TNBC – Boob Gone Rogue

Tuesday, June 18, 2024 – 6 1/2 years

Six and a half years now. When people find out that I am a breast cancer survivor, they inevitably ask, “How are you doing now?”

What runs through my head at this point is, do I tell them about the constant dull ache in my right breast and side? That despite my right breast being mostly numb, pressure on it makes it hurt more. Do I tell them that I can no longer wear a bra; the pressure from the band rests on a lot of scar tissue and is too painful for me to manage? Do I tell them about the plastic surgeon I was referred to early on in my treatment plan? The breast surgeon highly recommended I do this and get to know what my options were. The breast surgeon also recommended a partial mastectomy, as I had plenty of breast tissue to spare. Do I tell them how the plastic surgeon pressured me to do what she wanted to do at a time when I was most vulnerable, as well as sick and exhausted from the chemotherapy?

Do I tell them how afraid I was when the plastic surgeon grabbed the bottom half of my right breast and said this is how much the breast surgeon is going to remove, just slice across this area, creating a flat spot right beneath the edge of your areola. I was in shock. I had no idea that I was going to lose a little over half my breast when the first surgery was complete. She showed my husband and I the most horrid pictures of mastectomy scars and full breast reconstruction after radiation therapy that are much harder to complete as the skin does not react like normal skin. I saw the look on his face when we saw these “butcher job” photos, which were used to scare us into doing what she wanted. I realize now, years later, that this was how she treated patients who seemed reluctant to make any decisions about reconstruction/reductions or any kind of fixing of their breasts after the initial cancer removal surgery.

Do I tell them that the horrified look on my husband’s face is what sealed the deal for me even though I was still not sure what or how I wanted to fix what would obviously be an imbalance of my breasts? I never wanted him to look at me the way he looked at those photos. Do I explain that after the reduction of my left breast and restructuring of the remaining tissue in my right breast, the plastic surgeon pulled the drain from my right breast three days later? While doing this, despite me telling her the fluid output was still high, I developed a large seroma that put enough pressure on my incisions to leak through at the bottom of my right breast. When I went for my two-week check-up and told her that I was leaking, she immediately told me I was wrong. My husband had to point out the fluid dripping down my torso for her to accept that the fluid was seeping through the conjunction point of the surgical incisions. Because my incision was compromised, she had to drain the area, and it now had to be an open wound. She used the wooden end of a long cotton swab to poke the small hole open to enlarge it, tearing the newly forming scar tissue. She was not prepared for the amount of fluid that had built up in my right breast, despite telling me when she opened up the original incision to do what she needed to do to make the right breast resemble the left beast again that there was a very large seroma then, and she collected over 160ml of fluid during the surgery. How could she not be prepared for a similar amount of fluid buildup? I had serous fluid all over me as the plastic surgeon and her PA dashed for cotton pads and chucks to dry me off with and to catch the remaining fluid draining out of the hole in the bottom of my right breast where it meets the chest wall.

Do I tell them about the home health nurse who had to come out to show my husband how to pack my now open wound inside my breast with ¼” wide cotton tape twice a day to absorb the fluids so my wound would heal? Do I tell them that it took over a yard of that tape twice a day for weeks? Do I tell them that at my three-week check-up, the healing inside my right breast had slowed to a crawl, and the plastic surgeon said she had to debride the wound to promote healing? Despite shooting my breast up with lidocaine, when she pressed on it, I could still feel it, not the pressure, the pain. She again told me I was wrong and went forward with the debridement. She stuck a scalpel through that hole and proceeded to poke and scrape the open areas of my breast, even with me telling her it hurt with tears running down my face. She said I was just being melodramatic and to get over it.

Do I tell them that at my 6-week check-up, I still had an open cavity in my right breast? The plastic surgeon then decided she would have to close the remaining gaps surgically and had her PA schedule the surgery. Do I tell them that the plastic surgeon had realized by this point I really did not like her or how she treated me, and her PA knew this as well?

Do I tell them the trauma of waking from that surgery in so much pain that I immediately cried out and had tears streaming down my face and could not remove the severe grimace of pain from my face no matter how much I tried for the two nurses attending to me in recovery? I was administered pain meds intravenously immediately, but in those few short moments from initial consciousness, administration of pain meds until relief, I wanted to yell and scream at the top of my lungs at the torture I was feeling. I wanted to wail about the traumas I have been through and my anger at the abuse of this particular doctor. During those first moments of agony, I knew in my heart that the Plastic Surgeon had deliberately held off additional pain med administration prior to releasing me to recovery. I suffered, I cried, and after two intravenous injections by the recovery nurses, I was finally able to relax and doze as the anesthetics wore off. Do I tell them that this has left me so traumatized I fear any new surgery?

Do I tell them that I hate my breasts now? My right breast is visibly smaller than my left, and the left breast has deviations that it never had before. There is a little notch now in my areola; there is no breast tissue at the conjunction of my incisions, so when you press there, you go straight to the chest wall, which is painful, and there is an indentation close to the left side of my areola that puffs back out at the edge of the areola. I am ashamed of these changes to my once beautiful breasts. I now try to hide my breasts with loose clothing and scarves to draw all attention away from them. Do I tell them that I am terrified of trying to fix them because of the last surgery?

Do I tell them that living with this pain, along with my neuropathy, is exhausting? Do I tell them that my sleep is now inconsistent, as I wake from dreams easily and then my mind goes to the dark places? The dark places where my worry of a new cancer and worry of dying without dignity reside. The worry about how I am now at higher risk for secondary cancer, lymphoma, sarcoma, bone cancer, and lung cancer. All the radiation I have been subjected to due to Thyroid cancer and now this Breast cancer elevates my risks. The dark places contain all these worries and fears I have for my family if I do develop secondary cancer that defies all treatment. The dark places are where I stash all this and avoid it during daylight hours so no one catches a glimpse of the tears I shed and the praying I do when I am there. Do I tell them that when I am too tired mentally to deal with the dark places, I divert my brain with games or reading until I can fall back to sleep again?

Do I tell them of my breathing difficulties? I had this horrendous cough when I laughed or was breathing hard that developed after chemo. This cough was a deep, lung-seizing cough that those around me could see me struggling to breathe. It became the running joke for the five years I dealt with this cough, “What killed Kim”? Whatever made me laugh last. Do I tell them how many times this kept me from my family or friends because I just didn’t have the energy to struggle to breathe? Do I tell them that it took one of my friends to put her foot down and tell me to ignore all the doctors who were saying this is part of my neuropathy and demand a referral to a Pulmonologist?

I did this after struggling with this cough for over 5 years. I was diagnosed with severe Chronic Bronchitis and now use an inhaler twice a day. Do I tell them how I love that I can laugh and do cardio without feeling like I am going to die, but there are times that I hate the side effects, phlegm accumulating in my throat, making me cough and hack at the most inopportune times? I avoid talking on the phone as much as possible because I never know when I will have to clear my throat in someone’s ear so I can talk. In addition, most of the time, I now sound like a 40-year, 4-pack-a-day 60-year-old smoker. Most of the time, I do not mind as I have the ability to laugh freely again, and I love being able to laugh. I take these side effects from my inhaler in stride, but on the off occasion, I am self-conscious of how I sound.

