Laughter Really IS the Best Medicine

It's that time of the year again. My surgervercary is approaching. It's been two years since my double mastectomy and the start of my life being cancer free again. It's a good feeling!

Just a couple of days ago I began an email correspondence with a friend's sister who is scheduled for a double mastectomy next week. She is going the same route as I did, expanders, then silicone gel implants and she is feeling all the emotions I did exactly two years ago. Her family and friends are incredibly supportive and it sounds like she has a great support system.

I tried giving her as many "tips" as I possibly could so she would feel prepared for what to expect when she is at home recovering. As I was listing all the tips, I couldn't help but laugh as I remembered:

• Kevin wrapping me in plastic wrap so I could shower
• Me dropping my food between car seats and not being able to retrieve it with my T-Rex arms as Meg drove me to a doctors appointment 
• Trying to build origami creatures with my nieces and nephew and then abruptly giving up when we found out we had to use glue
  
• And possibly my favorite moment - going to Supercuts with c.d. and receiving this master piece. I remember laughing so hard that it HURT. Literally. My chest was so sore afterwards but it was much needed.

Luckily I have family and friends who, when shit gets tough, make me laugh. Of course, I'll always remember what I went through in 2012. The pain, anxiety, medications, trauma, just wanting to exercise, the frustration, all of it. But I also remember the good parts of my recovery, the time spent with my family, the jokes about my drains, movie nights down in the basement, all the laughing, and oh so much more.

- J.

PS Speaking of wrapping one's self in plastic wrap, I was just currently tipped off to this awesome product that is used for showering after surgery. It's the one thing I look back at and wish I had. If you are interested in other helpful aides check out the awesome CureDiva website.

Surgervercary... sorta...

I am going to continue to make up -versary words until I can no longer think of any.

So I am kinda celebrating the one year anniversary of my double mastectomy + reconstruction. I say kinda because if you've been following my blog I actually had my surgery on February 29, 2012. I celebrated a Leap Year by getting my breasts cut off! I don't mess around.

I think I feel a bit more emotional about this date than my cancerversary date. I'm not sure why. Maybe because I was so nervous and scared. Maybe because I knew it was so final, no looking back, no regrets. Maybe because I knew I had so many people cheering for me, both at the hospital and in spirit. I've never felt so sad, and angry, and pissed off, and supported, and loved, and cared for all at once!! It was exhausting!

My days at the hospital are a blur and come in little bursts of memories (thanks morphine and pain killers). I remember everyone visiting, telling the nurse I was convinced the morphine wasn't working, walking around with the catheter (unpleasant), trying to figure out who sent the flowers arranged as an adorable dog (thanks Shafran), calling the nurse twice in the middle of the night for more pain meds (as Kevin slept in the chair next to my bed the entire time), the PT making me walk up some stairs and declaring I don't need physical therapy (uh, what?), my roommate was lovely, and I emailed my coworkers to tell them I was high on painkillers but doing well.

Then there's this picture c.d. took of me the day after my surgery, March 1st. Yup. I'm super excited that the hospital offered Mrs. Dash in a packet. I can't remember what I put it on... meatloaf perhaps? This picture says it all. I just had my breasts removed and here I am surrounded by family and friends, loving life, and my Mrs. Dash packet.





Thank you to everyone who helped me remember to always keep laughing and smiling. I'm lucky to have you all around to make sure my sense of humor was not removed in surgery as well.

- J.

Stupid Sexy Double Mastectomy!

It was brought to my attention a couple of days ago that apparently Facebook deems mastectomy pictures porn. A courageous woman who runs the Stupid Dumb Breast Cancer Facebook page posted pictures of herself after her double mastectomy. One image shows her standing in front of a mirror after she was unwrapped, drains in place, scared and deflated. One image is of her and her husband holding hands, her chest proudly on display as she receives support from a loved one. Another image portrays a strong, beautiful woman holding her own chest as she accepts her scars and the battle she won.

This series of photographs really hit me hard. These photos were my exact emotions as I went through my own ordeal. At first, I wasn't even able to look at myself for days. When I was first unwrapped by my plastic surgeon I didn't even look. I couldn't! Pre-surgery, I researched photos online on surgeons websites and I was horrified at what I saw. I felt dejected. I felt scared. When I arrived home from the hospital I had Kevin take pictures of my chest. I wanted that to be my first peek at them. It wasn't so bad! I was lucky enough to be inflated a significant amount so I was truly impressed by what I saw. I was then able to look down for myself and come to terms with my new chest.

