A jumble of thoughts

Why haven't we figured out how to get rid of this deadly beast, I don't understand. It takes, our children, our parents, brothers, sisters, grandparents, and friends...yet nothing. There is no true cure. In my mind, a cure would be making sure that one more person doesn't lose a loved one, one more child won't walk across a stage without mom or dad, one more parent won't outlive his/her own child. That is not the case right now, so as a society we do what we can to support our loved ones, we rally behind them, we tell stories about success, mourn after defeat.

Cancer can take an emotional toll, and some of the tiniest offsets can run a person's entire week. Not everyone is strong through their battle. Some people need to have their handheld every step of the way, while others, would prefer to have a cheering section when needed, and their old life back when not. I am part of a support group that allows women around my age an open forum for everything. It allows women to compare, get mad, be sad, ask questions and get opinions. What I have taken most from this group is the anger some these women feel. I feel there are days that all I read is "F**k Cancer," "Why me," "its just not fair, so-so just doesn't understands. One day, in a matter of 2 hours, I watched the women filled with anger, shun another, all because she said she didn't like the "F" word. She spoke up on how she was put off by the constant negatively, and was essentially bullied out of the group because "We have breast cancer, we can say whatever the hell we want," unfortunately no matter how open a forum is, there is no reason someone should be treated as a second class citizen. That's what anger from cancer does to people.

After I begin telling people, I was overwhelmed with this cheering section, everyone telling me that I was going to kick ass, telling me I was strong, and that they knew I could do it. All of which brought me to tears more then once, its nice feeling that support. At the same time its hard to hear when people begin telling stories of their family and friends to succeeded, and some who didn't. The group seems regularly updated by yet another woman who has lost her battle. The truth is, I don't know what side I will be on. I plan to win this war now, but who knows if there will not be another battle in the future that I could lose. I have found two ways to explain to people about the BRCA2 gene mutation I possess, 1. "that's why Angelina had her mastectomy" or 2. my diagnosis was a matter of when, not if. I am fully aware, I may not have been diagnosed with BC, but this gene puts me at a higher risk then majority of the population. Now that I have been diagnosed, I feel like cancer was in my fate all along. My lack of anger makes me feel like there is something wrong with me. Don't get me wrong, there are days I am pissed, I am so mad, I would rip out my hair if I had any, but ultimately I am not angry. Anger is a natural emotion, one of which we all feel. We all have our issues while dealing with our own battles, cancer or not. For me, my two current issues are fertility and eyebrows. I know those two are on complete opposite sides of the spectrum, but those are my things. I want to have kids, I may never have kids. I know we have frozen embryos, and people make it lighthearted that we are going to have kids, but it doesn't work like that. We don't know. We may have frozen embryos, but we don't know if or when I will be able carry. Yet, I don't let this get me down. I have had so many people seem surprised by the way I carry myself, and the way I have taken all of this. My only response is that it's my only choice. If I let cancer take my quality of life from me, what do I have left? I refuse to let cancer win. I am forever going to have an underlying fear of "what if," but I refuse to allow my life to be consumed by the what ifs. Temporarily, I am grounded from travel, and I can't do some of the things I enjoy most in life. The key word for me is temporarily. I am counting down to the he day I walk out of the doctors office with the "no evidence of the disease" stamped on my paperwork will be one of my top 5 days of my life. I know for the long term that there is always a possibility of a reoccurrence, or even a different form of cancer somewhere in my body. The only problem with that possibility, is these stupid little cancer cells do not know who they are messing with. No matter what comes my way, I will come out with a victory.

Hi Ho Hi Ho, It's off to work I go

I have had a lot going on the past couple weeks. My hair is falling out...everywhere. I have been hanging out with friends and enjoying life. Most importantly, I completed round 2 of chemo.

