My Foobs and How They Compare to Marie Barone's Plastic Covered Couch

I've had this blog in a draft for over a year, partly because I am forgetful at times and partly because I've been a little scared to publish it. After a week of hearing about more recurrences in my friends who've already had breast cancer and a few newly diagnosed in my circle, I vowed that I wouldn't post this or ever, ever complain about my Foobs again because I should be grateful to be alive.  However, it all needs to be said, even though I feel guilty about it (must be the Italian in me!). And yes, I am grateful, all the time, even for the stupidest shit like grocery shopping, laundry and taking out the trash. So, if I sound like I'm complaining about my life, I am not. I have a great life but the reality is that cancer and mastectomies change you forever and this all still needs to be said. And there are people like me who need to hear it so that they don't feel so alone on this journey.

So here goes:

Once in a blue moon, I have a serious emotional meltdown about my Foobs. It seems to come out of nowhere and almost always happens in the shower. I just cry and cry and cry. I let it out and then I move on.

When I was faced with a double mastectomy, my plastic surgeon outlined how the surgery would be done and it all looked very simple and in the end, I'd have some perky new boobies. He had pictures of women who had endured the same surgery and I felt really confident that all would be hunky dory in the end. I would be normal again.

I was wrong.

Don't get me wrong, my doctor is a superstar and did a great job. I adore him, his staff and the phenomenal care he gave me. What I didn't know about having this surgery is that I am stuck feeling like there is something stuck on my chest (ha, maybe because there is). I am still numb on both sides under my arms and into my lat muscles. My nipples are gone. I get occasional itches on (or in, who can tell?) my breasts and while this sounds very exciting, if I try to scratch, I cannot find the itch to save my life. I have very little feeling in my new breasts.  They are constantly cold to the touch and yet, they have the ability to sweat underneath. When I am cuddling with my kids, I feel like there is something in the way and I have actually knocked my little one down a time or two.

Reconstructed breasts are NOT what people think they are. The majority of women I have spoken to about this have agreed that their new breasts have little, if any feeling and are definitely not any source of pleasure. They do enjoy the way they look in clothes but they, too get annoyed by the constant feeling of something stuck on them and the way they bump into things.

And then there is the disturbing feeling that I can no longer or will never feel my own heartbeat again.

Or the self-consciousness of undressing in a ladies' locker room for fear someone will see my scars and missing nipples. (Then again, I personally have seen MUCH scarier in the locker room so maybe it's not that bad.).

No one really wants to talk about sex and their mate's feelings towards their new breasts. Let's just say that the top shelf is just overlooked and no one's buying anything up there! If you want a tell-it-like-it-really-is version of what it's all like, click here for Ann Marie Otis' blog of Stupid Dumb Breast Cancer fame. She is my hero for her honesty and candor!

For those women who had their own tissue and fat transferred into their new breasts, the feeling may be a little more natural but again, there is still no sensation up there. No one's buying.

This all kind of reminds me of Marie Barone's beautiful plastic covered couch. You can look at it but you canNOT sit on it. Ever. It's all for show!

Trying to look "whole" again, comes with a great price including numerous surgeries, anesthesia, time out of work and life and emotional healing. When we do finally achieve the look, we still feel freaky. I feel like a prisoner in my own body most of the time. I want to jump out of my skin and run far away, but I can't. I feel trapped and to remove the implants would mean yet another surgery and I just don't have the energy to deal with more emotional upheaval. I, too, like the way I look in clothes, for the most part. But is it worth it? I'm hoping that over time, I will adapt more to these implants.

Will this ever get easier? It's been 2 years. And that's why I have these random crying meltdowns before getting in the shower.  The low grade discontent, day after day, week after week rears its ugly head. Almost like a pimple waiting to pop (if you need to laugh, click the link).

Some women (and more and more) choose to be "flat and fabulous", opting for zero recon. Some of my friends have opted for this and their doctors have questioned them and just assumed that they would automatically want recon. These women are sometimes criticized for their decisions and made to feel less feminine. Shame on the doctors who chastise a woman's right to go flat and fab. However, one friend noted that she feels like a joyful child without any breasts.  Just writing that made me smile so big.

These feelings of guilt just make me feel worse so I'm here to tell my sisters; feel shitty, cry, scream, run far away from that bathroom mirror if it makes you feel better.  Get therapy when you are ready, be kind to yourself, love yourself, do something that makes you feel good and remember that you have every right to your feelings.

As for me, I give myself permission to cry and grieve and realize this is normal.  And I will continue to count all of my blessings and move forward. I try really hard not to let these things wear me down and stop me from living.

I'd love to hear from anyone who has gone through reconstruction and how you feel several years later. Please comment below if you feel comfortable.  I know I can't be the only one feeling like this!

Happy Sugar-versary to Me

Today marks one full month since I gave up sweets. 

I found this entry in my food journal today and felt pretty damn proud of myself:

And I have stopped saying, "I gave up sweets" because it just sounds so martyr'ish and deprived.

Instead, I now look at it as being emancipated from sugar. Being freed from the shackles of sugar is liberating, powerful and extremely rewarding. Who knew it could feel this way? And except for the 3 day headache I had 5 days into this gig, I'm feeling pretty damn good and my mental fog has lifted, tremendously. Yay! Extra brain power is always a good thing.

Today  I will share some tips that have helped me to get through the last 30 days. This is, by no means, any type of medical advice, just what has worked for me:

1. I plan my snacks to heed off cravings. Some of my favorites include: hard boiled eggs, fruit, nuts, apple slices or banana with all natural peanut butter (no sugar added!), and these yummy homemade breakfast oatmeal muffins which do not contain any flour or sugar. I actually use less than half of the amount of honey suggested and they taste great. Eating snacks with protein throughout the day definitely helps to maintain my blood sugar so I don't have highs and lows I would normally have if I was hitting the candy dish at work.

2. Before my morning coffee, I start the day with a big glass of water with squeezed lemon. Here's why. So many reasons!!

3. Speaking of water, I drink it all day long. I keep a large refilled cup with me everywhere I go. It keeps me hydrated and feeling fuller. I've learned not to mistake thirst for hunger.

4. I do not use any artificial sweeteners of any kind. I never have and never will and I am actually shocked that they are still on the market, considering how harmful they are. They also do not really stave off any cravings and can make them worse.

5. Exercise, exercise, exercise. It gives me something else to do (besides baking cookies) and is a great stress reliever and mood elevator. I have also returned to yoga and that has brought me the biggest joy of all.

6. I incorporate extra veggies in my diet wherever possible. They have tons of nutrients, fiber, and water and help to fill you up. Example. I made homemade burgers the other night and mixed in 2-3 diced portobello mushrooms, 1/4 chopped onion and a half of a shredded and squeezed dry zucchini. with some of my favorite spices and a few dashes of Worcestershire sauce. All of these veggies literally disappeared into the meat  and helped me to get an extra 2 burgers out of the meal. A win win! (the kids had no clue either). I also cut up tons of raw veggies on a Sunday and keep them in a container for the week and grab for a quick snack.

