As I drove to San Francisco for the first time, my palms were sweaty, I felt jumpy, and the traffic bothered me more than usual. I was nervous. This wasn’t because of excitement about seeing San Fran for the very first time. Sight seeing is not one of my preferred activities, and that was not why we were there.
My nervousness was due to my plans while in San Fran that day: I was getting my first tattoos.
For those of you that know me, try not to die of shock. They are not cats, or flowers, or birds, or hearts, or butterflies. They were my last step in my breast cancer recovery. I tattooed my nipples back on. Boy, that sounds strange to say. So, let me clarify.
With the surgery, my nipples were removed. The scarred, but blank slate that was my chest has now been re-adorned!
I fought this step for the last three years because I felt that having the image of them, without them being real, seemed more upsetting than not having them at all. There is an in-between step, for those of you considering this but are also unsure, temporary tattoos can be bought and tried out. Hubby liked those so well they were the inspiration (size and color wise) for the tattoos.
Hours were spent looking at all the tattoo portfolios of artists who do these kinds of tattoos. If an artist is associated with a cancer doctor, or plastic surgeon, insurance will cover it. However, I did not care for any of the work that those particular artists had. So, I widened my search beyond 50 miles. I found a fabulous gal by the name of Sasha Merritt, of Dragonfly Ink, whose work was phenomenal! Some of the before and after pictures were so similar, I had to look twice to see any differences (as in, I had to look for the scars to tell they were the tattoos…). Insurance would not cover work done by her. That being said, I was willing to pay out of pocket for something that I (Hubby) would like.
I still drug my feet, winched, and shirked the thought of having this done. So why did I? I did it for my wonderful Hubby, who has seen me at my worst as a wife, and as a human being, and steadfastly hung on to me anyhow. He has been nothing but supportive through the whole thing, and he expressed that he really wanted the tattoos. Not on him, but on me…
His Birthday is in April, so I decided to have this done as a Birthday present for him. I originally was going to surprise him, but that did not quite pan out. Instead he went with me, and I was glad he did. Having him with me really enhanced the experience by bringing us even closer to each other. I wanted to do this for Him, and he knew it.
Did it hurt? Well, yes and no. First off I was numb there….or so I thought. Touch and pressure receptors might have died off, but pain receptors will still alive and well. I described the sensation as like getting scratched by little kitten claws over and over. But after a bit, she gave me some lidocaine topical gel to numb it up. After that, it was no sweat.
Sasha was an artist before she started tattooing. She specializes in these types of tattoos, and it shows. She is a master at blending, shading, and giving the appearance of 3-D. So much so that I have had friends ask to touch them as proof that they really were flat! The tattooing was done lying down and sitting up. Since your boobs look different between laying and standing, so the tattoos do as well. It amused me to see Sasha standing back, closing one eye, and putting her finger at arm’s length and look at her work, like you think of a stereotypical painter doing.
After we were done I was given after care instructions, and we went on our merry way. I was a little sore as the lidocaine wore off, but it hurt about as much as a skinned knee. Nothing more. We went out for lunch, walked around for about an hour and then drove home. It’s been about a week, and I will say that I am happy I got them, not only for Hubby, but for me. Now when I look at myself in the mirror, I see “normal” first, and scars second. It is a nicer feeling than I anticipated.
Everyone I have shown has been floored at how authentic and real they look. I will need a slight touch up probably, but that is normal.
This is a long road filled with lots of different choices. Take your time. Do what you want in your own time. It’s your body, and you have beaten cancer. Do what you need to do for you to find your new normal.
As for Hubby, it’s a Birthday present he gets to unwrap every day. It’s his best Birthday present ever
Hubby and I were walking down the aisle of the grocery store, just plugging along. I noticed something interesting: I was getting mad because he wouldn’t always let me push the shopping cart. It was so stupid. When I realized what I was feeling, instead of lashing out like I wanted to, I asked myself why it upset me. The answer is textbook survivor: Control.
I wanted control.
See, even after all the treatments are done, you are left managing your care, still making follow up appointments and stuck at the mercy of being told when to be where, at what time, with what, and with whom. That is a reality of life post cancer. It will never end.
In the midst of treatments, we feel so helpless and so out of control, because we are. Everything we do is based off of what others are telling us to do. Is it really any wonder why our beloved caretakers get snapped at when they are doing something for us that we have always done for ourselves, like tie our shoes? We are frustrated that we cannot even do this simple little task on our own.
Back to the shopping cart.
I realized that I depended on that silly cart. After surgery, I needed it to lean on. Later I needed it to carry my bottomless purse that weighs a ton. Now, it has become a crutch of sorts, a stability in a time of storm. It was something I could control. In fact, as I recovered, it was one of the first things that allowed me to regain control in my life. Just controlling where that cart, when, how fast, and what went in it, allowed me a liberty that cancer had taken from me.
So when you see me in the store, knuckles gripped, with a look of a road rage race car driver, know that I am just exerting some of the last vestiges of control I still feel is completely mine.
Oh, and don’t even think about touching that cart.
1) I will never give up hope for a cure.
