I Am So Very Thankful

The lull is back a bit - I'm still working on finding a new plastic surgeon, but with the plentiful and quick recommendations I received - all for "the best" surgeons, of course - I am confident that I will find a good fit to replace Dr. J and will soon feel like I actually have someone who is a part of my healing team, a partner in my care.

I have appointments with new plastic surgeons throughout the day on Wednesday and then I start chemotherapy on Thursday morning. So the long Labor Day weekend is now forcing a bit of a lull on me, and this time I am happy to just sit back and enjoy it.

I got to spend yesterday with my sweet baby boy. I can't believe he will be five years old in just a few months. His little brain is so amazing and creative. He's incredible with Legos. He got rewarded with a new set of Star Wars Legos yesterday and as he was putting them together, he announced, "I don't even have to use the instructions. I can use my brain as the instructions!" And he did. The starfighter looks awesome.

Greta wanted to go to the children's museum with Dave, but Fin wanted to stay home and play with me, so we got a much needed and overdue mommy/Finny day. It was perfect.

We played Lego Star Wars for a good part of the day, he curled up in my lap and asked for scary monster stories and we turned the bed into his house when he wanted to play kitty cat. He told me I was his owner, built himself a bed and house out of pillows and a laundry basket, made a tail out of a long necklace, hung a sign on the "house" with his name on it and drank milk from a bowl on the floor. He did this for over an hour.

And while I was having the great mommy day, I also got to use some pent up energy to have an impact on the house. I cleaned up the cancer room and our bedroom, reorganized my half of the closet and the linens in the armoire, and I washed and put away 9 loads of laundry. It was a very productive and fun day.

Turns out I’m sometimes really good with the lulls in my life after all.

I woke up a good three hours before anyone else in the house this morning. And I actually got a good night’s sleep, too; they all just slept in.

During those three hours to myself, I got to do some reading, think about my cancer and listen to some great music. And I realized that as I’m heading into this somewhat daunting week, the emotion I am most feeling right now is thankful.

I am incredibly thankful for my amazing children, for a husband who is working hard to support me through the roller coaster of this stupid illness, and for having my mom and sister close by and knowing they will be by my side in an instant should I ever need either of them for anything at any time of day. I’m also thankful for my dad who, although he is 1500 miles away, can always help me put my stress into perspective with a quick phone call and who reminds me that so much of this stuff is crap and not worth wasting my energy worrying about it.

I am thankful that my niece is healthy despite her premature entry to the world – and I’m thankful that she came early so she was already stable and home by the time I got my diagnosis. I am thankful I was able to support my sister and her family through the rough first weeks of Jillian’s life and that things have settled down for them a bit and I know I can count on their support now. I am thankful that my kids get to grow up close to their cousins. Watching the 2 yr olds play and have conversations with each other is incredibly entertaining.

I am thankful for a great job with really good health insurance. I am thankful for coworkers and supervisors who are supportive and helpful through this illness and who make sure I have the flexibility to work from home when needed and who have let me know my work and projects are covered any time I need to be out for doctor’s appointments, treatments or healing.

And I am hugely thankful for my friends. I have been blessed with an incredible support network and this last six weeks has really shown me how many amazing people I have in my life. I am thankful for my TMS cyber-mommy friends who have made sure I am always surrounded by their love and support. I am thankful for my tireless VL friends – I know a single day hasn’t passed in the last 6.5 weeks when at least one of you hasn’t contacted me, checked in, visited, called, or texted just to say you’re thinking of me and to ask if there’s anything you can do to help me more. You are truly wonderful people.

I am thankful for the high school, college and grad school friends who have gotten in touch after years of little contact just to let me know I’m in their thoughts or prayers, and I am thankful that so many people have added my name to their shirts in various Race 4 the Cure events, Relay for Life events or other fundraisers for cancer awareness and research. I am always honored to know you are thinking of me and wishing me well on this journey.

And as odd as it may sound, I am thankful that this disease has given me an excuse to spend time catching up with a few people who have always made my life more stable with just a phone call – Ray, Rachael, Steph, Allie, Chris – thank you to each of you for the hours on the phone just being normal, being my friend, not judging me, not lecturing me, always loving me no matter what, and for making me laugh until I hurt. You may all live very far away from me, but know you are never far from my thoughts and are always in my heart.