7. I do not drink any alcohol. At all. For some, this will not work. For me, I simply cannot handle any alcohol due to the estrogen blocking, 10 year drug I am on. Alcohol does not agree with me. It's more sugar and calories I don't have to worry about.

Because I have eliminated sweets, my life does not seem to revolve around hunger and food anymore like it used to. Now, I just eat for sustenance and it's sort of odd, coming from an Italian family where everything always revolved around food and treats. I also find myself taking on more projects around the house and have an intense need to clean  out every one's closets and drawers.

My point is, life is still joyful, if not more. I don't feel deprived, ever. And the thought of eating candy is actually revolting to me.  Life is sweet enough and I'm sure I can find another closet to clean!

Going Sugar Free: It's Lent, Only Longer

How does one go about giving up sugar? There is so much advice on the internet and there are a lot of great ideas out there. I'll share what has worked for me in the next few blog posts. This blog is really more about getting your head on straight and psyching yourself up. If I can do it, so can you!!

Here we go:

1. The first rule of Sugar Free Club:  I stopped telling myself "I could never give up sugar." (Many have said this to me lately).  I stifled the old voices in my head that had previously sabotaged my efforts. My new voices say, "I am powerful and sugar is no longer in charge."

2. I told myself that if I dabbled in any way, then it would be over. My version of dabbling means trying "harmless" things like a few chocolate chips in my Greek yogurt or a few chocolate chips on a spoonful of peanut butter. I reminded myself that when I had dabbled in the past, it always led to a relapse of epic proportions. So, no dabbling allowed.

3. I didn't set an "end date" for quitting sugar. This is Lent, only longer. I'm going to keep it going for as long as possible. Do I get a front row seat in heaven for this one?

4. I pretend I have a severe food allergy or that I am like a recovering alcoholic who simply cannot have one drink without falling off the wagon. This is a very powerful technique and has allowed me to retrain my brain. If you keep telling yourself something over and over again, you will believe it, even if it isn't true. This can work in both positive and negative ways, depending on what your self-chatter is all about!

5. When I find myself in a social setting involving sweets, I simply let the voices of Nancy Reagan and M.C. Hammer guide me during these testy times.

My new favorite power couple!

 6. I sought out inspiration from people who have kicked the sugar habit successfully. Hearing their triumphant stories and words of encouragement helped me to get started and keep going. "It gets easier, don't give up", and "If and when you ever do eat sweets again you won't really enjoy them like before." All of this gives me hope.

I know my tips may seem a little unconventional but they are definitely working for me. The next blog will talk about the practical things I am doing to stay on track.  Stay tuned, my sweeties!

Living without Sugar

I have read numerous articles about the damaging effects of sugar on the body and here is a great one written by a nutritionist. This one point: Sugar may be linked to cancer production and may effect cancer survival was the nail in the coffin for me. Please read the article because there are so many more important reasons to give up or at least cut down on the sweet stuff.

As promised in my last blog, here is an update on my progress:

I am happy to report I have been sugar free for 17 days and counting. No desserts of any kind; cookies, candy, ice cream, or even the usual 1/2 tsp of sugar in my morning Joe.

I have scooped ice cream for my kids without so much as licking the spoon, my co-workers have dangled Dove chocolates under my nose without incident, and last weekend  I sat at a child's birthday party where 2 moms devoured Allies doughnut cake right in front of me.  One of them actually snickered when I told her I had given up sugar.  She said to me, "But you have to live!"  It's funny how we associate a few seconds of pleasure with "Living".

I then started rattling off my list of reasons for quitting sweets.  I told her that I now treat myself like  a person with a severe food allergy or a recovering alcoholic who wouldn't dare to dabble in one drink.  I think this made her a little uncomfortable but I think she understood a lot better when I explained my health history and just how lousy sugar was making me feel. She then proceeded to inhale  her doughnut cake in all its glory. I sat there, completely happy for her, yet removed from it all.

I'm allergic. It will make me sick.. 

These are the mantras I hold close and use as weaponry when life gets too sweet.  And you know, it's really working. I have realized over the last 17 days that I can live without sweets and they do not control me any longer. I find myself having flashbacks of Funny Bones, brownie sundaes, chocolate chip cookies, and Twix bars. I can vividly remember the way they taste and then I tell myself, "That's a nice memory, but it has to be enough." And then I move on.

Sometimes a memory of something has to be enough if you want to keep on living.

Breaking up with Sugar....Again

It's been far too long since my last post and I really have missed writing. All has been going pretty well here on the home front, with the exception of some nasty and occasional side effects of Tamoxifen. For the most part, I have adjusted to the drug but on occasion, I have had some major bouts of depression, anxiety, rage, apathy and exhaustion. Thankfully, I am aware that it is the drug talking and not something else. Adding peri-menopause to the mix adds even more excitement!

Oh, and did I mention forgetfulness? The other day, I was driving to work and turned into the Lowe's parking lot which would have been fantastic if I actually worked at Lowe's. In all fairness to me, I was very busy trying to harmonize with Adele on the radio and got mildly distracted. My office was at the next light so I wasn't really off Google maps, just yet.

Being almost 3 years out from my original BC diagnosis, I decided this year to really focus on my own health and wellness instead of fear and anxiety. I have been trying so very hard to take good care of myself. I find myself eating healthier food, exercising, minimizing stress, and reducing the toxic burden in my life by using safer products on my skin and in my home.  Swearing at people who throw cigarette butts outside their car windows also helps. It's all about balance.

With all of this super self-care, there was one area that still suffered, and that was my sugar intake.
Read this for my history on this sugar struggle bus.

Overall, I am OK (at least I was telling myself this). But all it takes is one mother of a chocolate holiday (aren't they all lately?) to derail me, or an innocent night of baking cookies "for the kids" which turns into a gorge fest to "get rid of them" the day after.   Easter is the new Halloween judging by the obnoxious bags of candy adorning the Easter aisles of any Target or CVS and while we really didn't buy the kids much candy, they still somehow landed with enough to fill Olson's Mercantile. And the only way to get rid of it is to EAT IT.

My come-to-Jesus moment came just 1 day after Easter when I found myself on my own personal Easter egg hunt  searching for candy where candy does not dwell....my bedroom closet and  underneath the bathroom counters (I recall having hidden some Swedish fish inside a tampon box once) and then I stopped in my tracks. I actually stepped outside myself for a  moment and looked at how desperate and crazy I had become. This is what pure sugar addiction had done to me  For once, I am not joking.

This one moment in time proved to me that I needed help. If I was going to get real about giving up sugar then it meant that I could no longer just have a little here and there, or as I call it, "dabbling".

So, I have finally decided to kick my sugar habit once and for all. I know my closest friends and family members are saying, "Here she goes again", but this time is different. (Spoken like a true addict, I know!)

Every single one....applicable!