The second round of chemo was not as bad as the first. The closest thing I can think of to compare it would be it felt like a hangover. Not a normal hangover, more like one that you have after your epic 21st birthday, the only difference is no medicine makes the headache or nausea go away from me. However, I am able to eat. Drinking is a different story, it took about 3 days and multiple glasses and cups of water to realize that the horrible taste from the water was not the filter in the fridge, the plastic in the cups, the glass in the cups, or the imaginary bug that flew into the cup. It was me. For some reason the taste of water makes me sick, I can drink Powerade, Gatorade, and Capri Sun. By knowing this information, I have created 2 plans for everyone: 1. Buy stock in the companies, buy now, sell by the end of November, it may go up because of my consumption. I'll expect 10% of whatever money you make. If by some fluke you lose money I will not repay you (what do I really know about the stock market, I am only trying to stay hydrated) 2. donate bottles of it to me (I like purple, blue or red), I am trying to maintain a minimum of 1.5 liters of fluid a day. I am joking about the donating, I coupon and only buy those on sale...so far we are doing good with my supply after this round, I need to start stocking up for the remaining 4. I am hoping they will have a sale before my next one.

I went back to work, yesterday. It was pretty eventful. I got up early, got dressed in my "new shirt" aka clean shirt, fixed my fabric ponytail, and then I realized, I was actually nervous. I haven't worked in 2 months! That's the longest break from working since before I got my first job at Sonic when I was 16. I actually started my now job a week after my college graduation, while still working at Sonic. All I could think about the dread of stress from working and thinking what if I forgot everything. As I was walking up to the office, fabric ponytail blowing in wind I got stuck behind 2 guys in my department, 1 being a supervisor. The supervisor was carrying a ladder and had set it down to scan his badge in the office, then suddenly it fell. It fell fast, and it fell hard....right on my foot. I didn't scream, jump, or yell, I think I was stunned. After I took my first step I could feel the pain in my foot. I didn't overtly say the ladder hit my foot. I didn't want to be the girl with cancer that gets injured before she even gets through the door on her first day back. It wasn't until he asked me did I say, "Well actually the ladder did land on my foot, but I'm okay." Throughout the day he kept checking on me, filled out a incident report, the entire time I was laughing. I even told him I just may come to the office in a wheelchair or crutches. Why not milk it right? I have to have some fun in my life. I could tell I didn't have a broken foot, I knew it was going to swell even more (mostly because it kept getting bigger throughout the day) and bruise. I bruise easily, if my knee thinks I almost hit almost the coffee table with it, a bruise will form. Ultimately, I am not worried about my foot because a bruise is not a break. They way I figure it, it could have been worse, no need to worry if it's not broken. I got a funny story out of it, and there are so many more important things in life then a bruised foot. I do apologize for the need of a pedicure.

The remainder of my day I caught up on as much as work as I could. I had many co-workers come and check in on me to see how I was doing, all of which were very supportive. All in all, I had a good day, I left with a newly tightened Sperry, no broken bones, and a smile on my face.

I plan on trying to work, only taking off during chemo treatments and the couple days after to recover. I am concerned if I will be able to do it. I have days I feel great, like my old self. I have days where I can't get out of bed, due to exhaustion, and being sick. On the days I feel good and I am at home, I feel bad for being at home. I feel like I am being selfish by not working on those days. My only problem is I don't know if it's a good day or bad day until I start my day going. I figure that if I maybe work and got some normalcy in my life that it would help me, maybe my bad days won't be so bad. I am hoping to slowly ease back into everything, hoping to keep the stress level to as low as possible right now. I am trying to concentrate on myself more then anything, which is hard when I have unintentionally always put my work first. The only way to find out if I can work is by actually working.

What goes down must come up?

Last Wednesday, I had my first chemotherapy treatment. I will be doing a regimen of 3 x 3 x 3. I will be given the chemo cocktail known as FEC for the first three rounds, every three weeks, and then I will move on to taxotere.

