A gory details post

One might infer from the title that there will be material shown here which could make some readers uncomfortable. There's no shame in skipping this post. Read at your own risk. 

That said, I'll try to be sensitive as well. 

Here's me, pre-op, in my magic gown. You guys, this gown was so cool! When I was putting it on, I couldn't remember if the nurse had said to have it open in the front or in the back, so I of course assumed, "well, boob surgery would mean they're working on my front so it has to open in the front, right?" and that's how I put it on. Wrong! Haha! The nurse giggled at me and said, "everyone thinks that, but it actually is to open in the back" because there are all these cool layers to the gown including pockets that they can run tubes through which can warm or cool the patient accordingly. Magic! Whoever thought that up is brilliant. We fixed my gown and got me ready to go.

My OR people came in and introduced themselves. They asked me if I wanted a surgical cap of some kind and I asked if it was warm in the OR. One of the anesthesiologists said, "it's freezing in there" so I got a snazzy blue shower cap. He then gave me my calming, pre-op "margarita" mix, Dada kissed me good luck and they wheeled me into the OR. I remember looking up at the light bulbs that look like ice cubes in the huge light fixtures. I met a nurse who said his name was Mike, I remember the team saying something wasn't working right and that they needed another one... blood pressure machine, perhaps? And then I don't remember anything after that. Once again, I have no recollection of my surgeon or the head anesthesiologist being even in the room. I did not get a catheter, (big hooray!) or the breathing tube that heads clear down into your lungs (another big hooray!) I had what I think is called an LMA which is a tube that just lays at the top, back of your throat in case they need it for anything later. Less invasive and a not-as-sore throat later on. I only felt the soreness of it pretty much that same day and the next day.  

I think Dada said they started on me in the OR at 8:47 and I was wheeled into Recovery at about 10:40. I woke up and stared fuzzily at the large clock in Recovery at about 11:10 when violent shivers started. I told my nurse I wasn't cold but I was certainly quaking and she said the anesthesia does that. It didn't last too long and I got an extra toasty blankie out of the deal, haha! Since I didn't have to wait for a chest X-ray this time, I had some ice chips immediately and got to chat with my nurses as the underwater, operating on a slower record speed feeling when I turned my head faded. My surgeon came into check on me and asked if I'd decided if I wanted to stay overnight or not yet. I hadn't decided. Some of you are floored at what I've read online as a "drive by mastectomy", and believe me, I took that decision seriously, too. My surgeon and some of my nurses were strongly of the opinion that I'd sleep better and less interrupted at home and would therefore heal better. I suppose they also factor in the amount of germs in hospitals. It felt like it took me forever to decide and it wasn't because I was in any pain. I felt some hotness/burning sensation in the general surgery area but no actual pain. My surgeon had commented that people tell him mastectomy surgery hurts less than even laparoscopic procedures and I have to admit I didn't really believe him. However since this is Saturday and the surgery was Monday and I took absolutely nothing for pain yesterday at all, I guess he knew what he was talking about!

Once you're done in Recovery they send you to the next room to keep an eye on you. Dada was invited back to see me and I had one of the same nurses I'd had after my port surgery this spring, so that was really neat. She brought me more water and some Rice Krispie Treats, and kept a good eye on me. I did eventually decide I could go home the same day so she prepped my discharge papers and my folder of info I'd need to change dressings, how to take care of my drains which prevent fluid building up at the surgical sites (I have one on each side), signs to watch out for, etc. 

And the magic continued. They set me up with a scopolamine patch (thank goodness for Auto Correct finding that for me) which they stick to the skin behind your ear. It administers anti-nausea meds over a period of three days so you don't have any ill effects from the anesthesia. I was warned to not scratch it or touch it and then rub my eyes as it would dilate my pupils and then people would look at you funny, assume a head injury and order a CT scan. "Make sure you wash your hands. We've all done it" cracked my nurse with a roll of her eyes. The boys, of course, loved the idea of the patch with the magic medicine, and I did remember to wash my hands anytime I forgot it was there and scratched whatever itch was close to it. No dilated pupils or CT scans for me.