I am thankful for the strong and positive women I have met who have been down this road before me. I am sorry we have all had to experience this journey, but I know my travels down this road have been made easier with your support, advice, recommendations for care providers, and just seeing how normal life can and will be afterwards. I very much appreciate all the trinkets and totems you have shared from your own breast cancer experience and I really hope I never have a need to pass them on to anyone else I love. Laura, Robin, Deborah, Tammy – you have all shared so much with me and I appreciate your strength and openness.

I am thankful to have two very thoughtful and open female doctors on my cancer team. Dr. Jennifer O'Neill and Dr. Robin Obenchain have both been amazingly warm, comforting, informative and approachable throughout this whole experience so far. They both start and end every visit with hugs for everyone in the room. I don't consider myself all that huggy of a person most of the time, but the obvious compassion and concern that these two doctors have for their patients is very appreciated. Everyone warned me that cancer doctors tend to be cold and distant, to forget that there is a person around the cancer rather than just seeing the cancer itself - my breast surgeon and oncologist are two of the warmest, friendliest and most competent doctors I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. I am thankful to have them as partners on my healing team.

I am thankful for good music – this journal entry is brought to you by Mothersbaugh’s Canon by Mark Mothersbaugh (my close-your-eyes-and-just-breathe song since grad school), Glitter in the Air by P!nk, and pretty much anything by Jack Johnson. I am thankful for dancing and laughing until I hurt.

I am thankful for having learned how much I love running before I got sidelined by cancer. I am really looking forward to getting back to it and I hope to run through many more sunrises soon.

I am thankful for sunflowers, butterflies, hedgehogs, watermelons, dancing women, duckface and remote controls – all of which make my cancer-be-gone sanctuary a calm, healing space. I am thankful to have the space to curl up and rest when I need to, even if I don’t use it as much as some of you think I should.

And finally, I am thankful for all of the comments you all have left me here and on facebook. I know so much of what I write is just blathering, navel gazing, getting junk out of my head – but it means a lot to know there are people who care about me enough to read it and let me know you are here to support me.

I hope you all know how much you mean to me. I am thankful that I have today to try to let you know what an impact you have made in my life. I hope we all have many more healthy days to share with each other.

<3

-B-

Happy Birthday, Dave!

Today is my husband Dave’s 33rd birthday. While this cancer crap has been hard on everyone who loves me, he is in the unenviable position of being the only person, other than myself, of course, who has to live with this 24 hours a day. The kids are too young to be very aware of what’s actually happening, and as much as I know it’s on my parents’ minds pretty much constantly, my mom can go home and focus on other things from time to time and my dad is 1500 miles away.

Obviously, I am the only one who has to deal with the physical pain of healing from surgery, experiencing the poison of chemotherapy and actually having had the cancer inside me, but as my husband, Dave has had to deal with the reality of knowing his wife and best friend is sick and hurting and there’s really not a whole lot he can do about it.

We have been together for almost eleven years and every marriage has its ups and downs. Unfortunately, we were in a bit of a rough patch for a few months recently and then – dun dun dun (the music again) CANCER. There have been times in the last 5.5 weeks since my diagnosis when I just really wasn’t sure how we were going to make it through this cancer journey together.

Today Dave stepped up and came through for me in the most amazing way and I was reminded of why we’ve been together for as long as we have. We may still have challenges ahead of us in our relationship, but I think today was as much a birthday gift for himself as it was a huge gift to me.

We had another appointment with my plastic surgeon today – Dr. Jacobsen of the fancy schmancy Biltmore office. Over the past week, I’d been getting increasingly anxious over the fluid build up in my healing chest and especially over the pain and numbness of my left arm yesterday. I wasn’t sure if I was healing well enough to start the process of filling the implant expanders and I was just generally apprehensive about the whole appointment.

Our appointment was set for noon. We finally got called back into a room at 1:30 and we didn’t see the doctor until after 2pm. This was our fourth visit to his office and we’ve never waited less than an hour to get in with the doctor. In fact, despite the office having two waiting areas, there are usually so many people there that some have to stand for a while.

Dr. Jacobsen finally entered the room and asked how we were doing. I told him that I definitely had some fluid build up that had me concerned and tried to describe what I’d experienced with my arm yesterday. He was moving about the room, pulling over a tray of instruments, adjusting the booby spotlight and generally not seeming to pay much attention to anything I was saying. He had me open the drape top to examine me, pushed a little on the fluid build up and said it was really very little and nothing to worry about.