Do I tell them of the sorrow I carry with me for the loss of friends I’ve made in this new Breast Cancer community I find myself in? The grief remains and is stashed in that dark place with all the other things that I do not want to see all the time. Occasionally it comes out when something reminds me of one of “my girls”. It’s not as scary as so much of the other dark place stuff is, but it reminds me that this life is fleeting. Then I remember the good times we had together, say a little prayer and thank them so much for their friendship, and tell them I still love them and miss them, put my grief back into the dark place, and move on once more.

Do I tell them that I still mourn for my pre-chemo brain? The one that let me be a good teacher to those just coming into the industry I work in, let me talk and walk at the same time, the one that allowed me the brain power to reprioritize in a fast-paced environment, stop what I was working on, help with an emergency, and be able to pick right up where I left off brain. That brain. That brain is no more. If I am trying to order an Uber, I cannot tell you what I am doing or where I am in the process. My brain does not allow this. Do I tell them how many breakdowns I had, tears shed in frustration because I could not communicate before we realized this was the new “normal”?

How I tried to go back to work that I loved but I could not manage it, my brain would not accommodate quick decision making and reprioritizing, no matter how many tricks I employed to help manage an ever expanding work load, or try to come up with out of the box thinking. My brain is very linear now. I have to stick with one thing at a time for the most part. I have gotten better than it was right after chemo. I can now knit and watch TV or talk, but I do make more mistakes. It’s taken a long time to retrain my brain to find mistakes in my knitting, but even then, I have a very hard time finding them. I have probably un-knit and ripped out more crochet rows of work than I have completed since my cancer treatment started way back in late 2017. Because my brain does not work well under high-stress situations, it freezes and does not allow words to come out of my mouth. I can think of them, but in a high-stress situation, I cannot say them. This has led to me stepping back from work I loved to doing what I can do, I help with data entry at the company I worked for when I was first diagnosed. They are understanding and know that my body and brain no longer work like they did pre-cancer. It’s a good fit, and I am very lucky to have such generous people in my life.

Do I tell them of the loss I still feel for my pre-cancer innocence? The time when I never had to know cancer statistics, chemotherapy protocols, infusion intervals, nausea management, and radiation burn management? Do tell them I long for those days of inexperience on bad days, when dealing with all the minor pains and the fatigue that comes with it, when I get home from a 6-hour work day so exhausted I fall asleep on the sofa almost as soon as I sit down? How going to a yoga class, then shopping and putting away my groceries is a basic day. Doing more than that on a Saturday leaves me in so much pain I can’t sleep. The Saturdays I push myself to meal prep for the week after yoga and shopping leave me in so much pain by the end of the day I cannot sleep. And this is pain that is not managed with analgesics; it’s neuropathy pain. Different medications that upping the dosage on a bad day are not an option. I have to lay in bed as I try to self-soothe the burning, stabbing, hot daggers of pain moving through my feet and hands until exhaustion finally overtakes me, and I am asleep and no longer feeling the sensations from chemo-damaged nerves.

As I formulate my answer, all this and more quickly runs through my head. Then my heart pipes in, remember how thankful you are to be alive. Tell them how much more you appreciate your friends and family. How lucky you feel to have so much good in your life, your husband, your children, parents, brothers, friends, and co-workers. The generous amounts of support you received during and after, to this day, from so many. The doctors who did the best they could to keep you alive, keep you here where you want to be, with all these wonderful people in your life. The beauty you see every day. How you watch for the little things to bring a smile to your face now.

How you love it when the setting sun lights the back patio, with the blackbirds coming to sing the sun down. How you relish your drives to work during the week so you can see any new happenings along the way, like the Blue Heron that was standing in the park, warily eyeing the people walking and jogging, the dogs enjoying their time to explore along the walking path with their owners, and probably wondering why in the world would the Canadian Geese be willing to get so close to the humans. Or when I catch squirrels and crows gossiping together. I love those sightings.

Tell them about how you love people watching in the moments you have while at stop lights, seeing the proud, tall, and slender black woman who gracefully, powerfully, and unapologetically strode down the street with an eye-catching afro of white-blond on the bottom half and a rich dark brown almost black top half, that looked at me with a “Whatchu lookin’ at white girl” attitude as I looked at her with a big smile on my face. If I had not been three lanes away from her I would have rolled down my window and told her how much I loved her hair and her physical I don’t take no shit attitude. My heart reminds me that I have so much more good in my life than bad, so I don’t need to tell them of all my pains, frustrations, and fears.

My answer is what they really want to know: “I am good. No evidence of disease, and I am ever so grateful to be alive.” This is the truth, and I am so thankful they do not have to know the reality of being a survivor of an aggressive form of cancer that was treated aggressively to keep you alive, not necessarily “whole”. I am a new type of whole; my soul is intact, and my heart is healing. My family remains my biggest fan club, and I couldn’t be happier. When I utter my words, “I am good…” they have no idea of all that the word good contains. But let them live in the bliss of ignorance; everyone does not need to know what it takes to survive this kind of cancer. Only those select few who understand the battle waged and won. Someday this will be a thing of the past. There will not be battle scars.

Life is counting your blessings every day

December 21, 2021 – Time flying

With the pandemic happening I find myself losing track of time so much. Then I feel like I need to rush to get as much done as I can in the life I have left. I keep having this feeling that I need to make sure my family is prepared for me to not be here anymore. With this feeling I also notice every little change in my body. Color changes in my breasts and arm pits. How my lungs feel; how my cough is and whether it is changing. I’ve noticed grey spots in my phlegm when I have any to cough up in the mornings. I notice every new little pain and tight spot.

I also notice all the little things in my life, how my husband does things around the house that helps me. How my kids continue to grow in their adulthood. My grandson and how he changes every time I see him. Which birds like to hang out in our trees; how the changing of the seasons changes my views when I leave the house; go to work, or run errands. What wildlife I see on a daily basis. How frequently the owls visit our neighborhood at night.

I notice the changes to the flowers and the trees in my neighborhood. I notice the changes in my neighbors as they walk their dogs. I notice the hummingbirds and how some have changed their territories.

I notice my dreams are changing too. I dream more of old friends I have not seen in ages; of having gatherings with them to celebrate life. I dream of family past and present. I dream of things we did and things I would like to do.

I wake up thankful for every new day; with that nagging urgency to get everything done.

I don’t know why that urgency is there. All my tests are still showing everything is clear. I have concerns I have voiced to my Oncologist, but he doesn’t seem to think they are real concerns and treats me as if I have nothing to worry about.

I have lost people in my support group because they were told not to worry about subtle changes. I have lost people because doctors didn’t follow up. I will continue to lose people because their cancers have advanced beyond curing. They will live until the advances in medicine can no longer control their cancers. I am thankful for everyday they have to live and grow until that point.

Despite my underlying nagging worry, I live each day. I enjoy all the things that I come across in my life that bring beauty and I strive to be productive. I love having my husband make me laugh; and my friends in my life that remind me life is beautiful.

I am looking forward to crossing another item off my bucket list. My mom has invited me to join her on a cruise to the Bahamas. Despite that there is a new variant to the Covid-19 virus out there I am going. My dragon whispers to me daily – live life now. Do all the things you want to do NOW. So I am embracing life to the fullest NOW and enjoying it all.