So I'm a stomach and side sleeper and obviously that isn't going to happen for awhile. Dada and Myron had disassembled our big red recliner and moved it upstairs so I would have a "nest". I've got multiple blankets, a side table for books/drinks/tissues/snacks/phone charger/desk lamp/etc so I'm pretty set for just about anything. Dada even dug out his travel pillow which has helped immensely and I'm about 15-20 paces from our bathroom. I finally learned my lesson last night and quit drinking about two hours before bed so I didn't need to be in there every two and a half hours, haha! Safe to say I've been well hydrated. Plus I have two pillows because I read I'm supposed to be propping my arms up. Lots to remember! I'm sure I'm not getting all of it right, but I seem to be doing really well, so I'm not stressing over it. 

And why these pictures decided to line up in the middle instead of along the left like all the other ones is beyond me, so sorry for those of you with OCD. My apologies.  

Ladies online mentioned a nail apron which costs about $1.50 as an excellent way to make sure you don't yank on your drains. The compression lines you see on my torso are because we've been using an ACE bandage over top of everything so stuff isn't coming loose, tickling too much, getting tugged on, and so forth. It reminds me of the big velcro wrap I was given after I had Damon. I told friends it feels good to put it on, and it feels good to take it off. The lump you see on my right side above the bandages is my port. It was being a butt and not letting the pre-op nurses draw blood from it, which is part of its job but it happens sometimes, so I do have a small bruise on the inside of my left elbow where a very apologetic nurse had to stick me. She was fast and efficient and a small needle stick was not truly one of my worries Monday morning, haha!

Some of you are Star Trek fans, whether you admit it or not, and if you remember the episode where Captain Picard is shown having been assimilated into Locutus of Borg, this next quote will make you laugh. Between my drains and my newly done landscaping I am Noboobus of Borg!

I have been having way more fun with this than anyone else, most likely because people are trying to be sensitive and don't want to be seen as crude, but also because the sooner I embrace my new reality the better I'll adapt. I'd made jokes all last week about my surgery approaching. Monday was my last Monday with boobs. Tuesday was my last day with tatas. Wednesday was my last hump day with humps. Thursday was harder, so I declared it my last happy hour with hooters. Friday was my last flash 'em Friday. Then I thought of Noboobus of Borg and cracked myself up. 

Humor is excellent medicine!

Then a sweet nurse friend advised to be sure I check my back during dressing changes because fluid can build up there as well and patients often don't realize it should be checked, too. Never would have dawned on me. As you can see, my back is in the clear. These were all taken Tuesday!

I have been absolutely floored at how normal I've felt. Everyone has cautioned to not let the pain get ahead of me. I'm thinking I must be doing something wrong because I don't have any! Granted I haven't walked into anything or been hit with anything or fallen onto anything this week, and I think I'm supposed to wait until the drains come out to start with the recommended arm exercises, but I've been slowing reaching farther and lifting light things and am doing really well. Showering with the drains is a bit trickier but there are lots of tips about that online, too. 

I have my follow up appointment all set for next week and I'm really looking forward to having the drains removed. They don't hurt at all, but they are encumbering, and I think psychologically it'll be a big milestone to have them gone. I am not looking forward to the intense itching I hear I will experience as everything heals, but even that is a sign of progress, so I'll take it. Again, I reserve the right to change my mind once it starts happening, haha. I am looking forward to experimenting with my wardrobe and at this point I'm not even talking about what will look good now that I'm flat- I simply mean what I'll be capable of pulling on over my head! This week has been all about the button downs, and I don't have or wear a lot of those so I've been raiding Dada's closet.  

