Breast Cancer and Mastectomies Are Not Pink Ribbons

Here's the thing.  Cancer and mastectomies and reconstruction surgeries are scary.  I get that.  And when you talk to people about it, their first instinct is to comfort you and reassure you.  So somewhere along the way, people create these groups and agencies and networks to support women (and men) going through this.  They developed plans to help out, things to say to support and ways to help out.

But having DCIS, going through a mastectomy, reconstruction and subsequent surgeries, isn't a big pink ribbon.  It's not being glad that it's 'over'.  It's not getting on with life and being glad it wasn't cancer/glad I'm alive.  It's just not.  Not for me and not for a large group of people out there.

My scars are ugly.  They're never going to be pretty.  But they tell the story of who I am and what I've gone through.  The fact that I went through this emotional roller coaster and it wasn't cancer, isn't comforting.  It's just not.  It never will be.  I'm not over it and won't be over it for a long time, if ever.

I understand that people around me feel uncomfortable and they say and do things in the hopes of making me feel more comfortable and in turn them more comfortable.  But honestly, it makes me feel worse.  Like I should just sweep everything that I went through under the rug, don't talk about it and move on...pretend it never happened. 

Guess what?

I had DCIS.
I had a 62% chance of breast cancer in my life.
I had a mastectomy.
I had reconstruction that resulted in big dark ugly scars.
I had a nipple & revision surgery.
I lost most of both of the revised nipples.
I'm not secure, safe because cancer is gone.
I deal with the repercussions of my choices daily.
I'm not comfortable in my skin currently.
I'm afraid to exercise.
I'm afraid to be happy.
I'm afraid to have the rug pulled out from under me again.
I'm...afraid.

Fed Up

Firstly, I have decided that I am a documentary junkie.  If I lived a bit closer to the little theater in Minneapolis, I'd be there 3-4 nights a week to see every documentary they have. 

Have you heard of the movie FED UP?  It's been on my radar since I heard about it about a month or so ago.  I've been waiting for it to play here so I could go see it.  Pete and I went last week and I wavered.  It seemed a bit counterproductive to eat popcorn while watching a movie like Fed Up.  So I brought some water and Pete got a soda.  But you'd be surprised how many people had popcorn and soda!

The movie touches on the lives of 3 kids who are obese and the struggles their families go through to try to regulate their weight.  In the middle, it give some horrifying facts about low fat, low sugar, sugar free and sugar.  I wish I had brought a headlamp, pad of paper and pen to take notes.  There was such good information.

The thing that struck me the most was that the sugar industry is mirroring the tobacco industry, almost to a T.  Tobacco denied issues with cigarettes for so long, in the public, in their internal paperwork and to congress when asked.  In the end, they were forced to admit that they knew for years how destructive it was.  The sugar industry is at the place of denial.  They deny how addictive sugar is, how bad it really is and just how much sugar is ok for humans. 

I left with a renewed goal of kicking my sugar habit and be more observant of how much sugar I really eat.  Have you ever really looked at a food label?  Ever notice how sugar is the only listing that doesn't have a daily percentage behind it?  It's all because of the sugar industry and how much control they have at his time.  Did you know that adult women should limit their intake to 6 teaspoons a day?  Do you know how much is in a soda?  15.  Ever try finding a greek yogurt without sugar?  I spent an hour and 2 stores trying to find one that was healthy and had no sugar.  Sugar is pervasive and my struggle with it is real. 

21 Days - Day 1

I mentioned a bit ago that it takes 21 days to build a new habit.  21 days/3 weeks and you have a new way of doing something.

I think I've lost a bit of the confidence I had when I weighed less.  I'm a bit less outgoing and sure of myself in all aspects of my life.  Pete asked me about this because I've started saying "sorry" lately for things that I think I'm doing wrong. Stupid things like apologizing for taking Pete's super cold water from the fridge.  Dumb!  After I do it, I mentally recoil; I want to take the words back.  Pete and I talked about this over the weekend.  I think what it comes down to is that I have to take control of my life again.

You know that piece of advice that says to list the negatives/positives in any decision to get the best answer?  Well, in this case, I see the negatives outweighing my life now.  I see how I have less energy, I'm worn out just doing normal stuff all day, my skin and hair look less healthy, I'm hungry all the time for sweet things, my clothes don't fit, I'm not as mentally ready for each day, I sleep badly...  I could go on and on.  The positives?  Can't really think of any...other than I don't have to try each day.  And that, that is sad.

So today is day 1 of 21.  My first hurdle is getting up at 4:45am.  Yes.  I'm currently awake and have been for almost an hour.  I didn't go to the gym because even though I had a great day yesterday, I was dumb. 

1.  My almost 12 year old neice, Alison, has the same shoes I do!  2.  She loves my dog as much, if not more, than I do.  She really comes over to spend time with him, not me.  3.  We made a dessert that she found on the internet.  4.  I made sweet, smokey, chipolte BBQ sauce.  5.  We took the dog for his first run in the fields by our house.