2) I will smile every morning simply because I woke up.
3) I will remember to thank my family and friends who have been there to support me.
4) I will quit looking in the mirror and wish I was 20 again.
5) I will remember that I am still beautiful.
6) I will remember to write/call/text/contact all my friends on their cancer journey to let them know I am still here for them.
7) I will pray for all going through cancer, and those who are now on the other side of cancer, and trying to reclaim their lives.
8) I will practice deep breathing and visualization daily.
9) I will find a way to at least go for a short walk every day.
10) IF cancer should return, I will fight it again, and again, and again.
Some routines are just better than others. Some come so naturally, some require constant reminders to self. One of my routines that I really didn’t think of as a tried and true routine is to come down in the morning, grab coffee, feed the critters, and hop onto the computer.
Our new house is configured so differently than our old one. In our old house, the computer was basically in the family room. Not the best spot, but I was around everyone, and knew all that was going on in the house. Here, it is sequestered to the extra room. Now, this room gets a lot of use, just not really by me. It is at the far end of the house, and is away from everyone and every thing.
My new laptop, which I bought so that I can be more portable with writing my book, and skype, allows me to have the computer in the kitchen without taking up too much space. It is fast, convenient and I am in the middle of it all. It’s perfect. When I need to use the printer or desk top, I run up to the extra room, but do not have to stay for long.
So, now I can sit, write, have coffee, and greet the ones awaking in the house with a quick hello between key strokes. Good Morning all.
One of the more difficult things about having cancer is that you meet others with cancer. In and of itself, meeting others with cancer is a godsend, do not get me wrong. What is bad is knowing that not everyone you need will make it. You will meet some who you will lose before your treatments are over. Others you will lose down the road a bit. Some fight cancer like a boxing match, winning round after round of cancer, only to be KO’d in the last inning. Those that linger, never out of treatment, but still fighting the good fight, are so tired. Many times you see them slowly fade and wonder if they passed because of the cancer, or the exhaustion of the constant cancer treatments. Lately, I have had several people I know have cancers either recur, or discover that their cancers have spread. I am tired of hearing about it. As a survivor, I go through the pangs of feeling guilty that I am alright. I also fight the fear that one day it will be me telling my loved ones I have cancer again. I do expect to have to do that. I do expect to live through it, like the proverbial boxing matches. It is still very hard to hear that you might be losing someone. Perhaps it is a dear friend, perhaps a loved one. It’s not easy. Cancer is everywhere. Treatments are brutal, and a cure is still elusive.
As a survivor, I need to go on. In doing so, I try to give hope to those going through cancer that there can be a life afterwards: A new normal, a very different normal, with a new perspective.
Anyone who has had ADD/ADHD knew that our biggest bane was moving slowly. We did everything fast. We ate fast, typed fast, talked fast, worked fast: we did about everything fast. We would even sleep fast if there was such a way to do so. It was not by choice, mind you. It was simply the way we were programmed. We were skilled at multitasking. I could carry on a conversation and type a letter at the same time. I didn’t, only because then I ended up telling the person what I meant to type, and then typing what I meant to tell the other person. I didn’t say I was good at that kind of multitasking, I just said I could do it.
For those of us for whom the world exists in fast forward, what happens when we needed to slow down? I was not talking a stop and smell the roses type of slow down, but times when not slowing down was truly bad for your health.
When I was in High School, I caught the dreaded kissing disease- mononucleosis. I was so sick I missed half my senior year of high school. Part of the reason I was so sick was because I couldn’t slow down enough to actually get well. As soon as I felt a bit better, I would over do, and get worse. Trying to find that stable, elusive, middle ground has been something I have struggled with ever since. Although I was better, my mono was considered chronic. Day to day activities were fine, but if I over do, a simple good night’s sleep does not cut it. When I did too much, and felt overwhelmed, I became tired. Bone tired. Now, I knew of others who just “power through” and I was glad they could. I knew they thought I was a wimp for not being able to do that. What they did not understand was that I used to, with bad consequences.
One time, many years ago, when my kids were little, I pushed. I was still a young mom, and was trying to do everything. Be a mom, a housewife, a volunteer, and do it all. I pushed, and pushed even though my body was telling me it was time to just be. But of course, as stubborn as I am, I didn’t listen. Instead, I pushed harder.
Finally, my body took charge, and I collapsed. We are talking fell on the floor, couldn’t get up to even crawl into bed collapsed. I was so thankful that when I did I had the phone in my hand, because otherwise I would have scared the kids in my helplessnes, who were in another room watching TV. I had to call someone to just help me into my room. For three days I could hardly turn over. I remember crawling to the bathroom, and it took me five minutes to get there and get myself onto the pot.
Not one of my finer moments. Not one of my healthiest either. I made it through cancer without a recurrence of the effects of the mono, but I was not oblivious to the fact that it was still there. I tick off the number of things I had going, and how wonderfully busy I was with so many wonderful, exciting things happening, I realized I was exhausted. I needed a time out. I knew I would be hitting my breaking point if I did not.