Overall, my mental and emotional state has been one of relief and excitement. I did two biopsies and a port surgery. I'm done with chemo. I survived my bilateral mastectomy. The drains are absorbing decreasing amounts of fluid. I'm not in pain. I'm not thinking about radiation yet and don't have pathology results either to mull over yet. My village is overwhelming me with wonderful food, rides for the kids to their activities, prayers going up on high on our behalf, very gentle hugs, a stack of cards, and enough texts to blow up my phone. Thank you to all of you who have been part of this in any way, whether you are local and in hugging range or across the country and are sending support in other ways. Extra special thanks to my Mommee and Aunt Sherri who have been riding herd on the kids so Dada can focus on taking good care of me. I am so blessed. I know some of you might get sick of hearing it, but I'm telling you it is the absolute truth. I am so blessed. 

Lest you be kept in suspense

Hello! This is your PSA to stay on top of your physical exams, especially for those of you who tend to Procrastinate. Just wanted to get that out there.

And now for the good news: I'm out of surgery, out of recovery, out of the room they put you in after recovery, and I'm home!

That's right. I'm home. Lots of the medical staff polled were of the opinion that I'd sleep (and therefore heal) better at home. I was sent home with instructions on how to empty and log the amount of fluid in the drains (oh yes, good times ahead) and the meds which went home with me and all kinds of fun advice. 

Rest easy, sweet friends and family. I'm in good hands with Dada and my Mommee and I'm behaving myself under orders of all my nurse friends. I promise! Thank you thank you thank you for the prayers and all of the support you have showered on drenched us with. YOU guys are amazing! Thanks for "storming the castle" for me. I'm betting God was delighted on my behalf over all the help he could bestow on my medical staff because you enabled it. Thanks for praying powerful prayers and for being my safety in numbers. 

I'll keep this post quick and get back to "the hard part" of resting and recovery, but I promise to do another gory detail post for those of you who'd like one. Thanks again!

And Dada has been excused from his grudging assignment of guest blogger, though I think he did an excellent job. =)

While under anesthesia... and slightly afterward

Fair warning, faithful blog reading friends and family... this is NOT your lovable, vibrant, enthusiastic, well spoken, English capable Val.  This is her husband, Scott.  I have been given "guest blogging" rights by your normal host.  I will be giving an update on Val's surgery.

My apologies in advance for the lack of witticisms and puns...  That's just not my thing.  I will however attempt to keep you up to date.

I do want to take the opportunity to thank you all for your prayers and support of Val and the family over the past few months.  We are so thankful for you and all you've done to keep us uplifted and supported.  We deeply appreciate your friendships.

We made it here right at 6:30am and got these last couple of pictures before the surgery.  

She did not sleep well last night with concerns and anxiety about the surgery, but her ever present smile persists!

Val was called back in for pre-surgery preparation at 7:0am

I was callled back at 7:40am to support her and wish her well for the surgery.  We had conversations with the nurse, anesthesiologist, and her surgeon.

Blood was drawn at 7:50.

She wants everyone to know that she had a neat ‘magic’ gown that has cooling/heating tubes woven through it so they can adjust her temp as needed throughout the surgery. She also has ‘magic’ socks that pump through the surgery to keep blood flowing and prevent clots.  She feel good with the morning conversations with her medical team and want you all to know she feels covered with prayers.

Please keep the prayers coming.

I left her at 8:20am as she was being wheeled out for surgery.

The board in the waiting room indicated her surgery started at 8:53am.  The dr estimates an hour and a half to an hour and 45 minute surgery.  Then likely an additional 2 hours in recovery before I will be able to see her.

The dr is supposed to come talk to me after he has completed the surgical part.

I’ll keep you posted as I can.

Thanks,

Scott

All the hairy details

It's funny. I read in one of my multitudes of breast cancer books that I should box up all my hair care products so they're out of my way and I don't have to keep seeing them. I did my best, but those of you with plenty of hair know how hair clips and hair elastics and hair accessories seem to migrate all through the house, the car, into every handbag, etc. I thought I did pretty well gathering Stuff up and sticking it all in a box:

Then I remembered I also had a drawer in the kids' bathroom:

If the entire purpose of boxing up The Hair Stuff was to free space, the experts have seriously underestimated the generosity of my friends and family. This is not everything I received in the mail or in person, but it is the vast majority of it. The bandannas in the bottom left are representatives of a much larger stack of them which I've used throughout my life and especially at camp. To any of you who thoughtfully picked out fabrics, styles, and colors for my naked bean, I thank you. Thanks for spiffing up my wardrobe!