I loved the time that I spent with my niece yesterday.  It was cool that we had the same shoes.  But I got those shoes at Costco for $19.  They're cute with bright colors and laces.  I got them to replace the Ryka walking around/shopping/going out tenny shoes that I've had for almost a year and are worn out.  But they have no support.  None.  So walking around on them all day is ok.  But going for that walk?  It killed my feet.  Killed.  I was hobbling yesterday.  So no gym today.  But I'm up, awake for the day and that's half my battle.  Tomorrow...the same thing, only gym. 

My Birthversary

I just passed the 14th anniversary of my 29th birthday. Otherwise known as 'I'm old-er' as of Saturday. 

I think back, not to the birthdays of my youth, but to my recent birthdays. The birthdays of my youth are filled with the innocence of believing that birthdays are all about getting older. Believing that the best is yet to come and not where you are right then. Youthful birthdays are all about counting the numbers off. 

Three years ago (2011) I was smack dab in the midst of trying to lose weight on my own. I was supporting Pete in his gastric band process. I was having some success, some failure, but felt optimistic that I could be a better, healthier version of me. I remember feeling some irritation at Pete from how hard he was working and how much success he was having. Jealousy perhaps. Not that I wasn't happy for him, but I wanted the level of success also.  I remember shopping with him for his post surgery meals, trying to find everything on his list. In the same shopping trip I shopped for myself, excited to have some meals that were my favorites, that he wouldn't and at that time, couldn't. How lame. 

2 years ago (2012) I was recovering from my own surgery. I was the one shopping for post surgery meals, sore from the surgery and trying to learn a new way of eating. I remember how freaking determined I was!  Hope hopeful I was. I was committed to this healthiness journey. Pete supported me, much in the same was I did him. 

Last year (2013) I felt awesome. I was well under 200 pounds and more importantly I felt so incredible. I fit into sizes that I hadn't since collie and high school.  I loved going to they gym and had goals that were exercised based. I had muscles that showed and cheekbones and collarbones. I ate 80% healthy and craved healthy food. I remember the joy I felt at running 8 miles the first time, going up in weight at Body Pump class and sitting in my car afterwards with a smile that wouldn't quit. I remember the mental clarity, the emotional evenness and the energy I had each day after starting it at the gym. I was happy, hopefull and in a groove. 

This year?  I'm different. A life altering decision resulted in a life altering surgery. I've gained 30 pounds and I'm heavier than my pre gastric band surgery. I crave sweets after every meal and my portions are way off track. The gym is a twinkle that's dimmed by my hitting the snooze button. I'm not happy physically or emotionally. My motivation is gone. 

In the last couple of days I've seen some things on Instagram about days of self love or happiness. And I'm jumping in...with a twist. 

21 Days To A Healthy Habit. It takes 21 days/3weeks to make practicing something a habit. 21 short days. 3 weeks. An hour or so a day.  My first healthy habit is just getting to the gym. I  need this habit again. It's both helpful physically, emotionally and mentally. I need this. 

Oh hey, Hi.

I won't bore you with the details, but the man cold jumped ship to the wife.  So I've been spending my mornings trying to furiously work for a few hours so that I can spend my afternoons coughing up a lung while trying to nap.  Oh, and binge watching Grey's Anatomy via Netflix.

None of this has to do with losing weight, eating better or anything.  Other than all I want to do is drink ginger ale because the carbonation seems to soothe my sore throat.  I can't walk up the stairs without huffing, puffing and depositing my lung on the fifth stair.  And my idea of working out is how my abs tighten when I cough.

So, the gym is a no go currently.

And healthy eating?  Well lets just say that cooking has been Pete's job.  And Monday night he served up "Hotdog and Baked Bean Lasagna with Pepper Jack Cheese and Spicy BBQ Sauce.

Why are you laughing?  I'm dead serious.  He sandwiched all that in between lasagna noodles.  He was proud and I ate it.  2 nights in a row.

Yesterday seemed to be a corner in the illness front.  My chest loosened up and it's not a dry hacking cough, it's productive (as my doctor says).  And my head seems to be decongesting as well, as evidenced by the amount of lotion tissues I've used this morning. 

And I actually don't mind "cooking" because I took out 1/2 pound of lean ground lamb that I'm going to mix with i diced potato, a couple of carrots, some peas and stock to make a shepard (but not Derek Shepard.  See what I did there?) pie, minus the mashed tators on top.  Or maybe I'll use the sweet potato in the mixture and microwave the white potato and make fast mashed tators for Pete...

Anyway, I hope to be back at it by Monday. 

Ash Wednesday/The 40 Days of Lent

It's no secret, I often use the pressure of Lent to give up food things or try to be healthier.  I believe that this is ok and I give myself permission to do so, knowing that a healthier me is a better me and that the spirit of Lent is represented in my struggle.

