Jesus & a Bedazzled Hat

It’s been a long time since I dug down to the area where my recent fountain of tears have originated. It was probably back before my biopsy results and the days following that.  You have your regular tears and then you have those that are from the deep down depths of your soul—the ones that don’t get out too often because they just hurt so much so we keep them buried and then one day, sometimes just out of the blue, they will begin. And in my case, they have lasted for a week. I just completely bawl, sometimes for good reason and sometimes for no reason at all.

Currently, I hate my life. It is the worst life ever and I don’t even know why I went through chemo and all that because I should’ve just rolled over and croaked. I do not like my children very much right now, my husband is a jerk, my dad isn’t fighting after his surgery like he should, my dogs are dumb, my basement needs Jesus and FEMA and I and I can’t drive anywhere to even get away from any of this madness. I’m just stuck here. With my stupid thoughts and a dirty house.

Today I was thinking about that woman at the softball tournament—you know—the strong one with the blingy cap and the mini skirt who was able to bring grown men to tears and that woman who (very badly) threw out that first pitch at the Lumberjacks game and that women who has stood tall and proud and strong for six months. Where the hell did she go?  She went through all that chemo and lost her hair and boo coos of changes and she did pretty darn good. All that for THIS???

And now here I am. In the homestretch and I’m losing my ever loving mind.  I’ve had my surgery and I have fallen to pieces. And it has nothing to do with losing my breasts. I’m sore. I’m really sore. I’m numb. I’m weak and tired. And I’m not used to being all those things—well except tired. I’m always tired.

I’ve been wanting to write to tell you all about how when I came out of surgery that the first thing I heard was “Country Roads” and not just in the hospital speakers—this was coming from a guitar and somebody’s voice. You’ve just had surgery and you are trying to make sense of your surroundings and you hear that and then you think maybe it’s not right. I went with it though and I began to tell the nurse that I had a tattoo on my ankle of the state of West Virginia and over a little place in Fayette Co., called Mossy, I had the tattoo artist put a little gold heart. That’s where so much of my heart resided. Before my grandparents died I had them write the words, “Take Me Home, Country Roads” and I used their handwriting to form the words around my tattoo. Well the next thing I knew, the guitarist was over there by my bed meeting me and telling me that he sure was glad he picked that song for today. And I was thinking oh my gosh Momaw, you have outdone yourself on this one. Another one of those “coincidences.”

Well I came home and life was good for a day or two and then the crying started. I cried and I cried. Kevin’s mom came in and hugged me and tried to console me and I wanted to tell her that her son was just a jackass and I wish she would take him back home with her (none of that was true but that was my perception at the time.)

I cried on Sunday so bad that my dad had to leave church to come check on me. I can’t even remember what terrible thing had happened to me that day but I know a blizzard from DQ really helped things.

My dad had to have heart surgery last week and people keep asking me how he is doing and the truth is, I don’t know how he’s doing! The doctors say he’s doing good but he isn’t eating and he can’t get up from his chair unassisted and I don’t see much drive in him and I want to see him wanting to get back on his feet! There are different kinds of loves in this world and we experience a lot of different kinds and degrees. There are three people in my life who have loved me beyond comprehension and I have lost two of those. The thought of losing the third one brings me to my knees.

So basically I just have a lot on my plate right now and I don’t actually hate my life or anybody in it. I threatened Riley’s life for taking a phone charger, I told Kevin I was going to throw a match to the basement, and I have just been mean and ugly and lashing out at the people I love because I’m tired and I’m scared and I’m everything that the girl in the blingy hat on July 23 was not. Or maybe she was and maybe I just need to pull out that blingy hat again!!!

When I can’t find the answers to life when I look around in the world, I can always find them in scripture.

But you, LORD! Don't be far away! You are my strength! Come quick and help me! (Psalm 22:19)

So I am going to have a hot noon shower and talk to Jesus and then I’m going to get that blingy hat on and start conquering the world again.

 -lightningbug

Twas the night before mastectomy...

Twas the Night before mastectomy and all through the casa,

I was running around and feeling quite awesome.

The bras were hung in the closet with care,

Since that’s one less layer I will have to wear.

The kids were riding the hoverboard down the street,

As I hollered from the porch, “Please stay on your feet!”

Kevin in his athletic shorts and I in my wig,

Were sitting outside smoking a pig.

When out on the street there arose such a clatter,

I jumped up from the glider to see what was the matter.

Away to the fence I flew like a flash, 

Tore open the gate and saw the big crash

The moon on the breast…wait. Did somebody say breast?!

Well played.

Tomorrow is the big day! Tomorrow is bilateral mastectomy day.

