Some people think having large breasts makes a woman stupid. Actually, it's quite the opposite: A woman having large breasts makes men stupid. – Rita Rudner

Part of my journey through this whole breast cancer crap has involved me reading about the experiences of other woman who have been through this as well. Today I read a blog post from a woman who documented her transition from mastectomy to expanders to implants. She said all the same things that I’m going through. It’s good to know I’m not alone.

The woman who wrote the blog post included her pre-mastectomy, post-mastectomy with expanders and post-implant surgery pictures (NO, I’m not sharing pictures of me, so you might as well just get that idea out of your head. No, don’t ask for pictures either. It ain’t happening.) Her pictures document her body before mastectomy, with fully inflated expanders and then post implants. I gotta say, if I wasn’t already anxious to get my implants, I am now. Back to a normal state again. Her new breasts look gorgeous. Seriously, just like young, perky, normal breasts only without nipples. As my husband says, “A face without a nose.” Yup, that’s pretty much what they look like.

As I’ve said before, during the surgery to remove my breast tissue, expanders were inserted and inflated with 250 ccs of saline. I came out of surgery as a small B cup. The expanders are making a pocket for my implants. I know I’ve discussed how the process works; they’re rigid balloons that were placed under my pectoral muscle and periodically get inflated with 50-100 ccs of saline to stretch the muscle and skin. They are uncomfortable, they have edges and they’re ugly. My muscles hurt and I struggle to find a comfortable sleeping position….Every. Single. Night. It’s rough. My breathing is compromised because these things are just not very forgiving. They push back on my lungs and forward on my everything else. I have little to no feeling in the center 75% of my breast, as the nerve endings are still regenerating, to whatever extent they will eventually come back. I bump into things and don’t know I’ve hit them. They don’t jiggle. They don’t move AT ALL. What I’m currently hauling around on my chest is bigger than my normal size and it’s not helping my feelings of being overweight. The expanders are made bigger than my implants so they create a pocket. When I was inflated last week, I nearly cried on my drive home. They just seem too big and completely obnoxious. For the purpose of clarity, I’m currently filled with 500 ccs of saline. This amount is equivalent to just over 2 cups of liquid in each breast. The current plan is to go to 550 ccs in the expanders and insert 450 cc implants. I’m concerned that this may be bigger than I want. I may just put my foot down and say I’m done expanding, and go with something a little smaller. I still need to discuss this with my plastic surgeon.

I’m trying to not complain, but this is just my day to day experience.

My surgery to get the implants is scheduled for November 13. I have to wait at least a month after my last chemo treatment (the soonest I’d be eligible for surgery would be the very end of September) and then we’re headed on vacation shortly thereafter. I don’t want to deal with any possible complications that might compromise this vacation, so I’ve decided to wait until after the trip. Mid-November was the soonest this could be done. New boobies just in time for the holidays!!

My next decision to make is whether or not to have nipples created. They’d be non-functional, I wouldn’t really feel anything and they’d be eternally erect. They’d be small, but will finish out the “normalcy” transition. I can also decide to just have 3-dimensial tattooing done where the nipple and surrounding aerola are just tattooed and look like a nipple. It would be flat with a 3D appearance. This idea simply amazes me. I’ve seen it online in my research, and the tattoo artists that can do this are just so talented. The advantage here is that I won’t look cold all the time when I’m wearing a thin or no bra. Perhaps this is the route to take.

Maybe I’ll just skip all of this and have criss-crossed, band-aids tattooed on instead of nipples….or buttons….or something else (SKULLS!!)? All the options in the world are available to me. So many decisions to make.

My breasts have always been an integral part to who I am, but I didn’t even hesitate to have them both removed when I was diagnosed. And it’s not that I really had much of a choice. It was either just remove the right one that contained the cancer, or get them both removed and replaced with a matching set and greatly decrease the possibility of ever being told again that I have breast cancer. It seemed to be an easy decision at the time. I didn’t know how much I’d miss them. I’m not going to say it’s no big deal, because it really is. I miss my original equipment. And even though they had certainly been affected by time and gravity, they were mine.

I would give just about anything to get back to the time before I was diagnosed with cancer. 

Baseball is ninety percent mental and the other half is physical. – Yogi Berra

Two down, two to go. I may be halfway through the treatments as of last Thursday, but hardly halfway through the rest of the garbage that comes with the chemo treatment. The physical effects are only part of the story. The mental challenges are equally daunting.

Physically speaking, my second chemotherapy session was similar to the first. I fully expected it to be the same, so I can’t explain why I was disappointed when it didn't deviate. I felt fine Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Sunday I woke up feeling a little more tired, but no big deal.