And to those of you who see me when I'm not wearing anything on my head, you now are absolutely sure that it is not because I am lacking appropriate headgear. Sometimes it is nice to just feel the wind in my hair eyebrows eyelashes ears. 

No, I really don't like that. I tend to pull all these suckers down so the wind doesn't do that...

There are many more tiny hairs on my head than there were a few weeks ago. Dada is teasing me about it coming in white and curly, but they look mighty straight-and-stick-outy to me. My Mary Alice calls it dandelion hair. Time will tell. Eyebrows also seem to be attempting a comeback and I have curled my eyelashes without fear of losing them entirely twice in the last week. This is what progress looks like!

This just in

You guys, you'll never believe this. I'm so excited! The day we've all been wondering about and waiting for:

Today I feel like myself!

I've had my most productive day in months and don't feel like I need a nap. My spirit is high and I've been singing along with Pandora. Damon's closet is reorganized, I'm on my second and a half load of laundry, the dishwasher is reloaded, the kids all made it off to school on time, and I'm looking around for what to do next.

Whoop whoop!

Thanks for all your prayers and well wishes and yay God for getting me through chemo. It's been three and a half weeks since my last Taxotere and Carbo, and I feel like meeeeee! Yippiiiiiieeeeee!

Another misty morning

We had a two hour delay due to fog today. It is kind of fizzing outside, as Liam likes to say. Happy Friday!

Naturally, I'm sitting here listening to Led Zeppelin's Misty Mountain Hop, which you can hear here if you so desire. I had nothing to do with it, just borrowed the link from YouTube. 

Anyway, misty mornings are fabulous for finding spider webs. There were various filters used on these photos, notably Vivid and Dramatic Cool, for visibility purposes. 

We have very industrious spiders. If only my children could take lessons, heh...

These are the lovely flowers PaPa planted for me. I had picked out perennial, shade loving, native plant seeds and he planted them for me... and then we had a torrential downpour in which the gutter overflowed and all my seeds washed into the pond. 

This pond.

You're saying, "that's not a pond. That's a jungle." While you are correct, don't judge. We rarely go in and out the front door and I forget about the pond (obviously) and should probably throw what we call mosquito donuts in. They're these donut shaped crisps (a bit denser than a Samoa from the Girl Scouts and minus the chocolate stripes, but that'll get you close enough) which knock off the mosquito larvae or whatever so you don't have bugs from the standing water. I can still hear the pond pump running, but it sounds asthmatic and I'm not sure that it isn't full of algae or baby lily pads. 

And then there's the back forty:

Lalaith Havens, signing off and wishing everyone a wonderful weekend!

"How does your garden grow?"

Uh, well, ours is a complete disaster. Thanks for asking. 

I guess we had other things going on this summer. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Here is our garden jungle: 

I can hear Ray Stevens in my head, "embarrassing." So let's have a closer look at things.

Here are the tomatoes:

We planted Cherokee Purples and either Big Boys or Beefsteaks, but I haven't seen anything other than teeny cherry ones come up...

The strawberries are still doing their thing:

And we have a humungous basil:

The borage I planted for the bees is hanging in there:

Heh. That would be the purply blue flowers in that mess. As ever, you can click on any photo to have it open in a more eyeball-friendly page to better investigate.

I have no idea what these adorable yellow flowers are, but they have carroty-looking tops/stems so I purposely didn't weed them as I wanted to see what would happen. Anyone have a name for them?