As I was still trying to describe the arm concerns, he rubbed an alcohol pad across the top of my chest and I winced. He told me I couldn’t feel anything and I let him know that the top of my chest is still quite tender and bruised-feeling and it did actually hurt for him to press on it like that. In order to do the fluid injection for the implant expansion, a small tool has to be pressed to the skin to find the opening in the implant. He was continuing to rub the alcohol and press the tool into me while I was trying to ask a question, so I stopped and asked what he was doing.

He joked that it was a Geiger counter and he was checking me for radiation and in the next half second I realized he was coming at me with a three inch needle.

I yelled at him to stop and he assured me that it wasn’t going to hurt (though I was obviously feeling more than he seemed to think I could). I told him that I wasn’t concerned about pain, but he couldn’t just be coming with me at a needle without telling me what we were doing. Of course, he’d explained the process last week when the drains were removed and I knew exactly what was supposed to happen today, but what kind of doctor walks into a room and starts a procedure without ever asking a patient if they have any questions or concerns about the procedure??? This whole interaction had taken place in less than three minutes after we’d been waiting for over 2 hours.

I told him that I felt like he was talking down to me and he was just worried about whether or not my boobs were going to be pretty (and he reminded me that he’s very good at what he does so of course they will be) while I had actual concerns about healing and getting well and didn’t really give a damn in that moment what my boobs were going to LOOK like. I was still concerned about not having feeling in my arm for a day and the fact that I couldn’t even make myself lunch and had to call my mom and sister to come make me a sandwich.

He said he never used the word pretty (which he hasn’t; he says I’m healing beautifully and that my new breasts will be absolutely beautiful) and then asked if they made me a good sandwich.

He said he wasn’t talking down to me and again told me that I wouldn’t feel any pain in the procedure. At this point I was pretty pissed off, so I just leaned back for him to redo the alcohol and expansion-finding tool part. I have never had a fear of needles and have always kind of enjoyed watching blood draws and things once the needle is actually in. As long as I don’t watch the insertion, I can generally watch the rest, so once I felt the needle prick, I looked to see how the rest of the process went.

As he was slowly pushing saline into the first implant, he said he’d be able to drain the fluid on the other side from the same insertion that he’d be filling the implant with. Now, the implant opening is at the top of the chest and of course, all the fluid build up was pooled in the bottom of the area (thanks, gravity). When I asked if he’d really be able to get all of that fluid out without fishing around in me with a needle, he assured me that he didn’t fish. He said if I wanted a doctor that bad, I’d have to go find one down on Van Buren. But then he admitted he might have to make another needle insertion to drain the fluid that I had.

While he was filling the implants, he turned to Dave and said over his shoulder, “See? This doesn’t hurt her. She can’t feel it, there was nothing to be afraid of.”

Of course, it wasn’t any more painful than a blood draw, but I could definitely feel several ounces of fluid entering a foreign body in my chest and I realized that my entire lower body had tensed up when I was angry. I tried to concentrate on deep breathing and relaxing and by the time the first side was done, I was mostly relaxed again and even tried to make a joke about how tensed up my muscles had been.

He began the expansion on the second side, which was a bit more painful, so I mostly just watched Dave’s face watching the procedure to see how things were going. He was watching intently, but didn’t seem concerned so I continued to just try to stay calm and breathe deeply rather than think about how weird this whole thing really is. I now have little plastic bags of fluid under my skin and muscle to (eventually) look like I have boobies again. Bizarre.

Dr. Jacobsen explained to Dave (not to me) that in order to drain the fluid from the cavity, he would simply slide the needle out of the implant but keep it under the skin to draw the fluid out. This also happened to include pushing on my sore chest trying to force the fluid up to the needle with prodding and pressure. Fun.

He did eventually have to move the needle, and while the fluid extraction itself was not painful at all, there was a moment of very sharp pain that actually made me jump and cry out and my eyes immediately filled with tears from the stab of pain. I thought he’d just nicked me somehow when he’d taken the needle out, so I said, “Wow, that hurt!”

He replied, “What hurt? I haven’t moved anything. We’re almost done here.” and I realized the needle was still inside me.

