So fucking sad. Fuck cancer.
I like that you can see the marks left on my body from cancer. My port scar from chemo. The cancer boob with the slight dent. The mandala tattoos where nipples should be. The tiny black radiation tattoos on my chest and stomach. The tiny scars on my stomach from my hysterectomy/oophorectomy. I hate on my body a lot, I know, but this bitch has fought hard and is not only surviving, but thriving. I’m now, at 41, finally learning to be comfortable in my own skin. The scars, the wrinkles, the extra fat around my midsection – I’m thankful for all of it, because it means I’m still here.
I have a lump in my cancer boob.
My doc was like: well it could be a cyst or a tumor. We’ve gotta cut it out regardless.
So that’s happening at some point soon. I have to talk to my plastic surgeon next week.
We discussed my exchange surgery that is scheduled for September. He said we have to wait and see where we are at that point. I think I’ve decided to just cancel it. I am pretty sure I only have two to three years left, and I don’t want to waste any of my time recovering from unnecessary surgery. D and I are happy with the current tits. I won’t be alive long enough for these recalled ones to kill me – so why bother?
My tumor markers are way up. He told me today that this result would be the determining factor in whether I continue this treatment. Those results come in last, so I didn’t get them until several hours after the appointment. I emailed him and just said, “Where do we go from here?” I imagine I’ll be getting a phone call on Monday.
It’s weird – I’m not that upset. I’ve accepted it. My fate is to die from breast cancer. I’m mostly worried about my husband. He’s a heartbroken mess.
I’m not completely satisfied with the care I’m receiving. I’m going to make some calls on Monday. I want a second opinion. I know this will kill me, but I want as much time as I can get. My oncologist is a nice guy, but today was kind of a hot mess. I worry he has too many patients to really treat me properly.
I’m a bougie bitch – I can afford better care than this. I’m thankful for that; believe me.
I’m going to cash out my 401k. We’ve (D and I) debated this a lot, and he’s been telling me to wait, but tonight, in tears, he said: I think you should go ahead and cash it out.
I want to finish the basement. And take the kids to Hawaii. And buy whatever random shit that makes me happy.
I’m starting to think about what to do with the firm. I’m not ready to throw in the towel yet, but if I can’t find a treatment that keeps me stable by the end of the year, I’m going to give up my practice.
And that’s where we are.
It’s…hard. Really, really hard.
Thank you for reading.
Even if I don’t know you, I love you for caring.
I loooooove it. I expect to love it even more after I style it myself tomorrow. I’m so glad I went through with it.
The best part of the day: lunch with my besties!!
I got the call today: it’s cancer.
We will do a biopsy next week so we can determine the best course of treatment.
I’m…mostly numb. When she told me, I was calm. I didn’t cry. Didn’t even flinch.
I already knew. I’ve been working on acceptance for the last (almost) two weeks.
PET scan is done. Now the waiting
My tech today is really good friends with my high school bestie. Stl is like a small town, I swear.
Next up: colonoscopy prep. Are you envious?? Lol.
Actually…next up is a fucking nap, and then I’m heading to the Jeffco office this afternoon.
Send me good nap vibes please. I’m exhausted to the point where D seems a bit concerned. I know I’m (unintentionally) behaving strangely.
I’m suddenly sort of grateful for my completely overwhelming job, because it takes a lot of my attention, and keeps me from going too far down the rabbit hole during the day. The nights…well the nights are another story altogether.
I have found some comfort in the BreastCancer.org message boards. A lot of ladies live 5+ years after being diagnosed with mets.
I know I haven’t been diagnosed yet, but I do not have a good feeling about it. It’s like I told D last night: I’d rather get into a head space where I’m prepared to hear the news, and end up pleasantly surprised, than go in with hope. Hope is a fucking killer. I cannot do hope.
I’m feeling kind of down today.
It’s hard to be strong.
It’s hard to stay positive.
It’s fine – really it is. I just wanted to put it out there. It helps.
I’ve been keeping myself busy so I don’t have time to dwell.
Listening to podcasts.
Stuff like that.
Then I drug myself at night. Nights are hard.
Life is a rollercoaster right now.
My back and shoulders ache because of all the tension. The exercising is helping a bit though.
It was good to have the kids home tonight.
And the house feels good: we cleaned this weekend; like I said…keeping busy.
Gonna keep on keeping on.
PS: I have the best husband in the entire world. ❤️
I’m determined to make going to the gym not only a habit, but also one I enjoy.
Today was cardio (treadmill) plus some circuit training. Right now I’m enjoying a hydromassage, which helps the enjoyment factor.
