May Day

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Y’all I have been on the struggle bus for about the last month and a half.   Where to begin?  So… I have been worrying, analyzing, debating, and overanalyzing my reconstruction options for several months. I’ve gone back and forth, no reconstruction at all, DIEP flap with implants, DIEP flap without implants, or BRAVA method.


Then my sweet dog Zhoe passed right before Easter.  Insert a moment of silence here for my fur baby.  I didn’t handle that as nobly as I’d like to think I would have.  There was snot and wailing, if I would have had access to ashes, I would have poured them on my head and torn my clothes and lamented in the streets.


Meanwhile, I’ve been dealing with resigning from my job.  It had turned into a situation that just didn’t make sense economically, and I felt like there was a spiritual nudge to let it go. Of course, I drug my feet, because quitting one’s job without a backup is nonsense.  I could not deny however, the many indicators that kept popping up confirming it was time to move on.

Leaving work

Fatigue, I have been battling with this for a while.  I come home from work, with barely enough energy to stand to make dinner for the family.  The tiredness has been the most daunting.  There is so much I want to do, but sometimes physically, it’s just not doable.  Then when my stubbornness kicks in and I push through (like power washing my parents pool deck out of vain refusal to admit I was dying) I pay for it big time.

So, we’ve got the death of my dog, complicated grown up type life decisions needing to be made, medical bills, a very busy time of year in general, my oncologist is moving away, trying to figure out my life, nutritional changes to help fend off the fatigue, oh and my basic maternal and spousal duties.


Frankly, I’m not excelling at anything right now, life is not like college, where C’s get degrees.  The HOA notices have rolled in because our poor yard looks like it’s from an abandoned district in the Hunger Games.  I tried the whole, “your kids won’t remember the cleanliness of your house but the memories” approach and I literally have lost Micah in her room, haven’t seen the surface of my dining room table in weeks, and Owen has worn a matched pair of socks a whopping three times this year.  All the while I keep hearing, “be still”.

Still is not my thing, there’s always something to be done, time should be used wisely, why put off tomorrow what can be done today etc.  Be still? Have you seen this living room?  If there was a market for weeds, I could harvest our front yard and be set for life.   Somewhere back in the chaos, I chose a reconstruction route, and I am reminded by the doctor’s office, “remember there will be a few weeks of down time, use this time to rest (and because they have me figured out) you know, like be still while you’re healing”.



I will be working on listening while I am confined to my bed over the next couple of weeks, and looking forward to realizing the plans for my family and me.  Surgery is May 11th and prayers for an easy successful surgery and recovery are always appreciated.


Any Other Day

sb baking cake

There I stood putting together the ingredients of my own birthday cake.  This was not at all how I’d imagined, planned, or wanted my birthday to go.  As I folded the wet ingredients into the dry, thinking this might go down as the lamest birthday in years, I smirked as I thought, at least I’m still here to enjoy the lamest birthday in history.

super lame

Why so sour on a day that should have been filled with glee and rainbows? I’m not sure, it was preceded by a long hectic week with chest colds and work and very little sleep.  I met with my oncologist earlier in the week. My labs were great, there was nothing that caused concerned when she did her checkup, all good things to hear.  I whined about my lack of desire to take tamoxifen as the side effects I was experiencing; hot flashes, night sweats, and achy joints, were the pits.  I was reminded that the fatigue from chemo and radiation could last for a few more months.

giphy (8)

I talked about the condition of my fingernails.  Only about a ¼ of my fingernails are attached to the nail bed, the brittle yellow sections ruined by chemo are just kind of floating above.  “Oh yeah, brittle nails and your nailbeds oozing are completely normal after treatment.”  Completely normal?

nope office

I think that’s when the whole “new normal” concept hit home.  I mean I understand/understood that things, that I, would never be the same but I guess I never properly processed how involved that would be.

I never considered missing my fingernails not looking like something off the Hobbit.  My idea of looking good and feeling good would be qualified with “for what you’ve been through” for an indeterminable amount of time.  My expectations would be expected to be adjusted to lower than I’d like. To get out of taking medications that make me feel wimpy and miserable, I’d have to barter, using my reproductive organs as currency.

oprah unacceptable

So, for my birthday all I wanted was a quiet night and day to myself. Time to rest these weary bones, time to let my mind wander without interruption. Time to unplug, to reconnect, to reevaluate, to reflect, to rejoice.  Just a few hours with only myself to take care of.


Yeah, that didn’t happen.  I literally did not have one. Single. Solitary. Moment. Even my morning devotional time was interrupted that day.

I was, as they say; in my feelings and feeling some type of way.  Then as my kids asked for the eleventy fifth time when my birthday cake was going to be ready,

I thought, chill Khim, you’ll take a “me” day another day, maybe next week, but soon.


That’s when I realized what I’d allowed a hectic week and unfulfilled birthday wishes to cause me to forget.

Hope, faith, and confidence that there is still time for me days.  Without hesitation I thought about when my kids are adults with their own kids, I’m going to tell them about  how they pestered me because they wanted cake on my birthday.  Perspective, my birthday gift this year, I’ve got everything I need.

heb 11