He finished draining the fluid and showed me that he’d extracted almost as much as he’d injected and that it was the exact color he expected it to be to know things were healing correctly. By this point, tears of anger were streaming down my face so he handed me a tissue and went about putting away the tools and getting rid of the drained fluid.

I said I had a few questions and asked Dave to hand me my book where I’d written them. Dr. Jacobsen asked what I wanted to know, but I was so angry I could barely speak. I managed to say through clenched teeth that I was working on it and simply looked at Dave.

The doctor finally came back around to the side of my chair and asked again if I had a question for him. I was so mad that I could not even look up at him. I knew if I opened my mouth, all that was going to come out was, “Why are you such an ass?”

Luckily, Dave jumped in and explained that I am an information seeker and that if he would simply talk to me about what we were doing and answer my questions, I’d be a lot more relaxed with everything. Dr. Jacobsen asked what information he needed to give me and said he'd answered all the questions in my book - as if it was silly of me to have a book of concerns about healing when I have to manage at least three doctors for several months.

Dave asked what had happened that made me jump and cry out and Dr. Jacobsen said I was so tense that even a fly landing on me at that moment would have made me feel pain. He said he hadn't done anything that would have made me hurt. Afterwards, Dave said he'd been watching and after I jumped, Dr. Jacobsen did reposition the needle before continuing the fluid extraction as it seemed he'd created a vacuum while trying to push the fluid toward the needle above it.

Dr. Jacobsen continued to say that he could tell I was always looking for the worst case scenario and I needed to look for some positivity in my healing because I am a “healthy little girl” who just needs to try to be strong for a while and trust that he knows what he’s doing and everything is going to be fine.

This man has never taken three minutes to get to know me at all or he would know that I've approached this whole cancer experience with more positivity and strength than most people can believe...

Dave verified that the fluid build up I’d experienced was normal and asked what amount would be cause for concern or follow-up before our next appointment in two weeks. Dr. Jacobsen said that any of it would be fine and there would be no emergencies.

Wow, I am so lucky that my plastic surgeon is God!

This entire time, I was just staring at Dave, unable to speak to this ass of a doctor who seemed to think I was just a little girl who shouldn’t worry my pretty little head over such things as recovering from major surgery. And my sweet husband knew how angry I was and how anxious I was and exactly the things I needed to try to get out of the doctor to be able to relax.

When I could finally speak, I asked again about the numbness and pain in my arm. He said he had no idea what it was, but it wasn’t from anything he had done to me. It was probably something from the lymph node biopsy healing, but nothing he was concerned about and I shouldn’t worry about it either. (Yeah, right, I was absolutely ridiculous to worry about the fact that I couldn’t use my arm for an entire day. What was I thinking?)

Dave asked if he could give us any idea of how many injections I might need to get to my final breast size and Dr. Jacobsen said that of course every woman was different and I’d eventually decide what size I wanted to be because there’s no such thing as a B or C cup. How is this an answer to a question? Dave calmly asked again, “Based on Benah’s size and the fact that she’s not going to want huge breasts, how many visits do you think we will need to plan on in the next few months?”

I was so proud of him for being able to cut through the doctor’s crap and just get us an answer of how many more times I will have to endure the experience I went through today.

The doctor said he’d probably expect to give me 8-10 total injections before I was happy with the size and I might decide to stop earlier. And whenever I was happy with them, he’d want to do probably two more injections to allow for enough stretching of the skin so the implants would have a more natural motion and shape to them. He also said that while he knew I wasn’t interested in giant breasts, he probably wouldn’t be able to give me large breasts anyway because I was small and didn’t have the tissue to support them. (Sorry to those of you out there who told me to go big or go home. Sounds like I was always intended to make my money with my brain rather than my hooters...)

By this time I was able to ask a few more questions about what to expect regarding pain or muscle spasms after each expansion and he told me that I would probably be in some pain until at least December, but each week should get better than the last. And he said fluid build up was nothing to worry about, but if I didn’t like it, I should just keep wearing my compression vest as the more I wear it, the less fluid should collect in the chest cavity.

Ergh – I was so looking forward to getting out of this thing because it’s so uncomfortable, but honestly, the fluid build up was weirder. So it appears I’ll be in my pink scuba vest for a couple more weeks, at least part time. Fun.

The doctor left the room and I was still just amazed and angry about the whole interaction. Dave helped me up from the chair and helped me get dressed and knew I was still just seething at this man who treated me like I was ridiculous for having concerns about my health. Apparently they’re just boobs to him.