One of the girls who was in support group, but when the pandemic started and we went to ZOOM meetings she stopped participating, she is dying. She has Triple Negative Inflammatory Breast Cancer. She made the comment to another in our group “My world is becoming smaller”. She meant that what she focus’ on becomes a smaller circle every week. The therapies are no longer working and the side effects are not worth the little help they provide. That statement resonated with me. There are times when I feel like my world is slightly smaller as the things I am willing to let into my world are becoming more limited. With my little dragon whispering in the background, to let some things go as they are not worth my efforts.

For my birthday this year I decided that my efforts would be spent on communing with rescued farm animals, with an emphasis on cows. There is a rescue barn close enough to where we live that we were able to go visit. I enjoyed all the animals I got to interact with, but the cows were the best. Many don’t realize that cows are generally giant dogs, that want to be petted, brushed and sit in your lap. Obviously they don’t fit in our laps, so a compromise is made. They lay on the ground, we cuddle up to them and then we commune together. It’s a peaceful, restful feeling. It filled me with joy.

As we prepare for the final holidays of this year, I am constantly reminded how much my family and friends mean to me. I am thankful we still have time together and I relish each moment I have with them all.

Life is beautiful and fleeting

October 1, 2020 – Forgetfulness and questions

I don’t remember what I was going to write about. I put it off too long and now I forgot. I do know that I wanted to write about the question “If you could have a meal with anyone alive or dead, who would it be?”, after I wrote about the subject that I no longer remember I wanted to write about. Thank you chemo, menopause, age, or all of the above…

I may have wanted to write about my latest Oncology appointment. The one that starts the process for my next MRI. Dr. Ciarolla, for the first time, did a physical examination. I have been experiencing tenderness in the left breast, around the area they are watching the changes on the semi-annual MRI’s. I don’t really feel anything there, and Dr. Ciarolla said he didn’t feel anything either. But tenderness is what led me to discovering Blink finally. So, I try not to hold my breath, and wait and see.

Maybe I wanted to write about how much I miss seeing my extended family. How the pandemic has made me feel so isolated from all of them. We see the kids as often as we feel we can without jeopardizing our health; especially since we have been making ourselves available to our friend, and neighbor, Moses, who is now battling his own cancer diagnosis. Occasionally he has needed help with rides or just a visit to help him through the hard times. He recently spent a week in the hospital with pneumonia. He was not happy that this has added a delay to his treatment plan, which I totally get! You want your treatment plan to go as planned. Any bump in the road leaves you feeling uncertain and scared. How bad is this bump, as it is almost always medical in nature, and does this mean my cancer has spread, or my treatments have caused other insurmountable issues, and, and, and…

Your inner dragon starts whirling in terror, and you cannot breath, your heart wants to stop, you have no energy to deal with the situation, and yet you must. It’s so overwhelming, and then you cry, because that is the only thing left in your body to help you deal with all that emotion swirling and curling, being flung left and right by your dragon. And that makes you feel stupid because you are crying, and that exhausts you even more. It’s a vicious cycle, and it’s ok to be afraid, and cry, and exhausted, frustrated and physically weak. It’s all part of the process. Some have no issues and others drown in the emotionally eddies. Most of us are somewhere in between the two extremes. It’s easy for me to sympathize with Moses, been there. I may not have contracted pneumonia, but I had my own delays and hurdles.

Maybe I wanted to write about celebrating our grandkitty, Winky’s second birthday. I know celebrate a cats birthday?!?! But that is exactly what we did. Yet another excuse to see the kids. She loved the special food she got for dinner and her “Uncle Jordon and Aunt Kelly” got the win for favorite birthday present. Although, I did get lots of love for the catnip buds, better than already flaked catnip. Such a happy little one-eyed cat for the weekend.

Maybe I wanted to write about going back to work as a temp for my old boss, part time. Gary had a need, and I would do just about anything for Gary and Kyle. They have been so good to me. So I am working part time, until they are fully staffed again, helping them out. But there is a kicker to this… I was a Director of Operations, making a six figure salary before Blink. When I came back to work for Gary after treatment was over, and I was ready to try my hand at working again, it was for far less then I had been earning before.

Then I had the opportunity to go to NEXT, which I took, back to that six figure salary. Only NEXT was not at all what I expected or dreamed, and when all was said and done, I realize I don’t want to be in that situation again. I don’t want to be in charge, making decisions, being the responsible one. It’s too much after Blink. My brain still does not process things the same way anymore. I still have difficulties with multi-tasking.

Simple things I can do, but the more difficult the task, the more concentration I now require to complete the task, the less I am able to separate or segment my thought processes to be able to comprehend when someone is talking to me and be able to respond and still keep my place on the other task I am working on. Example – knitting, mostly muscle memory, right? I can knit a basic pattern and watch basic TV shows or participate in my Support group, but if the conversation turns and requires higher thinking power, higher concentration, I can, and have, messed up my basic knitting pattern. This was something I never had difficulty with pre-chemo.

This leads me to now, going back to work as a temp for Gary. I have gone from a six figure salary to $25 an hour data entry clerk. Once I am done helping Gary, I know I can go back to the OCU (Office Clerical Unit of Local 63) hall and pick up temp jobs from there for more than $25 per hour, but it kind of stings my ego and my heart. My worth is no longer what it was. I am no longer worth that six figure salary that I worked so hard to earn. The years spent learning and growing in my industry to get me to that place where I could be that responsible person, making the hard decisions. Not that I want that place anymore, I have more important things to do than be that responsible for someone else’s business, but it’s that little sting in the gut, my worth has fallen because of Blink. I am no longer worth that six figure salary.

I know my value is still worth far more than any salary could provide, but it is still a small little hurt to my ego as to what Blink has cost me. I enjoyed my career, and all the people I have met, including the many I can call friends, but knowing that part of my life is over now still pangs a little. Part of me wants to still try to regain that part of me, but most of me, the deepest parts of me, does not want that anymore. So the sting is just small, but it’s still there.

Could it be I wanted to write about all the Facebook “memories” that would pop up everyday from three years ago. The memories of the days leading up my discovery of Blink. The days of innocence. The days of bliss. Not knowing what was lurking in my right breast that would turn my world upside down. The diagnosis that would bring me to the here and now. To never be innocent again, to never be able to see the world quite the same. I miss that innocence, that bliss, that feeling that everything was so right in my world. Oh, there was the occasional calamity, but I always knew they were surmountable. The diagnosis of Blink took all of that away. Nothing like when I had Thyroid cancer, as scary of that was, this is a killer. Knowing this, having this lurk over me for the rest of my life, that, that is what has changed, and I miss the before. I miss that girl, and everything that was going so right for her.

I still love myself, not the same way as I did then. I have a different appreciation for life, family, experiences, love, hope and joy. I am glad I have these new perspectives, but as I noted above, those rose colored glasses were so much fun.

Now for the one thing I do remember I wanted to write about. When prompted journals or someone asks you -” If you had the chance to meet with anyone, dead or alive, who would it be and why?” I’ve always had some inklings of who I’d want to talk with, share coffee or tea, break bread with, but it has always felt so trite and almost rehearsed. With the passing of Ruth Bader Ginsberg, I finally had a true yearning to have that hypothetical meeting with a person “dead or alive”. I would love to meet RBG, have tea with her, talk of life, love, equality, justice, religion, and jokes. On a recent night, as I was pondering this, I had the feeling of this soft little hand reach out to hold mine. For some reason I knew that she was with me briefly, just to let me know she knew me and understood my sudden yearning to have met her. Then her presence was replaced with my grandmother, my Nane. My Nane who I know watches over me, but rarely does she make her presence known. That night she did. She sat with me for a while, to let me know all would be as it should be.

