city to connect with good people... I was really encouraged by their love story. He told me his story to encourage me to remember that every bad date, every bad relationship has a purpose. Unfortunately, he also told me that I won't realize why until I meet the one. But when I meet the one, there will be no denying that he is for me and I am for him. That story has stuck with me and encouraged me when I've felt like completely giving up.

To be very honest, I'm still struggling with how I see myself. Some days I feel pretty confident and consider myself really blessed and happy. But most days, there comes a moment when I wonder...."is this it?" and I'm wondering whether or not a life without romantic love is what I have to look forward to. Usually just as I get to a point of fatigue and start feeling like the pitiful cancer-girl, I'll talk to one of my male friends and they remind me that dating woes are not limited to breast cancer survivors named Nicole. They encourage me to keep trying and to stay open but even better... they remind me that I am not damaged goods and I don't have to keep treating myself that way.

These friends are so encouraging to me as I regularly make them laugh or infuriate them with my complaints and tears and giggles about how tired I am of trying to get this dating thing right. I love my male friends (and relatives) because not only do they constantly remind me that despite how I may feel on any given day, I'm still a good sister... but they remind me through their lives that there are good brothers out there. And that is encouraging.

The end of the year is swiftly arriving and I am again reminded that God's schedule is never on my time. I don't know if I'm getting this dating thing right or wrong. Or if there is even such a thing. But I do know that I will keep working on just being open to meeting the right guy. I believe that he's still out there. Somewhere.

Pinktober 2011 is giving me the blues

2011-10-17T03:41:00.000-04:00

I was looking forward to October this year. Sort of. But now that its here, and halfway over I might add... I have to admit that I am sorely underwhelmed. In fact, I'm feeling downright funky about it. Pink ribbons everywhere I look. Sigh. Parties and fundraisers and celebrations... sigh. All I can think about is sitting in chemotherapy for hours hooked up to an IV.

On Facebook, I changed my profile picture to a picture that shows me hooked up to my chemo line. I feel that Pinktober is important. I think that it is important that people become aware of this disease and how wide the impact is. However, I really need people to remember that behind the pink ribbons and charitable events... are women and men who are struggling with this disease. People who are facing devastating choices in an attempt to save their lives. For those of us who do survive and then progress on to have wonderful and fulfilling lives... I know that very often we make this look easy. Know that its not. Its simple to brush aside the thoughts of the downside of breast cancer. And to be frank, I understand needing to do that. Focusing on human tragedy isn't pretty and who wants to run around feeling badly all the time?

But I wanted to say to you today... while you're going about your life purchasing pink items for your kitchen and your bathroom... grabbing pink ribbons to pin on your shirt collar... please remember that behind each ribbon is a human being. And more than anything they need your prayers and your support.

I remain fixated and hopeful that a cure for breast cancer will be found in my lifetime. I pray for a cure every day. I hope that you too will pray with me for a cure.

Yes... love through breast cancer is possible

2011-09-21T06:24:00.002-04:00

One of my favorite R&B artists, Musiq Soulchild, released a video for his latest single, Yes a few months ago. Just before Breast Cancer Awareness month. The video is a tribute to women with breast cancer. Musiq is an Ambassador for Susan G. Komen Foundation Circle of Promise.

The Circle of Promise is an initiative by the Komen Foundation to bring awareness and education directly to African American women. Because of our higher mortality rates with breast cancer, Komen has taken on the challenge to help eradicate some of the fear and ignorance that exists in the black community about breast cancer.

In his music video, Musiq Soulchild sings about a deep and unconditional love... a love that stands through the test of an illness like breast cancer and the changes that it brings (and the fear). For me, this video is affirming and heart wrenching. Affirming because even though I don't currently have a love like this in my life... I do know (and I remain hopeful) that it is possible. And its heart wrenching because the video is simply extremely well done. It is poignant and touching and true. It is the truth of the video... the shame about using a prosthetic, the anger, the fear, the weakness... that makes me cry every time that I watch it. And honestly, I watch this video regularly.

When I started this journey with breast cancer I had a guy by my side. And it did not occur to me that there would come a day when he wasn't there. But that day did come where we went our separate ways... and the pain of that aloneness weighed on my heart heavily. Its been awhile since we broke up and the pain of it is gone. Along with the disappointment. Watching Musiq help her cut her hair, hug her when she was raging, and be there to support her when she fell... was so bittersweet. I think about love a lot. I wonder whether I am lovable as I am. I wonder whether love will find me. And I wonder whether the man I do finally choose to love next... will be able to deal with all of this should the cancer decide to return.