I know he does this procedure all day every day and honestly, the actual draining and filling of the implants was pretty uneventful (other than the one sharp stab of pain that he blamed on me...), but while it may be part of HIS routine, it’s certainly new to me.

We scheduled our next appointment for two weeks out because next week is Labor Day, but it seems this will be an almost weekly appointment for the next several months. There may be draining necessary for the next appointment or two, but that should taper off a little after I start chemo, so from there we’ll just see how I’m feeling from week to week and how I’m liking the implants as they grow.

Dave asked if I wanted to find a new doctor to finish my reconstruction. The idea certainly has its appeal, but I’m concerned about whether another surgeon would be inclined to finish what Dr. Jacobsen has started, how it would impact insurance coverage, etc. So for now, I’m trying to just tell myself that Dr. Jacobsen was recommended to me by a surgeon that I DO like very much and I DO trust. Dr. O’Neill, my breast surgeon, said that for implants, he was the best guy around. And based on his waiting room and how long it takes to get in to see him, he definitely seems to have a great reputation for doing great work.

And of course, he’s told me himself how good he is at his job...

So I’m trying to think of him as just the guy who gives me boobs, not as an actual part of my healing team. I do not intend to ask him any more questions than I absolutely need to and I will turn to Dr. O’Neill or Dr. Obenchain for most of my actual concerns about healing, despite the fact that Dr. O’Neill has told me to turn to Dr. Jacobsen for that information. He has proven that he cannot answer my questions in a satisfactory manner and I do not want to interact with him more than I need to. I trust that he is good at the surgical aspects of his job and am coming to terms with his rather limited ability to answer questions with anything more than a “Don’t worry about it,” or “Just trust me,” or “It’s fine.” Though honestly, when Dave was asking questions, he would answer them. When I asked, I was being silly and worrying too much.

Dave commented afterwards that he's either autistic-like in his social abilities or just really sexist. I'm leaning toward the latter.

I’d like to believe that all of my concerns really are nothing, but then again, my radiologists kept telling me I didn’t need to worry about that lump I’d been feeling for 18 months and we all know how that turned out. And for that matter, when I was pregnant with Fin, my midwife kept telling me I wasn’t really having contractions and there was nothing to worry about... until my water broke 5.5 weeks early and I suddenly had a baby an hour and a half later. I think I’ve done a pretty good job of listening to my body up until now and I have learned to really appreciate having doctors around me who respect the fact that I am the one living in my body and experiencing it and I might actually know what it feels like in here just a tiny bit better than they do.

So – the first draining and filling is done. I have decided that my plastic surgeon is an ass and I do not particularly like him, but he appears to be really good at the skill part of his job (based on the recommendation of a doctor who has both surgical skill AND the ability to communicate with her patients) and ultimately, I want the person who is going to give me the best medical and physical outcome when this is all said and done. I’ve suffered arrogant doctors before (though usually not for long, but we’ve already started down this road with him and I feel like it would be harder to make a switch than to just lower my expectations for his bedside manner) and I think I can make it through the next few months. With any luck, I will have completed my expansion and the final implants before the end of the year, so maybe I won’t even have to see him past the next 6 months or so.

Dave and I went out for a birthday lunch after the appointment – we were both starving by the time we got out of our “noon” appointment at 3pm – and it was so nice to feel like he had known exactly what I needed to get through that experience, how to read my needs when I was so angry and hurt that I could not speak, and how to get the information out of the doctor that I needed to hear to be able to be comfortable with what was going on. It’s been way too long since I felt like we had connected in that way and I felt like Dave really knew what was going on with me, but he came through for me today in a tough situation and I am so thankful that he was there with me. I didn’t need him to physically hold my hand because I wasn’t scared, but having him there to give me the space to be angry, and him being angry along with me, was the best support I ever could have asked for.

Happy Birthday, Dave. Thanks for spending part of your day making mine so much better. I love you.

<3
-B-

I Am SO Loved.

I know I already updated with the outcomes of the medical adventures with the oncologist today, but I have to make a separate entry to mention the most amazing and wonderful and unexpected part of my day.