So, I go forward, over the next two weeks, not holding my breath, with my dragon tightly curled into her little ball, as I wait for that MRI appointment. Knowing all will be as it should be going forward.

Life is dealing with the new future

Sunday August 25 – I faced a fear

Coming up on my one year of survivorship, I was starting to feel anxious again. Not about recurrence, not yet, I fear that in 3 years, 5 years, 10 years, but not now. However, I was feeling anxious about my breasts in general. I have not worn a normal bra since my diagnosis. Almost, two years. First, the biopsy site was too hard and angry, making wearing a bra so uncomfortable that I started trying out sports bras. Even those were uncomfortable. I finally gave up and starting going without a bra. Extra dense breasts even at my size were somewhat perky and when I wore two tank tops together under my shirts, most people could not tell I was going without a bra.

After my surgeries and radiation, even though I am numb, I am still hypersensitive on my right breast. Go figure that one. Most of my right breast is still numb, I can feel pressure, but I do not feel touch. There is a small area outside the areola where I can feel touch, but that quickly tapers into the area of no sensation. Despite all this numbness, I have the hypersensitivity. Pressure on my breast after a few hours starts to irritate, and if the pressure continues, it starts a throbbing ache. There is so much scar tissue on the bottom side of my breast; there is no sensation there at all. Yet, even the slightly reinforced bands of my lycra/spandex tanks cause me discomfort and I look forward to the end of the day when I can take my tank off as the feelings of discomfort are starting to get intense and relief is all I can think about when I get home.

Because of this and my emotional turmoil about how my breasts look now, I have avoided taking that next step of actually being measured and fitted for a bra. I am still not sure how I feel about my breasts. With one mostly numb, I feel a great disconnection from my right breast. It sags more than my left breast. Due to just enough blood flow to keep my nipple alive, my nipple is no longer a dusky pink, it is closer to a pale greenish tinge of my normal skin color. As for my left breast, there is still the divot where my incisions intersect. No breast tissue there, if you feel it, you go straight down to the chest wall. This divot makes a W shape on the bottom of my breast. There is also a weird, not quite a divot, but lack of fullness on the left side of my breast before the areola. My breast slightly slopes inward and then puffs out right at the edge of my areola. Every time I think about it, I get frustrated and angry. How can a plastic surgeon take a perfectly normal breast with plenty of tissue to work with screw up the reduction that creates these stupid imperfections that a person already dealing with body issues because of the cancer, now has to deal with these too, on her good boob.

Therefore, I have avoided finding out what size bra I wear now. I have avoided going through that stress of having to acknowledge the imperfections, that my left breast is larger than my right breast. Before all this is was just slightly larger. Now, it is visibly larger. In addition, I really was not sure how being fitted for a smaller bra size would leave me feeling, on top of all the other emotional issues I have tied up with the “girls” now.

Jordon and Kelly are getting married soon. That means I need to find a dress. Finding a nice dress to wear, I felt like I could not wear a spandex/lycra tank top to hold my breasts in place and provide the support I really need to keep from becoming completely uncomfortable. Hence, my anxiety about my breasts and what was I going to do with them for the wedding. I am the mother of the groom. I could not go braless (as that is painful as well), and wearing tank top bras under a nice dress just does not feel right. I knew this day would eventually come where I had to face taking the next step in survivorship. I had to breakdown and deal with getting a bra.

I chose this weekend to do it. My cousin/sister would be here. She would hold me if the emotions became too much. She would help me celebrate making this next step. Moreover, the bridal shower for Kelly was this weekend, and I wanted to test the waters of taking that next step using her shower as my debut.

I thought I was ready. I was nonchalant about my decision. I was ready for this next step. Deda was here, we made a morning of errands to do before we got ready for the bridal shower. We stopped for eyebrow threading, went to the nail salon, manicure for me, pedicure for Deda. Then we had to stop back at home because I dumped my coffee in my lap. I just could not face Nordstrom with a coffee stain across my crotch and down my legs. (I did not want to admit it at the time, but the closer we got to going into Nordstrom the jitterier I was feeling.) After I changed my pants, we headed to the store. We went up to the floor with women’s wear and lingerie. I checked in at the register with an explanation to the sales woman there of what I needed and why. She advised that they had a specialist there specifically for my needs and she would call her.

Deda and I took a seat on the chairs provided for those waiting and I started shaking. I could feel the tears trying to form behind my eyes. Deda told me I could do this. Mishel came over and introduced herself. She started asking questions about my surgery, how I felt, etc. Those tears started to migrate from the back to the front if my eyes, and I could feel my dragon start to unfurl, ready to take flight through my midsection to protect my heart. Mishel told me she deals with this all the time. Nordstrom is a store that has a specific program for woman who have had mastectomies, lumpectomies and reconstructive surgeries and how to fit them along with helping with insurance covered prosthesis fittings and claims.

Mishel took me back to the fitting room and started with a primary measure. The band size, which may have changed, and just by looking at me and getting my input on what hurts and why and she looked at my extensive scarring in little miss righty she figured out my sizing. She left the room and I sat there on the verge of tears. I texted Deda, asking her to come sit with me, while I awaited the return of Mishel. She quickly came back to the dressing rooms and knocked softly on the door. I let Deda in and the tears had their way with me. Deda held me as I cried. I cried my fear out, my anxiety of my body image, my fear of the future, my fear of not fitting into a pretty bra anymore, my fear that it would be too painful. My fear that I will always feel deformed and detached from my breasts.

She held me while all this came out silently. She let me shed all this out on her shoulder. I was back in control somewhat. I still felt like I was shaking, but my dragon was curled back into her ball, ready to spring when I needed her, but no longer expanding her wings around my heart. Deda and I sat on the bench in the room, talking about my boobs. I showed her how they look now, over a year after the last surgery. I had her feel my divot, and look at the weird shape on the left side before it puffs back out at the edge of the areola. She looked at me in the mirror catching my eyes and reminded me all these little imperfections could be fixed.

Mishel came back in, and I introduced Deda, my sister, to Mishel. She had no problem with my emotional support being there with us. She brought with her a selection of bras in two different sizes. She did not give me a chance to look at the sizes. She pulled the first one off the hanger and had me face away from her while she tried the band around me. Nope, I needed the next size up. She told me to just drop it on the floor. I could not do that. I hate finding clothes on the floor of dressing rooms. How could I be so disrespectful to drop a new bra on the floor that some else will someday try on. Deda finally took the bra that didn’t fit band wise. Evidently, I am between band sizes now. Back to a 38” band. Next bra was pulled off the hanger and once again, I was told to face away from her while she fastened the band. She told me how to pull all my breast tissue into the cups. She adjusted straps and made sure the “darts” lined up between my breasts and laid flat against my chest. She showed me how to pull the straps to get my breasts to settle into the cups. As she adjusted the strap length again, we could see the difference in breast sizes by how much overflow I had on the left cup. She re-adjusted that strap to allow more tissue to settle into the cup. Only once she was done and felt I was firmly settled correctly into the bra cups would she let me see how I looked in the mirror.