The next emotion I experienced and needed so badly, was acceptance from my loved ones. Kevin was a superstar and took care of me from day one. He tended to my drains, he made sure my bandages were not wet, he made sure there were no infections, and he made sure I was comfortable at all times. But then he had to go back to work. Who was going to take care of me now? Who could possibly handle the tragic deformities on my chest? Then I found out I was being quite overdramatic (shocking, I know). I asked my sister and c.d. if they would be willing to help me out. I gave them a long speech about how they could say no and I would not be offended. I mean, I couldn't even look at myself for days, how would someone else be able to? Without a blink of an eye they said of course! I needed help to cover my drain holes so they wouldn't get infected. I needed help to put on my tight, painful bra. I needed help putting on deodorant (which other friends also helped in that area, thank god for that!). I had a whole army behind me and I was so grateful.

All this support lead me towards my final emotion which was being able to accept myself. If everyone else could accept me so easily, why couldn't I? Over time I was able to look in the mirror and not flinch at my own reflection. I can now look at my scars and my different looking breasts, not as deformities, but as battle wounds that will constantly remind me of the fighter I am. I can even joke about my new breasts (they have a great sense of humor).

Now we shall come full circle with this post. Wikipedia defines porn as, "the explicit portrayal of sexual subject matter for the purpose of sexual gratification." I am pretty sure these pictures were not posted to satisfy anyone's sexual gratification. I know she posted these pictures to inform everyone that breast cancer is not a pink ribbon, it is not sexy, and it is not a silent, shy disease. She posted these pictures to let her fellow survivors know they are not alone. Since my breast cancer diagnosis and double mastectomy I certainly do not plan on staying quiet and fading in to the background. I have changed both physically and emotionally because of what I had to endure. Facebook will not silence what this disease does to us. We all need support from everyone out there. How dare anyone try to stop that!

- J.

P.S. You can also find the Stupid Dumb Breast Cancer blog here. It's great!

Share My Road

December 27, 2011.

I can't believe it's been a year. I can't believe it's been a year from the day my body gave me the wake up call that I just couldn't ignore. After ignoring the clear discharge for months on end, it decided to smack me across the face. "Don't ignore me any longer!" It shouted to me. It turned bloody and I could no longer ignore what I kept deeming, "just a normal discharge." I made an appointment that day for a mammogram and ultrasound. I still find it absolutely crazy that after I was officially diagnosed with breast cancer the discharge just stopped. What was up with that?! Seriously. Is that something that happens? Did my body say, "Hey, thanks for listening ass. Now take care of me." I'll never ignore you again body! I swear!

Some days the year feels like it flew by. Other days it seems like it crawled. I've been thinking about this time last year more than ever as the one year anniversary of my diagnosis approaches. I think about going to different doctor appointments, wondering if I was OK. I think about that exact moment in time when I was told I had breast cancer and I begin to tear up all over again. I think about telling my friends and family about my diagnosis when I couldn't even believe it myself. I also remember everyone being strong for me when I needed that the most.

You've all been following my journey for a year and I thank you every day for your support. I couldn't have done it without all of you in my own personal cheering section. I still feel overwhelmed by my diagnosis, even though I've been stamped CANCER FREE. It's only been a year. Only a year. And yet so many things have changed. I started the year with a breast cancer diagnosis and I end the year breast cancer free. I started the year with my own breasts. Now I have these implants on my chest that I still need to get used to. I am still so hyper-aware of my implants and I hope that fades over time. I know it will. Or at least I hope it will.

My emotions are running wild as I am able to reflect on this time last year knowing what I know now. Last year I was just on auto pilot as I fought hard to regain my health and kick breast cancer outta my life. I didn't know what was in store for me, and technically I still don't, but what I do know is that I fought my hardest and had the most amazing people by my side.

- J.

Finding Humor...

I have a much lengthier post coming up on the horizon, but I had to post this for a laugh.

A friend of mine sent this to me (holla!) via email and I got quite a kick out of it.  It's nice being able to find the humor in my situation, and with my one year anniversary of my diagnosis coming up, I could use some laughs.  Technically things didn't start to "go down" until December 27th, but I can feel all the emotions beginning to start.

More to come, but for now, lets all have a laugh.

- J.

I'm Trapped in a Glass Case of Emotions!

Today was THE day. The day I finally got to wear a normal bra again. I thought the day would be a lot more epic than it was, but I still am very happy with how I felt in a normal bra. Although, I am constantly afraid that I will somehow do damage to the implants. I am worried that the fabric of the bra may be pressing too hard into the implants. I know that this fear is silly, but I can't help thinking that they may pop! What if the bra I am wearing isn't enough support? What if what if what if?!

And of course I am still counting down the days when I can start running again. But as the day of reckoning approaches I am becoming more nervous and less excited. What if I don't find the right sports bra? What if while I am running I am doing some sort of damage to my implants? What if running feels too weird and different now that I have these strange numb blobs on my chest?

It's crazy how my emotions shift back and forth between excitement that my life is going to get back to normal to what if I am getting back to my normal life too soon? Maybe I still need time to heal? AHHH!

I know what you are all thinking... it's just the fear of the unknown! It'll all be OK! Once I get back into my running routine it'll feel like I never left it. 

But first, I'll start with some walking.

- J.