I think I’m going to upgrade my membership so I can have unlimited classes and unlimited massage, plus access to the women’s only workout area.
That was my first potato in two months, and holy fuck it was delicious. The filet was also incredible; D has learned a new pan searing technique that has really upped his cooking game. Oh and the Picard wine was a fucking delight. Not pictured: classic caesar salad.
After dinner, we half-assed watched My Best Friend’s Wedding, while chatting about all the things. A lot of these 90s movies just don’t hold up. They seem so cheesy now. But I told D I want to watch Jerry McGuire next. It’s fun to revisit these even if they don’t rewatch well.
There was some crying, but overall it was a lovely night.
Oh and I almost forgot: we decided to watch the original Star Trek series from the beginning. So we started the pilot, but then we were falling asleep, so we’ll finish it at some point this weekend.
This week has been…a lot. I’m so grateful it’s Friday. I am ready to cut loose and have a fun-filled weekend. We originally had plans scheduled tonight with Matt & Jen, and then Rob and Ann Saturday night, but all of those plans have been canceled. It’s a non-custody weekend, and we plan to dig in and do our thing this weekend: just us two. Right now we just don’t have time for anyone other than us (and the kids obviously).
When D got home last night, he was still sort of weepy and bummed out, so I gave him a stern talking to, which basically boiled down to: I’m not dead yet. Stop mourning me already. It helped. In fact, he was like, “I need you to yell at me. What would I do if I didn’t have you to yell at me?” I didn’t yell (lol), but you get the idea.
Anyway – we had a great night last night. We made dinner, and watched the newest Picard. We had very hot, intense, passionate, emotional sex (twice). We talked about a lot of stuff – some sad stuff, some future plans, some what-ifs, but it wasn’t super sad or anything. It’s taking a toll – the not knowing – but we are doing the best that we can under the circumstances.
The plan for tonight is to do our normal Friday night routine; meaning we will make dinner and eventually watch something. I haven’t been drinking much recently because of my stomach issues, but we are going to drink one of our bottles of Picard wine tonight. More on that later!
As far as the rest of the weekend is concerned, we’ve thrown out a bunch of ideas. I know we are going to finally tackle our DMB poster project (and some other home decor shit we’ve been putting off). There will be pics – duh. And we talked about maybe doing our tattoos finally. All I know is that I am tired of putting stuff off. It’s like the blog title says: the future is no place to place your better days. It’s easy to lose sight of how fleeting and precious life is, and, even if I’m absolutely fine, I am actually kind of grateful for the reminder. I needed this kick in the ass.
I’m wearing a dress and necklace that I’ve had for a while, but haven’t worn out of the house before. It’s time to be bold. What am I waiting for?
In other news –
- I am obsessed with the My Favorite Murder podcast, and have been listening to it all day. I’m glad I’m not the only weirdo obsessed with true crime.
- D wants to know my top 5 vacation requests – so I’ve been thinking about that. I def want to do England/Ireland. I also want to do over-the-water bungalows somewhere exotic as fuck. And I want to take the kids on a kick-ass family vacation this summer. We had been discussing a trip to Florida, but now I’m thinking Cancun or Turks & Caicos. Go big or go the fuck home. I want the memories, and, more importantly, I want them to have the memories.
- I also told D last night that, if we get bad news, I want a second opinion (and maybe a third) on treatment. I’ll do whatever Dr. Rearden tells me to do while we wait, but we have enough money that I can get a second opinion from one of the really prestigious cancer centers, like MD Anderson or Sloan Kettering or the fucking Mayo Clinic. I’m not fucking around with this shit. I want all the time I can squeeze out of this body.
- I want to head over to Illinois and check out the weed shops. I also want to get some CBD oil. Again – this is all stuff I’ve wanted to do, but always put off. It’s time.
- Oh and I almost forgot: Scott (former business partner) texted me. I told him what is going on, and it sounds like he will do whatever I want to do. He got really emotional actually. I told him I’d contact him in a couple of weeks and we can meet to discuss things. I need that put to bed so that I can make plans for the future. Regardless of my prognosis, I know that I have to change my career in a big way. The stress has taken a huge toll on my health, and I simply cannot do it anymore. At least not like this. I hate being a business owner. Yeah – there are a few perks – but mostly it is a fucking never-ending grind, that has resulted in very little money and even less satisfaction. It is not worth it. If this cancer doesn’t kill me, this job will.
- So there ya have it. Have a great day, a fabulous weekend, and, as my grandfather used to always say, “Don’t take any wooden nickels.”