I think I have still been in a surreal state of mind since my diagnosis. Starting the chemo has finally been the wake up call. I made it a point to actually fix my hair and do my make up the morning of my first treatment. I dressed nicer to chemo then I probably have in weeks. When I got to the center, they took my blood pressure which was slightly higher then normal, but expected because of nerves, and my pulse was 151 bpm....yes that is right 151....I think my heart wished I would've left it at home. After checking in, we were escorted to a private room so Nurse Bonnie could go over all the drugs with me, explain what was going on every step of the way. My biggest concern with chemo has been my eyebrows and fertility. Bonnie did tell me they didn't have the ovary suppressors that I wanted, that I would have to wait. I immediately broke down and cried, that was the one thing I wanted. The doctor came in and said it would be okay if I got the injection the following day, he explained to me that there isn't a guarantee that the injections will work. After a awkward, in front of doctor and nurse conversation, Jesse and I decided to go ahead and proceed. Its not like we know any better, so the only thing we have is to trust our doctor. The first of the FEC cocktail was cytoxan which made me pee red for about a day in a half. It actually reminded me of when I was 10-11 and I ate an entire red velvet cake by myself and peed red, except then I thought I started my period. The cytoxan was followed by 5-FU and epirubicin. All in all, receiving the drugs is easy, they popped an IV into my port and kept fluids coming for about 2 1/2 - 3 hours. I left the center on my own two feet, and even ran to the grocery stores to get some foods for me, soft toothbrushes, pretty much additional stockpile to my chemotherapy side effect arsenal.

I was starving by the time I got home, ate a small bowl of ice cream, took my anti-nausea medicine (I had to get ahead of the nausea) and laid down. If I had to guess, maybe 90 minutes later is when everything took a turn for the worse. Out of nowhere I could feel the ice cream come right back up, I made it to the kitchen sink. However, the smell of the ice cream made it worse, I couldn't stop. It wasn't until it was stomach acid was the only thing that was coming up I could stop. Jesse and I immediately copped it up to something tiny, we read our papers and it said to only call doctor if you vomit 4x in 24 hours. I decided to lay back down, I had a horrible headache. It felt like a semi had parked on my head. A couple hours passed and I started getting hungry again, I decided to try 3 ritz cracker. Almost immediately, a reverse Sir Isaac Newton philosophy occurred, well I was 0-2. I still continuous sipped on water, but water began making me sick, I took a nap, and then finally 6 hours after I left my first chemo treatment it all came to head. I could no longer keep down water, my body was aching, the semi was still parked, and my throat was raw from the acid that kept cruising through it. Jesse left me mostly to myself (per my request), unless I called him, Nora (the dog) stayed by my side. He decided to come check on me, only to find me on the bathroom floor, slightly glistening from my most "recent porcelain workout." I was defeated, I couldn't do it, I told him if this is how it always was I didn't want to do it. He set up a fan, I laid in the fetal position, while Nora tried to scoot by me to lay down next to me. We called the doctor, and told him what's wrong. I explained I had left over anti-naseaua meds from my last surgery. We made a group decision that would be the best bet, since the other drug wasn't working, that and as soon as I take it I am a sleeping, snoring, drooling, hot mess of a lady. I made it through the night, and first thing in the morning the doctors office called to check in on me. I explained that I hadn't had any fluids in over 12 hours, at this point, I couldn't. They immediately called me in, not only did they have to give me the zoladex injection, they wanted to give me fluids.

As Nurse Amber called me back she gave me that head tilt, sympathetic look aka "you look like shit," and led me back. She immediately hooked me up to a bag of IV fluid. Well after I vomited in the bathroom. The fluid made me feel better, and 30 minutes after I was hooked up to the IV they gave me the rolodex. They told me that it was a implant so they would give me lidocaine first. I had a topical lidocaine shot, followed by one that was a little deeper and then the implant, all of which was done in my belly. I made Jesse hold my hand...what else is a husband for? After two bags of IV fluid, a new prescription of anti-nausea I was let go. As soon as I got home, I feel asleep. I spent the next couple hours, sleeping, sipping water, and repeat. I munched on some animal crackers and started feeling a bit better. I was able to eat a grilled cheese sandwich that night.