I cried and cried and sobbed and laughed and sobbed some more today because of the love of so many of you. I have been a part of an online mommy chat group over the past 5 years. I have had the luck to meet a handful of these women in that time, but most of us have been only cyber-friends - sharing advice, lending an ear, talking about raising the kids, feeding issues, pooping issues, marriage issues, and laughing and being silly and making amazing friendships.

I knew several of them were conspiring to send me something for my healing room and I had been told it would arrive today. When a poster tube showed up, I figured they had gotten together to create a poster of support.

I unrolled a heavy stack of photos and paper and realized they sent more than one - as I slowly unrolled the first poster, I saw that from across the country, they had all taken the words from "Lean on Me" and contributed photos of themselves with the words to the song in different silly ways.

Sometime in our lives, we all have pain, we all have sorrow... and each couple of words was a photo of a different friend with a sign or a painting or a drawing or a chalkboard or a magnadoodle or with lipstick on a mirror or writing on a cheek or hand... and a huge grin or kiss or silly face to make me feel better. I was sobbing before I read the first line of the song.

I was overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness and planning this poster required... then I realized there was another one underneath, and another, and another, and another. All told, about 60 women - most of whom I've never actually met in real life - they are my "imaginary mommy friends" - worked together to create 5 incredible posters that had me both laughing and crying so hard that if I still had boobs, they would have fallen off.

I am a Gleek, so there's a poster of everyone doing the Glee "L" on their foreheads with a giant Don't Stop Believing in the middle - and pictures of the Glee cast are interspersed in with my dear, hilarious friends.

There is a ridonkulous poster (a word they all know I hate and they use especially to make me laugh) with each of them doing duckface - I cannot stop laughing at these photos and am awed at the love that went into making them. (If you don't know what duckface is, check out antiduckface.com Really.) Because I'm also a Twilight fan (I draw the line at calling myself a Twi-hard, sorry.) they also included duckface pictures of Bella, Edward and Jacob. Again - laughing and crying at the genius here.

There is a poster of this amazing bunch of women looking in every direction Brady Bunch-style and sending me love and "healing dust" - and they even included a picture of me from my Bye Bye Bad Boobies party!

And then, for reasons I refuse to divulge or explain - the final poster is all of their kids carrying watermelons and fruit. They carried a watermelon for me. I have seen so many of these babies grow from black and white ultrasound photos into preschoolers and 1st graders. I have been able to share in their sleep patterns, eating habits, health scares and the silly, funny stories that make parenting so worthwhile.

There will never be words to describe how amazing this gift is from these women who love me so much despite the fact that most of them have never actually met me in person. I will never be able to thank my dear friend Stephanie who organized and put these projects together (while she was traveling for 2 weeks, too!) enough. I will be forever indebted to all those who created these ideas, who know me well enough to make me laugh until I cry and sometimes until I pee, and who took the time to take goofy pictures of themselves to show me how much love and support I have in this stupid, stupid battle.

I've always considered myself a fairly strong woman, but with friends like these (and this is just one group of friends! Don't forget the amazing VL friends that have been here in person throwing farewell parties for the bad girls, cooking meals, decorating my healing room, visiting me while I heal and giving me so, SO many hugs last night at the VL32 event!) I know I really can handle anything that comes my way.

Thank you all for bringing so much love into my world.

<3
-B-

CANCER FREE!!!

Benah here again - and CANCER FREE!!!!!!

I actually am dancing a little bit as I write this, but I have somewhat limited mobility, so trying not to overdo anything here...

The surgery yesterday went absolutely perfectly. I am SO thankful for my amazing PR guru Jessica Catlin for keeping you all up to date and I was amazed to find 260 messages waiting for me when I turned my BlackBerry back on after surgery. I read through about 30-40, took a drug nap and woke up to find another 50+. LOL - It took a while, but I smiled through all of them.

Thank you all so incredibly much for the love and support you've all shared in the past few weeks. It has meant more to me than you can possibly ever know.

So, for now I'm doing really well. I'm sleeping a lot after I take the drugs (fun combo of valium and torodol) but I tend to have a few hours of activity and mobility in between naps and the next dose. And they warned me that I probably wouldn't be too hungry for a few days. Shows what they know - I think my days are much like a newborn's right now: sleep, eat, pee, sleep some more, pee, eat again.

Oh yeah, and I'm drinking gallons of water, too. LOL Supposed to keep the nausea at bay.