There I was, feeling like a scared little girl, staring at myself in the mirror, wearing a bra for the first time in almost two years. I saw myself, my fat, my fear, my strength, my determination. I saw a survivor, a woman, a girl, a warrior. I saw me taking yet another step in healing. A step I had not realized until I actually faced it that I needed to take. Pieces started falling back into place that I had not realized were not where they needed to be. I was feeling closer to whole. As all this ran through my brain, as my heart shifted a bit and my soul settled, Mishel was asking me how it felt. Was there any pinching, aching, pain? Deda was giving me a look that told me she was wondering how I felt as well as being proud of me facing this next step.

The bra was soft; it helped shape my breasts into something that looked more normal to me. The pressure was no more than my tank bras or my cotton weekend bras that have no shaping or real support, just kind of hold the girls in place a little better than wearing nothing. I realized I could do this; I could wear a bra again. Mishel asked if I wanted to wear the bra out of the store. Yes, yes I would. She yanked off the tags. Then she asked me if I wanted to try another one. I was eyeing a nude lace bra. I wanted to feel pretty. The pink one I was wearing was pretty, but not as lacy and pretty as the nude one. Mishel went out to get that one in my size, and was back quickly.

Same as before, I stood with my back to her as she fastened the bra band, adjusted straps and again guided me through settling all my breast tissue into the cups. She checked the darts and the sides, did some adjustments, advised me what to do to fully settle my breasts into this slightly differently shaped cup and I was ready to see myself in the mirror. I was perkier in this bra. Deda gave me the thumbs up. She said it was fantastic. The tits were back. She admitted to me that she was always jealous of my boobs, small, firm and perky, not needing to wear a bra. Even after 35 when my breasts started to grow again, as they do with age.

Mishel had me try my undershirt on over this new bra and I felt good. This one was a little tighter, and dug into places the other one did not, kind of made me itch, but I liked the way it made me feel overall. This was the bra I wanted to wear out of the store. Not a problem, Michele ripped the tags off and I put my shift back on before we went out to the register to pay for my two new bras. I wore the nude lace bra out of the store and for the remainder of the day. We went to the bridal shower and I showed my DIL to be, Kelly, that I had finally graduated to a regular bra. Another little step to moving forward. She seemed to understand this step showed genuine happiness for me.

I have gone from a 38E to 38D. I still have body image issues, but I think that will be a larger issue to tackle. Most of it is my weight, and losing weight is becoming a tougher nut to crack than I had hoped. I have not given up on that. I will keep trying.

The Bridal Shower was a wonderful event, and watching Kelly beam as she opened gifts and talked with her family and friends. I enjoy watching her laugh and be herself. I have discovered I have learned more about her than I thought I knew due to the games played. I learned even more about my soon to be daughter-in-law, and love her even more for it.

Life is healing one step at a time

Thursday July 11 – Facing my grief

I have been avoiding this post. Hiding in the whirlwind of my new job, and all the new time demands this creates. I’ve avoided thinking about my grief, and even used the excuse of work, to avoid going to Support Group so I wouldn’t have face reality.

But yesterday I received a call that made me face what I have not been willing to acknowledge in my heart. We lost our girl and gained an angel. Kelly was our girl, one of us, someone we shared our hearts with. She was one of us breast cancer fighters. One of us voicing our fears, our insecurities, our triumphs, our hopes in the sacred room of the Breast Cancer Support Group. She was one of us. According to her husband, Kelly passed away with a smile on her face. Kelly became our Angel on Sunday, June 23, and I have been hiding from this ever since.

When I heard the news I did cry, but I quickly pushed that grief into a little ball and told my dragon to hold it tight, to keep it away until I was ready to face this grief. The universe decided enough was enough, I needed to face this honestly and openly so made some connections that prompted my dragon to release my grief.

I received a call from our Support Group leader. I had to let her leave me a voice mail as I was in a meeting at work. When I had the opportunity to listen to the message she left me, I knew that today would be the day I would need to face that grey, blue and brown ball of sadness, helplessness with a bit of anger thrown in to make it swirl in a frantic mass. The message left was that the father of Kelly wanted to speak to me about my post “This is dedicated to the ones I love“. After I left work Wednesday, I called our group leader to thanked her for relaying the contact information and that I would be reaching out to Kelly’s family. I then called and left a message for Kelly’s father.

I was relieved at first that I would not have to deal with that angry, sad helpless ball just yet. My heart hoped they would not call me back until later, like Sunday. But I received the call at 8:37 PM. First Kelly’s mom relayed her thanks to me for my kind and loving words and asked me how I was doing. I instinctively knew she meant how was I doing with my cancer. I told her I was still cancer free as far as know. She told me to stay that way. That is my plan. She is still having a hard time dealing with her loss and I can understand that grief and my heart broke a little more for her.

Then her father came on the line. He told me that the picture I had of Kelly that I posted was perfect. She was good a saving dogs she knew would not make it out of the shelter alive unless she got them a home. She had a dog with one eye, and her parents had a dog with a crooked jaw and covered with moles that they said they didn’t need, but when Kelly made them come meet the dog, they had to have.

He thanked me for my post about Kelly. Despite being in the hospital and knowing her prognosis may not be good, she was beaming when she read my post. She shared it with her family. He told me I had captured her true essence in my writing. He also confirmed what I already knew in my heart of hearts. Kelly didn’t want us to visit her in the hospital because she didn’t want us to see how the end of a battle with breast cancer looks like. It wasn’t vanity on her part, but her concern to spare us from this reality. She had told her family she felt we were all our true authentic selves in our support group and the camaraderie she felt with us was special. She felt she could be genuine with us, and that we were genuine with her.

Her father and I shared tears and grief over a phone line, and he hoped I would keep in touch. After sharing with him and his wife the special bond Kelly and our group shared, I feel that this connection was meant to be. The universe connected us for a reason, and I will be staying in touch with them How hard it must be on their hearts and souls to lose their daughter. I know how lost I would feel if I lost my daughter. They helped me shed the tears I really needed to shed to come to terms with my grief and face the reality that Kelly would no longer be part of my physical life. I think she had a hand in directing this connection.

Kelly, you will always be a part of my heart and I miss your infectious enthusiasm and wit beyond measure. I miss my friend. But I feel your love with me, and I am so ever grateful to have met you in this life. My wish for your family is that they will eventually find peace. I will always be on the search for any shows or movies your son plays a role in, and I will stay in touch with your family as it has helped me start my healing over your loss. I hope that I can bring the same to them.

Life is dealing with the grief

Sunday, June 23 – Evidently I Paddle Board now…

My first week at work was wonderful. I love my new job, and the people I now work with. There is so much that needs to fine tuning, and everyone wants to talk to me; get my take on things, and then they tell me how wonderful I am. My ego is going on a total trip. I am trying to keep it in check. Joking aside, I am humbled at how much they appreciate me. In addition, they are dog friendly offices. Every day in this past week there has been a dog in the office. Friday was the best, three “puppies” in the office, all adorable and all played together at one point or another. I keep reminding myself that I am the “boss” so I need to remember to delegate.