Cilantro has gone all to coriander:

Butterflies are visiting the apple trees:

Spiders are everywhere:

This particular one is either brave or crazy, having built a web just outside our back door. I can't tell you how many times I've opened the door just a few inches to holler out to the boys and/or the dog, remembered the spider too late, and have had to apologize. It's a good thing I have no hair, or this poor thing would have to redo the web several times a day. And it's right at face height, so it's usually, *door opens, I take a big breath to begin to holler, pull head back a little bit as spider takes cover, apologize to spider, commence hollering while keeping door as closed as possible lest any bugs make it past the web and into the house, slam door shut* The spider is doing a good job as I've only seen one stink bug make it in so far...

The zinnias and marigolds did well! I even saw a hummingbird enjoying the zinnias.

And this, my friends, was lettuce in its former life:

The back "garden" was overtaken by the ghosts of last year's veggies. Apparently we'd tossed zucchini out to die and they reincarnated, took over, and had to be chopped back by PaPa during his last visit:

We did get a few zucchini out of the deal except they were so huge by the time we found them that they were really seedy and not much fun. I guess that's why Aldi sells little skinny ones, haha.

And it's almost apple season already! Eeeep!

Dada bought some fun shades for the deck this summer, which give a whole new resort-ish feel to the place:

Yes, that would be Virginia Creeper, creeper-ing along. There's also poison ivy in there, which all the menfolk currently have as they just can't stay away from machetes and chopping vine-covered branches and oy vey...

And my lovely, tough, good thing they take care of themselves hostas. Hosta? Hmm.

Those poor guys were completely dug up and tossed aside when the geothermal install happened. The guys doing the digging asked what they were and then shrugged, "well, they'll probably figure out how to come back." And they did! Yay!

I sure hope nobody was depending on us for tomatoes (unless they're cherry ones) or cucumbers or anything this year. None of my cucumbers tasted like anything much, and I can't tell if it was just because of chemo affecting taste buds or if it was the ridiculous wet spell followed by months of hot and dry without being watered or what, and nobody else in my family eats them to compare notes with. If nothing else, we helped birds and bees and butterflies, which is half the fun anyway. Uh, I mean, sorry I didn't get out there to weed very much, honey...

New arrival and the less than desirables

So sorry. I forgot to update you. Yes, our new dishwasher has arrived and is definitely pulling its weight. I had forgotten how fast we can fill a dishwasher, haha! It is a black Kitchen Aid with a towel rack and it works. In other words, it is just about perfection.

Now the dryer is on the fritz. Poor Dada has it taken apart and is waiting for a piece to arrive...

Since I don't speak Dryer I can't tell you what it is he is waiting for, but I can say that I am wholeheartedly grateful for the sunshine we are to have today and tomorrow as our clothes are drying outside:

I can also tell you, just as wholeheartedly, that I am a firm believer in the adage about "no good deed goes unpunished". In this particular case, it would be because the rescue dog, AKA Bosley Underfoot the Dunderbutt, found mud and poop to roll in this morning as I was picking tomatoes. Why Bosley, how thoughtful of you; I would just loooooooove to give you a bath and then have an entire bathroom to clean" said nobody ever. 

Do not be fooled by the dotty eyebrows. He is an idiot. And so am I for letting him free range. I know that I can't trust him as far as I could throw him, but did I clip him out there? Noooo, I didn't, because he looked cute and innocent in the sunshine. More fool me.

Decisions

Where to begin?

Titles are hard for me. I either have one in mind before I write the actual post (rarely) or I struggle to sum up what I've written into a concise title. I dislike reading passages and "telling the main idea" because, for me, life is about all the little things more than it is about the big things. Big things, to me, tend to take care of themselves whereas little things can be wrangled and finessed and pondered over. 

They say the devil is in the details. I am firmly in the camp which knows it is God who is in the details. 

A tiny for instance? My bedroom growing up was wallpapered in Holly Hobbie forever. Like from second grade until about 9th, maybe even longer. At some point, you couldn't see any Holly Hobbie because I had so many animal posters and Johnny Depp posters and my own artwork up that there was no wallpaper visible. My parents finally caved and repainted it Bermuda Blue, which is exactly the gorgeous deep blue of the Caribbean, and they let me paint a mural on one wall.