It is that fear of recurrence that makes me hesitant about love. Nobody expects to have to deal with that sort of major life drama. And I constantly worry about the fairness of falling in love with someone knowing that there is no guarantee that the monster won't return. I just don't know. What I do know is that this video is amazing. Musiq has eloquently captured the essence of what love is and what love does in his lyrics. I know that cancer has a way of killing relationships. Any major trauma does. I know so many survivors who got divorced or broke up with long-term partners during their cancer treatment. And every time I think about that... I get sad. But, I also know that some relationships are strengthened because of the cancer. I know that some folks find another path to love, one that takes them through the cancer and into a deeper place that only their partner can understand. I try to keep those positive thoughts in mind when I consider that I just might... want to fall head over heels in love one day with a man as sweet and as kind to me as Musiq was in that video.

I have a lot of love in my heart to give to the right man. I'm ready to love again. Truly ready.

Video: Musiq Soulchild, Yes

Link: Circle of Promise

Time for the master cleanse... again

2011-09-19T05:38:00.000-04:00

I woke up the other day and I was FAT!

*gasp*

Okay. So... I didn't just wake up one day and realize that I'd gained a few pounds. But, it certainly feels that way. I don't know what happened... well, I guess that's not true either. I know what happened. But at any rate, I know that I need to get back on track.

The seasons are changing and that means that its time to cleanse. I try to do a detox cleanse every quarter/every season. Its a way to clear my head, clean my system of whatever junk and crap I've been dumping into it... and to jump back into healthier eating and working out.

I was going to say "if I've slipped" but I know me... and by now I'm pretty sure you know me too and its not "if I've slipped" but SINCE I've slipped. (laughs) I'm lousy about working out and eating healthy. But I do have good intentions.

I'll be back on the Master Cleanse in a few days. If you've never done it, I do encourage it. You will be amazed at how much better you feel after a few days (really its a week) of detoxing. In addition to the lemonade drink, I also soak in a bath with Epsom salts during the cleanse as well (actually, I do that all year round). It helps with the detoxification process as well.

I had a rude awakening because I looked at a picture of myself at the beginning of the summer in one of my bathing suits and then I looked in the mirror.

uh. Whose body is THAT?

*face twisted at the mirror, squinting trying to make it better*

Yeah. Gotta get back in order. Not now, but right now. Fried chicken wings when I go out and grilled cheese sandwiches when I can't sleep... wow. Yuck on my waistline. Suffering through insomnia and then not walking/running when I am awake... yeah, that's a good plan. (insert sarcastic look here) Drinking, drinking, drinking... did I mention drinking calories all the time? Ugh. I've been swilling on sodas, liquor, tea made with (gasp) SUGAR... ohhhh! I'm so ashamed. Ice cream in the middle of the night. Candy, popcorn... yeah. You name it and I've probably gulped it down, licked the plate and my fingers and reached for more.

*head nod* Yeah. So... when I woke up fat the other day... it was only because I've been looking at myself with one eye closed when it comes to eating well and doing the right thing. Right now, we're just looking at a little bloat around the middle and about 5-8 pounds but when you're already not really a small girl... everything extra is just EXTRA.

Oh well. Gotta do it. Its fall now and while I could hide in big sweaters and chunky clothes, I don't want to do that. Anybody else out there doing cleanses or other detox methods? What works for you?

What if my whole life has been wrong?

2011-09-08T07:55:00.000-04:00

"Don't die with your music still inside you. Listen to your intuitive inner voice and find what passion stirs your soul. Listen to that inner voice, and don't get to the end of your life and say, 'What if my whole life has been wrong?"

-Dr. Wayne W. Dyer.

I saw the quote above in one of my email newsletters today and it struck a chord with me. My family is grieving the death of one of my aunts. She passed away a couple of weeks ago and for me, its still tough to accept. She struggled with lupus for 15 years and ultimately, a rare autoimmune disease weakened her body to the point of death. Notice I said, weakened her body. Not her mind and not her spirit. As I understand it, she was able to let her sons know her last wishes and to let them know when she was ready to go. The rest of us may be still grappling with her death because it seems so sudden and unexpected, but I am very sure that my aunt died in peace.

Because of this unexpected loss, my mom and I have been discussing family and death quite a bit. During a recent conversation about last wishes and funerals she made the comment that she didn't want to die. As in, she never ever wants to leave this earth. I found that remark really strange, even though she's mentioned that before. Just seems strange to me to want to live forever.