This year, my goal is to be more mindful of why I'm eating.  Working from home, I have a whole kitchen at my disposal all. the. time.  It's not like I can only bring my breakfast & lunch and I'm out of food.  Well, I suppose I could if I locked myself in my extra bedroom/office.  But that would mean that Pete would have to lock me inside from the outside.  And that would be weird because I'd have no potty.  I digress...

I created a little note in my phone, titled...Lent.  (original!) My plan is that aside from meals, if I'm going to eat a 'snack', I need to log the time and what I'm feeling and if I still choose to snack.  I need to be more mindful about what I'm snacking on and my feelings at the time.  Snacking has been an issue for me in the past and continues to be.  This strategy really helped me in the days leading up to surgery and after surgery. 

It's the little things.  The little things that add up to big things.  Big changes and goals and dreams. 

The Plan and Goals

When I detailed my plan last week I forgot to talk about a big part of it.  Blogging. 

Blogging and reading blogs is such a powerful motivator for me. I think that I tend to hibernate when things are going right and that's when I most need to reach out.  I need to document the struggles that I have and go back to read them so I can see I am powerful and strong.  I need to read the bloggers who motivated me before and find new ones to share my current struggles. 

So along with the plan from last week, I plan on blogging regularly again. 

Goals are important.  Really important.  I reached out Fabulous Check Gets Fit after seeing her posts on her Instagram.  She reminded me that setting small goals to get that sense of accomplishment is important.  We all want to feel like we are making accomplishments and this is one way to do that.

My goal is to lose 20 pounds.  I honestly don't think that it will take more than about 6 months to do that once I start execising regularly and slowly returning to my healthier eating.  I hope that the gym will start helping me with body image too and regaining the muscle that I've lost. 

Along with goal setting, I personally feel like it should be connected to a reward.  Small, medium or large, just not food related.  I used to put money on the fridge that I could spend on clothes or pick out a new pan to cook with or more motorcycle riding gear.  My goal for getting to under 200 was my ring tattoo for Pete.  And I look at that infinity symbol and heart and rememeber that I CAN DO THIS.

So my goal for losing 20 pounds is another tattoo.  In fact two of them.  My fake nipple tattoos to finsh of my reconectruction.  I have the name of the tattoo artist who comes highly recommended and the money set aside to get them done.  That's my goal. 

The Plan (version 2, or 200)

So I've posted a few times previously about a plan or action plan.  I have a new version.  A restart.

What I know:

• I currently weigh 224 pounds
• I'm not currently going to the gym
• Running is still awkward given my new body shape and anything less than running on that treadmill is frustrating.
• I'm afraid to go back to Body Pump because of the loss of muscle and change in my body.
• I'm eating more disordered meals and snacks.
• I'm having issues with insomnia again which cause an inability to get up early for the gym.
• I work from home most the time and wear stretchy clothes because none of my other clothes fit.

I've been trying to address some of these things with the following rules hanging in various places in my house:

• No electronics after 9:30pm
• Take vitamins and minerals daily.
• 100 ounces of water daily.
• No carbonated drinks.
• 3 clean meals and 2 planned snacks
• Gym, 3 days a week.

I've been great about carbonated drinks.  I had returned to some soda drinking at the time I had surgery and afterwards.  When I asked Pete to buy a 12 pack and he came home with a 24 pack that was gone in a week, I knew that I needed to stop.  I'm 3 weeks in.

My vitamins are on and off.  I need to place them on my work desk so that they stare me in the face every morning and I take them more frequently.

Water.  *sigh*  Some days I can't get enough and some days I struggle.  So I returned to some water additives to help.  Pete is into juicing and sometimes I add some of the cucmber or fruit juices that he makes.  Others, it's a natural ingredient crystal light with cane sugar/stevia or True Lime's BlackCherry Limeade.

Meals/Snacks are a struggle I'm fully willing to admit.  Pete is down to about 160-165 and has stayed there for about 7-8 months.  He works out enough and his metabolism is so high that he has been buying cookie dough, Oreos, ice cream, reeces PB cups and other crap.  He eats and eats and doesn't gain.  I will have a PB cup and a couple of cookies and it's all over for me.  I need to stop.  He is more than willing to not have the stuff in the house so that it's not tempting me, but I feel back and keep buying it for him.  But it comes back to my CHOICES.  I need to 'reset' my band and let the pouch above it shrink back down.  So starting Sunday I'm going to drink Pete's Body by VI shakes for breakfast & lunch and then eat a clean meal of chicken/veg or salmon/veg for dinner for a week.

The gym.  It's periods like now where it isn't my second home and I don't feel compfortable because I've gained weight that I struggle even going.  My favorite instructor keeps telling me it's ok and I'll find my way back.  It's people like her that make me love my local Y.  Because I'm awkward running and scared of injuring myself in Body Pump, I've decided to branch out.  I'v scheduled myself classes 3 days a week; Mondays is Water Execrise in the pool, Wednesdays is Standing Flow Stretching and Movement and Fridays I'll try Body Pump with a bar only, no weight.