Most of my week was meetings, with ops groups, sales, HR, my boss as well as IT to review current system improvements and review my wants and needs for process improvement and implementation. Meetings start at the assigned time and finish at the advertised time. I love this new job. Did I mention the puppies! Nothing like puppies to help you through the day.

Two weeks I found out that the Swedish cover band of ABBA is coming back to the Hollywood Bowl. I was just about ready to buy tickets without anyone to go with me, but decided to make a post in Facebook about the concert and to see if anyone wanted to go. Our neighbor asked me if I got tickets yet, and I told him no. Later that day, after I was home from work, he and his husband came over. I thought they were going to talk to us about the toothless wonder cat we share, but no. Moses bought two tickets to the concert and gave them to his husband Bob and me for Bob’s birthday. Turns out Bob also loves ABBA, and now we get to go together as part of Bob’s birthday present. I get to be Bob’s flamboyant date!

Today was the June Fundraiser event for the Cancer Support Community. We went to this last year too, and had won a few items from silent auction, mostly due to Robert taking care of bidding on items and following up on the bids making sure he was the successful bidder on the items he really wanted. This year it was I doing the bidding. We discovered that drinking wine and silent auction do not go well together…. I forgot I bid on a paddle-boarding rental for four. Seems I was the successful bidder on that as well as several items that surprised Robert. We had a good laugh over all the things I bid on and won.

Now I get to learn how to paddle board. As well as take three others with me. Jordon, Kelly and Heather have already volunteered to go with me since Robert will not. He says there are sharks out there waiting to eat him. Now we just need to find a date when we can all go.

Robert and I both ran into people we were hoping to see, and we enjoyed catching up with all of them. Cancer Support Community is really that, a community where you are able to connect with others who are experiencing and understand the same things we are going through. When I finished cancer treatment and went through my depression, not only did I have my support group there to help me, but I also had the resource of counseling. I heard a TED Radio Hour podcast that touched on moving forward. There is no moving on; you do not leave behind your grief, your fear, your inner aches and anxiety. You learn how to move forward and keep moving forward. You can find the podcast here if you want to hear it. I found it made me remember how lost and adrift I felt, and how I am centered once again; but I still live with everything that plagued me before. I did not find a “new normal”, or start living my life again; start over or move on; I just started taking steps to move forward. Big difference. However, I still cling to my support group like a security blanket. They remind me how far I have come, and support me in my journey forward. I hope I am able to provide them with the same sense of belonging, understanding and love they provide me.

I am sure they will all laugh with me when I tell them about paddle boarding!

Life is moving forward

Friday, June 14 – Bittersweet and laughter

Today was a bittersweet day for me. Last day with my current employer before my leap into the great unknown with the new company. As always with anytime I am feeling any kind of stress or anxiety, I was awake early. I did catnap between 5:30 am and 7:30 am while I waited for Robert to get done in the bathroom, read and played my puzzle games to improve my brain. I must say I will miss my leisurely mornings, taking my time to get up, get ready to face the day, make my Latte, and watch my shows while I eat my breakfast and drink said latte.

I took in gifts for my bosses in thanks for all they have done for me. I worked on the last of the process documentation I could think of to help them take over things I had previously managed, and spent my day trying not to let my mind overthink my decision. I loved my job, I love my bosses, I love the people I work with, this was a very difficult decision to make.

When I first came to work for GFS I had a plan that this would be my last job before I decided it was time for me to retire. If I learned anything over the past year and a half or so is that I am not ready to retire!

That said, when I came back from my medical leave I was so grateful that GFS kept a place for me, to return to work at a pace I could handle and work myself back to what I determined was my best again. I am so grateful for the time and space they provided for me to gently move into living life, as I wanted rather than how my body dictated. I was ready to keep working that plan I had made when GFS and I came to an agreement those years ago.

Funny, when you make plans, God laughs and says “Oh yeah, while try this out!”

As you all know (or may not know); for months I was pursued by another trucking company, through LinkedIn, and I ignored them. I had my plan, I loved my plan. I loved working where I worked and thoroughly enjoyed working with all the people at GFS. Why would I leave? I finally answered that continues “knocking” on my door, and was made an offer I just could not refuse. This decision was not easy for me to make. Like I said, I have loved working at GFS, and loved what I was doing. All of the people there have provided me with a chance to learn more, stretch my wings further and shared with me pieces of themselves that I will always treasure. They all helped me face one of the hardest things I have ever done – beat F’ing Cancer! I beat a cancer that the odds were against me from the very get go. Without their kind words, support and prayers I know that my outcome could have been much different. For this, there are no words that can express my gratitude.

I feel blessed to have worked with all of them. My parting wish to them was GFS will continue to grow and prosper.

They threw me a small luncheon going away party, that included a wonderful card and some gifts. I feel so blessed to have worked with this wonderful group of people.

While I was helping one of the girls make her way through a report I used to run that she would now be responsible for, one of my friends who makes me laugh, texted me a picture of a flyer for a workshop being held in August about PTSD and Cancer. As is normal for us, the picture was accompanied with text, which we are both very good at miss-typing, leading to some hysterical conversations. Today was no exception. With the picture the text really didn’t make sense so when I received the second text, I started giggling and responded, with my giggles erupting into full blown laughter.

The text was: “I bed this! Wanna go? R is leaving from KAX at 9am in Sunday” followed by “Lax”, and then “Omg” with the laughing faces. Me being me, responded with “I’m still stuck on bed???”

She responded with “I need this. And new typing fingers apparently. Lol. NEED. no bed” I of course had to push this to “You need your bed?!?!?!” Her response was “Ha! Maybe my subconscious wants someone in it? Lol…” I of course used my gutter brain and responded with “We could get you an electronic boyfriend” followed with three eggplant emojis. My friend said she would take one.

We quickly ended out text conversation, with laughter and went on with our days. I finished mine with GFS, bidding my final farewells and holding back my tears for a plan ended, and holding my breath for my new adventure to come.

Several hours later, as I awaited the news of one of our girls going through surgery today, my friend called me back. (I am not mentioning names to protect the guilty!) She had sent me yet another picture that had me laughing, this one of a candy bar called Flirty.

She called me back to explain the Flirty candy bar. Seems while she was waiting at the hospital for news of our gal in outpatient surgery, and when she would be released to come home, a nice gentleman was chatting her up. Granted he was at least a decade and a half older than her (and we’re no spring chickens here), and despite her best efforts to be rude to him and continue working on her laptop while she waited, he continued to “flirt” with her. He hangs out in the hospital lobby as he enjoys the cafeteria coffee and the live piano music provided to ease those who are visiting the hospital for less than happy reasons. We joked that this was the new pick up place for those in assisted living homes, instead of the hallway pill exchange (that is a story for another day)!

He offered to get her a coffee as well, to which she declined, but he brought her the Flirty chocolate bar instead. I laughingly told her “see, you get a real boyfriend instead of an electronic one, as well as a Sugar Daddy!” We continued to throw one liners at each other as we laughed harder and harder. I love her so much for always making me laugh until I could pee my pants!

Our gal came through her surgery just fine and will be released tonight to go home. Our girl Kelly is home from the hospital, finally. We will need to plan a visit to her to bring her some laughter and female companionship. Plus, we miss her.