I told her that I could die tomorrow and be ok. But of course, I say that as a relatively healthy young woman and not as someone who is currently facing the end of her life. Its very likely that if I were a metastatic breast cancer patient instead of a survivor in remission, I might think differently. However, right now, I'm not afraid of the end of my life. I'm just not. This world will go on whether I'm here or not. And I'm quite okay with that.

What does concern me is what this quote above mentions... my life ending and coming to the realization that I've simply done things all wrong.

*shaking my head*

Now, that is a frightening thought.

One of my current mantras is... Life is too short. I find myself saying that several times a day in response to everything from "should I eat this slice of pizza?" ... to "are those shoes really cute enough to buy?" and it covers all the space in between. Many times a day, I shrug my shoulders or shake my head and say... "Life is too short" and then proceed to go on with whatever it is that is making me pause. I am not living my life with the thought that I'm not worthy of this or that any more. I'm thinking big about a lot of things... and when I find myself getting comfortable with that, then I push a little harder at the edges and try to expand that thought more.

For example, I want to go back to school. I mentioned it to my best friend a few weeks ago and I explained to her why I was thinking about it. She was encouraging and yet cautious. When I told her the school that I was intending to go to she asked me to consider forgoing that effort and focusing instead on taking the classes that I needed at the local community college.

*shrug* Life is too short. I ain't doing it. (laughs)

Three years ago (before breast cancer), I may have agreed with her. I would have beat her to the punch about not going for a degree program and just taking a few classes to get the specific understanding that I wanted -- saving myself money and time which would allow me to jump right into the project that I'm planning. But now? These days? *shaking my head* Nope. I'm not going for that.

So, that big name Ivy school that I've dreamed of attending since I was a high school kid... yeah, I'm going for that. I hesitated at first because it will require me to relocate to another state. But when I thought about that for a moment, even that isn't a deterrent.

Look... life is too short. Things change in a damn instant. What I don't want to do is to find myself in a hospital bed one day, knowing that the end is close enough to touch and find myself asking..."what if my whole life was wrong?"

I can afford to risk and lose. But I'm betting on myself to risk and win. I will not live another day thinking that I'm living this life wrong.

What about you?

No kids for me...

2011-09-07T06:45:00.000-04:00

When you're a single woman of a certain age, inevitably the topic of children will come up in conversation. If you are a single woman without children, like me, also inevitably the question will pop up "do you want to have kids?" And if you're a single woman without kids who has been through breast cancer treatment... the answer isn't a simple one.

Prior to my diagnosis, I thought that I wanted children. I thought that the holdup in my life was that I did not have a husband. The year that I was diagnosed, I set out with all diligence to find that guy to complete the partnership that I desired so that I could have the child that my heart told me that it wanted. I can be honest in hindsight. I was terrified of the thought of being a mother. But, I did want that. I wanted to give my parents the grandchild that they really longed for. And I felt that I was ready to move my life into the next lane. I was an adult, fully grown and all that. It was time. Right?

Well... before I could get started on that journey I found out that I had breast cancer and the only thing that I could focus on was getting rid of the cancer. When I learned that the chemotherapy would probably kill my fertility I panicked. And then I researched my options. Time was critical and money was short... so harvesting eggs and all that just wasn't in the cards for me. The next best option was to have my ovaries put to sleep and hope that they resurrected after my treatment ended. And two years later they did. Only to stop a few months later.

So, now I am a relatively young woman entering menopause and while I enjoy the freedom of life without my menses, I did grieve the loss of having kids for months. I bring all this up today because the other day I had a brief conversation with a girlfriend who is contemplating having children right now and she asked me the inevitable question about my own choice to have children at this point. Because she's my friend I was honest with her. Its not going to happen for me. And for the first time in this journey with breast cancer, that reality doesn't make me weepy and sad.

Right now, I am healthy (relatively) and cancer-free but there is no magic mirror that will tell me whether it will always be this way. If I met my future-husband today and we were married and ready for a family within the next few months... I believe that I would still feel this way. No kids for me. I love children, I do. But it feels totally selfish to think of having kids knowing that they may have to deal with my cancer recurrence in the future. That's not the life that I want for my babies.

This statement may turn off the guys planning to woo me in the future. I am sorry about that. But I think that it will be enough of a challenge to just love me and be able to handle all the many moods of Nicole. I hope that loving me alone will be sufficient for my husband.