That's the new plan.

*sigh* here's the deal...

Long time no...write.  Right?

Here's the deal.  I'm sort of disillusioned with my life at the moment.  And I struggle and fight to figure out how to get back to me.  I try new things, I try old things and nothing seems to work.  I know where I want to be and what I want my life to look like and it's just not happening right now.

I heard someone recently say that not every journey has a end.  It made me pause.  It make me think.  For all the talking that I've done about lifestyle changes to create a healthier me, I think I expected my journey to end.  Not that it wouldn't be a change, but that the struggle of how to lose weight would end. 

Between October 2010 and April of 2013 I lost weight.  And this is not to say that the journey during that time wasn't a struggle, because it was.  It definately was.  There were ups and downs and detours.  But for the most part, I had a plan, I had goals and I had a strategy. 

In April I had my abnormal biopsy and things shifted.  I wasn't as goal oriented in losing weight.  I was goal oriented in finding out a plan to deal with what could be breast cancer.  The shift was needed.  It's not a positive shift, but a needed shift.  I went into survival mode.  Survival mode meant that I ended up at the gym less, ate about the same, but indluged in a few comfort foods that I had given up.  Between April and July I gained 5 pounds.  But (you knew there was a but, right?) I was okay with this.  My close still fit, I had a great/growing muscle tone and I wasn't making large shifts in what I was doing to be healthy.

My plan was to have surgery and return to the previous plan of healthy living.  And the absolute truth is that the plan did not work.  There were detours, setbacks, mental health issues and other things that derailed my plan.  So I took even more time off to deal with the physical and psychological issues.  Again, my plan was to start back with the healthy living plan once I addressed those things. 

My final truth?  The plan that worked for me before isn't working.  The healthy eating habits and gym habits aren't working.  Either because I can't find my way back to them, or I need to figure out modifications to them that work for me HERE AND NOW.  I need to find a new plan.  Here's the thing that is so depressing about this.  I can go back to what was working for me.  But I can't go back to what was working for me in April 2013.  I need to go back further to about March/April 2012.  I need to go back when I was about 30 pounds heavier (yep - ouch).  I need to resume some restristive eating to allow my gastric band to work better.  I need to give myself the GRACE to make better CHOICES and go back to what was working for me 2 years ago in an attempt to start the weight loss process again.  For that's truly what this is.  A restart after a year off.

There.  I said it all. 

Tap..Tap, Tap...

*insert joke here*
Is this thing on?

If you would have asked me 7 months ago how my recovery from these mastectomies would have gone, I would have told you that my physical issues would take a long time to heal.  But I never considered longer term phychological issues.  Oh sure, I realized that there may be issues with losing my natural breasts and the scarring.  But the long term issues I never considered.

Today I am off the antidepressant.  It's too early to know what my new normal is again.  I will say that going off the meds and having PMS at the same time probably isn't recommended.  I'm tired all the time, expect at bedtime.  I'm way over emotional.  And I still have no motivation.

But I worry.  I worry that my previous normal will never be the same again.  I worry that taking the meds, even for a short time, screwed up my brain chemistry already.  I'm worried that I should have been on the meds long ago and life wouldn't have been so hard.  I'm worried.

I talk to Pete a lot more now about my feelings and emotions and we connect much better on a deeper level.  I will always have the surgery to thank for that.  He is supportive and a good listener.  Even if his goal is to "fix" it all, he realizes that it's not always my goal and that it's ok just to talk about it.  But I sense some frustration that he can't fix it for me.  I'm so very sorry for that.  My heart hurts that he has to ensure that feeling of helplessness because of me. 

I am done with physical therapy and therapy and, and it's just me.  And when I say that in my head and see that on this screen, I wonder again if the meds aren't what I really need.  I try to look at myself objectively as I can.  I see in my head all the conversations I've had with clients about taking their meds.  They all want to stop them because they're "fixed", but mental health is sometimes never "fixed" by a short course of medications.  I think about all the times that I directed them back to their doctors to get back on the meds that they self tapered off of.  I think about how I tell them that if they were diabetic they'd take the meds so they need to take the mental health meds.  And I wonder, is that what I should be telling myself?

My 2014 Word?

For the last few years I've been choosing a word in December to live the following year by.  A word that represents some change I want to make or what I need to focus on or a reminder.  Interestingly I think that my choices are very representative of what actually happens within the year.  Maybe it's just self fulfilling, maybe it's luck, but whatever it is, it works.

Last year my word was grace:

I want to live gracefully. In beauty and kindness. With poise and centered in myself. I want to chose nice over mean. I want to give myself grace and forgiveness and be ok with who I am at any given moment. I want to be graceful in motion and thought. 

I have to admit, when I had the abnormal biopsy I abandoned my word and I felt that it abandoned me.  How could I live gracefully when this bad thing was happening to me?  How could I be ok, let alone poised with this decision?  How could I be ok with myself when I was about to remove body parts in a preemptive move?