Life is taking leaps of faith and laughter, always laughter

Friday, June 7 – Mindfulness continues

I know I must have talked about mindfulness when I was going through the Artist’s Way class last summer, or even on some of my walks I took before I realized that my neuropathy was just too painful to keep up my walks before I had some sort of medication to control my symptoms.

I still practice Mindfulness. I enjoy it so much, that unless it is pouring rain, my “Transformer Car” – Beta has her top down, no matter the temperature. I can hear what is going on around me while I drive. I do have my radio on, usually with the sound down low so it acts as a nice background music to my observations.

I love hearing birds calling, twittering, chirping and tweeting. I hear hawks calling to their mates, mockingbirds that imitate so many different sounds, song birds, crows and seagulls on my drive to and from work. I get to see birds flying, butterflies flitter by, hear someone’s conversation on their vehicles Bluetooth.

There is a pre-school on my drive to work, and the kids have outside playtime about the time I pass daily. I can hear the energetic squeals of delight as they play on the slides and swings, I hear their high-pitched voices calling to each other to come play or try something new. Their laughter echoes through the intersection so joyously that I cannot help but smile at the unrestrained glee happening in that play yard.

There are Jacaranda trees in bloom throughout my whole drive right now. I love seeing the clouds of purple blooms that make up the fullness of the foliage on their branches, and they leave a shadow of purple that fills the area under the tree, creating an outline of the fullest part of each tree.

As I pass over the Los Angeles River heading to work in Signal Hill, off to my right I can see an area of marsh and a small pond in the flood control where ducks, seagulls, white pelicans and other water fowl congregate to eat, rest, nest, whatever, before the river continues on to the harbor in Long Beach. It is a little oasis amongst the cemented walls of the flood control. A little oasis located in the middle of a city, next to a major freeway. This freeway connects the Ports of Los Angeles and Long Beach to major rail hubs and access to other freeways that lead to industrialized areas in the Los Angeles Basin and the Inland Empire.

As I enter Long Beach city limits, the center median planted with those Jacaranda trees, and as the traffic moves beneath their spreading branches it creates a disturbance in the air, causing some of those little purple blooms to swirl in the air currents, fall off their anchor to a branch and fall to the ground. On occasion, I have had a bloom or two float into Beta or even on me as I drive by. I can smell the sweetness of those blooms as I pass, and will miss them when the bloom is complete.

There are other smells that catch my attention; the sickly sweet smell of decay as a trash truck rumbles by. The pungent odor of a skunk that has either been recently roused from its daytime sleeping hole, or hit during the night and lying dead somewhere, sometime seen and others hidden in the brush or debris on the side of the road. The sharp chemical dark smell of warm tar as a street repair is conducted. The nauseating smell of a diesel engine as a truck thunders by. The super sweet smell of the star jasmine in bloom. Or the mouth watering aroma of the exhaust from a restaurant.

Even as I pass through the most industrialized areas, I can still hear birds calling, their voices pitched so their calls are heard over the rush of cars and the heavy roaring of trucks. Vehicles moving over the roads to their various destinations, home, work, a store, a rail hub, a warehouse, a container yard, or to the port. Everyone with a destination they are determined to arrive as quickly as possible, most of them oblivious to the natural world around them.

This is my mindful driving, that I practice every day. Even if it rains, and Beta has her top up, I listen to the sounds of the rain drops as they hit the windshield. I hear the sound of tires swishing through the wet streets. I also hear the sound of the windshield wipers as they swing across the glass wiping the water to the sides. I feel the warm air blowing from the vents heating the air within my cocoon inside Beta. I feel the pressure of my seatbelt across my lap and chest, holding me safe in my seat.

I feel the slight slip of my front tires as they slide on the wet paint when I start moving from a stop at an intersection. When I get in or out of my car, I smell the rain moistened air. It smells clean and fresh. If the weather front is exceptionally cold, it smells brisk.

I look forward to the slow warming that will come with summer. What I see, smell and hear on my drives will change with the seasons. I relish every little moment of mindfulness during my drives. It reminds me there is more to life than destinations and I am ever so grateful that I have yet another day to cherish my world and those who share it with me.

Life is all about the Journey

Thursday, June 6 – This is dedicated to the ones I love

I was going to make a post about how I am still practicing Mindfulness – being in the moment. Alternatively, how I accepted a diet challenge through a fitness program to try something new. Instead, I feel the need to dedicate my post today to Kelly. Not my soon to be daughter-in-law Kelly, but Kelly from my Breast Cancer Support Group.

Kelly came to our group already undergoing treatment for her Triple Negative Breast Cancer through her primary medical provider. She was terrified like the rest of us, dealing with our own monsters that cancer brings with it. I was introduced to a book that claims cancer is a punk. The author Brianne Joseph says a punk is someone who sneaks up on you and attacks you when you least expect it. I am also of the thought that punks always bring friends to back them up. These are the monsters and demons we face, while that damn punk tries to kill us. In our support group, we face our demons and monsters together, uplifting each other, providing a shoulder, a hug, a hand or words as needed, to each other to get through our nightmares come to life.

Kelly shared with us her fighter, her belief that she is stronger than this “punk azz” cancer. Through all she has faced in her battle to date, she has continued to turn to her inner prize fighter, to consistently believe she will be victorious, even when she succumbs to that doubt monster that plagues all of us. She continues to end with the positive after pouring out all the doubts, fears and negatives that are a constant ticker tape feed in the back of all our thoughts.

Kelly has an effervescent spirit; she brings light to a room and spreads joy and warmth to all of us. She is funny, with a quick wit and is willing to be the first one to laugh at herself. My favorite kind of person.

Kelly has had a much more difficult road to travel with her triple negative breast cancer than I traveled. Watching her face setback after setback and still look towards a perfect light at the end of a tunnel inspires me and makes me admire her even more. At one point she was even comforting me saying her story is not my story and that I need not worry that any of her setbacks would ever happen to me.

Kelly has had yet more setbacks and has been hospitalized for weeks. She is so independent that she has refused help or visits from any of us. We are terrified for her. We know that there will be those that lose their battle with cancer, but we are not ready to go there with her yet. She is still fighting and we want to be at her side fighting with her. We want to hold her hand and transfer our love and strength to her. She told us that she did not want us to deal with freeways, traffic and parking. Please, my bright and loving friend, these are the least of our worries here. We could care less about the slight inconvenience we might face in order to be by your side.

Kelly continues to look at the positives, like how her nurses are treating her like a queen. They provided her a “spa day”, a foot massage, hair wash, soothing sound machine, and even a champagne flute to sip her “green drink”.

In the meantime, we sit in our own little worlds trying hard to hold onto her indefatigable spirit and feeling helpless. We have all shed our tears of fear for our dear friend. We are together, in this space and time, for a reason, and feeling left out is hard for all of us.

Therefore, I am pouring out my heart here, my love of this woman, all of her. The fears, the anger, the strength, the wit, and her joys. She has shown me how to move forward when those damn monsters feel like they are winning. She has shown me how deep love can go. She has shown me that sharing our fears with each other makes us stronger. She has shown me the pure face of joy. She has shown me righteous anger, and to funnel that anger into action. She has shown me that we do not have to be perfect. She has shown me how our ties bind one another and how important those ties we have are to our whole.