As for pain, it mostly feels like I've just done waaay too many pushups at this point. And some crunches. I'm bruised and tender, but not in major pain at all. I can raise my arms over my head - though VERY slowly - and even managed a shower this morning.

I was a little concerned about the emotional impact of seeing myself without breasts, but honestly, it's not too bad at all. It's certainly different, but it's temporary.

I thought I would mourn them more, but strangely... I just don't yet. I'm happy to be healthy. I blessed to live in a place with skilled care providers that can get the cancer out of me and let me laugh with my kids, family and friends.

I am surrounded by people who love me and want to hang out and take care of me. What more could a person possibly ask for?

Cancer is still incredibly, incredibly stupid and I know my journey is really just beginning, but for being a day out of surgery, I feel damn good.

Love to you all. Time to drain some fluids (not nearly as gross as it sounds, promise) and take a few more meds, then probably sleep some more. Hope to see some visitors soon!

Much, much love, thanks and joy to you all!
-B-

I am Blessed and Thankful

A few days ago, I realized that this is the time of year that I tend to fall off the blog-wagon. It's not because I don't have things about the family that I want to capture, record and share with others. It's because there are so many amazing and wonderful things happening that I often find myself too busy and tired to sit down and get online.

I still want to share pictures of Fin's birthday and his party with all his friends and the giant Batman bounce house, I want to share pictures of Greta's first haircut a few weeks ago and even her first pigtails a few weeks before that, and I want to share pictures of my desert babies enjoying our recent rain storms the way kids in other parts of the country celebrate the first snowfall. I want to share their annual check ups from this week and marvel at how much they've grown and all the amazing, amusing things they say every day.

But I'm making myself take the time to sit down and write tonight rather than wrap Christmas presents or clean the house or even just relax and read for fun because today has been one of those days that just makes me feel so incredibly blessed and thankful for all the love and joy in my life.

Nothing special happened today. Nothing marvelous or incredible, except for all those little things that are marvelous and incredible every single day of my life. But something made me take notice of them today and before I knew it, I was crying simply because of the beauty of it all.

I had a meeting downtown today. This is not at all unusual for me. In fact, I have a meeting with this group of people for this grant pretty much every two weeks. We meet at a library in central Phoenix to work on doubling the rate of students going to college from underrepresented and disadvantaged backgrounds. I think this is a great project on which to be working and I love that my job allows me to work towards goals like this.

But the introspection started today because of the stairs at the library. I almost always take the stairs over the elevator when I can. It's just something I've done for years now. But I really like the stairs at this particular library. They are a very cool stone, have brushed metal handrails, are open and wide and not too steep. The library itself has a lot of open space and glass walls and I always wonder why anyone would take the elevator if they don't physically have to.

So today, as most times when I attend meetings at the library, I took the stairs and thought to myself, "I'm thankful that I am physically capable of taking these stairs."

I sat through the meeting and was very conscious of the fact that I am congested and seem to be fighting off a cold. I feel fine and am 90% sure it's just allergies, but I was concerned about other people being worried about germs so I was diligent about using hand sanitzer any time I blew my nose, keeping tissues at the ready in case I sneezed, etc. And I thought to myself, "I am thankful that my biggest health concern right now is a cold. I am blessed that I don't have cancer or any other major medical issue. I'm glad my nose is chapped and my hands are chapped from washing them so much because if that's the extent of my health concerns, I'm doing pretty darn well today."

After the meeting, as I went back down the stairs, I passed an older gentleman who was taking the stairs very slowly, two feet on each step, and I realized that I have so much more to be thankful for than just being able to take the stairs and having only a cold to worry about. I am thankful that my body allows me to do 90% of the things I want it to do without even having to think about it. Despite my physical imperfections, which I seem to be instantly able to focus on and scrutinize, I rarely have to worry that my body will not allow me to do something I want to do. Sure, I would have to train for a while before running a race, but if I just want to go for a walk, a hike, a jog, a bike ride, chase my kids, climb stairs, dance around the kitchen, or do flips in a bounce house, I CAN.

While we had been in the meeting, the weather outside got a little crazy. A storm blew through town with pretty high winds and lots of rain, but the sun broke through a few minutes before our meeting was over and I was glad that I wasn't going to have to drive through the worst of it. As I got in the car to drive home, the sky above me was still dark and cloudy, but the sun was shining on the mountains in the distance and I was thankful to live in such a gorgeous part of the world.