In reality, I think that grace supported me.  Grace was there to let me recover both mentally and physically.  Grace was there for me to allow myself to ask for help when I needed it.  Grace was there to be ok with where I was at, at that given moment.  Without thinking about it, I was living a graceful life and it was giving back to me in return.  Without grace, I honestly don't know where I would be now or what my mental status would be.

So this is my little thank you to whomever started the trend of One Little Word.  My thank you to the prompt of seeking something to work on year by year.  My thank you for the support throughout this year. 

My 2014 word?  I don't know.  Something is pushing me to go back to the word choices.  To focus on the fact that I can't change all the choices I had to make this year.  To focus on the things that I can change and do something about them.  But I'm still giving it thought because I have about 3 weeks left to decide!

What I've Learned in 5 Months

Five months ago I was in surgery.  A long surgery that's colored every part of my life since.  I've spent a long time in the last few weeks considering the choice that I made and how my life has changed.  And while there are days I'll tell you that it was the worst thing that ever happened to me, the reality is that not all of it was negative.

1.  I learned who really cared for me in various ways.  Reality is that when someone has a life altering event, most people think about how sad it is.  Not all of those people offer to help or even support.  Some just can't and others don't want to be bothered.  I learned that I have an awesome husband who will go to the ends of the Earth for me.  I have caring co-workers who organized a lot of help.  I have friends who live no where near me, but were with me every moment of every day.

2.  I learned that I can't do it all and that's ok.  The world will not end because I didn't make my famous potato hotdish (Translation - Casserole. Remember, I'm midwestern.) for the Christmas Potluck.  It will not end because I didn't do cute little Halloweek bags for my trick or treaters.  And It will not end because the bathroom counter looks like a tornado for 3 days straight.  Family and friends will be ok not getting a Christmas card this year.

3.  I learned that I need to let my husband into my head a little bit.  That withholding my thoughts is akin to turning my back to him when I need him most and then getting mad when he doesn't help.  IO learned that out of a sad/difficult thing, cvan come a new awareness and awakening of a realitionship.  I learned that we love each other...a lot.

4.  I learned that while my brain may feel ok, my body doesn't and I need to listen to it.  I need to go slowly and have patience with myself.  That nothing goes from 1-100 without all the other 98 numbers inbetween.  I learned that even 5 months along, it's sitll ok to nap a couple of hours a day and spend time relaxing to recharge.

5.  I learned that my relationship with my family is important.  My realtionship with my Mom is at times difficult because of how different we are, but that when it comes down to it, we are similar also.  I learned that my Grandma, all 89 years of her, will help out any way she can. 

6.  I learned that I could do a better job advocating for myself.  Instead of letting myself get to the crying every day stage, I could have admitted to the plastic surgeon any number of times that I needed help.  Instead of letting Pete do my talking, I could habe been more vocal about my needs and wants and sought out a solution.

7.  I learned that I do much better when I have an action plan of how to fix things.  Whether it's validating emotions and what I know to be true around them or planning on exercising on certain days, it's a plan. 

I know that there's way more that I could list out.  But those are the big ones.  I suppose that if I posted again in July 2014 (which I'm sure to do) I'll have more things that I've learned.

Admissions and Limitations

Saturday was spent hibernating in the deep freeze of Minnesota. Love the cold wintery weather with snow. But high temps that never get above zero?  Um no thanks.

So between laundry, crochet, baking, House of Cards in Netflix and my snugly puppy, I never left the house. In return, there was a list of other things that I should have done. I just didn't. 

At times, I think I have bounds of energy and I tackle that to do list in the spirit of an athlete. Friday, I shopped...for 7 hours. Grocery, clothes, crafts and Christmas. Ran home, helped Pete cook dinner and was in bed by 10pm. I had a similar, if yet indoors, list for Saturday. But I did none of it. Not because I didn't want to, but because I had no energy or motivation to do it. 

About 1pm, I took a shower so I could feel clean and change into clean PJs (really just one of Pete's old long sleeved shirts and flannel pants).  But in the shower I thought about how much I wanted to sit in the living room and watch the twinkling light of the tree.  And how I usually spend the day after Thanksgiving putting it up. And how it's now well past Thanksgiving and I stare at an empty space and dog toys.

What I realized was sad. I didn't have the motivation to wrestle that tree up and decorate it. Oh yes, I could muster the energy to do it today. But I'd be in a heap the rest if the day. And more importantly to Pete, that damn tree would stay up until Valentines Day when Pete would take it down out of frustration. It's not fair to him or me to do that.  So I made the call to not put up the tree this year.  And I shared this with Pete when he got home.  He was very sweet and said that he'd get me a tabletop tree that fols out so it's just set and plug in, but I told him no need. 

I don't know, maybe it's a positive thing, this realization of my limits. Maybe it's good that I not only realize them, but stick to them. And maybe, a part of me wants my superhuman self back. 