I am so ready for Fall

2011-09-06T07:57:00.000-04:00

This is probably the first time in my life that I am eagerly looking forward to autumn. But I really and truly am ready for summer to end. I like summer, I really do. It is one of my favorite times of year (spring is my all-time favorite season ever). However, it seems that this year I have answered more questions about this stupid compression sleeve than I ever imagined possible.

I hate this lymphedema CRAP!

I'm not mad with my friends or my acquaintances -- or even the strangers on the street -- who have inquired about my various sleeves. Just like this beautiful girl in this picture with her compression sleeve... it looks odd. I know it does. But I cannot help that. I have to wear a sleeve every day.

I have several sleeves that I interchange depending on my mood and my outfits. The only time I don't wear the sleeve is if I'm feeling really particularly vain -- going to a party or something and I'm wearing a nice dress -- and when I'm bathing or something like that. I have sleeves that are close (or supposed to be) to my skin complexion. I have a sleeve that looks like a sleeve of tattoos. I have a sleeve that is bejeweled with a very pretty and feminine design. All of that. And basically, all of my efforts to look fashionable are well... limited because at the end of the day my entire arm (and sometimes my hand too) is covered in a huge bandage. It is depressing some days.

I got used to wearing the sleeve soon after I started wearing it. Its not painful, and neither is the swelling in my arm most of the time. However, I'd be stretching the truth if I said that it was sexy or appealing in any way. *shrug* A girl has to do what a girl has to do.

I do my stretches and arm exercises. I massage my arm a few times a week. Usually with my hand but sometimes I'll use my large electric massage unit. But, I don't know... I guess I thought that after awhile this would go away. I know they said I'd probably be dealing with this for the rest of my life but I really thought that it would stop. That it would get better. That my arm would go down and I wouldn't have to maintain this crazy lopsided look. But... here I am a year later and the full realization that this could be forever is hitting me like a ton of bricks.

I've been upset for the past two weeks because my hand has been swollen. For me, that's unusual unless I'm traveling. The worst part of my swelling is in my upper arm area. About a week or so ago, my hand joined in the chorus and actually had the nerve to ache and hurt. *BLOWN!* I thought that perhaps I slept on it wrong. Or that it was a temporary issue because of the weather but when wearing the gauntlet didn't help immediately (the gauntlet is the small glove-like sleeve for your hand)... I had a deep revelation and all I could do was sigh. Once again, this mess is serious. I hate that there isn't a cure or a fix for this. I've been researching alternative options because I just refuse to go through this forever.

That's why I'm excited for fall to arrive. I need sweaters and long sleeve shirts. I need coats and long gloves. I need to hide this thing. At least for a few months. Long enough so that I can regain a little bit of mental freedom from breast cancer.

I've been shopping a little bit. Trying to prepare for the coming chilly weather. I haven't purchased a lot but I am keeping my eyes open for cute and sassy outfits that will allow me to feel sexy and hide this stupid sleeve. 'Cuz I'm sick of it.

~Nic

PS. I think the problem is that I've been over-exerting my left arm; carrying packages that are too heavy, working it out too vigorously... etc. So, I've scaled back a bit and I've resumed keeping my arm raised above my heart several times a day and things are getting back to normal. Of course, that's the new normal... not the old normal -- you know, the normal where things on my body actually match.

Will I ever "Say Yes to the Dress"?

2011-08-13T05:55:00.000-04:00

On Friday evenings I have started a new ritual. I order a pizza, grab the remote and glue myself to watching hours of wedding shows. My favorite show is "Say Yes To The Dress". I call these evenings... "spinster Friday". Just a little bit of humor about the fact that I am single and sitting home on an eligible "date night" preferring to dip into the extravagant world of bridal wear than actually going out or doing something else.

I haven't always been a girl who dreamed glorious fantasies of what my wedding day would be like, what I would wear and where it would be. I would however, be lying if I said that I never thought about it. I do... like millions of other women... and lately, I've been more open to even consider that someday it may happen.

A couple of weeks ago on the show, there was a bride who wanted a pink dress. Pink is one of my favorite colors (even before breast cancer) and I've thought about rocking a pink dress down the aisle. So, I was very interested in her story. Her mother was a breast cancer survivor and watching her mother battle the disease impacted her life greatly. She wanted to wear pink in honor of her mother and other breast cancer survivors. I thought it was a very nice gesture. And the dress she chose was really quite beautiful.