Over the past couple days, I have been sleeping on and off throughout the day, but I have been able to keep everything down. I have been super exhausted and achy which is expected and preferred to nausea (at least by me).I do want to say the other people I have talked to that has gone through this, didn't have the reaction I did. There's a lot of things that can be added, and changed to make it easier on me. The doctor has said he is going to add emend to my next treatment to help me not "have a rough time" my next go around. Finger's crossed, that one will go better.

Score:
KP -1 BC - 1

Hairy Situation

For as long as I can remember, I always have hair that goes halfway down my back. Every couple years I get bored, cut my hair. After every hair cut I have a huge meltdown, I can never handle cutting my hair. I hate my hair short, even though when its long its always up. With chemotherapy looming ahead, and the knowledge I WILL lose my hair, I decided to go ahead and cut it in advance. If I can't use my long hair, why can't someone else?

Ulta offers a free haircut with a donation so it only made sense to go there. I decided to donate my 10+ inches of hair to Locks of Love. I figured if I couldn't use my hair because of cancer, I figured someone with cancer could use it. I spent 3 1/2 hours at Ulta, the hair stylist Jules was amazing. I have previously went to Jules to help with washing my hair after my first surgery. I went 2 weeks of dry shampooing my hair before I went. After those two weeks it was amazing to have my hair washed again, it was magically. As I went over possible haircuts with Jules, I pre-warned her, "I may cry," I said. I explained that I knew it would have nothing to do with her or her ability. Jules understood. I already knew any tears would be the reason I HAD to cut my hair. That my magical meltdowns of the past would be no more, previously every time I cute my hair I felt like I made a mistake. Not this cut, this cut wouldn't be a mistake, it would be statement. It was inevitable that I am going to lose my hair, but I want that to be on my own terms. Only I could chose when my hair went, and I'll be damned if cancer, or chemotherphy would make those choices for me. I told Jules, I wanted to do something funky and add some highlights. I contemplated adding pink or purple, but I decided that I wouldn't normally do something like that, so I wasn't going to do it now. While in the chair another hair stylist Ashley came and talked to me. She has hodgkin's lymphoma. She went through the in's and outs of skin care and chemotherapy. She prepared me as much as she could, gave me tips, pointers, etc. She told me the best thing, she told me it was okay not to be strong, it was okay to cry. However, when it was all done, I didn't cry, I couldn't. This wasn't because I was trying to be strong, but I actually liked my hair. I thought it was cute. Both Jules and Ashley sat there waiting for a tear to come, but nothing. I laughed, I said I love it, but it sucks that I won't have it more then a month. They both started laughing and said if I wanted to come back they would cut my wig for me too. Ashley went and got the face wipes she was recommending to me. I headed out the door. I did accidentally put the wipes in my purse without paying, I walked throughout the store before I remembered and at the last minute in front of check out I had to pull them out and say "oops" and paid. I hope none of the ladies in the salon noticed, I would hate for them to think I tried to steal $6.99 face wipes. Anyways, here are some photos of my hair before and after. I totally instagrammed the selfies, because why not use a filter if they are available??

#TBT: The one where I died.