I Need To Get It Together

Somewhere, along the way I lost the me who was pretty organized and on top of it all.  Maybe I really did lose a whole bunch of brain cells the 2 months of sitting watching reality TV after surgery.  Who knows?

I've randomly gone to the gym here and there, but nothing consistent.  I am attending physical therapy though and doing exercises at home.  Last week I felt my lower abs engage for the first time since prior to surgery.  It.  Was. Awesome.

I've both watched what I ate and gone back to trick or treating my own fridge for chocolate.  I hover somewhere around 209.  Not happy about it.  But I'm also not beating myself up over it at this point.

I work from home most days so I'm more relaxed, less make up and have hair that sticks up in random places.  But I also have counseling appointments, physical therapy appointments, staff meetings and other random meetings that I have to go to each week.  So I feel LESS organized and relaxed in some ways.

I am doing really good in the relaxation area though.  I've rediscovered crocheting and how relaxing and rewarding it is to craft.  I've done a few Christmas presents, some scarves for myself and I'm working on a big ol blanket.

My goals do include getting back to the gym on a regular basis.  I think I'm waiting for life to get easier, but my realization is that it's not going to get better than this for a while.  So...here goes:

Goals:
Get to the gym 3 days in the next week for at least an hour at a time.
Eat cleaner.  More veggies and lean protein and less cheese, muddy buddies and chocolate.
Plan week on Monday mornings and post calendar for Pete so he knows where to find me.

I'm using this as my accountability partner for the week.

207; A List of Plans

Even water proof mascara isn't really water proof.  It's likely water resistant or something.  I always wonder what kind of make up reality stars have on that they never get red and raccoon looking when they cry.  Because me?  I do crying, ugly.  I'm red, blotchy, runny nose and tears flowing.  So my lesson to you all is not to wear mascara when going for help with depression.

I love my doctor.  Can I just say that?  She listens, really listens to me.  She helps me problem solve.  She also lets me lead in what my medical care should look like.  She lets me feel in control, even when I'm not.

When she entered the office I half heartedly smiled and she could tell that something was wrong.  She asked me to explain in my own words what was happening and it's then that I realized I should have written it down.  Not only do I ugly cry, but when something like this is bothering me, I cry when I try to speak.  And you can't ugly cry and verbalize at the same time.  At least I can't.  So she waited while I tried to gather myself up to talk.  Then she listened.

At the crux of this is that I feel very much alone.  I have the support of my Mom (breast cancer/mastectomy survivor).  I have the support of Pete, who does tons of things for me and listens to everything I can manage to tell him.  I have the support of friends online and in person.  But I feel so alone.  An island unto myself.

I feel almost as though I did all of this for no reason, this self mutilation of sorts, because there was no cancer.  Which leads me to wonder if I was so ready for this to happen in the first place?  Did I rush (is 3 months of waiting, rushing?) into this decision when I could have waited or should have waited?  I feel as though my 'choice' to do this is 'rewarded' by the complications and issues that I've had since the initial surgery. 

I've tried to seek out support form several places, but there is no one like me.  No one that is a Previvor, but not BRCA positive.  No one that has chosen to do this in a situation that mirrors mine.  No one that is in their 40's and has some of the same experiences I did/do.  No one who can tell me that yes, it will be ok.  Yes, this is how I got through it.  Yes, call/text/email me when you have issues and I will listen. 

Logically I know that what I write here is off and that I know better.  But I can't seem to connect the logicalness of it and my feelings about it.  They're off course and I need to get them back on track.

So we have a plan.  A good one.
1.  I called for physical therapy again and I'm scheduled to start on 11/6/13.  Exercising is a great mood booster and I can't wait to be able to learn how to exercise without hurting myself.
2.  I was prescribed a low dose antidepressant for 6 months.  Something to help me get over the hump and have enough energy to do what I need to do on a daily basis.
3.  Seek counseling.  If I can't find a support group, I need to find a counselor for a few sessions to figure out how to sort through the feelings I'm having.

I'm adding a few to the plan:
4.  I'm going to connect more with Pete about how I'm feeling on a daily basis.  Let him know my fears because he is strong enough to listen, even if he can't do anything about them.
5.  Keep blogging.  Keep getting it out of my head and onto the 'page'.
6.  Keep being creative on a daily basis.  Something that makes me happy - crochet, reading, photography, cooking...anything.
7.  Let go right now of my weight issues.  I'm not returning to the emotional/chocolate/soda/carb addict eating, but I'm going to say that it's ok if I'm not losing weight. 

So, that's my list.  I'm very much a list maker who has to have a plan.  And this, this is my plan.

Confessional; Seeking Forgiveness

I feel like I should be in the confessional at church asking my priest for some sin that I've committed.  My sin?  Gaining weight back, after working so hard ot lose it.

I had to try on pants yesterday because I'm working at the office for a couple of days and yoga/jeans are not acceptable.  None of them fit.  I could get none of them over my ass.  None. 