We weren't in our first home long enough to do any painting, but our second home PaPa helped paint Carrie's room a lovely blue. Our third home, we painted our master bedroom Mountain Lake blue. PaPa quipped about it being the third time he'd painted blue bedrooms for me. I remember musing, "I might like a green bedroom next time."

Guess what color our bedroom is right now, and has been for the five years we've been here? A soothing green. We didn't do it. Details. I've heard it said that God cares about the things which concern us. I believe it, because he loves us, and when you love someone, what worries them doesn't usually sit well with you either because you don't want your loved ones to be stressed out. Sure, it could be a coincidence. It could be the previous owners thought, "green is soothing in a bedroom and we're trying to sell, so... green it is." I prefer to think that God used them to get it ready for us. 

At any rate, I am one indecisive chick. It takes forever for me to pick out a movie (don't even get me started on the endless choices Netflix offers) or a meal at a restaurant. Oddly enough, I manage okay at ice cream shoppes- just a small hot fudge sundae, please. I judge books by their covers constantly and often end up with colorful, captivating outsides which may or may not reflect the quality of writing within; then I can't decide which one to begin with. 

So you can pretty well imagine how hard it was to make a decision which will affect my next 40 or so years, God willing. Yes, here she goes again with the talk about boobs. She's like a junior high boy! For those of you sick of the subject, feel free to Prince Humperdinck, "skip to the end."  And for those of you scratching your heads, you simply must see "The Princess Bride" for your own sake. How many fun references are you missing out on if you haven't seen that classic? But I digress...

The final consensus is that later this month I'm going to go flat on both sides with no reconstruction. In more medical terms that is called a bilateral (both sides) mastectomy (loss of boobage, I guess). Those of you who want to be done reading now have your answer and may be excused. Thanks for the prayers: please keep them coming as surgery is kinda a big deal and we're back to school so that means lots of germs coming home and it'll take time to heal including exercises and lifting restrictions and all that. Seriously, huge thanks and please don't stop. 

If anyone wants more details, here they are. It was a really hard decision that took way longer to make than I thought it would. I had a strong feeling from the get-go that I didn't want manmade materials inserted into me (implants) which had the potential for extra surgeries down the road and/or leakage. After consulting with a plastic surgeon who had us hold them, squeeze them, see what they actually looked and felt like, I felt better about the options but still no great desire to go that route. We were especially reassured that the "gummy bear" ones wouldn't leak even if we squeezed them. However, I'm not enthused by the fact that they're new enough that I can't be sure they won't leach anything into me over time. Those suckers gotta last me into my 80s hypothetically and they simply haven't been around long enough in this form for me to feel like anything other than a guinea pig. Not a great feeling. At what point do small statistics of problems make it okay to try something, you know?

We initially met with him to discuss a procedure where he would potentially use only skin and fat from my abdomen to shape me a new right side boob. He had me stand there and he pinched my excess and said, "you don't have enough you to do what you want to do, which is good because you're thin, except that you only have enough here to make about a third of what you have up there." So there went that option. Since I couldn't make one from myself, and I have never wanted only one- and to those of you (not my term) uniboobs out there, ladies, you are amazing. I don't feel I would be happy like that. I feel there'd be a lot of pressure to wear a fake one and I don't have any desire to go that route either- because I think having one would be harder on my personal self image than having none at all. Having none means no bras,  no underboob sweat, and perhaps I'll weigh less, haha. 

Reconstruction would mean sticking an implant in, layering  an acellular material over that, then replacing the layer of fat and skin on top of it all and then create a nipple out of, I guess, whatever is left over? No idea. But mine are beyond saving, so they'd be newly created nipples. Apparently they can be tattooed, also. Who knew? The whole thing is fascinating. And not for me. The feelings and sensations would not be the same as the originals I have now and it can take (depending what you're reading) two to five years to restore most feeling as it is. What you have then is pretty much what you'll have forever. I'm hearing that massaging the area as much as possible helps keep things looser instead of too tight and keeps the scar tissue from being hard and weird. Let me state for the record that I am no expert on any of this, but I am learning a lot. The amount of information out there is amazing. What we ever did before the Internet, I'll never know. I can't imagine going back. 