The night after my surgery I stayed in the hospital. I had pain meds through an IV drip, and more pain pills given to me every couple hours. I was living a prescription med junkies dream. While these additional pills were given to me, they would check all my vitals, and let me shuffle to use the restroom. They were having me pee in a measuring cup pan thing to keep track of my fluid outtake, they would then write it on a board. They were monitoring me to make sure everything was okay. About the 3rd shuffle I stopped caring about holding the back of my gown shut, I am a great at multitasking, but trying to hold a gown, not trip on the things they had on my legs to keep the muscles or nerves stimulated, trying to roll my IV over the transition strip in the doorway, and not lifting my arms up to far, this was to much for me to deal. I figured they can look at my pancake butt and tramp stamp, I decided they had to have seen worse, at least my butt didn't look like a California raisin. This routine started around 8pm and lasted until I was discharged at 11am. (Please note: when my family came back to the room in the morning, I began closing the back of my gown again.) Sometime around 2am on Wednesday, they nurse asked me if I was hungry and I told her yes, I hadn't eaten since 10pm on Monday. I was starving!! I asked for broth since I had nausea and had problems keeping water down. The nurse said she would be right back, I think she forgot because I never got that broth. About an hour later I had fallen asleep and was resting peaceful when I started to hear some screaming. It was the lady in the next room. I thought she was yelling "I am in pain," Jesse said she was yelling, "You hurt me, stay away from me!" I am going to vote that Jesse was right on it because of the large amount of meds in my system. He even "casually strolled" down the hallway AKA was on a recon mission to see what was going on. He said she was in the room complaining about everything. Another vital check passed, and then back to bed. I was resting peacefully when I was abruptly woken up by the machine next to me beeping. My heart leaped out of my chest, I looked over and the machines I was hooked up to was beeping. I hollered at Jesse to wake up, asked him what was going on. I asked "Am I dying?" He said it was the machine and quickly left to get the nurse. Those 5 seconds were some of the longest seconds of my life...My life flashed before my eyes, the machine just kept beeping. I mean, I have seen every episode of Grey's Anatomy. I am 82% positive if I needed to I could fill in during a surgery, diagnose most medical ailments, and this beeping machine? I know what it means, it HAD to mean my heart stopped. I readjusted myself in the bed, turned the channel to something better then a "sham wow infomercial," realized I had to pee again when Jesse came back in the room and told me the nurse was coming. I started to think that maybe I should have written down a will instead of notifying my family via phone. The nurse came in and turned off the machine, "Its just your IV bag, it ran out, I'll get you a new one." What!?! I'm not dead ?!?!, I thought to myself. Well that's a relief. Then my second thought was I felt like this should have been caught before now, or warned it may happen. And my third, I still had not gotten my broth.

Just keep swimming, just keep swimming...

Its been a while since I have been on here, I decided I needed to give a quick update. In the 11 "business" days since I have left from surgery, I have been to a doctor's appointment 7 of those days. So its been a blast! Okay, not really.

I got my drain lines out. The nicest part of getting the drain lines removed is I don't feel like a spider or octopus anymore. Having two on each side felt like tentacles that would hang around, it was like they were dragging me down. If I wanted to get crazy I could swing around in a circle and let them fly!! Lets be honest, the hurt hanging there so I would never do that, still it could have been cool? I cannot tell a lie, getting them removed was probably top 5 painful things I have experienced in my lifetime. The nurse cut off the tape, told me to inhale and exhale. On the exhale she ripped them out, there was no pause, or gentleness about it. They came out in a solid swoop. I could feel it as it was exiting my body. I also heard them come out! It made the same sound when you get to the bottom of a slurpy, there's just enough to have a drink but not quite enough that you do not have to work for it.

On top of the drain lines getting removed, I got the eggs removed too! Yay for the back up plan! Chemo can't stop me from having babies! The retrieved 57 eggs! Yes that is right...57...holy crap! However, not all of them fertilized only 32....just 32..and yes that's a heck of lot. The embryo lady that called me said "We are not use to having this many eggs fertilize, but your case is different, you didn't have fertility issues, you had cancer." Why thanks? I wasn't really sure how to respond to that. For the record...I do not want 32 babies, only a couple, the number will go down once they prepare for the freezing process. Anyway, I needed to have a back up plan, and more of the back up the higher chance of the Kelly jr's and Jesse jr's running around.