Kelly is part of whole, and we feel the loss without her amongst us physically. We feel helpless and afraid because her strength in doing “this” on her own keeps us away from her. Our hearts break that she is facing this without us by her side. We need to be with her, to just hold her hand, or sit with her in silence, breathing the same air, or just talking nonsense. We just need to be there.

Kelly, my beautiful, strong, vibrant, joyous friend, know that we would climb mountains, slay dragons, swim oceans, and cross deserts for you. Our hearts, thoughts and prayers are with you always.

I thank Deda for allowing me to cry while I poured out my hurt, hopes and fears while she hiked a hill in Portland, OR to see the beautiful rose garden at the top. As we both cried, as we have been through this before with her dad and my stepfather who both succumbed to their battles with cancer, she looked around at all those beautiful roses blooming in every color you could think of and all she could see was each flower representing a woman who lost her battle. Even though she was not with me physically, my Deda is always there for me holding me in spirit when she cannot be there in person.

I thank Linda who agreed to meet me at Madrona Marsh so we could take in some of the beauty of nature to remind us that life is full, even when we feel we drained.

I thank my support group for knowing how we all feel, even if all our roads are different. You provide me space to celebrate the good, to face my fears with no judgement, and to give of myself to others.

Life is accepting what is and what will be

Sunday, June 2 – A little catch up

A few months ago I happened to read a published text thread about a person who’s father had died when they were 18, and mom had scattered some of dad’s cremains here and there and was holding on to the rest until this person had picked out a nice holder for their portion of dad’s ashes. When this person finally found the perfect container and went to mom for a small portion of the cremains, Dad’s ashes had solidified. Long story short, there is this hilariously long text thread about Dad’s solidified cremains. (linked to the published text thread)

That lead to us discussing my father in laws cremains that my husband had scattered some over the VA Cemetery per Dad’s wishes and we’ve been holding on to the rest to scatter where he asked in his will. Life has happened so Dad’s cremains have been stored in a box in our bonus room for a while now. Recently Robert checked Dad’s cremains only find that yes, they had solidified. Makes me want to find the original publisher of that text thread and ask them what actually worked!

The reason Robert had checked on Dad’s cremains was we needed to clean up the bonus room so that Heather, Jose and Joseph could move into that room temporarily after they bought a house in Bakersfield and needed to wait to complete their move until Joseph was out of school.

We enjoyed all the time we were able to spend with the Grandson, the Grand Kitty, and our kids, even though they spent most weekends preparing their new house for when they would get to move in permanently. One weekend it was just Jose up at the new house, and the neighbors came out and asked him if he was the paint guy. We had a good laugh over that one and have now nicknamed him “Jose – The Paint Guy”.

Winky made herself quite at home in the time they spent at our house….

We took a trip up north to re-start our annual trips to our favorite winery with my dad and mom#2. This year the spring members’ event at Schramsberg was supposed to be in The Grove, which is one of our favorite spots, but Mother Nature had other plans. It rained that day so we celebrated in the caves instead. We enjoyed the time in the caves tasting the new releases and food, and of course wine purchased.

Also in the past month Kelly, our soon to be DIL, passed her state licensing exam and is now a fully licensed Doctor of Psychology in the state of California. We’re so proud for her and this great accomplishment. Jordon and Kelly can now concentrate on planning their wedding for later this year.

The weekend before the kids last week in our house, Joseph was going to spend Sunday with Grandpa, while Heather and I joined the rest of the bridal party to go bridesmaid dress shopping with Kelly and her mother. Joseph decided that spending the day with Grandpa included him helping Grandpa with the chore of washing our bed sheets. Because I dye my hair purple, and purple dye is not permanent, it rubs off on my pillow case. As Robert was pre-treating my pillow case with stain remover, Joseph asked him what the purplish pink stains on the pillow case were. Robert being the quick witted joker he is, told Joseph that sometimes at night Nane’s brains leak out her ears and stain the pillow case. With a horrified look on his face, Joseph them asked Grandpa if it hurt when my brains leaked out my ears. Grandpa told Joseph he should ask Nane about that.

Heather and I were in their room when he came in and asked me if he could ask me a question. He whispered the question at Heather and I were in their room when he came in and asked me if he could ask me a question. He whispered the question at first and I could not hear him, but I could see Robert hiding in the kitchen doorway with his shoulder that was visible shaking from him stifling his laughter. My first thought was “Oh lord, what has he said now?” I asked Joseph to speak up a little more so I could hear his question, and he repeated his question “Nane, does it hurt when your brains leak out your ears at night?” Heather was the first to react to the question, asking Joseph why he would think that. Robert could not hold back his laughter anymore and between the three of them, Heather trying to act indignant, Joseph confused and Robert laughing, I started laughing too. Between Robert and Joseph we got the story behind the question and I looked at Joseph with a smile on my face and asked him “What color is Nane’s hair?” He looked at my head and as he was saying purple, you could see the light dawning on his face that he had been had by Grandpa. I confirmed that yes; the color on the pillowcase is from the dye in my hair rubbing off during the night. Joseph did laugh then. Later in the day after Grandpa had continued to joke with Joseph about my brains leaking out, Joseph finally said to Grandpa that it was not funny anymore.

My foot is healing up well from my wart removal surgery, and the current dosing of Klonopin is working well in controlling the worst of the side effects of my neuropathy. I changed it up a bit, two days full dose, 1 day 1/2 dose, 1 day full dose, 1 day half dose and start over.

I also agreed to talk with a new trucking company that had been reaching out to me for a few months through LinkedIn about a employment opportunity. I ignored the first messages from the company and several head hunters trying to entice me with vague job descriptions and promises of great benefits. After a third direct attempt from this company with more information of what they were looking for and what they are doing currently, I figured the universe was trying to tell me something. I responded to the LinkedIn message.

This lead to a phone interview, which led to another, and then a in person meeting. I can’t really say the first in person meetings were an interview per se, more of an exchanging of ideas and what they want and what I want back and forth. This lead to other in person meetings and them practically throwing me a package that listed their medical, dental and vision plans along with a cost sheet before I made a decision to commit to them. After thinking about it I agreed to let them make a formal offer, which turned out to be an offer I just could not refuse.

This was not an easy decision for me to make, as my current employer had been so good to us, to me. When I went to work for them in 2011, I really did think this would be my last job before I retired. But again, the Work Gods had something else in store for me. I am excited to be starting this new adventure, and a little scared at the same time. But if it doesn’t scare you a little, it’s probably not worth doing.

Last Friday was the last day the kids were here. Heather’s last day of work at the pet hospital was last Thursday. Friday May 31 was Joseph’s last day of school. Grandpa was up and cranked Alice Coopers Schools Out for Summer while Joseph was getting ready. It only took him a few minutes of listening to the song before he was singing the lyrics while brushing his teeth.

Heather packed up the last of their belongings, except for their bed, and headed to Bakersfield with Winky (grand kitty) about the same time I headed into work. Jose picked Joseph up from school and they went to enjoy the carnival that was taking place at his school Friday afternoon. They headed to our place about 8pm and picked up the mattress and then they were gone too. We’re empty nesters once again.

Saturday found me heading into Long Beach to catch up with old co-workers from APL. We try to have an APL Oldies reunion at least once a year. It was good to see some of the people I miss dearly, and catch up with them once again. The last time we went I had no hair. Everyone loved my new purple hair.

Life is trying new adventures