The question of the day was what to give up? I could not give up driving the boys where they needed to go. Not at this stage of things as they were learning to drive. I could not give up cooking and housekeeping. No one else would make sure it all got done. I hated to take a break from my volunteer job since that was what kept me going, and kept me energized.
It was time to find a way to stop and smell the roses again. I needed to employ my remedy of going to bed for about three days and immerse myself in a few good books.
Maybe I should immerse myself into writing a new one. That might keep me busy for a day or two.
Well, I survived another October, gritting my teeth about the constant reminder of having had cancer. I love that we are working hard for a cure. I am just at that stage. It will pass. It is wonderful to have life, real life, new normal life, picking up speed. If I was a first time driver, I would be worried about handling it all at such a high speed! Then, I remind myself that I am in control, I have the power to choose what I need/want to do, and (sometimes) when. I have had some awesome opportunities in working with the cat shelter, including being allowed to attend a national conference in Las Vegas. That was amazing!
Wrestling season has started for my son, so my days will get a bit longer for me to do my own thing. Now instead of picking him up at 1440, I will have until about 1600, I think. But, then we are also locked into the area due to practices and meets. It’s a tradeoff.
There are consequences for every choice. Not every choice is right or wrong. Sometimes you just have to weigh the possibilities to decide on the preferred outcome. So, I will get to spend more time and the shelter, but less time visiting family for now. Seeing as how some family is visiting me, it’s working out in the end.
What an interesting time of choices and consequences of choices. The next two weeks will be very interesting, indeed. My son, C, turns 17 soon. He, like my husband, doesn’t think birthdays are a big deal (not even the presents). Something I just do not understand as I love birthdays (even if I forget everyone’s unless they are standing in from of me).
Soon hubby will be deploying again, and there will be lonely nights, even with a full (of cats) bed.
My wonderful friends at the FieldHaven Feline Rescue have asked me to go with them to a conference in Vegas.
Here is the rub….they are all coinciding. The conference will be over C’s birthday, so by going, I miss it. Hubby will be prepping to go right soon after I get back. I’ve never been to something like this. I don’t feel that I can pass it up. C has already encouraged me to go, as well as hubby.
Yet I still feel guilty. I suppose I really shouldn’t as we have celebrated so many special days, not ON the special day. This would be nothing new. It is just new that the postponement is due to me.
Really, there are no bad consequences to going, just results of the choices I make. I think sometimes we lose sight of that. No matter what I choose, the world will not fall apart. It will continue to wobble on its axis. The possible result that carries the most weight is to go to the conference and learn.
Well, it’s October again, where I got to be constantly reminded that I had breast cancer.
One of the stages we went through in recovery (a very normal, and real stage), is that we got sick and tired of the constant reminders. Those who coined the term “Pink Washing” to describe their discontent of all the pink in October were probably in this stage. You see, we went through a lot in our cancers. We had surgeries, treatments, medicines that sometimes made you feel worse than the disease. After wards, we had to reinvent ourselves from the inside out. We were not the ones we used to be.
As we began to find our new normals, and start to feel good about ourselves and our road again, suddenly good ole October rolls around, and everywhere we looked, we were reminded.
This year, I was at that stage. I actually got ticked off at the cashier when he asked me if I wanted to round up to donate to breast cancer research. Here is the kicker: We knew it is for a good cause. We ARE the good cause. But after awhile we got tired of being reminded of that.
We were living our new normal. We didn’t want our new normals to have anything to do with cancer. We just needed to breathe for awhile without having the disease constantly rammed down our throats. We’ve been there, done that, and really don’t want to go there again.
So, this October, I get to be the one who is sick of “Pink Washing”. Leave me out of it this year, please. I just want a chance to do the impossible: to forget.
Loss of mental acuity can be rather frustrating, and quite disturbing. One day you are spouting off the properties of chemical compounds (if that’s your thing), and the next day it feels like you can’t remember what H2O is, or it’s uses. Alzheimers is just one of the reasons for loss of mental thoughts, er… processes….er…acuity. Cancer’s notorious chemo brain is another, and, as I recently found out, so is hypothyroidism. Interesting.
I have noticed that my brain function is definitely not what it used to be. It’s embarrassing, frankly. Being well spoken and well written has always been very important to me. The fact that I can do neither well these days is disconcerting.
I have always had a love affair of sorts with words. I love to learn new words. I love using long words that confound those around me, and send them to the dictionary app on their phones to devise the meaning of what I just said and decide if it was a compliment or an insult. I can’t do that right now. I have trouble remembering simple things that I should remember. Things like names, places, instructions, and I can’t remember the breeds of cats anymore. What a travesty!
Coming to grips with these realities, and hoping they are temporary, has been quite a road to be on. Knowing that in social situations, those who do not know me night think I am, well, in need of a bit of extra supervision. The thoughts in my head do not match those coming out of my mouth, and suddenly realizing I am quite lost in a neighborhood I knew well can be unsettling to say the least.
I have decided that this is another one of those times to just breathe, relax, and remember that this is out of my control. I always have been a bit “off”, and those who know me can see the change. They are supportive, and help me laugh it off. That’s really all that can be done.
Now what was I talking about just now?