Tick, Tick, BOOM.

I'm tired and sore today and have taken a full dose of Valium instead of the half doses I've been taking the last few days, so this post is going to be a bit more navel-gazing than I usually allow myself to indulge in. Sorry about that. But I figure if you're reading this, you probably care enough to not mind when I get a little morbid. It is cancer, after all...

I was diagnosed with breast cancer one month ago today. I have honestly never had a single second when I thought there was even a chance this breast cancer might kill me. I have told all my friends and loved ones about the diagnosis and seen many people immediately fight back tears and others continue to tear up every time they see me, even weeks after knowing about my illness. (And it still feels ridiculous to call it an illness because I've never actually felt sick during all of this. I hurt and am in pain from surgery, but it doesn't feel like an illness. Or maybe I'm just weird...)

Dave and I had several conversations in the days after my diagnosis that ended with him crying and telling me not to die and me just wondering why in the hell everyone was acting like this cancer crap is such a big deal. I mean, I know it's CANCER and people do die from it, but I have breast cancer - the one that so incredibly much is known about, the one that millions of women survive every year, the one that can be treated by removing a couple of body parts and pouring poison in me. Breast cancer is not going to be what kills me and I have never worried that it would. I've laughed about it in the last month because it's "just cancer" - it's just an inconvenience in my life, just something that will slow me down for a bit while I fight it out of me and then go on with my life.

And I've had many friends - even the ones who know to avoid giving me "sad eyes" - make comments about the journey I'm on and how this is a big thing I'm doing and how my life will be forever changed.

And I always think to myself, "Why? I'm going to spend a few months getting rid of cancer then I'm going back to my life."

Except I guess I know that's not really true.

I have a very good friend whose daughter had cancer at the age of 4. She is healthy and happy and doing great now, but when he told me about that experience (both of us in tears) he mentioned that even though she is healthy now, he and his wife had to come to terms with the fact that they will most likely outlive their youngest daughter. Not because of the cancer she has already beaten, but because once the body gets something like cancer, well... it's more likely to get another kind again some day. And be less strong to fight it again. Or less likely to catch it as soon. Or or or....

And yesterday I was straightening up my healing room and came across some pamphlets that a friend had brought over from the Komen foundation. I've seen and skimmed them in the last few weeks, but they mostly cover things like dealing with physical changes (my mastectomy looks cool and I'll show it to anyone who asks, and I'm going to be a hot bald chick if I have to do chemo), alternative therapies that can supplement medical care (I have an acupuncturist and will be getting massages again as soon as I'm less sore from surgery and a nutritionist friend who can't wait to give me cancer-fighting recipes), and generally things like surviving life after cancer. And of course when I come across headings or pamphlets or chapters in books with titles about life after cancer, I usually roll my eyes and think, "Of course there's life after cancer, it's just put on hold for a few months."

But last night I flipped through this section. And I remembered the conversation with my friend whose daughter is a healthy, happy 6 year old now. And I read quotes about how cancer survivors have to worry that every pain, every ache could be the stupid fucking cancer's return. And wonder if it's in our bones this time. Or our blood. Or our ovaries. Or any other part that's much harder to find and diagnose and treat than the stupid little boobs I just had cut off me.

And then I think I'm thirty-fucking-five. Breast cancer isn't going to kill me. But now that my body has let this damn thing in me to grow, there's a bigger chance than some other kind of cancer WILL. And I fucking hate that.

I don't get to go back to my life as normal. I don't get to just get rid of this stupid cancer and go back to being mommy, wife, friend, lover, superwoman. I have to always be careful to not get cuts on my left arm because I'm missing lymph nodes there. I can never have a blood pressure cuff on that side. I have to worry if muscle aches and pains might be more than just aches and pains. I have to wonder if my bruising like a peach is a sign of blood disorders or just the usual sign of my clumsiness.

I have to always wonder when it's going to come back. And if it's going to be before or after I get to see my kids graduate from high school or college, before or after they get married and I dance at their weddings, before or after I hold my sweet grandbabies and tell them their parents are the most amazing people in my world.

I'm 35 and already had breast cancer. It's not going to kill me, but it sure does increase my chances that some other part of my body is going to do the job instead.

I know none of us ever know when it's going to be our time to go and I know all of this is in God's hands. I know I am surrounded by love, prayer, support and more love. I know my body is strong and healthy (well, aside from the cancer part) and can fight a lot right now. I know I pay attention to what I put in me and what's around me and limit my exposure to as much bad stuff as is reasonably possible.

But I also know that didn't make a damn bit of difference this time around. It's a damn good thing I got incredible life insurance a few years back. I certainly hope my kids don't get to collect on it in the next 18 years, but I also know it will be incredibly expensive to ever get another life insurance policy once you have cancer at 35. Because from here on out, I'm kind of just a time bomb.

Boom.

<3
-B-

Where Did That Shiv Come From???

So I'm in bed this morning, as I so often am these days, but it's about 4:45am so I expect most of you were in bed at that time, too... and I'd just woken up from a very lovely dream about puppies frolicking on the beach under rainbows (not really, but I ain't telling what the dream really was, just trust me when I say it was a good one) and I was relaxed and happy and looking forward to getting up to take a walk again and greet another gorgeous sunrise.

I did my usual mental checklist for aches and pains from sleeping in essentially the exact same position for over a week now (turns out you can't really roll over in your sleep when you have drainage tubes on both sides. Ick.), took a deep breath to start my day...

