My, how time flies...

Sometimes, it's weird how time flies.

Sunday, 1 year ago, I had my double mastectomy. 1 year and 2 days ago, I still had my breasts, nipples, normal sensation, etc. Now? I have foreign parts installed, tissue that's technically my own flesh and blood, but feel nothing, let alone hardly feel a part of me, and a strange numbing feeling in my chest.

I think Sunday, far more than my cancerversary, signaled that it's been a year since I felt "normal." Even knowing I had cancer in my body, I still felt whole. I still felt like myself. Once the scalpels invaded my skin, once parts of me were carved up and discarded, replaced by synthetic prosthesis, I became something... someone... else. I think the question still looms, who or what have I become?

The obvious response, given the context of this blog is, "SURVIVOR." But I'm not so sure about that. "Recoverer," yes. I recovered from surgery. I recovered from the infections.

But I didn't survive - at least, I'm not sure that I have. My breasts didn't survive. My hair didn't survive. My feelings and senses didn't survive. Most of the skin in my chest area survived.

My strength didn't survive. My cycling and athletics haven't survived... not yet. My ability to find ways to bounce back better than before hasn't surfaced, yet. I'm struggling to do it.

And I can't find a way to embrace the new boobs, yet. Perhaps if my nerve endings were still functional, I could. Or if everytime I flex a muscle, they didn't ripple and bounce around like a freakish body builder, I might be able to start. They still don't look like breasts.  One is larger than the other, one is fuller than the other, the horizontal scars are still visible, and have left some strange sculpting. They nipples still look like Frankenboob. Forget the cancer: If I had breasts like this before, I'd be seeking reconstruction.

By no means am I saying that Dr. Nordberg did a bad job - not at all! He did a great job, given what the task at hand was. The left side that is fuller and bigger is that way because of the scar tissue, etc - it was problematic from the beginning. The right side just settled the way that it did. And he's trying to fix things, but this is going to be a long time until it's close to where I envision being able to begin to accept them as being a part of me.

And my hair, oh, my hair. Yes, I'm not bald. But bald was a "cooler" look than what I have going on now. I look like a retarded Little Orphan Annie. Yes, it's great that I have the curls that I paid (well, my parents paid) for when I was in high school and didn't quite get. But they don't go anywhere. They curl in on themselves and don't grow down. It's like having a head of ingrown curly hairs. I touch my head and I feel a sheep, not my hair.

So, neither my breasts nor my hair feel like "me."

I don't know.

One year later, and I still feel so far away from really recovering, let alone surviving.

For my personal journey, the cancer was the easy part - it was caught before it caused any pain. Yes, I survived the cancer, I suppose. But what I'm really struggling to survive is the surgery, the treatment, the chemo, the after-effects, the recovery, the butchery.

Pink elephants...

Loopedy-loops... feeling floaty... An overwhelming sense of "Aaaaah..." These are the things I'm thankful for a day after my surgery to swap out the expanders for silicone implants. Oh, yes, and did I mention the Percocet? That's good stuff, yo.

I was the source of great amusement to the kids last night as I took a dose before I went to sleep. I understand that I made such little sense that the kids called my folks saying that I wasn't making any sense. My dad had to remind them I'd taken my pain meds, and that's just the way it is. So, they sat back and enjoyed the show.

Now, here I am, floating on pillows of fogginess, feeling no pain (though I can't help but notice the leaking from one of the drain sites - that's a fun feeling), impatiently waiting for the drainage to stop, for the bandages to come off, and the chance to see and mess around with the new twins.

Sh*t Girls Say to Girls with Breast Cancer

My friend, Jody, posted this video on Facebook this morning, and what was scary was that the number of things that have been said to me absolutely outnumbered the things I'd never heard before.

The sad thing is that, more often than not, it's me that mispronounces everything. LOL!

Enjoy!

Jennifer does some great work! And it looks like she'll have a web series on her website, www.HappyCancerChick.com

Of course, I'm thinking of a sequel... "Sh*t GUYS say to girls with breast cancer."

Chemo Round 3 Day 18: Embracing My Inner Sloth

Ah, yes, post-surgery/chemo couch potatohood has struck, and my waistline, ability to move, etc, has paid the price. I'm on the verge of becoming one of those people who has to be surgically removed from their sofa as their flesh has interwoven with the upholstery. Help me! Help me!

As always, feel free to donate to my fundraising efforts benefiting LIVESTRONG: http://laf.convio.net/goto/RicaRocksAustin2012

Wish I'd thought of that...

My cousin, who took those lovely portraits the day before my surgery, sent me the following cartoon:

I've since emailed it to Dr. Nordberg and informed him to stock up on pink Mardi Gras beads...

(Cartoon is on xkcd.com)