It's been almost one full week since I have eaten any form of dessert, cookie, candy, or even sugar in my coffee. I have to say it has been so much easier than my other feeble attempts. The difference this time is that I know I have a real problem with sugar and now I simply look at it as something that actually makes me sick, both physically and mentally.

Of course, I haven't lost a fucking pound, but that's OK. I'm really proud of myself for taking this step and finding my inner power. I promise to keep you posted on this one. I know I always say that here, but this time, it's different.

What National Cancer Survivor Day Means to Me

According to my most trusted news source (Facebook), today is National Cancer Survivor Day. If you don't believe me, you can click here to see what all the fuss is about and perhaps even "like" their page.

I started writing a blog about this special day and then decided to scrap it for something less intense. It kinda said everything that's already been said about survivorship so I thought it best to not reinvent the wheel.

Here's what being a survivor is really like, in my world anyway!

1.  This. Just after diagnosis I felt exactly like this.

2. Enjoying the "glass half full" with having implants: I am completely buoyant in the water and will NEVER drown (see #1), no matter how much I don't try to stay afloat. I can single-boobedly save an entire family from a capsized ferry!

3. Picturing everyone I know with no hair. It's true. When you go bald, it's all you see. A bunch of cue balls! And you know what? People are more attractive with no hair. No. Joke!

4. Saying "yes" to the things that make me happy and "no" to the things that don't.

5. Forgetting everything. My kids' names, where I left my keys, what did I eat for supper 5 minutes ago?

6. Taking great care to shave my underarms because I now have this canyon between my foobs and my pits. It's a thing you have to see to really understand but no, I'm not posting a pic.

7. Enjoying the little things in life;  like watching my kids play, waiting at the bus stop, and even cleaning the house. Cuz I can.

8. Not feeling guilty about ordering Peapod to deliver my groceries, even with my able body. Life is just too damn short to waste time lugging groceries on a nice day. (So I'm blogging instead!)

9. Unfriending people on Facebook because they complain too much about nonsense and how hard their lives are.

10. Friending perfect strangers on FB because they are in the same life boat as me and I feel like I've known them forever.

11. Freedom. Being a survivor for me means freedom. That is what good health is. Freedom to do what I want when I want. It's freedom to let go of the past, look forward to the future and ride this wave, no matter where it takes me. And because I'm so damn buoyant now (see #2), I can go ANYWHERE and be safe.

God bless all the survivors out there. You are not alone! And  God bless all of the doctors, nurses and caregivers who help all of us survivors every day. We would not be here without you all. Having cancer sucked but I'm proud to be a survivor among many great survivors who are not just surviving, but thriving. Peace and love to you all!

You've Come a Long Way, Boobie

If you are struggling with something like the after effects of breast cancer, how do you know if you've "moved on"? There are so many emotions to deal with and sometimes it's hard to be objective about yourself. Sometimes, it takes an actual event for you to see the writing on the wall!

Last year around this time, I had attended an event where there was a nursing mom. There she sat with her infant, breastfeeding her babe in broad daylight (I know, the horror!).  Even though I had already had my "exchange surgery" where my final implants were surgically placed inside of me, I was still emotionally raw.

As I sat there, glancing over at the new mom, I was filled with sadness. I wasn't prepared to be in this situation.  I just wanted to get the hell out of there....fast. I just couldn't deal. At all. But somehow, I did. I managed to get through the event by swallowing my tears and telling myself that it was OK. This is normal.  You have to expect this.

It's funny how we put expectations on ourselves with a timetable of when we are supposed to be "over it".  I've learned that placing time limits on your feelings is cruel to the self and now I find that I need to just ride the wave.

Fast forward to four weeks ago. I was visiting a friend who happens to be a new mom  and she was immersed in the world of breastfeeding her baby. Her friend was also there, nursing and talking about all things breast and milk.  And you know, I was OK! Actually, not just OK, but I was able to participate in the conversation and offer support as a veteran, nursing mom. I never once felt sad, depressed, or the need to vacate the premises.  Even more, I was so happy for these two, beautiful, happy moms.

That, my friends is PROGRESS!

(If you've never seen the movie "Muriel's Wedding", you must!)

I have pictures of my old breasts on my I-Pad and they jump out and hit me in the eye every time I access my photo stream. (Yes, "before" pics were important to me!) Every time they pop up now, I just breeze past them. They were a big part of my life and served a very important purpose. But now I feel like they are just somebody that I used to know.

I don't want to sound overly cocky that I have kicked these emotions to the curb for good. Who knows if I'll have some sort of massive, mammary meltdown in a store dressing room three weeks from now.

For now, I am feeling pretty good that I have rounded a corner and my brain is not so hyper-focused on what I have lost.  I will continue to ride the wave, no matter where it takes me and that is OK!

Diversity Trend

My friend, Mark recently shared his masters project idea with me and I really loved the concept! He told me that one of the requirements of his Innovative Marketing Strategies class was to build a website and promote it.  Instead of creating a faux company "selling widgets", he and his partner decided to build one that could actually make a  difference in society. And so Diversity Trend was born.  

I am very excited to share his project with my readers and hope that everyone will take a few minutes to check out his site. Mark would love some feedback on his site, too, so please use the Contact Us tab to get in touch with him.

I really love the mission statement for Diversity Trend:

"To cultivate a community representing a wide variety of individuals at all levels, all of whom respect, honor and celebrate the broad range of human differences among us, while also embracing the commonalities we share, and to provide each individual with the opportunity to achieve his or her full potential while pursuing their goals."

As a mom, this story about Mark's daughter's pre-school experience really touched me. The activity "We are all the same on the inside” is so powerful and is a great message for ALL ages. Perhaps corporate America could weave this activity into their diversity trainings, too!

And because diversity is, well, so diverse, Mark also has a section called Think Before You Speak and advises on what NOT to say to veterans. We all have good intentions but sometimes we say the wrong thing, self included.

Follow Diversity Trend on Facebook and Twitter too and please share with your friends!

Going Through Detox (It's not what you think : )

Last year, I made some really HUGE changes in my life. After 3 surgeries and 4 rounds of chemo, losing my hair, getting fat, dealing with severe anxiety and depression, and finally coming to grips with it all and getting my act together, I started reducing the toxic burdens in my life. Up until last year, I thought I led a pretty healthy lifestyle but as it turns out, I was blindly using products on myself, my kids and in my home that were not very safe after all.

I'll back up to December 2013.

My chemo treatments were done and I had recovered from my double mastectomy. I was finally cleared for exercising at the gym. On my very first day back, I was hot flashing on the treadmill, me and my G.I. Jane look. As I slowly lifted one foot in front of the other, one of the trainers asked me if it was ok to put the big fan on in the corner. (Usually people cannot handle "the big fan"). In true form, I began to spill my guts and the floodgates opened. I told her the more fan the better, as this girl was always on fire lately. Point that fan over here, please!