I've always felt that whatever wedding dress I chose, it most likely would not be white. Probably a soft ivory or perhaps a very pale pink. But after seeing that episode, I started thinking about all the ways that I could celebrate my survival in my wedding and honor other women who fight this disease. I can't tell you all my thoughts... but know this, if I do get married my wedding will be unique and special... and PINK!

I discovered a non-profit organization that serves women with mestastatic breast cancer who want to be married. Brides Against Breast Cancer is a fundraiser for the Making Memories Breast Cancer Foundation. A non-profit organization that collects bridal gowns from donations from designers, manufacturers and other women with dresses to give... and then sells them at an enormous discount to brides-to-be. The money that is raised at this event is used to help women and men who are dying from breast cancer fulfill a memory-making wish.

The Making Memories Breast Cancer Foundation has a noble premise... helping people who are dying of a disease they didn't ask for. They help more women in the process; brides who want a beautiful gown but who may not be able to pay full price. To me, that's a win-win situation.

I don't know if I'll ever get married (but I am keeping hope alive that it will happen). But I do know that if I find the guy who makes my heart smile, decide to get married and buy a wedding dress to help another pink ribbon sister (or brother) do something they really want to do in their last days... I will truly feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

If it moves you, check the link for Making Memories Breast Cancer Foundation. Maybe there will be a Brides Against Breast Cancer event near you soon... or perhaps you can make a donation to help. I'm sure they will be happy to hear from you in any case.

PS. Why DO wedding dresses cost so much? *just a question that popped into my head*

Another study shows breast cancer kills more black women

2011-08-06T04:44:00.000-04:00

One thing I've learned on this journey with breast cancer is that disease can be a great equalizer in many aspects. Breast cancer strikes men and women, old and young, rich and poor. It doesn't leave anyone out. However, how it strikes and how hard it strikes can be more devastating to particular communities and in ways that are difficult to explain.

I won't stop blogging about my journey with breast cancer because women like me are diagnosed every day with this disease. We may not be affected as often as older, white women... but we are definitely affected. My hope is that my blog and my efforts to speak out about this disease and my experiences with it will reach each woman who sees me and sees herself as well. In some areas of the breast cancer community, I often feel like the odd step-sister. I feel that way because when it comes to incidences of breast cancer, women like myself (diagnosed under 45, African-American) represent a small piece of the story. Yet, we're most likely to die from the disease. In 2011, an estimated 26,000 black women will be diagnosed with breast cancer and about 6,000 black women will die from this disease. Compare that with over 230,000 cases of breast cancer overall and 39,000 deaths overall. We are affected and though we are a small percentage of overall cases, this disease does take a huge toll on our community.

Another study has emerged that shows that black women are more likely to die from breast cancer than other women with the disease. There was a thought that the reason why black women and Latina women had higher mortality rates was because they weren't as likely to receive radiation treatment for their breast cancer. But this new study shows that radiation treatment isn't the great equalizer for sistas like myself. Even with radiation treatment, we're still more likely to die from this disease.

It pains my heart to learn this.

I went through WEEKS of radiation therapy. I was subjected to 5 treatments per week for 7 and a half weeks. That is a long damn time. Radiation therapy is unpleasant. Well, the actual treatment isn't that bad. It only takes a few moments to be zapped with the light and then you're done. What makes it unpleasant is that the treatment has a cumulative effect. Each week is worse than the week before. And by the end of the treatment, your skin and your body are still suffering from the effects of the treatment weeks later. It sucks your energy, leaving you lethargic and fatigued... it burns your skin. And I don't mean burn like a mild sunburn... I mean burn, as in charred like a hot dog on a hot grill. It makes you puffy and swollen. It hurts. Its ugly. Its super painful and its scary. But to learn that all of that pain and torture, doesn't actually reduce my likelihood to die from this disease just makes me sad.

I went through radiation therapy in 2009. It is now 2011 and I still have scarring from my radiation treatment that hasn't gone away. I am starting to believe that I may always have this discolored patch of skin on my chest and on my neck. Just another battle scar I suppose. Another bit of evidence that I made it through.

I can only pray and hope that scientists and researchers are still looking for ways to cure this disease. And while they are searching for a cure, hopefully they will continue to discover ways to make the treatment more tolerable.

Source: http://www.futurity.org/health-medicine/breast-cancer-kills-more-black-women/

http://ww5.komen.org/BreastCancer/RaceampEthnicity.html