Reconstruction from yourself takes the longest time to heal because you have more than one incision site. I was seriously thinking about it because I liked the idea of all the raw materials coming from myself. They nurse explained that thin women and very large women both often walk out disappointed; the thin women because they don't have enough material to work with and the very large women because fatty tissue is not the best replacement material. They said the ratio needs to be more than one to one. Oh well. 

So I decided that:

I've already nursed my babies for 15 months, 20 months, and 22 months, respectively. We're not in the market for any more, so I don't need them for feeding anyone else. 

They've never been that big of a deal for me. In fourth grade, my mother took me to my annual doctor's visit and I was asked if I wear a bra every day. My mother answered, "yes" and I angrily piped up, "nuh uh! I wear an undershirt as often as I can!" It was true. I preferred the undershirts with the tiny strip of lace along the front and the skinny little straps to any of the training bras I had. 

I don't want anything perky and bouncy and ridiculous when I am 80 and everything else looks like... I'm 80. That would be weird. Ew, no thanks. 

I don't want anything leaking or leaching into me. I don't want more surgeries. Yes, I understand they can put them in during the same surgery my originals come out. They're still manmade and I don't trust them. I am not in the market for fake.

I feel relieved that the decision is made and that, since I can't have the ones God gave me, I won't have any at all. I don't see me having a change of heart and desiring them down the road. I simply don't feel like fake ones are worth the potential risks down the road. I am not convinced that I need boobs to, one, look womanly or, two, feel sexy or, three, to be me. 

Three strikes and you're out. The girls are being banished. I reserve the right to mourn them and I'm sure there are moments or times or seasons where I will miss them. That's how life is. God won't love me any less if I have boobs or not. My family and friends won't either. Dada is supportive and plays an excellent devil's advocate to help me think everything through. Have I thought of everything? No, I'm sure there's aspects which haven't occurred to me. Am I scared about it? A bit, but most of the fear was about making the right decision. I am convinced this is what is best for me and my long term health. In the end that's what all of this is about anyway- my best shot at living my life while becoming and then staying cancer-free. PaPa pointed out that I can honestly say, "we threw everything at this health crisis and held nothing back." If I have a recurrence, God forbid, it will not be out of negligence on the part of my medical team or out of holding back and simply hoping for the best on my part. I will have gone through 6 rounds of chemo, surgery to remove the troublemaking breast and the at-this-point "good" breast, five and a half weeks of radiation five days a week, an entire year of IV meds roughly every three weeks as a preventative, plus an additional 5 to 10 years of maintenance medication. If you put that in terms of kids, I will be done with meds either when Carrie turns 20 or when she turns 25. She could be married by then. Liam will be almost done with high school or almost done with whatever college or vocational school he heads off to. Damon will be Liam's age now in 5 years and will be 18 in 10 years. That's a long time. I have a lot to do in those 5 to 10 years and am not willing to be popping back in for surgery to fix things back up should they fail or should I decide they're not working for me and need removed after all. I have better things to do.

Thank you to all of you who have been praying so faithfully as I waffle over what is, still, to me, a ridiculous choice. I told Dada that we are not meant to have to make choices like this about our bodies. If we were, when we're born we would come with a kit like Mr. Potato Head and could add pieces and parts however we chose. How do you balance "your body is a temple and belongs to the Lord" with "insurance will cover whatever because there is so much psychological weight attached to these particular body parts that society says are important"? Thank you for praying for wisdom and for being there to bounce ideas off of and for knowing when I was tired of talking and thinking about it and changing the subject and just for being your wonderful, supportive selves. I am blessed beyond measure, boobs or no boobs. So I'm going flat and not looking back.