Maybe I’m still kind of in shock about the whole thing—I’m not sure. I don’t have any fear or apprehension about it. The other morning I came out on the back porch and I sobbed. I let it all out. I’m not sure if that was cancer related or if it was life related. I guess cancer lets your eyes focus on the things that matter most in life. I was on the back porch and I remembered all the wonderful things that have happened in this backyard over the years.

My mammogram and ultrasound revealed that my tumor was gone. That was the best news (although truthfully I knew it all along!) My cancer is a grade 3 which is the most aggressive type of cancer. Translation: I can’t fart around with it because it will come back. Tomorrow they will remove both breasts and they will also biopsy my sentinel nodes to make sure things haven’t spread. I hope I’ve educated you all over the last few months about triple negative breast cancer. Tomorrow isn’t the day that’s scary for me. The days that are scary for me are the next five years. I am doing the things that I can to prevent the cancer from returning, but unlike the other types of breast cancer, there’s nothing I can do to deter the cancer from returning. I just have to live my life and trust that it won’t come back.

I can never say it enough…I appreciate all the support that you all have given me throughout this crazy ride more than you all will ever know.

Bye bye boobies, hello life.

-lightningbug

Let's Get This Baby Down the Stairs...

This has been a good week. I had chemo a week ago and that went really well. No nausea and no headaches this time! I have been fighting allergies and sinuses this week but that is something I’ve always done when all the pretty spring flowers start blooming, so that is no surprise! I did get a little nausea when a big stack of EOB’s came rolling in this week. Any guesses on what a round of chemo runs? About $7k/session. Truthfully that is less than I anticpated. Thank God for insurance.

Guess what y’all? I can hardly feel my lump now! That’s what is supposed to be happening and that’s what is happening! After two treatments and I can hardly feel my lump now! It’s totally awesome! 

Yesterday I met with the plastic surgeon to go over the reconstruction process. That was a lot of information to take in. If everything goes as planned, I will have six more rounds of chemo (two more adriamycin-cytoxan) and four taxol and then I will have six weeks of rest. This allows my blood cells to come back into a good, healthy range. After six weeks, I will have a skin sparing, bilateral mastectomy with immediate reconstruction. Speak English, Amanda, right?!

http://www.breastcancer.org/treatment/surgery/mastectomy/skinsparing

That link will explain a little better what is going on. The surgeon removes the skin of the nipple, areola, and the original biopsy scar. The breast tissue is removed through the small pocket.

This is where I need to give a huge shout out to all of the women who have fought this battle before me—and I don’t mean just the breast cancer battle—I  mean the battle to have reconstruction as part of the breast cancer package. Thank you to the valiant warriors who have fought the battle with insurance and lawmakers to make breast reconstruction after mastectomy available.  Thank you.

http://www.breastflap.com/practice/federal-law.cfm

I continue to be blessed in a million different ways. I cry every single day because of the kindness and generosity of my friends and family and sometimes people I don’t even know. It’s amazing. It’s humbling and heart warming.

I think today put me over the 100 mark on cards. And you know what I do with them? I hang them up in my living room. It’s probably starting to look a little tacky but I don’t care. It reminds me of all the love that is surrounding me.

Just some of my awesome cards!

Today I took my son to school. I pulled back in the driveway and I was thinking about how great everything is going. I was thinking about how wonderful everything is going. I thought ok, I have six more treatments and I am doing great with my treatments! Six more treatments and then my surgery and then my next surgery and by Christmas I will be halfway normal again! Then I started thinking, oh my gosh. What if I get through all of this and have my reconstructions and a year or two goes by and I’m feeling great and confident and then I find out the cancer is back?! I was letting my mind go all over the place and I opened the car door and looked at the tree in the front yard and there was my red bird to remind me to shush my crazy thoughts and breathe in the goodness of faith and peace. If I get through all of this and God forbid, that happens, then I’ll get through that, too. But worrying about that is too much to take on. Joyce Meyer says that worrying is paying interest on a loan you haven’t even taken out yet. True story.