It makes me so frustrated to see that I had come so far and now I'm headed back in the wrong direction.  Call me Judgy McJudgerson, but when I used to read weight loss bloggers talk about a significant weight gain, I judged.  They fell off the food wagon and couldn't get back on.  I thought that I was immune to regaining my weight.  I have the gastric band, I have a good relationship with food and with the gym, I have a supportive husband. 

And I was so freaking proud of myself before surgery because although my gym going was sporadic, I had learned how to maintain my weight.  No I wasn't losing, but I also wasn't gaining. I thought I had such a good, reformed relationship with food and how to eat to maintain weight. 

And yet here I am, 6 months after this roller coaster of possible breast cancer and mastectomies and recovery and I am a good 15 pounds heavier than I was pre-surgery.  My body shape has changed, both because of my weight gain and my surgery.  None of my pants fit me, other than yoga pants.  I don't feel good about myself and my body and I don't fucking know how to make it all better.  I just want it all better.  I want my body and life that I had before it was all mashed up with biopsies and surgery and sitting around.

If I confess all my sins to you, can I get back to that place?  If I say 12 Hail Marys and study the food chart, will I be forgiven?  Can I forgive myself?  I'm frustrated and sad and I feel like I have no control over what is going on in my life!

And then it occurs to me that maybe that's why I'm eating.  Maybe my food relationship isn't all that great and I'm eating because I can't control the rest of my life.  But I can sure control that bag of Muddie Buddies Chex Mix going in my mouth.  Maybe that's the lesson in all of this.  I know putting that food in my mouth isn't making the control and emotions any better.  I know this.  It's not making the fact that I had both breasts removed and have fake boobs any better.  It's certainly not making my post surgical body image any better.  It's not making anything better.  Maybe that's the lesson in this.

I need to continue to accept that I am a disorganized eater with a broken relationship with food.  Instead of pushing the emotions away by trying to eat them, I need to recognize what I'm putting in my mouth at all times and why I'm eating it.  Instead of eating my life, I need to talk it out or write it out or exercise it out, hell even scream it out into nothingness.  But I can't continue to eat it.

Maybe there is a lesson in all of this.  Maybe I can ask for forgiveness.  But not from a priest, from myself.  I need to forgive myself and it's ok to do that.  My relationship with food will always be broken, but I have choices in how I deal with it.  Maybe the lesson is forgiveness and choices and learning to allow myself to have these periods and chose to get myself out of them.

So I bought pants.  And I hate them.  I absolutely fucking hate them with a passion.  They fit, they're nice pants, but I will always hate them because they are a size or 2 larger than what I was wearing before.

2 Steps Forward, 1 Step back

Surgery on Friday went well, at least I think so.  If I talked to the doctor after surgery, I have no memory of it.  Pete says that he told them it went well and everything was good. 

The large lump on my left chest area was dying fatty tissue.  He took out most of it, but said that if he took it all, there would be an indent and he didn't want that.  This worries me to be honest.  The Lump must be directly on my muscle and it presses when I try to exercise my chest.  It would actually shoot pain up through my neck and make that muscle pretty sore.  But I guess I need to trust that this surgery fixed most of the problems.

He also decided to fix the ugly scar and take the sebaceous cyst on my chest.  The thing is like a cat and has multiple lives.  Every surgeon has said that they got it all out.  Let's hope that he got it all this time.

I'm back to my back really hurting in the morning from the way that I must be sleeping.  The pain from the surgery sites wakes me up at night and I have to take another pain pill.  I'm trying to go without during the day and today is the first day back to working after surgery.  I'm cutting it short at 4 hours.  But I was supposed to have a full day tomorrow and Wednesday.  I'm not sure that I'm up to that and hopefully my co-workers understand this.

I feel like I took 2 steps forward in recovery and could do lots of things and feel pretty good and now I'm back to limited motions, pain and soreness.

I Am One of Many

I remember after my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer.  Our family became involved in raising money for Susan Komen and American Cancer Society.  We went on walks and meetings and held events.  It was important to support my Mom in what she needed to do at that time.

I find myself taking a similar path.  And it occurred to me that what I really want is to know that I am not alone.  It'd not that I wish this on anyone, but for me life is about knowing that I'm not alone and making some connections.  I need to know that someone walked the same path I did, before I did.  That someone can tell me the way to go or give me hints on how to get to where I want to be.  This is what I did when I had my abnormal biopsy and when I wanted to lose weight; I reached out.

With my surgery looming on Friday 9/20/13, I find myself desperate to connect with others who have walked my path.  I've connected with FORCE and registered for what I could there.  Yesterday I Googled "Previvor" and started clicking links.  There are women out there who are Previvors, but I have yet to find a woman who isn't BRCA positive and still chose to have the mastectomy.  I sometimes wonder if I am an anomaly?  A one of a kind?

These are the blogs/sites that I found:

Previvor Generation:  A woman who's had mastectomy and is in the process of reconstruction.  She's honest.  And I love that.

