Sinking In

3 days left.

It's really sinking in now. As I was getting in the shower this morning, I glanced at the mirror and lost my cool. 3 days left with my beautiful, scar-free breasts. 3 days until I no longer have nipples. 3 days until I never feel sexy again. Or at least not for a long, long time.

Unfortunately, I gave-in and googled some pictures of breast reconstruction. Big mistake. Now all I can think about is the massive scars I'll have across my "breasts". And now I just can't stop crying.

They're just boobs. They're not lungs or kidneys or other such things that we NEED. They're just boobs. Yet my vanity has crawled back into my brain and I'm trying to wish this all away again because I LOVE what I already have and I don't want to give it up. I hate this. I hate that I have two choices: get rid of cancer for good or get rid of cancer for now. Fuck this. I've regressed back to denial and anger again but, seriously, fuck this. I want to say it's not fair but life is very rarely fair, so it's a moot point.

Oh well. Whatever. I have to finish getting ready for work now. How I'll get through my shift without being a blubbering mess is beyond me but I guess I'll cross that bridge when I come to it...

Boobie Shower

So a bunch of my friends in the Pagan community threw me a Boobie Shower tonight at a local witchy coffee shop, as a goodbye party for my breasts and also to give me gifts to help me through chemo. Some brought candles and crystals, some (my hairstylist) brought false lashes and eyebrow makeup (to continue helping me with my hair needs!), and some brought hats to keep my soon-to-be-naked head warm. A bunch of people, though, brought me fun wigs to wear and I thought I'd share some pictures with you because I'm stoked about it. My mom doesn't think I'll feel up to wearing wigs but I'm hoping she's wrong because I'm excited about it at this stage.

Also, don't I make a surprisingly okay-looking blonde? I was expecting to be a hideous blonde! :)

The clock is ticking

Well, my surgery is officially "Next Week". Dun dun duuuunnnnn...

That makes it pretty real while also making it quite unreal. Why must everything be wrapped in simultaneous paradox these days? I'm accepting it while in denial. It's real while unreal. I'm calm but I'm freaking out. Jeez, whoever said having cancer at 29 is easy must've been doing it better than me. Oh wait. No one ever said that. Never mind.

I was at my cousin Melitta's 35th birthday party last weekend, a birthday party that modern medicine never anticipated because she "wasn't supposed to" live to 35. When she was diagnosed with primary pulmonary hypertension at age 19, they gave her 2 years tops. 16 years and a double-lung transplant later, she's proven them all wrong and become the longest-living survivor of PPH. But I digress... at her birthday party, a song came blaring out of my uncle's stereo that struck a chord with me (no pun intended). It's a song that meant a lot to us back when it came out in 1996, when she was on oxygen and had a portable pump injecting her with medicine 24/7 despite being only 22 years old. The song is Alanis Morrisette's "Hand in My Pocket" and it had meaning to us because of the line "I'm sick but I'm pretty". It was Melitta's mantra for quite some time, especially after we went to the concert at Red Rocks and they were selling bumper stickers with that exact line on it. Last weekend, the song came on and I experienced a jolting juxtaposition: the line applies to me now, not her. She's perfectly healthy, albeit with a suppressed immune system, and is now my support system instead of the other way around. I'm sick. Holy shit. I'm sick. That's such a foreign concept to me that my brain can hardly compute the data.

Incidentally, tying this back to the beginning of this mental meandering, the whole last stanza of that song is full of paradoxical states of being that truly apply to me these days. Behold:

I'm free but I'm focused.
I'm green but I'm wise.
I'm hard but I'm friendly, baby.
I'm sad but I'm laughing.
I'm brave but I'm chickenshit.
I'm sick but I'm pretty, baby.

And what it all boils down to
Is that no one's really got it figured out just yet...

I've got one hand in my pocket and the other one is constantly on Facebook... reaching out... looking for and basking in your love and support, while dreading and accepting the passing of my last 10 days with my sweater bunnies.

Sigh of Relief

"No evidence of metastatic disease."

I think that might be my favorite phrase in the English language. Well... okay, 2nd favorite phrase. It comes right behind "Okay, ma'am, here are your shredded beef tacos. Can I get you another Corona?"

I have been breathing sigh after sigh of relief for the last half hour since Dr. Kimm called to deliver my 2nd favorite phrase. Knowing what I'm dealing with, just the original tumor and no metastatic lung, ovary or brain involvement, makes this whole situation 90% less-scary to me. Now it's just a boring ol' bilateral mastectomy with reconstruction and 18 weeks of chemotherapy. Piece of cake! These are things that I've accepted and come to terms with over the last 3 1/2 weeks since diagnosis. Metastasis was NOT on my list of things I was ready to accept with open arms.

I finally feel like I can and will beat this thing because I'm no longer worried that it's lurking around other corners. I have breast cancer, which is TOTALLY doable. I'm not pretending that I'm stoked about the mastectomy, which is two weeks from tomorrow, or that I've got an easy road ahead of me. I'm just really glad to finally know that the road didn't get any more difficult than it already was. Like, yunno, trudging along a bumpy road to see the bridge up ahead get blown up or something. But no! My bridge wasn't blown up. I continue to walk this long and winding road but at least I have the bridges and don't have to find another way around. (Wow, this metaphor is wearing thin...) You get my point.

*sigh*

Now I can really enjoy graduation on Friday afternoon, my cousin Dave's wedding that night, and the C-21 graduation party on the 14th. No more monsters under the bed. The monster is sitting right there at my dinner table for all to see. Monsters aren't so scary when they're sitting at the dinner table. Everyone knows that. :)

PET scan results

I just got the results of my full-body PET scan and the doctor says it shows no evidence of metastatic disease! YAY!!! Finally, some great news! So I just have the original tumor, something I've already come to terms with, and no new surprises to add to the burden. Again, YAY!!! Just thought I'd share. :)

Unanimous vote

After lots thought and thorough consideration, me and my two aunts (who also have breast cancer) took a vote and we decided that this is how we feel about this disease. Since the vote appears to be unanimous and the wishes of the group seem clear, I think cancer better FUCK OFF already. Just sayin'.