To say that I have been overwhelmed with the love and support I have received would be the understatement of the century.  My dogs were all overdue for vet check-ups. When I got sick, everything else got pushed to the backburner.  Well, we received word that there was a confirmed rabies case in a raccoon near us, so I went into mama bear mode and knew I had to get those animals in to see the vet! I thought they were all due for rabies vaccines so I was freaking out. I made the appointment and I NEVER take all four dogs at once. They are all great animals but just like kids, if you try to take all at one time, you can imagine how challenging that is! Well, I was terrified I was going to get that headache I had after the last chemo on Friday, so I took all four animals on Thursday. Thank God for Scarlet Nicely. She met me down there and basically did everything for me. I was little help that day because my dearly beloved Scotty (aka Mangy) decided to jump over my shoulder while I was trying to hold back 150 lbs of Labrador retrievers and take a tour of the greater Selma area. Grrrr. I had a cold. I was grumpy and I had a dog running through Selma. Suffice it to say, I was pissed. I got the labs in the vet and I went back to chase Scotty all over creation while Scarlet took care of my three dogs inside the office. I could see him and hear him but he just wouldn’t come to me. He was exploring.  Finally, he was about 20 feet from me and I tried to approach him and he ran. I stopped and I knelt down and I honest to goodness said, “Ok God, I cannot chase that dog any longer. I need him to walk over here to me so we can get this finished or I’m going to leave his mangy ass in Selma.”  And guess what happened next? He walked right over to me and I picked him up and carried him in.  Not too many minutes later, all dogs got a clean bill of health and all needed shots. When it was time to check out, I was informed that there was no charge today. Either Dr. Emily Graham has a huge heart or she has some good footage of me running through Selma in my snotty nose, toboggan head chasing Scotty that she’s going to hock on the black market! Highlands Veterinary Clinic. She’s the best.

The very next day…

My son Riley is going to the prom. Well let me backtrack. I have said all along that he would decide the week before prom that he was going and expect me to whip out my needle and thread and make him a tuxedo fit for a king.  I have told him repeatedly that he needed to go down and get measured for his tux so it could be ordered.  Finally I texted my friend Erin who owns The Flower Center in Clifton Forge. “What is the deadline for ordering tuxes for prom?” Her answer was “SOON!”  I sent Riley down that day to be measured. I tried to get him to go in between his governor’s school and high school but turns out when you are a 17 year old boy, nothing comes between you and lunch. And I mean NOTHING.  He didn’t have practice that day though, so he went down after school.  I got another text from Erin that said, “Don’t send money. This is on me. I can’t do much but I can do tuxes!”  I honestly just sit back and shake my head. Then I cry. Lots and lots of shaking my head and crying these days.

Someone handed my dad money at his neighborhood watch meeting this week. He told him to give it to me for my expenses.  He told him he didn’t even have to tell me who it was from.  My dad does a lot of head shaking and crying, too.

Yesterday I was cleaning out the fridge—emptying out old leftovers into the garbage disposal.  I had some leftover strawberry sauce and leftover jambalaya and some dessert from Easter (moldy much?)  I’m dumping and hitting the disposal switch and I pulled the cap off of the drain and it’s not draining and I look over and it’s coming into the other side of the sink. I yelled at Kevin and he said “Oh Lord the bathroom sink is full of jambalya!” OMG GROSS!  Let’s just say the chemo hasn’t had my lunch coming up, but scrubbing pulverized jambalaya out of my beadboard with a toothbrush just about did! Well Kevin took everything apart and cleaned out everything and didn’t see anything major. He put everything back together and said, “You should be good to go now.” So I ran some water and it didn’t drain out. Lovely.  So then he sent me to the store for Draino and that didn’t work either. So this morning we were trying to decide how to proceed. Last night I had decided I would probably need to just call a plumber. Kevin is working nights this week and we are out of our normal rhythm (if we ever had a normal rhythm.)  This morning I got up and Tiffany Sanders with Chapman Plumbing had sent me a message that they would be sending somebody out here to fix my clogged drain. Another gift from them to me. More head shaking and crying.

I could go ON AND ON AND ON because you guys have NO IDEA how much goodness has been sent my way.  Not only does all of this humble me and open my heart and comfort me, but it also causes me to reflect on the person I have been and the person I want to be.  I love, I care, but not enough. I want to be BETTER.  I want to be like Tricia Wolfe Meador and Judy Westerman who have sent me a card faithfully every single week since I found out I had cancer.  I want to be like Bron Hendrickson who has texted me every single night since my diagnosis. I want to be like Deana who has been with me to every single appointment I have had. I want to be more giving. And I’m truly going to work on that.

I was at the ballpark this weekend and I was talking to Coach Nolan’s mom, Sandy. We were talking about back in the day when there were just the two fields down there. She pointed over to the tall set of bleachers by the first field and she told me that when Nolan was nine, he fell up in the top of those bleachers and blood was flying everywhere. He broke his front tooth in that fall. She said, “You know I carried him all the way down those bleachers by myself and him that big and I don’t know how in the world I did that.” I said, “You did it because he was your world and you had to do it.”  Call it adrenaline, call it intuition, call it fight or flight. Psalm 139:14 is one of my favorite verses. “I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”  How cool is it that we have that fight built in us?  I think a lot of people going through cancer feel just like Sandy. We wonder how in the world we did that but we are able to do it because that’s the only choice. 

Thank you to everyone who is in my corner. I’m going to get this baby down the stairs.