Hang on!

We’ve all probably heard various episodes of life described as being like a roller coaster ride, maybe even used the phrase ourselves at one time or another. Whether it be something positive or negative, many situations lend themselves aptly to that metaphor. You have building anticipation as the ride begins, then a sudden, rapid plunge to frightening depths only to be contrasted with the giddiness of soaring heights...there's speed, swift turns and twists, terror and elation all wrapped up into one extreme ride.

I went back and read all my blog posts since finding the lumps in my breast that have turned out to be cancer. This is clearly one of the wildest roller coaster rides I’ve ever been on. From one post to the next I am up, down and twisted inside out. I found posts where I seemed determined, brave, calm -- even humorous…and then in the very next entry I was plumbing the depths of near inconsolable despair – practically all in the same week. Understandable, of course, but nonetheless striking when you see it all laid out in front of you.

I seem to have reached a little plateau now as I wait for my surgery day. This is not to say I'm even keeled emotionally, just that I am bracing for what comes next. I can see there is a huge, sharp turn ahead and I know after that the car will plunge down faster & further than ever before. I also know that if for no other reason than the fact that what goes down must come back up, I will not crash when I hit bottom, at least not this time. Slowly, at a snails pace perhaps, the tracks will again climb the steep upward summit and who knows what will happen after that.

Hmmm, a loop-de-loop, perhaps?

Meanwhile as the anticipation builds I vacillate between moments of prepared resolve and complete panic-fueled doubt. I could second guess my second guesses right now.

I can't help but wonder, out of curiosity, what an outside observer thinks as they read my little but growing collection of posts on this subject...what over all impression they get from the big picture thus far. Even reading all the posts in order of their occurrence I find it hard to follow a common emotional thread, but then again I’m not very objective. I see things I wish I’d done differently, said differently, felt differently – not regret, just the birds eye view of hindsight.

In years ahead when I come back to this chronicle I wonder what will strike me then…what will I wince at, what will make me cry, what will perhaps even make me laugh. I wish I could fast forward right now, to skip the scary part. But I can’t. Instead I have to just hold on tight for dear life, maybe close my eyes sometimes…scream at the top of my lungs when I can't help it, and wait for the ride to end…or at least to get to the fun part again. I just have to hang on the best I can.

I hope all that celebrate it have a happy Fourth of July. Thanks for coming along on this ride with me, it's always so much nicer to have a hand to hold when things get crazy and the readers of this blog have blessed me with many, loving hands.

Fare thee well...

...but not to my breast -- well, not quite just yet, anyway.

That is something I will no doubt continue to write about, here and at my other blogs, intermittently and perhaps perpetually. But today I am thinking about another body part that shall be leaving me. Today I am saying goodbye to my belly, or at least a rather large portion of it.

I will be having a tummy tuck as part of this procedure. It's not optional, not an added bonus like buy one get one free. It's a necessary part of the operation.

If there were one body part I felt suffered the most for the triple ravages of time, pregnancy and obesity, it's my tummy. In fact, ironically, I was just beginning to research the process of having a tummy tuck when I found the first breast lump. It was a procedure I needed to have done eventually, not so much for vanity's sake but for health reasons...suffice is to say that much extra skin isn't easy to deal with and we'll leave the TMI aside for the time being.

So, after a 2nd meeting with my plastic surgeon I found out that not only will all that extra skin below my navel be removed, but the upper ab area will also be flattened out as a result of suturing the remaining muscles.

Wow, I hardly know what to think!

"You do realize," I said to my husband as we left the hospital, "that this means a whole new shopping process when this is finally over?" He just shook his head and smiled.

I mean, nothing will fit me anymore. And maybe I'll be able to tuck shirts in...and I won't have to buy my jeans a size larger just to accomodate my waist -- they'll fit me better right off the rack. When I try on clothes that look good from the front I won't be continually disappointed that the profile view is, shall we say, protruding.

And perhaps the most incomprehensible factor of all...no more dreaded muffin top!

Lest you think I've forgotten why I get this little extra boon and what I have to sacrifice for it, I have not. But still, I can't believe that after all these years....almost 8 years since I lost the weight, I will have a normal looking stomach.

Amazing.

And yet...I find myself nostalgic. I earned that belly. True, that belly began to grow from my depression and discontent, from self-medicating with food a life full of pain and malnourishment. But it also expanded and welcomed my two precious babies, accommodating them safely, proudly, until they belonged not just to me but to the world.

What's left of my former girth is now a flopping, sagging badge of determination...to live, to be healthy, to lose the weight that once filled it up -- no small task, I assure you. It is deflated evidence of how far I have come.

So in closing, perhaps a moment of silence for my soon-to-be-gone belly? It was the best of times it was the worst of times. Thanks for all you've done...and perhaps most importantly, thanks for still being there, for without you I would not be able to fill the empty space left from my mastectomy. If it weren't for you, I'd have no right breast.

So gee, I guess it's not really goodbye after all...more like see ya later. In fact, you'll be closer to my heart than ever before.

Secret Agent Mama

Thought I'd give you all an update on how Daniel is doing -- he is fine, in fact, he's better than fine. He is happy, affectionate and cuddly, very playful, still a demanding little guy but a joyful loving boy. There's been a few incidence of him wanting to see my ta-tas...but he hasn't asked to nurse, nor have I been solicited into nursing anymore dinosaurs.

