Bra Full of Dynamite



Sorry it’s been a little while. On top of my own personal storm, Hurricane Matthew thought it was an appropriate time to visit my current home town.   We stayed around, and watched the nation’s oldest city get battered by wind and washed away by overflowing bays and oceans.  Fortunately, we are far enough inland that we only saw some strong winds and lots and lots of rain at our house along with a few stray roof shingles taking off.

Okay enough storm talk.  So as I revealed in my last blog the tumor and cancer was not as straight forward as I was first told.  Knowing that chemo was now going to be required and additional surgery, it became apparent that I needed to look into finding treatment closer to home.  I also needed to think about my surgery options.  It probably took me all of 45 minutes after my post-op appointment to decide I wanted the full on double mastectomy.

It is really the principal of the matter, if you come after the queen (me) you will be executed.  And so these traitors on my chest must go.  I did actually take time to think over this decision, based on my pathology report, I was looking at a right mastectomy anyway.  I also didn’t want to have to worry if the left one was a sleeper and was going to exact its revenge once I terminated its sister, and potentially have to go through another surgery at a later time.


With my mind made up I began contacting and researching hospitals in my area and the metro area.  One hospital I contacted said it would be 3-5 business days to even process the appointment request, which is not really terrible I guess, but they then emailed me, well past 3-5 business days later and basically stated that they were going to have to actually contact my insurance company by phone to verify, and therefore could not schedule me until they had an opportunity to do that.  Uhm… under “reason for care” I put cancer, not a rash, not low back pain, but cancer.  I feel like maybe that’s the type of diagnosis that you get somebody on the phone the same day to do insurance verification for, just saying.  Needless to say, I will not be getting treatment there.


The oncologist and staff I am working with now are a great group of people.  I felt really at ease with them, and they seem to be at the top of their game.   I prayed that I would have some kind of confirmation that I was in the right place before I met with them.  Not to mention I adore my nurse navigator, she is the person who is my go to for questions and support.  She stayed throughout my consultation and then at the end reviewed what the doctor had gone over with me and asked if I had any questions.  As she got ready to leave she hugged me and said, “Alright baby-girl, we’re going to take good care of you. You keep up that positive attitude and call me if you need anything”.   Now, this sentence is not really all that earth shattering, except that in my household my mom calls me “baby-girl” and when she addressed me that way, I felt the way you feel when you’ve traveled a long way to your parents’ house and you finally get inside and smell all the smells, and get to hug your parents’ necks.  It’s the little things, but God knows what his girl needs and when she needs it.

Things are going to start moving pretty quickly here in the next few weeks and I will try and do a better job of keeping everyone up to date.  Thank you for all your prayers and encouragement.  ‘til next time.

Tube Tops & Aquamarine Pee

The two days prior to my surgery were busy. On Monday I had a tiny radioactive capsule injected into my breast tissue near the malignancy. As if that wasn’t fun enough, that was immediately followed by a mammogram. Yes, another one.


All throughout life you’re warned to stay away from radiation, and subjecting your body to trauma. Then you get cancer and all that goes out the window.  But I digress.

Alongside me every day of this process was my dad, (my mom had a work conference out of town).  He got up early and drove me to my Monday appointment, sitting in the middle of a lobby full of women, walls full of breast cancer posters, un-phased.  We went to our favorite Thai restaurant for dinner and then got ice cream, a sacrifice for him since he is really good about staying away from sweets. I got him hooked on Netflix’s Stranger Things, because I am a loving daughter and it was the right thing to do, and then the next day he waited patiently over an hour while I had my sentinel node injection.


Okay, so I’ll pause here to do a little explaining. The radioactive capsule is tiny and is injected near the site of the cancer to assist my doctor in locating the tumor during surgery.  Yes, I did try to see if I had any X-Men powers after they injected it, but I am sad to report after several experiments, I will not be attending Xavier’s School for the Gifted.  I was however advised to refrain from holding babies or small animals for longer than 30 minutes at a time that day. Naturally, I cancelled my puppy petting appointment I’d scheduled for later in the day.  The sentinel node injection is done to help identify which lymph nodes drain the breast tissue and in turn will be removed the day of surgery.