What else is new?? The pain meds have given me the illusion that I am better then I am. I was feeling so good I decided I didn't need the meds...boy was I wrong, as soon as all the residual meds left my system, I decided that nope, I still need occasional pain pill to make my day a better place. So back on them I am.

Lastly, I am getting a chemotherapy port surgically placed on the 1st of August, shortly after that I will begin my second round of kicking Cancer's butt.

The score so far KP-1 The Big C - 0

Not so pretty: the healing process

I haven't left the house in 6 days, not even to step out on the back porch. I've created a cave while I am healing up, its in our basement, it receives the least amount of light and stays the coolest. I have it at 68 degrees consistently and the Real Housewives of somewhere on repeat. Everyone else thinks its freezing, I am usually to warm. The other reason I have kept it so cool is because of the incisions in my armpit. I can't wear deodorant so I am doing everything in my power NOT to sweat. I currently regret not getting my armpits waxed before all of this.

Its been nice waking up without an alarm. I sleep about 12-15 hours a day right now, and typically when I wake up my pain pills have worn off. I usually have two thoughts right away..."ouch" and "do I really have to get up right now" of course I don't have to get up literally, but if I don't get up I will wet the couch of my little cave. It takes so long to scoot out of my cubby hole I have to debate whether I should get up or not. I'm moving around faster and better, and have created my own routines. I do my daily arm exercises. I have been drinking lots of water. I have to drink a glass of miralax and stool softener everyday. The worst part about the pain meds is the constipation that they cause. I won't go into how long, but I have a feeling that has to do with my appetite or lack there of.

I have taken shallow sponge type baths. I am really nervous about messing up the sutures or ripping something out so we have to be gentle. I have limited turning and stretching abilities so J had to help me out since I can't wash my back, and I cry when he has had to. I never thought that I would have to have someone help me bathe. I had to tie a rag around my neck and attach my drain lines to and then pat myself dry. I can now dry shampoo my hair myself I have to put my head upside down, but it works. Through it all, I have pains that keep coming and going, makes me think will this end? I have lost all feeling in my breasts and my upper left arm, it actually is more painful for me to touch them because the not being able to feel hurts worse.


One of my Zeta besties bought me the most comfortable outfit to hideout in, it has made this so much easier. In the picture I am holding the drain lines up underneath the shirt.

My nightly routine is more action packed then anything, its almost like I look forward to it. Around 7pm is when it gets crazy. I wash my face, put on lotion, eat my vitamins. Then around 7:30pm, Jesse gives me 5 injections in my stomach and I take 2 pills, this is for the IVF. I then take my pain pills, brush my teeth, and J empties my drains. All of this usually takes about 1:30 - 2 hours. We take our time, but its our nightly routine. He eventually goes upstairs and I go stay in my ice cold cave until the next morning when we start it all over again.

First Love, Then Marriage, Can chemo take my baby carriage?

"I'm assuming you two are wanting to have children." the surgeon said "You may want to look at having your eggs harvested, chemotherapy can result in infertility."

The word "infertility" stung more then being told I had cancer. Like I've previously said, we caught it early enough that I could have my wedding. I was so happy, so excited to get married to move to the next step of my life, but this I couldn't believe...I may not be able to have kids. I had never heard of this as being a issue. The longer I thought about it, the women I know and hear about battling cancer usually had kids already or are in menopause, so of course this isn't something that I would think of as being an issue with cancer.

I made an appointment with a reproductive endocrinologist before an oncologist or a reconstructive surgeon. I needed to do EVERYTHING I could to ensure that I protected my ability to have children. Due to a cancelation, and the flexibility of my schedule, I was able to see the doctor the next day. The doctor let me know that they have a higher success rate with freezing of embryos then eggs, and since I was getting married he recommended that frozen embryos were the best route, and I agreed. That day I was able to come home to Jesse with a grin and a brown paper bag....at least he gets to participate in all of this with me. As I am having vaginal ultrasounds, Jesse had the choice to go into the office and make a sample or carry one in the brown paper bag I gave him. Whichever it was, it gave me the smile I needed.