As I drove home, the radio station reported that the storm had included a very bad dust storm that had led to a major collision on the freeway. At least 20 cars had been involved and there were four fatalities reported at that time. I do not know the extent of the damage from that dust storm, but I know there are families out there tonight and every night getting the worst possible news. My heart and prayers go out to them.

So, while I was already feeling contemplative and introspective today, this news made me all the more thankful for the incredible things in my life.

Around this time last year I realized that from the middle of October until the middle of February, we have some sort of birthday, holiday or event at least every ten days, if not more often. My best friend, mother-in-law, dad, sister, daughter, grandmother, son, nephew, brother-in-law, mom and other brother-in-law have birthdays. We have Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years and Valentine's Day. We have our dateiversary and our wedding anniversary. And those are just the ones I remember off the top of my head. Suffice it to say, this time of year is busy, stressful and all around crazy.

But today I decided to change my approach a bit.

Instead of stressing about getting the holiday cards out on time and worrying about how many to order and who to send them to, I'm thankful that I have so many people that I care about to want to send holiday greetings and wishes. (And yes, the cards went out on December 22nd, in case you don't get it until after Christmas.)

Instead of worrying about how much everything costs this time of year (and trust me, with both kids' birthdays falling between Thanksgiving and Christmas, this is an expensive time of year), I'm thankful that I have enough to share. While I was at the post office mailing those holiday cards, there was a man sitting on a counter in the corner, just huddled half asleep inside his coat. He was not begging or asking for anything, he was only seeking refuge from the cold. I knew he was probably only going to be warm for another hour or so, so I approached him with the little bit of cash I had on me at the time and simply asked if it would help him out. I know that one gesture won't change his situation, but I'm thankful that I was in a place to at least let him know that someone saw him and wanted to help.

Instead of worrying about how messy and cluttered my house is all the time, I'm thankful that we have such an abundance of books and toys and clothes that I have clutter to worry about. I'm thankful to have a house we can afford in a safe neighborhood we like that we can fill with our mess.

Instead of complaining that my husband rarely sees the messes around him all day and I always come home to a trashed house, I'm thankful that he wants and is able to stay home with our children. I'm thankful that I have three people I love at home making the place a mess while I'm at work. I'm thankful that I have a job I love that financially allows us to have one parent home with the kids. And I'm thankful that the kids have grandparents around who want to and get to spend time with them often so Dave can also do some of the writing and film work that he loves to do.

And I am so, so thankful for my children. They are funny and crazy and independent and strong willed and beautiful and smart and fearless and sweet and loveable and generous and inquisitive and brave and healthy and strong. With Fin's birthday a few days ago, I have been remembering his arrival into the world and what a scary, rocky start we got off to. I often just look at him and am amazed at how well he's done and how far he's come from that tiny little guy in the NICU hooked up to tubes and monitors that I didn't even get to meet or hold until he was a day old to this taaaaaall, creative four year old that makes me laugh every single day. My children are my life's biggest blessing.

In the course of thinking of all I have to be thankful for, I also thought of my grandmother. She turned 90 years old last week. She suffered a major stroke a couple of months ago and has since had pneumonia and surgery for a blood clot. But she has also made incredible, incredible progress. She went from complete paralysis on her left side to now being able to push herself a few inches in her wheelchair and even take a few assisted steps in therapy. She has regained enough strength that she can fall out of bed. Of course, this is not a good thing for her to do, but the fact that she's strong enough and can move herself enough to do it is great. She still has so many things she cannot do on her own and is frustrated and exhausted and depressed about her situation, but every time she laughs or tells a joke or replies to my, "I love you" with her standard, "I love you more," I am so incredibly thankful that she is here with us. I am thankful that my children have gotten to know her a bit and that she thinks of my kids as her babies.

I usually do not really start thinking about New Years Resolutions until a few weeks into the new year, if at all. I've already decided on a few resolutions for 2010 and I intend to start working on them now.

I intend to simplify my life. I will try to cut myself and those around me some slack. I will be more generous with forgiveness. I will work to be and stay healthy. I will try to eat better, sleep more, play more, laugh more and worry less. I will hug more. I will tell and show people that I appreciate them and all they bring to my life. I will work toward some lifelong dreams and allow myself to have new ones.

I am blessed and joyous and thankful. My life is good. Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, and have a blessed New Year.