As I got to know this kind woman named Lori, I learned that she, too was a breast cancer survivor. Hey, why not? It's only an epidemic, right? In no time at all, she was educating me about the dangers of parabens in beauty care products and how in some studies parabens have rendered Tamoxifen INEFFECTIVE. Of course, this caught my ear. Since I am on this 5 year plan of estrogen-blocking Tamoxifen, why would I continue to use products that contain parabens if they are going to counteract each other? After so many painstaking steps to become "cancer free", did I really want to take a gamble with my health? The answer was a simple "NO". (And p.s....not ONE of my doctors ever thought to mention this very important piece of information with me. Disappointing!!!)

It turns out, parabens were just ONE thing to worry about.

I told Lori that I used and sold Mary Kay products for years. She told me about the skin care products she uses and sells, Ava Anderson Non-Toxic.   I had never heard of it, even though this company is right here in my home state of Rhode Island. She was willing to come to my house and let me try everything I wanted for free. So, I let her. The old me would have politely declined her offer but the new me was really intrigued by this "non-toxic" concept.  Immediately, I was hooked and this was after using the same skin care from the same company for 31 years straight (talk about loyalty!).

I immediately ordered the entire Ava skin care set and then booked a party so I could earn free products. Oh, and she suggested I use some of Ava's Diaper Cream on my chest as my foobs were suffering from the dreadful expansion process (see past blogs if you need to get caught up!). The diaper cream worked wonders and I was now an Ava convert!

I'll fast forward to now. Since then I have signed on as a consultant to sell Ava's products and share the Ava Anderson Non-Toxic message with everyone who will listen, and even those who won't. I absolutely love these products and everything this company stands for (and doesn't stand for). I am not an expert in this field but I have learned so much in the last 9 months. Ava's website has some great tools for anyone who is nervous or overwhelmed about getting started on the non-toxic road. Trust me, it's very easy and can be done all at once or even just little by little.  Any step in the right direction is always a good thing. The link provided will give you a list of some of the biggest toxic offenders lurking in your skin care products.

I'm so happy that Lori shared her knowledge with me that fateful day. I do believe knowledge is power and that ignorance is not bliss, especially when it comes to your health.  It's my time now to share what I know and hopefully help someone else who will benefit from this information. Why keep such a wonderful thing a secret?

I will be sharing more about Ava's products and how to help detoxify your life in my upcoming blogs. I hope you enjoy it and share it with those you love and care about. Thank you xoxo

P.S. In the mean time, take a look at my site and do a little shopping for yourself, a loved one, someone having their 1st or 10th baby, and even your pets!  Any questions, please reach out to me and I'll be happy to help.

Survive Your Next Doctor's Appointment with Dignity. GetJanes!

It goes without saying that over the past 2 years, I've been to numerous doctors and lab centers, having more than my share of mammograms, ultrasounds, guided biopsies, MRI's, surgeries, and treatments......all fun stuff. I am happy to no longer be a pin cushion and a patient!

During that time I found myself on tissue paper-covered waiting tables, cold slabs, and sitting in waiting rooms with scores of other scared women.... each of us wearing ill-fitting  "Johnnies", trying to keep our privates private. There we sat, all in fetal-like positions, trying to hold on to what little dignity we had.  You know that pose, right? The one where your legs are crossed and your arms are pulling at the inside ties to help cover your nether regions? Something always falls out, no matter how hard you try. It's so humiliating!

I thought the Johnnies were the worst thing in town, until I had my 6 month oncology appointment last year. I was sent into "the room" by the sweet, 20 year old medical assistant.

She told me to undress.
And....

"Put this on".

(Who on God's pink earth thought this one up?)

In case you are thinking your eyes are deceiving you, look again. This is not just a pink, paper Johnny, but an actual MIDRIFF pink, paper Johnny. I bet you didn't know they made them this fancy!

Now, let's back up a second. Once my journey was over, I had gained a full 40 lbs (wow, just like each of my pregnancies!)  I could picture my side boobs and my jelly belly just spilling out of the sides of this. You would think with my big mouth that now matched my big body, it would have been a good time to speak up and revolt, but I honestly was in too much shock to protest. So, if my memory serves, I left my undies and pants on and put this on top. I still felt utterly ridiculous. And pink....really? I'm so over you!

Even with the modifications I managed to make before my doc came in, I still felt so stupid and uncomfortable in a pink, paper midriff Johnny. But did I have a choice? No. Did I feel powerful in this situation? NO. This is the way it is and it will never change.

So I thought.

Then, through the power of social media, a woman named Sharon Linder contacted me on LinkedIn. She must have noticed my then bald head and my numerous references to breast cancer awareness. She introduced herself as the CEO of GetJanes. (Ps. I love the name of her company!) She generously sent me one of her genius inventions. It's more like the "Anti-Johnny" and covers you in all the right places, while also being soft and comfy. It even comes in its own soft carrying case so you can bring it to your appointments and no longer bear the wrath of the pink, paper Johnny!

Please check out her website and watch this video! As it turns out, GetJanes were born out of personal necessity. Sharon, her sisters and mother all fought their own cancer battles and I'm sure they saw more than their share of paper Johnnies. 

Do you have a friend or family member who is going through a tough illness, requiring multiple tests or treatments? Do you think that flowers are a great idea? Well, they do brighten one's day, however they DIE! For the cost of a floral arrangement you can GetJanes and give them something they can wear with dignity at each appointment.  And ps. they also make a great every day robe too. Mine hangs on my bathroom door hook so I have something light to wear when I get out of the shower. 

Quotes from the little men in my house:

"Mommy, that looks so soft and comfortable!"

"It looks like something you could wear to the beach!"

They are so smart!

I can't WAIT to go to my follow up appointments with my oncologist and my breast surgeon over the next few months. I plan on bringing my Jane with me. No more paper Johnnies for this girl. When I said I would be bringing back my power in 2015 that includes not being that scared, cowering girl sitting on a cold slab, with my side boobs hanging out. 

I'll be wearing my Janes proudly!

p.s. I received no monetary compensation for writing this blog, but I did GetJanes which is way more valuable. Thank you, Sharon Linder! So happy our paths crossed. xoxo

Reclaiming My Power

I've spent a lot of time talking and writing about my physical and emotional breast cancer journey over the last 18 months. I think it's time to move on, although I can't promise that I won't regress and need to vent about my plus-sized body or how my bionic boobs still freak me out. The (not so) funny thing about the breast cancer journey is it truly never ends. But I will say I am in a much happier and peaceful place than I was just 6 months ago. Hallelujah!

The last two years have been wrought with vulnerability and loss of control. I decided that for 2015, I'm going to talk more about prevention, detection and reclaiming my power.

I think that out of all of the human conditions, the feeling of powerlessness has to be the worst one. We've all experienced it; whether it's having to wait for a computer to cooperate while we are in the middle of a project, working in a job we feel stuck in, or (so much worse), watching a loved one suffer and there is nothing we can do to ease their pain. And then, there is the powerlessness over one's own condition, like being given a brutal diagnosis for which there is no hope.

Loss of power can leave us feeling helpless and fearful. Constantly. It is a horrible way to exist.