Ultimately I decided that I would go through the treatments, they started yesterday. I am going to have a 80-90% successful back up plan. Which is better then no back up plan. Also, after going through chemotherapy it does not mean that I will be infertile, its a very large chance. There are so many variables that come into play, my overall health, the types of drugs, length of treatment, my own body and how it responds. The question really became "Was I willing to take a risk that my ovaries will be okay after chemo?", "Can I chance that I will have kids naturally?" After talking to a dear friend of mine, who did not have the option or time when she battled her own cancer, it became clear that I had to use the time that I was given so I would have no regrets later.

The Reproductive center hooked me up with pharmacy which helps with cases like mine. See, my health insurance does not cover fertility cases like mine; 31, no kids, breast cancer, chances of chemotherapy taking away my fertility. They would only provide coverage if after the fact I was infertile, and by that point my ovaries may be yo damaged by the chemotherapy. They were willing to cover my office visits, so something is better then nothing. Since I was denied by insurance, didn't have children, never had treatments, or chemo before I qualified for help. So a large amount of my fertility drugs are being provided to me at no cost, which is more then amazing. I am also being helped by another charity to assist in covering the other expenses, which helps make such a busy stressful time that much easier. As I was told that both charities were helping me I cried tears of joy, I never thought I would need the help of a charity, but I finally understood how people felt when they got help when they were least expecting it.

In a couple years, I will probably still have this blog, but I think I will have to change the name of this blog from "KP vs the Big C" I am thinking something more like "KP: Supermom!"

Drains, Drains Go Away....

I made it! Its been two days since my surgery and I'm shuffling around. The day after the surgery, all my doctors came and check in on me, even my OBGYN that found it, every single one said I was more alert then they thought I would be. The morning of the surgery, I checked in the hospital around 11:00am, and began getting prepared, blood pressure, connecting to iv's etc. I would go back and forth getting teary eyed, my fear had finally caught up to me. I was scared, hungry, thirsty, and hot. It wasn't until I was told that I was being injected with radioactive dye for a sentinel lymph node biopsy that I finally did the ugly cry! The two nurses came in the room to prep me to be injected with radioactive dye. The older of the two was in training (this I learned after the fact) she started to explain to me what was going to happen, "They are going to create 4 small incisions in your affected breast and inject it with dye, and its going to be painful" ???? incisions??? painful??? no numbing??? I was officially freaked, my face squished right on up and I lost it. She immediately started apologizing and the other lady in the room tried to calm me down. The doctor came in, I was crying and shaking, and he told me he would do it real quick. He then gave me 4 needle pricks, and injected me, both I could feel and they did hurt, but not to the extent of her explanation.Immediately afterward she started apologizing and explained she is still learning on the delivery part...yeah, I could see that. A 3rd RN came in after they left and she made the comment later that the explanation made her worry about the pain and she knew exactly what they were doing. I spent the next couple hours talking to doctors, nurses and family. I said my "see you in a couple hours" to my family and was finally rolled into the operating room. I was loopy but awake when I got the OR, I moved onto the table with little help. I saw a lot of blue, green, and silver around. I'm lucky enough to have HORRIBLE eyesight, so even with all the operating tools I couldn't make out anything so I didn't have a chance to do another ugly cry. The surgery took longer then they anticipated, they were able to go back implants immediately. The surgeon found cancer had spread to the sentinel lymph node, so he took an extra for additional testing. A couple hours later I woke up, and was wheeled to my room. Jesse was able to stay the night with me so that made me feel better. Now, I have a lifetime risk of getting lymphedema. I can't let blood or blood pressure be taking from it and if I fly I need to wear a compression sleeve. I woke up every couple hours, vitals checked, given more pain medicine, and every time I shuffled around, Jesse was shuffling around behind me with my little IV drip since I couldn't lift my arms up enough to control it. I walked myself out of the hospital the next morning, they asked if I wanted a wheelchair...nope, I could do this walk. Sure enough I shuffled right on out, I had to slow down for my family to catch up. I'm now at home shuffling around feeling like a spider, I have 2 drain lines. underneath my armpits. They are making sleeping, uncomfortable and awkward, but I am making it work. Hopefully, by the end of next week, they will be taken out of me.