But I will tell you a secret...I am still nursing him a little here and there, only he doesn't know it. How is that possible? I do it at night, covertly, while he sleeps.

Both my kids and I co-sleep (remember, I'm THAT crunchy granola mom) and both Meggie in her day and Daniel in his would frequently nurse in their sleep. I always obliged. In fact, Megan was a preemie and nursed every two hours for the first two years of her life. Yes, you read that correctly. Thankfully, lactating moms have happy hormones that help with sleep deprivation (well, to some extent, anyway, lol).

When I started to wean Daniel after my diagnosis it went quicker than I thought, both to my deep relief and great sorrow. For a while I was still pumping a little milk in some vague hope that I could return to nursing him at a future point in time. I know now that will be impossible. Even if I manage to escape chemo I will have to take drugs to shut down my ovaries and still more drugs to suppress any stray estrogen left...for at least five years. These medications are contraindicated in breastfeeding. I can't begin to tell you how hard this still is for me to accept...words fail.

Assuming for the moment I am lucky and don't need chemo I can wait until around October to start the ovarian ablation & Arimidex. So I could still be nursing Daniel all that time. But of course to start him up again now only to take it away later would be cruel to say the least.

And so at night, sometimes, I nurse him as he sleeps. I don't do it every night because I don't want to create any sort of pattern he might come to depend on. But a few times a week I indulge us both. I imagine that in his sweet little baby dreams he knows...I swear that on some subconscious level he feels the love I have for him pouring out in these last, precious drops of mother's milk....my secret gift. To us both.

It's real now

I got my surgery date. It's at the end of July (not sure I should post the exact date online).

Anyway, it's set, the OR booked. I know what time to arrive at the hospital and what time I'll be on the table...I know who will be performing exactly what procedure.

I've had my bone scan today, the last of multiple tests. I need only to see a regular doctor for medical clearance -- really a formality.

The research is done. My decision made. Things are moving forward.

And here I sit, stunned like a deer in headlights as if I just found out today that I have breast cancer, as if I just found out I need a mastectomy.

There's a mark on the calender...it's real now.

PHOTO: Hair today, gone tomorrow :(

I've been told that doing my hair after my mastectomy will be a challenge. I won't be able to shower for a long time and even when I finally can, raising my arms above my head to shampoo could be difficult. Someone will probably have to help me wash my hair over the kitchen sink.

Needless to say, I figured a haircut was in order. I was overdue for a trim anyway because I like my hair around shoulder length. So, I printed out a copy of my profile photo over there at the right and asked the hairdresser to recreate it.

This is the result and I absolutely HATE it. Silly as it sounds, if I stand a certain way it doesn't look as awful, but beyond that...

It's considerably shorter and even the shape isn't the same...more of a bob, longer in the front than the back.

At first I figured, so what? It's only hair...and I tried to get over it. But this may be my last haircut for a while...I may end up doing chemo before I know it and this will be the last style I have before it all falls out.

I wish I hadn't gone someplace new, wish I'd left it alone or gone to my regular hairdresser. I am really upset about it. I am sure people will say it looks nice and maybe it even does -- I keep trying to comfort myself with the fact that it grows back...but what I really wish was that my damn nipple would grow back. And it won't. And so I'm putting all my anguish into my stupid hair instead of that.

I guess this goes beyond a bad hair day.

Sun spots

In honor of yesterday's summer solstice...

The magnetic fields of the sun are complicated and unpredictable, kind of like life. A manifestation of these variable magnetic fields are sun spots, marks that in a sense mar the sun’s fiery surface like “solar blemishes” if you will. Sunspots are actually evidence of fierce winds, as well as massive explosions called solar flares.

My VERY limited understanding is these explosions discharge some sort of magnetic energy that sends charged particles shooting into the earth’s atmosphere where they interact with the gases present there, thus causing an intensified and enhanced glow of the aurora borealis…yup, the magnificent northern lights! I’ve never seen them in real life, but photographs portray haunting, achingly beautiful light dancing in the velvet night sky – a sight to behold and one I do hope to see some day.

All this got me to thinking...in reality, the most magnificent displays of the northern lights are created from what could be perceived as some rather harsh imperfections upon the otherwise radiant face of a shining star. Yet without those very same brutal flaws a thing of incredible and unique beauty would be diminshed.

Imagine that.

Have a sunny day :)

Ten things five plastic surgeons said to me:

1. You have too much breast skin; the “extra” needs to be removed.

2. You don’t have the type of body for implants.

3. Your breast envelope is too flat (ok, is that taken care of by the post office, or UPS?)

4. There are weeds in your garden, if they have popped up in one breast they will pop up everywhere else.

5. You should have a bilateral mastectomy to achieve the best symmetry.

6. Fake nipples are more convenient than real ones because they don’t project as much.

7. Implants are your only choice (um, see number two above).

8. Referring to my other breast, “Why would you want to match that one?”

9. You’ll never win any wet t-shirt contests.

10 -- Yes, I will make you a breast that matches, as closely as possible, your original one, and I understand why you want that.

BINGO! Yes, that last one is the winner :)