The beautiful thing about surviving a cancer diagnosis (for me, anyway), is that I now feel powerful. Who knew? In my world, there is nothing that I cannot do. My mind is no longer limited by my insecurities and fears. There has been a definite shift in my thinking and I am determined to live my life, going forward and in a state of power. No more fear.

I'm sharing all of this with you to plant the seeds for my upcoming blogs.  I've learned so much over the last year about two very important topics:

1. Toxic chemicals in household and beauty products
2. Dense breasts and why you need to know more about them

These topics are completely unrelated but writing about them and sharing what I know is super important to me. As I have been so immersed in the breast cancer community, I am aware (on a daily basis) of women my age and so much younger, who are dying of breast cancer. I'm so damn tired of it. I'm so deeply sad about it. And, I feel powerless about it and you know, I cannot feel this way any longer.

I am going to use my power of knowledge now to spread the type of awareness that is real and necessary.  And if I could ask a favor of anyone who reads this, it would be that you share this blog with everyone you know.

Be powerful.
xoxo

Ovaries are Cute, too

It's a good thing that Butt Cancer does not affect 1 in 8 women.

Can you imagine how very scary the month of October would be?

"Save the A-Holes!"
"Make sure you get your A-Holes checked!"

I envision special fundraisers like, "Putt Putt for the Butt Butts, get your hole-in-one!" or
"Don't use toilet paper today in honor of Butts everywhere. Let's go STREAKING!!!"

Seriously. I think breast cancer deserves attention, but so do all cancers. Because breast cancer strikes 1 in 8 women nationally, it warrants a lot of research and attention. However, the #1 cancer killer of women is actually LUNG cancer.  Sadly, you never hear about this. If I was a woman with lung cancer in the month of October, I'd be pretty pissed off.

And what about ovarian cancer, known as the "silent killer"? Ovaries may not be as cute as breasts but ovaries actually help to perpetuate the species which makes them far more valuable than breasts. And symptoms of ovarian cancer often do not appear until it's almost too late. I remember one day in the infusion center, my chemo roommate had ovarian cancer. She told me that she had been extremely bloated for MONTHS and finally took herself to the E.R.  Well, the doctor sent her home with some Maalox and that was it. After she pursued it further, her diagnosis was grim. Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month is in September, yet you hardly hear about it.

Because ovaries aren't cute.  But breasts are.

Don't get me wrong, I want a cure and I want to find the CAUSE for breast cancer just as much, if not more than the next gal. But the whole month of October is just too much for me. I just have to wonder, if breasts weren't so cute and revered, would we be swimming in a sea of Pepto this month? I really don't think so.

It has become such a circus. A big, fat, pink circus and the message is lost. Breast cancer is not cute and frilly and fun. It's the opposite of all of those things, as are all cancers. They suck, all of them.

Yet this month finds people going "braless for a cause". I still don't know how one's sacrificing her underwire for a day, helps those of us who no longer require an underwire! How exactly does your bouncing bosom help raise awareness and find a cure? It only sexualizes a deadly disease. And it causes car accidents.

Or we are subjected to tacky, disrespectful and insensitive PSAs from the Susan G. Komen crew. Click here to see it. You won't believe your eyes. I promise.

So, this month and every month, I want to honor and remember everyone who has or had any type of cancer. To my friends with brain cancer, skin cancer, prostate cancer, ovarian cancer, uterine cancer, lung cancer, bladder cancer, or cancer of the tushy, you all deserve so much more attention. Every color needs a cure.

Movember can't come fast enough.

You Say Pinktober, I say......

I am starting to not like the color pink.  I used to (sort of) love it but now that Breast Cancer Awareness Month has started, the color reminds me more and more of the pink stuff you take for diarrhea. So, now I am calling this month....

Peptober
(After a Google search, it turns out that: "We did not find any results for peptober" so I am proud to call it mine now.

And the name really is fitting because every time I see another story about a woman with breast cancer, I feel nauseous and I might have to hit the John....hard. I just can't take another sad story!!!

So, that is why I'm writing today. You will hear a lot this month about how mammograms SAVE lives! Get your TaTas checked! Go Braless for a cause! Buy this pink can of Campbell's soup and you will help save a life!

Ok, let's all get a grip, shall we? I will address Peptober in greater detail and all of the "PinkWashing" out there in some later blogs. Today, I want to talk about mammograms.

First I will say, I am not a doctor and I do not want anyone taking medical advice from me. I am just sharing my experience and want you all to learn from it and share it with your people.

Unlike Joan Lunden and Amy Robach of Good Morning America, my mammogram did not save my life. In fact, my mammogram lied to me for several years. I never missed a mammogram and every year when I went, I was told I had "dense breasts".  And every year, even prior to age 40, my Ob Gyn would do a breast exam and declare, "You have very dense breasts".  I never once thought anything of this because the doc always just left it at that. In fact, I thought having dense breasts was a good thing so I took it as a compliment!

And then December 2012 came and there were the lumps and the crease on the side of my very dense breast. I went for a mammogram and was told, "All clear, come back in a year!"  Well, if you've been following along, you know that was a big, fat hairy lie, too.  It turned out that my tumors were detectable on the ultrasound I had following this "good mammo", after I pushed for it. (My instincts knew something was wrong.)

Here's the deal with dense breasts, so listen up:

Women with dense breasts (meaning you have less fat in your breasts) have a 40-50% higher chance of getting breast cancer AND  up to 50% of tumors in women with dense breasts go UNDETECTED by the mammograms. In fact, there are now laws in several states which require doctors to tell you about your dense breasts if you have them. And now further work needs to be done to make further tests like ultrasounds or MRIs to be covered by insurance.

Breast density is like mammogram's dirty little secret. Half of women over 40 have no idea that their "normal" mammogram might not be normal at all. It's like looking for a snowball in a snow storm! Cancer is white, and dense tissue is white. So, dense breast tissue can overlap with cancers, masking them from view. Secondly, dense tissue is the part of the breast that gets cancer, not fat, so there is a higher risk of getting cancer for women with dense breasts.

I am angry today and I'm sure it's totally a delayed reaction. But the more I think about this, the angrier I get. Doctors clearly knew of my dense breasts. They knew of my family history and yet, no one ever pushed any ultrasounds for me. I feel like with these kind of cards stacked against a woman, it should have at least been explained to me. At the very least, why were no statistics provided?

Researchers have been studying breast cancer for many years. This dense breast info is nothing new, but it was new to me. It's inexcusable to trust a mammogram on millions of women and give them a false sense of security, especially with these staggering statistics. I'm starting to feel like one of those people who believe there is a cure for cancer and the pharma companies are hiding it. With all of the information available, why are patients not empowered with this information? The paranoid lady in me thinks that this whole breast cancer epidemic is just one big money making business. See what's happened to me? I was never this jaded!