High Risk Humor:  This woman was partially though her process and considering therapy.  She last posted in March so I'm not sure what happened.

Previvor:  This 23 year old woman documented her journey in video.  I'm amazed at the willingness women have to share and this is no exception.  I can't wait to watch her videos, probably after my surgery.

Three Sister Survival:  These 3 sisters were all diagnosed with breast cancer within the same year!  Talk about family history and risk of genetic cancer.

Brave Bosom:  This woman talks about all of the various aspects of BRCA, testing, media, insurance...  She is a wonderful writer and makes me think of things that I had not previously thought of.

Bright Pink:  I've not heard of this before, why?  They are an advocacy group for women who focus on the risk reduction and early detection of breast and ovarian cancer in young women while providing support for high-risk individuals.  Me!  I sent an email about an event they are having in Minneapolis on 9/25/13.  I'm hoping that I feel well enough to attend.  Incredibly, I received a response almost immediately that the national contact was forwarding my email to the local contact.  I received a response that said if I'm not up to the event next week. to let her know when I am feeling better and she will meet me for coffee.

Still?  I am searching for that one woman.  That woman who isn't BRCA positive, didn't have cancer, but because of other risk factors chose to have the mastectomy.  Surely I'm not the only one?

I'm here...Anxious Again

I'm going through that rollercoaster of emotions again.

Friday I have my revision surgery to clear up some issues with my foobs (fake boobs) and I get my fipples (fake nipples). 

Again I think I'm in that place of "it will be over once this is over."  That place where I try not to think about what is coming, because if I did, I'd go nuts.  Maybe I am already nuts.

 I had a major nesting episode this past weekend where I  started cleaning.  Pete causally says "Are you bored?"  Wrong thing to say.  Nope, not bored, just cleaning a house that needs cleaning.  I think I tarted a fight to relieve some of my pressure and he started to respond, then told me to go away.  An hour later, we had both cleaned our anger away and apologized.

I'm struggling with the fact that I feel better.  I feel good enough that I'm working 8 hours a day (albeit at home).  I can clean for an hour (it exhausts me and I'm fast asleep by 8:30pm).  I can cook/bake (but take a nap in the afternoon).  It's a struggle because I keep telling Pete to go, ride his motorcycle, go to the store, walk and work out.  When I want to be doing those things with him.  Initially I told him to get out of the house and do stuff because it wasn't fair that he was stuck inside with me.  But partially I did that because I knew that I couldn't participate.  Now I think I can do it and it stings to watch him walk out of the house without me and make plans without me.

It must be like living with someone who is bi-polar, this living with me.

I've learned though, that I need to talk.  That I can talk.  And that it's ok to share.  I'm opening up a bit by bit and letting him understand some of what's in my head.  I hope that I can continue to do this, bit by bit.

So that's my story, for today and today only.  All of this may or may not change tomorrow.  It's just how my life is working right now.

Today Has No Plan

Today has no revolutionary plan to change my life completely by Friday. 

I keep seeing on Pinterest this quote about if you're tired of starting over, don't quit anymore.  Well damn, that's a kick in the pants.

This is the thing, I don't think I quit.  I think that I was on am on this healthiness journey in life.  This marathon to the end.  And along the way, I needed to detour to do something else for my health.  Right?  I mean, who the hell cares if I'm skinny Michelle with rock hard abs and hips like a 13 year old if I have breast cancer and my body is ravaged by the side effects of chemo?

Keep trying.

I met with Dr July.  My very loved bariatric surgeon.  She is one of two doctors that I'd follow to the ends of the Earth for care if they left this area.  She's brutally honest and wants me to be honest too.  She's caring, but will tell me to kick it in gear when I need it.  She also doesn't have unreasonable expectations of me.

She noted that I gained 15 pounds since prior to surgery and about 5 pounds in the last month.  Clearly, my band is not where it needs to be to keep me from stuffing my face.  Clearly, I need this band to be set for me to help me eat in a way that is healthy.  It's convicned me that I really do need this band.  We talked for a while about how I've been doing and what's been stopping me from being healthy.  Really talked.

One of my issues is that I don't know how to work my abs and chest so that I'm not hurting them, but rebuilding muscle.  I can't walk/run because my abs are so weak and really a bit injured still from surgery.  So I'm on this cycle.  She referred me to a few sessions with a sports physical therapist to help me learn how to do that without hurting myself. 

She referred me back to eating 3 planned meals and 2 planned snacks a day.  To try this for a couple of weeks and if I can't sustain this, I need to make an appointment with the nutristionist for some check ups on my eating habits and patterns.

She referred me to their exercise specialist at the center.  I can meet with her as often as needed for help with appropriate exercises for healing and getting back to loving that daily workout.

And I committed to myself to be mindful of my eating again.  To ask myself why I'm eating before I put something in my mouth.  And to check myself for a healthier option to what I was/am about to put in my mouth.  Mindful eating.

So I have a plan.  But unlike the other plans, this is today.  I'll worry about tomorrow when it arrives.