My hubby and I agreed that he would stay home with the kids so not to interrupt their school schedules.  Of course as surgery approached David tried to renegotiate the terms of the agreement.  My close friend Bethany so graciously volunteered  to step in as  part of my surgery day squad.  We spent the night talking big about what we were going to do with our kid free time, but basically we ended up going  to our old job where we met and chatting it up with our old manager. We then spent way too much time debating on how many and what type of cookies to buy.  I talked her into an evening walk through my parents’ super hilly neighborhood, which is not really a big deal until I point out that Bethany is just a tad shorter than me, it seems like a whole foot on some days. So she had 10 steps for my two, but she hung in there like a champ.

tiny pony
This is one of our favorite gifs.

Surgery morning, I’m up at 4:00 am, I am surprisingly calm and well rested.  I still played my Travis Greene playlist to keep the confident mood going.  I pulled on my new favorite Fight for Joy t-shirt and a comfy pair of shorts. It was still dark outside as I got into the car with my dad. I half expected the obligatory father daughter pep talk, but instead it was just two guys on an AM news station chatting, and me reciting verses in my head.  Which is totally ok, because the lack of said pep-talk just confirmed that he wasn’t worried which means I needn’t be either.  We arrived at the hospital and I checked in, Bethany and I exchanged a look and a giggle as a result of an unspoken inside joke. Then we sat and we waited for my name to be called.  They called me back and I was escorted to pre-op alone, family and friends don’t get to come back until right before you head in to the operating room.

My nurse was nice, asked all the general questions and handed me my gown, thermal shower cap, compression socks and left the room.  I snapped a picture of my metallic shower cap and texted it to my dad and Bethany for a laugh. As I rolled up the compression sock past my shins, I thought, “Cheese and rice, I don’t want to do this.”   Beeping from my phone, friends are sending me prayers and positive thoughts. Okay, I’m back, I’m good.  The nurse hooked up an inflatable warming blanket and then sent in my Dad and Bethany.  We made small talk, my Dr. came in and gave the run down, I checked my phone, and then I cried. something in my eye

Not an ugly cry, but the kind that sneaks up on you and you’re almost positive you played it off type cry. Not because I was scared or nervous but happily overwhelmed, I saw my college roommate and friend Brooke, update her status asking her friends to pray for me and Bethany had done the same, and  seeing all the “virtual” strangers “standing” by me overfilled my heart.


Alright hugs to my dad and Bethany, it’s go time, I’m being rolled back by Colleen and Betty and David.  I add their names because Colleen said I wouldn’t remember. (Always stubborn in every circumstance, even though I’m only 95% certain those were their names.)  I remember telling them about where I live and watching as the oxygen mask moved toward my face and looked a lot like stop motion photography.  Then…. the clacking of computer keys.

“Ooooh, am I done? Did they ask me to count back from ten, because I don’t think I did, sorry!”  Meanwhile I am fidgeting with my sheets and checking the side of my bed for the bulb drain, that I was warned only would be present if all my lymph nodes were removed.  “You don’t have a drain, she only took out 4 lymph nodes.”  Awesome! At this point I feel like I’m on a raft in the water, my mouth is dry and my throat is itchy and I really want pancakes and country fried steak.   I’ve been wrapped in a frilly pink tube top chest binder thingy, and my armpit was on fire! Before I know it,  I am rolled back to a room to meet my dad and friend.

Real friendship is when your bestie can express to you in complete confidence right after you’ve come out of surgery that she is disappointed that your level of delirium will not allow internet fame. really boring

I know that I left the hospital and talked Bethany into getting me a smoothie, but the rest is a blur of falling asleep between texts, being genuinely concerned that every time I peed it was aquamarine (blue dye injection from surgery),  my dad and I eating Chick-Fil-A, (Yeah I totally ignored the post-surgery BRAT diet recommended, judge me if you must.) and whispering a lot of “Thank you Jesus”.

I will fill you in on the rest of the details after my post-op appointment.  Thank you thank you a million times thank you for all your prayers, positive thoughts, and support.