I know I cannot turn back the clock. If I could, who knows if I'd still have my breasts or not. It's too late now. But it may not be too late for you. I'm sure breast cancer is not on your radar and all of the hype this month  may be just an excuse to wear pink, make pink cookies or have pink cocktails with your friends. Am I bitter? Yes. I am. But it's not just me I'm bitter about. I've lost some very dear people to this disease. Enough already! I can't bear to lose one more.

So, call this my way of spreading awareness this month. Sure, get that mammo, but go deeper. Find out if your breasts are dense. And if they are, insist on further testing.  Don't be afraid to speak up and don't ever feel intimidated by any medical professional. I've given you the statistics so now it's up to you to take matters in your own hands. Breast self-exams, in my opinion are EQUALLY important and mine is what told me something was seriously wrong. And look at yourself in the mirror. Get to know yourself!

And if you decide to wear pink this month, please make sure it doesn't resemble the Pepto variety.

Two Wrongs Don't Make a Right (Yes, it's about boobs....again)

I have a confession.

My last blog was originally written 4 months ago. I finally had the guts to publish it a few days ago, but now I must admit that this whole "peace process" isn't easy. Just when I think I've moved on and life has returned to "normal", I somehow regress.

It's nothing specific that causes this....no awful medical news, no major life events. In fact, life is pretty hunky dory. I've been back to work part-time at my corporate America job by day while freelance writing for a friend, and selling Ava Anderson Non-Toxic products.  (More to come on that one!).  And even though my head is spinning sometimes, I am enjoying working again and keeping busier than ever....proof that there IS life after breast cancer.  Thank you!

Life is moving forward and that feels good. But every so often, I start to feel really shitty about these implants. Having reconstructed breasts is strange and sometimes I feel like a store mannequin with the wrong body parts. Having implants after a mastectomy is not what people think it is.  Dealing with ignorant questions and comments also makes this more difficult (thankfully, this rarely happens). Some people actually look at this as a "boob job" when nothing could be further from the truth. Being asked "Why didn't you go bigger?" or "See, you got the boobs you always wanted!" really does not help. This "boob job" is the result of cancer; not exactly the "fun" kind of plastic surgery.  If I had my way, I'd take back my A cups any day of the week.

I always feel like I have to explain myself here so I'll do it again.  Here is my obligatory declaration of gratitude:

I'm grateful to be alive and cancer free. I'm grateful I could even HAVE reconstruction, as some cannot.

Yes, yes, yes. Grateful, Grateful, Grateful. BUT, it all just feels so......

WRONG. That's the word. Wrong. My body feels WRONG.

It feels odd, out of place, something-just-isn't-right kind of wrong. Like something is always strapped to my chest or I'm wearing 15 bras at once.  And that feeling is never going to go away.  From the outside, everyone says I look great and "you would never know".

But I know. And what I know is, this is not how I thought it would be, even after talking to so many women who have been through it. No one ever mentioned how strange it all feels. Why? I can't possibly be the only one feeling like this, can I?  Could I be THE only girl who feels like a Smart Car with monster truck-sized tires?

(This is no indication of how big my new ones are, just an analogy of something that is ill fitting, got it?).

Which is why I am taking a chance by publishing this blog. To let you fellow Pinkies out there know that if you, too, feel "wrong", then it's OK.  Sometimes we are too afraid to talk about these feelings because we fear that we may sound ungrateful. Well, here's a reality check for you. Having your breasts removed from your body is not normal. Having implants is not normal. Just because thousands of women are doing it to save their lives, still doesn't make it normal.  No one should ever feel guilty for missing some previously beloved body parts that were surgically removed. Give yourself permission to miss them.  And give your spouse permission too, because they are also grieving the old you. And that's OK too. They are allowed, just as you are.

I don't know when my Wrong self will feel Right again. I hope sooner than later.  In the mean time, I will accept this as part of the journey (God, I really am tired of that word!) and I hope that my new tires will help me to keep moving forward.

Let There Be Peace in My Bra

Peace Be With You

These words just spilled out of my mouth a few months ago as I stood there in front of the bathroom mirror, birthday suit and all.  I guess that I'd been saying and feeling so many bad things about my body that my inner child (who was always the peace maker) decided to put an end to it. 

Peace Be With You.  These are the words we always say in church and it happens to be my favorite part of going to church. I did not grow up in a very churchy family. We rarely went but when we did, I always loved the little adrenaline rush I got from saying "Peace be with you".  I still love it and even if I'm in a bad mood, this always brings me out of it, even if for only a little while. 

Accepting the uncontrollable situations in life is hard. We fight, we challenge, we feel so tormented inside. It's a rotten way to live your life, in a constant state of distress.  I just can't do it anymore. It's taking too much of a toll on me and it's robbing me of living the life I was meant to live.

 

So peace be with me.

After I made the peace sign with my new breasts (and also realizing that I should stop calling them "Foobs" because that, too, makes them feel more irrelevant to me when they shouldn't be), I started looking at them differently and truly, they are now starting to grow on me (pun intended).  

It's sort of like that loud, Italian family who is leery of the fair skinned Irish girl the son brings home to Sunday dinner. It completely rocks their world, just like these Foobs have done to me. But once they get to know her, they welcome her into the family with open arms.

Peace be with you.

It doesn't only apply to me and my boobs. You can use it too....I don't care. It's not like a million dollar patented invention like the Snuggie, so peace out!

Is something giving you grief? Your jiggly thighs, your stomach, your hair, a negative coworker, bad relationship, a sucky job?

Say it with me. Peace be with you. And then move on. Some things cannot be changed, instantly or at all so make peace with it. And then move on. Don't waste anymore precious energy on things that cannot be changed or you have zero control over. Who knew that my Boob Self Talk could be such a healthy step in the right direction in so many areas of my life?

I wish you all peace, every day, in any way you can find it.

Accepting The New Girls on the Block

"If you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with. Love the one you're with."

(This quote is about your breasts, not your life partner)

So, when I had the double mastectomy, I was so drugged up, I really did not mourn my breasts and was just focused on resting, recovering, emptying my drains (gross!). Then during the expansion process, I was so uncomfortable for 5 months, I didn't focus on how I looked. I kept looking forward to the "exchange surgery" on April Foobs Day when the bionic boobs would be exchanged for the silicone implants. I was excited as that day signaled the end of a long and painful journey. The new me was about to emerge.

The surgery went great. My doc almost put the wrong size in though, and a courier had to drive to a different hospital to get the CORRECT size for me. That courier thought someone was playing an April Fool's Day joke on him by asking him to pick up someone's new breasts. No joke!

The day after I got home from the hospital, I took a shower.  When I looked down, suddenly I felt normal again. My doctor had fashioned a nipple from my own skin (go to youtube and search "modified skate flap" to see how it's done). Much later on, a tattooed areola will be permanently done by a man named Lenny with a patch over one eye and a tattoo on his forearm that says, "I love Mom".

I have to say that from my bird's eye view looking down that day, everything looked perfect. I couldn't see the scabs and the scars. All I could see were 2 real looking breasts and what looked like my old nipples. For a split second, I felt like the cancer and all that had happened in the previous year never happened. It was quite surreal, just feeling normal again. I felt whole again. I felt like there was hope for healing. I felt like crying, I was so damn happy.