Out with the old, in with the new.

Six years ago I got a breast augmentation. It was complete vanity as to why I got an augmentation, my breasts were two different sizes. I am well aware that "everyone" has different size breasts, but does everyone have one breast that barely fits into a A cup and another spilling out of a B? The straw that broke the camels back was when the size difference was being pointed out to me. I would wear t-shirts and NO, NOT A DROP of alcohol was around, and a couple comments were made. I couldn't handle it anymore. I felt like no matter what clothing item I buried myself under it was always in the back of my mind. It was a mental battle I was tired of fighting alone. My augmentation surgery was flawless, I bounced right back, I was def extremely proud of my new....assets. I was always told that I would need to do an upkeep to them every 10 years, I never thought my upkeep would be coming only after 6 years.

Shortly, after the diagnosis the question became, "Are you going to choose to remove them both?" My sister told me she would cut her's off and not worry about, this bluntness is why I love her. I wasn't quite sure of my own personal answer and I was still waiting to see the results of my BRCA gene mutation test. I received the test results about two weeks after I took it. I do possess the BRCA gene 2 mutation, due to the increased cancer risks I will receive a bilateral mastectomy. I feel to young to have cancer, the statistics state only 12% of the general population will get breast cancer in their lifetime, by having the BRCA2 gene, my chances shot up to 45%. At least I do not have to debate what I want to do during an already stressful time, so thats a plus, but wait, this oh so lovely gene has now shot my ovarian cancer chance from 1.4% to almost 17%, awesome right? Let's go ahead and throw ahead in chances of pancreatic cancer for good measure.

Today, its not about vanity, its about retaining who I am, what I feel is my femininity and not letting cancer make choices for me. I always thought one day I would get rid of the implants, but getting rid of them would be on my own terms. I go into surgery today at 2pm for the bilateral and reconstruction, the reconstructive surgeon's goal is to immediately put in new implants since I already have the pockets for them, however, he will have tissue expanders waiting, in case it immediate implants are not feasible. Following the surgery I am going to probably be down on myself, I am going to be bandaged, drugged, dealing with drain lines and defeated (temporarily). I will try to do everything in my power to not let myself to be defeated for long, I guess we will see.

The Diagnosis

It all started on April 30th, 2014, when I went to my yearly pap. I was laying on the table chatting about traveling and working with my doctor when she found a lump. She let me feel it, and asked if I had felt it before, unfortunately, I do not do my own breast self exams, so I had not. After the appointment, I told Jesse (husband) about it, I tried to find it to show him, it took so long, we both assumed it was nothing. I scheduled my appointments around my 21 day on, 5 day off work schedule, going to the appointments when my work schedule allowed. It wasn't until June that I even had a biopsy. On June 9, 2014, I was in-between appointments a state away when my phone rang, it was the surgeon. He said,"The results of the biopsy are back...it is cancer." I immediately went numb, I couldn't believe it. My first response was what any logical person would say, "I can't deal with this right now, I am getting married on June 29 and I have a neckline that I can't have scars on." Reasonable right? After talking to the doctor and my company's management I was able to go home early. The plan was to leave for my wedding on June 20 returning on July 3/4. I spent the next two weeks going to doctors almost daily, I met with a surgeon, reconstructive surgeon, reproductive endocrinologist, and oncologist. As I was finalizing my wedding, I was also in the process of setting up a game plan on beating this.