And immediately felt like someone had stabbed a shiv in my ribs. Fuck. There was an involuntary cry of pain and the desire to NEVER BREATHE AGAIN. But of course that's not an option, so I slowly released the breath I was holding, took a couple of nice slow shallow breaths and felt fine. Decided to try another deep breath and hoped there was just an odd twinge.

WRONG. Once again, extreme shooting pain and a yelp of surprise. How could breathing possibly hurt this damn much? I hadn't even stretched or sat up yet or anything.

At this point, I realized I probably needed to use the bell. For those of you who are unfamiliar with my medical history, there have been times in the past few years when I have been bed-bound. First with a horrible c-section recovery and caring for a preemie Fin, then again when I was on bedrest for two months while pregnant with Greta. Yeah, I'm a pro at laying in bed all day...

Anyway, with this much bedrest, you quickly learn that there will be times you need or want things and no one is in easy earshot - especially when the baby has just fallen asleep and you don't really want to yell and wake him up - or as in mornings like today when you simply do not have the physical breath to call out beyond just yelping in pain.

So my genius mother realized years ago that a doorbell works great for these situations. You can plug in a receiver or two throughout the house, keep the button by the side of the bed and beckon loved ones as needed. Lately the kids have taken great joy in ringing the bell as often as possible to see how quickly daddy will come running, but I've never really had to use it for myself, and especially not when I knew everyone else was asleep. Somehow I didn't think it was the nicest way to wake someone up.

So I gritted my teeth one more time, covered my mouth in case I yelled again and tried to breathe. Nope - still not happening. Damn.
And of course I was then worried that something bad actually had happened, like the drainage tube had somehow come loose in my sleep. So I mustered my courage to check and was relieved to see and feel that everything is apparently still connected as it should be, the drainage is still quite clear and healing as expected.

My mom was sleeping in the living room just a few feet away, so I tried to just call out so I wouldn't have to wake Dave on the other side of the house and risk waking the babies up before 5 am, but again - calling out requires breathing and I wasn't really up for trying that again so soon.

So after about ten minutes of being awake in pain and exhausting every other option I could think of, I caved and rang the damn bell. Stupid cancer.

Mom and Dave were both immediately by my bedside asking if I was okay and by this point, all I could do was breathe very shallowly, cover my face and shake my head no. Because I wasn't and it was horrible.

I was able to explain that breathing made me feel like I was splitting open and I didn't really know how to fix that feeling. But of course I'm stubborn and strong and no way is fear of extreme pain going to keep me from BREATHING, so I just prepared myself and tried to see what I could do.

Raise shoulders? Check. Arch back a little to stretch ribs? Okay, slight pain, but not shooting, stabbing pain. Stretch right leg out and raise it a bit? Check. Extend left leg and start to raise it? NOPE!

What the fuck is cancer doing keeping me from breathing or moving anything on my left side??? So - again being stubborn and refusing to do nothing but stay in bed fearing pain today - I decided I was just going to sit up and get it over with. If I actually split open like it felt like I was going to, at least my mom and husband were there to get me to the hospital FAST, right?

So I took as deep a breath as I dared, steeled myself for the stab of pain and sat up. And sighed a giant sigh of relief. It still hurt and I'm definitely sore from something in there getting pinched or tweaked or whatever the hell it is that happens to one's ribs cage and muscles when people have been digging around in there so much in the past week, but I could sit up and breathe.

And it's sad to think of that as an accomplishment at 5am, but today it really was.

Dave asked if I wanted to go to the emergency room to get checked out, but I figured there was nothing really to tell them. "Hi. I had cancer and just had surgery and it hurt to breathe for a while today, but I'm okay now." That would be an expensive conversation for my health insurance company and besides, I already have Codeine and Valium at my fingertips.

So I decided to go for my walk as planned and just see how the rest of the day pans out. It was a lovely mile and a gorgeous sunrise and I can see the radio towers on South Mountain, which always makes me happy, too.

I did get quite a lecture from my private nurse-in-training Richie last night about cutting back on my pain meds too soon, so I suppose I'm back to taking full doses of Valium again today and using the Codeine before my pain level crosses above a 3-4 on the 0-10 pain scale. Which apparently means I'm likely to be asleep again a bit more. I was enjoying being awake and having company lately, but apparently I'm really bad at recognizing when my body is actually in pain and NEEDS to rest.

Eeesh. Why is it so hard to just nap when I finally have an incredibly valid reason to do so?

So that seems to be the plan for the next couple of days. I see the plastic surgeon tomorrow to get the drains removed (yay!) and that should hopefully give me some more sleeping options. I see the breast surgeon on Tuesday to learn more about the pathology reports and how the cancer removal went, and I see the oncologist on Thursday to discuss ongoing treatment plans. And then we get the rest of this show on the road. In the meantime, I take more naps and try to work from home a bit so I don't go too stir crazy.

We have great wifi and I know several of you guys can work from home or are self-employed, so if anyone wants to come hang out for a few hours in the next week and work at Cafe Benah to keep me company, I have a really cool bell I can ring to see if someone will bring us snacks. ;) Or maybe I'll even just ask you for help when I need it. I'm working on that part...

I have a bit more about cancer on my brain today and hopefully I'll get a chance to get back online to process it more later, but for now the kiddos are waking up, my dad is in town for a few more hours and the Valium hasn't kicked in enough yet to force my morning nap, so I'm going to go spend some time with my family while I'm awake enough to remember doing it. :)

And a deep breath just made my left side hurt like hell again. Argh. Cancer is stupid. Bah.

<3
-B-