And then weeks went by and the reality set in. I still felt like these implants, as permanent as they are, were just another temporary thing. It finally hit me that I would never see the old ones again.  Then I started feeling stuck and sad, hence the counseling appointments! (See prior blog)

In addition to counseling, I sought out the advice from my pink sisters. Chances are always great that someone relates to exactly how I'm feeling. Well, one bright, shining, half glass full girl named Amber looks at her new breasts differently. She said that her old breasts tried to kill her and she worked too damn hard (between surgeries, chemo, etc) for her NEW breasts, that she grew to like them. She's super happy with the way she looks and she views her breasts as part of her now.  Amber has moved forward.

However, everyone is different and to compare your emotional reactions to someone else's is not helpful.  It just puts more pressure on you to feel happy, causing you to feel like a failure.  Having said that though, many can learn from Amber and I am trying my damndest to accept my new breasts. 

One of my other Pinkies named Pazit, treats them more like an accessory. I call them their own entity. In fact, I have no problem showing people because technically, I feel like they're not really mine. Dear lord, I even showed them to my therapist last week (she's a woman, but still, I'm worried I may have boundary issues now). I may need to get a Groupon for all of these visits!

How do women come to fully embrace these new breasts? I don't know. Should I have some sort of ceremony for them? A coming out party? Should I faithfully tell them how much I love them every day? Should I find a good hypnotist?

Only time will tell.

One more thing. We feel guilty for feeling this way, you know. We always feel the need to say how grateful we are and lucky to be alive and that these things are just superficial. In fact, I was in the shower today and suddenly I heard the Bee Gees singing, to the tune of "You should be dancing":

"You should be grateful. Yah!  You should be grateful, Yah!"

Listen, give it a rest, Brothers Gibb.  We are grateful and we need not feel guilty for feeling sad about some very important body parts gone M.I.A.

In summary: As you can see, if you are struggling with the same feelings as moi, you can tell that I have not been much help. This whole experience is like on the job training. I've never done this before either. I'm like that awful waitress who keeps spilling coffee on your lap. 

But one of these days, I am going to get it right. I have hope that my coffee cup will be half full, just like Amber's.

Now What? Coping With the Aftershocks of Breast Cancer

Some days, I'm so damn happy,  I feel like Mary Poppins with Pop Rocks in my undies. Other days, I feel like a morose and apathetic teenager, slouched over my desk in detention hall.  Such is the emotional roller coaster of the "Now What?" after breast cancer.

My doctors have told me to move forward, live my life, and stop worrying. I have a 90% chance of never having a recurrence. Pretty darn good odds. Cause for celebration. Rah. Rah.

Then why do I feel so unsettled and stuck? If I had a band, it would be called "No Direction". I feel sad, forgetful, foggy, and sometimes I just don't care about anything.  I'm not curled up into a ball with the covers over my head and the shades drawn. No, I am very high functioning and to the outside world and many family and friends, I am just fine.  The funny part is that I'm doing everything humanly possible to help me to feel good. I exercise at least 5 days/week. I take yoga classes. I eat well. I say no to things that serve no purpose to me, and I say yes to the things that do. One would think that all of this tender loving self care would have a positive influence on my psyche but not so much. Imagine if I didn't do all those wonderful things? Yikes!

I have been told that all of my feelings are perfectly normal. Some have compared these post breast cancer feelings to Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  Like war veterans, we have flashbacks too. We hear of a friend being diagnosed or we reach a special "Cancerversary". It all comes flooding back and we relive everything like it's happening to us again.  That feeling of constantly being under a terrorist attack is hard to break from and for me, the first sign is my throat starts to close up. Then the downward spiral begins, again.
 

I suppose I could keep these private feelings private. However, I find that when I put it out into the universe, I feel better for releasing it. I also know that at least one other person on this earth also feels the same way. So, I'm willing to take this risk. I realize it's a vulnerable place to be; you knowing my innermost feelings. It's like reading my diary.  If it helps you or someone you know, then I'm willing to share. There's nothing worse than feeling alone with your feelings. It's like standing on an island by yourself but you must know, you are not alone if you are feeling the way I do.

Every day I find myself asking this same question. What. Just. Happened? It's still very hard to wrap my brain around so many events and bodily changes in an 11 month period. Did it really happen? How could I have had cancer? Doesn't cancer happen to other people? You'd think by now, it would feel real, but no. It's all so very weird!

People have joked to me about finally getting the "boobs I've always wanted". While it may sound like a cute and funny thing to say, these really AREN'T the boobs I've always wanted. Breasts should have feeling in them. These don't. Breasts shouldn't feel like they are "attached to you". These do.  I finally realized after my last surgery that I am stuck with these forever, unless of course, I decide to have them removed, which isn't an option for me right now. 

Looking at this very changed body every day is hard. Some days it's OK but others?  I'm very sad that this is the way it has to be. I know I made the right choice to save my life and have no regrets. But it's still hard. And yes, I'm still grateful. (Why do I feel like I need to keep saying that? Isn't it kind of obvious that I'm grateful?)  But I'm allowed to be sad about what will never come back.

After trying to sort everything out in my own head for too long and only making things much worse (that's what anxiety does. It completely spirals out of control if you don't stop it!), I finally took the leap and went to see a counselor last week.  She told me that she sees women who've had breast cancer and never sought therapy until 5-10 years after their bc journey. She said they have a much harder time understanding why they feel so emotionally horrid and don't even connect the dots back to their breast cancer.  Wow. Imagine holding it in for years and years?

I'm glad I took the leap to counseling. My friend told me that the strongest people seek help, so I guess I am strong.  

I am certainly not ashamed of it and I encourage anyone who is struggling with anything in their life, not just a disease, to seek help for it. No one should live a life in pain and silence. And thank you Jesus, I found a therapist who uses the "F" word on occasion. Phew...

One more thing from my therapist. As we talked about the new breasts and trying to adjust to the loss of the old ones, she said, "It sounds like you need to welcome the new ones into your body and accept them as a part of you", (of course, I'm paraphrasing because I can't remember shit anymore!).  I never really thought of it like that and now, going forward, that is on my "to do" list every day: Try to accept things now as they are and learn to love the new and strange parts of me, along with the old and strange parts of me.

I know it's going to take time and thankfully, time is on my side now. In my next blog, I will delve a little deeper into rolling out the welcome mat for my new breasts. Stay tuned!

 

Putting the "Bra" in Brave

Brave. What is your definition of BRAVE? Is it going out without makeup? Wearing white shoes before Memorial Day? 

People have said I am so brave. I don't really agree with that. I basically have done what anyone else in my position would have done. Throughout parts of it, I screamed, cried, or closed my eyes and knew it would be over at some point. I never really felt brave while going through it.  I just did it and if you think you couldn't handle what I went through, you could and you will if you have to.  I am not that special. It's just about survival.  If you are told your odds of recurrence will be lowered if you do everything in the protocol, then you do it. Don't fuck around with your life, just because you are scared of needles, going bald, or feeling sick for a few months, or longer!

OK, now that that is out of the way. I want to talk about real bravery.

Here is an example. This beautiful woman, Beth Whaanga had breast cancer. She posted this picture on Facebook to show the world, (or simply, her network of friends), what the body looks like after undergoing multiple surgeries and treatments to try and make it whole again. Her surgeries included a double mastectomy, TRAM flap reconstruction and a hysterectomy.

After she posted this picture, 103 people "unfriended" her. 

(By the way, she's had 4 kids! I personally thing she looks friggin amazing!)

Would you unfriend her?  Or would you just scroll down past it because it's too upsetting?

Because I am engrossed in the world of Breast Cancer, pictures like this neither bother nor shock me. They are a fact of my life.  However, there are some out there who just don't get it. They feel these pictures are too disturbing, unnecessary, and not helpful to anyone. I recall one person comparing a mastectomy picture to a car accident victim and why would anyone need to see that? Apples and oranges, my friends! On one recent thread about this very topic, a man said that decency has gone out the window. I think he views women like the above as slutty exhibitionists while nothing could be further from the truth.

The majority of people commenting on pictures like the one above, do get it and offer support and encouragement. They probably had breast cancer or had a family or friend with bc. If they have no connection to breast cancer, then it's easy for them to say that these pictures are not helpful. But I'm writing this blog today to explain why they are, in fact, helpful to everyone and not just the patients.

1. The general population has no idea what a mastectomy and reconstruction entails. Unless they have a close family member or friend who is willing to lift their shirt (like moi), they will believe that a woman goes in for surgery and comes out with new breasts. Having a mastectomy with recon is not comparable to someone who keeps their breasts and simply goes in for augmentation. There are often multiple surgeries and procedures involved and the end result may not even be good.  There is pain, numbness, swelling, inability to lift, stretch, drive. Some women endure numerous infections, causing major delays, more pain, and heartache. It not only messes with the physical self. It damages her spirit and her spark. Some women cannot even have recon due to so many complications. 

She may look OK on the outside, but underneath the clothing she is like a patched up quilt in the beginning. Nipples are gone, sensation in the skin is gone or if she's lucky, it returns here and there. And yes, she is still happy to be alive through it all. Please keep in mind that not everyone has complications and the recon process more often goes smoothly (I am in this category, thankfully!). I am not here to scare anyone who may be facing one of these surgeries. But the reality is, trying to look "normal" again is a work in progress, to say the least.

2. The newly diagnosed woman who is getting ready for a mastectomy needs to see these pictures. Speaking from experience, pictures like these helped me cope with the aftermath a lot better. It completely removed the mystery and fear. Thank you Stupid Dumb Breast Cancer for helping me! Your fearless posts have helped THOUSANDS of women. You are doing a great service to all of those scared women who don't think they can do this. God bless you!

3. At some point, everyone will know someone with breast cancer. Because it is such an epidemic, chances are more than "good" that you will have a friend, cousin, mother, daughter, sister, wife, aunt or co-worker with breast cancer. How do these pictures help you? Well, in my opinion, it helps you to help the patient. It gives you some insight as to what her body has endured and you may also handle her differently. By that I mean, understand why she may be depressed, withdrawn, cranky, angry, or sad. She has lost her previous self and she will never get it back no matter how good her surgeon is.  She may look and act fine on the outside but on the inside, she may be crumbling at times. She still looks forward though, trying hard not to dwell. She has a grateful heart and with time, she will get used to her new self because she is a warrior!

4. Lastly, these pictures are good come  "Pinktober": Breast Cancer Awareness Month

Sure, people can wear pink, go bra less, take selfies without makeup, buy products that claim they are donating a nickel from each sale to breast cancer, but do these things TRULY raise awareness about this disease? I think these "shocking and disturbing" photos are much more effective in getting the  message out there. They are raw, honest, and human. If we wish to raise funds to eradicate breast cancer, then we need to attach a face and a body to it; a body that has endured and continues to fight.

And to those who cannot handle looking at the "indecent" pictures, I encourage you to just scroll past them because clearly, you can't handle the truth about breast cancer and you know nothing of this battle.

But for those faced with this diagnosis? Look at the pictures before your surgery, even if it's difficult. Knowledge is power. Also, talk to women who have been through it, and message me if you want and I'll be happy to talk to you. No one should travel this road alone.  Thanks to Beth in the above picture, many women will be a little less frightened. For that, I thank her!

Rah Rah for Ta-Tas! Becky's New Boobs Are Born

Today is the day! April Foob's Day has arrived! If you haven't been reading my posts on Facebook, here it is. Today is the "exchange surgery". This means that the silicone, temporary expanders inside my chest will be taken out and swapped out for softer, silicone implants. I have had the expanders in since October 18, when my double mastectomy was performed. In the beginning, they were hard to get used to. In the middle, I got used to them. Now, I feel like if I have to go one more day with these mothers in my chest, I'm going to have a breakdown. I can't do yoga anymore, sleeping is next to impossible and I honestly look freaky now. I feel like I have 2 cantaloupes strapped to my chest at all times.

I am so done. And considering today is April Fool's Day, I've renamed it as April Foobs Day. I Googled this left and right and I do not believe anyone has coined this day as such. Now, it is official. You heard it here first, my darlings.

So, I look upon this day as the final chapter in my trilogy of surgeries. First, there was the lumpectomy, then the mastectomy, and now, we've come full circle with making me as whole as I can be with the new girls. I've been very lucky up until this point, having had zero complications, infections, or bumps in the road. I know some women are not so lucky and this process can take much, much longer, causing heartache, pain, and disappointment. I know they soldier on, in whatever way they need to, as there really is no other choice. 

Choice. It's a good thing, right? I made my choice to have the double because my lumpectomy surgery showed there was extensive DCIS still present outside the margins. Despite one of my doctor's suggestions to "do more tissue removal" and radiate it, I concluded (with the help of my awesome plastic surgeon) that I would still need reconstructive surgery either way. It was a hard decision but I knew it was the only one that made sense for me. The doctor who wanted to do tissue removal actually said, "You know, there's something to be said for the natural state of a woman's breast".

Whaat? Did he really say that? Yes, he did. And I was too in shock at the time to even respond. Did he think I was doing all this to get a free boob job? Sure, I'd love to be able to feel my natural breasts once again and have some sensation. However, if those breasts are out to kill me, then they're really not worth keeping now, are they? Don't make me feel worse by saying a natural breast is "better". 

They say, "Don't look back. You're not going there". And, "If you don't bury the past, the past will bury you."  I really love these 2 quotes. There is no turning back time now, and that's cool because I feel that the worst is behind me now and the future is full of hope and promise, even without my natural breasts. 

My previously slightly saggy A cups are being upgraded now. I'm trading up and I deserve it. Stay tuned for the "after" blog and thank you for reading and supporting me. You are all like a great bra!