And then it all hit me early Sunday afternoon; overwhelming exhaustion and a flu-like feeling. I NEEDED to sleep. I took a one hour nap (Napping for me is a rarity. I’m either sick or just ran a half marathon. And even after a half, I don’t always nap.) I woke still tired and feeling off. By dinnertime I couldn't stand for more than a couple of minutes before feeling woozy and needing to lie down. I decided to take my temperature just because…..sure enough, 100.5. Crap. Another stupid fever, just like last time. If it didn't go down, I needed to go on antibiotics. I called my doctor, who just happened to be on-call again this weekend. She gently reminded me that this happened last time and that perhaps it’s just my unique body’s reaction. Remain calm and monitor the temperature. Call again if it escalates.

I felt utterly defeated because of the fever. I wasn't going to let this happen again….right, because I have control over this…..silly girl…..still, I was disappointed. This is just another reminder that I’m not in charge. I am only a passenger on this bus. Suck it up and deal with it. Put on your big-girl panties and just deal with it. Ultimately, the temperature went down within a few hours and by bedtime, it was nearly normal. Whew!

By Monday, I was much better and the fever was gone. But now I was dealing with the emotional side of the chemo. I was grappling with the feelings that came after looking in the mirror and seeing a stranger; an old, mostly bald stranger. (For the record, I still have some hair hanging on. Sadly, it’s only the gray hair and for whatever reason, it’s actually growing. So, to recap, I have growing, sparse, gray hair on my head. Yup, I’m a bucket of gorgeous.) I changed my clothes multiple times before settling on a dress to wear to work and I still felt ugly. The steroids make me feel fat and the scarves make me feel old. Who is this person? Surely I’m not the one who is actually insecure about my appearance? Oh yes…it’s you, Kim. It’s all you…..my lack of activity, despite being given clearance for light running, certainly isn't helping. Truth be told, I’m afraid to start moving again. I haven’t run in nearly 2 months so I’m starting over again. I don’t want to exhaust myself too much, perchance it compromises my healing. Perhaps these are irrational thoughts, but they’re thoughts that are pervasive in my brain these days. I hate to admit that they are in my head; it only makes them real.

These feelings are not acceptable. What to do about it? Control and change what you can, find a positive in the day and let the rest go. Maybe I’ll treat myself to a snack that I wouldn't otherwise have, maybe give myself some private time with my glass or indulge in time game time with my kids. Maybe, just get my fat fanny moving again. Just find SOMETHING that makes me happy and reminds me that this too shall pass. Although I’m aware that I won’t always find the right thing to overcome these feelings, I continue do the best I can. Some days, the depression wins; some days, I do. Monday, the depression won. Today, it won’t. I may have lost Monday’s battle, but I won’t lose this war.

So today, I’m wearing pink. It’s bright and cheery and nothing like the gray and black I first put on this morning. Today, I only changed my clothes once.

A woman who cuts her hair is about to change her life. - Coco Chanel

I finally did it. I cut off all of my hair. It’s never been a matter of winning, it’s been a matter of how long I can last before I lose. It was the most traumatic day I’ve had since my surgery. Before I address the whole hair issue though, I suppose an update on the events of the last few weeks is in order.

It’s been nearly three weeks since my first chemo and the reality is that so far, it has been way easier than I had expected. I will have a total of four treatments, three weeks apart. My first one was on June 26, number two is this week, July 17 and if all goes as planned, the following will be on August 7 and 28. My nurse’s first attempt at inserting my IV resulted in my vein puffing up and giving me a sizable bruise. I had to point out to the nurse that my arm is covered in juicy veins and maybe she should select one that is already bulging. Needle-dependent drug addicts would love to have my veins. After the trauma of her first attempt, she finally inserted the IV into the pit of my elbow…is there any other way to explain it? We have an arm pit, why not an elbow pit? It’s where all of my blood draws have been so why not go to the easy vein? Before I began the chemo, she gave me some anti-nausea pills. I was told to drink 2 liters of liquid (water and Gatorade are best) each day for the next 3 because the chemo drugs they were giving me get hung up in the kidneys and bladder. They needed to be flushed regularly. No problem here…I’m a drinking machine. In the time I sat there, I drank 40 oz of Gatorade and 24 oz of water. I peed 4 times.

I sat there for nearly 3 hours with poison being pumped into my body. I expected to feel weird about it, but it felt like a saline IV. No big deal. I kept myself busy by watching Netflix. What a wonderful invention…and even more wonderful that it’s available on my phone. God bless technology.

I enjoyed the calm and quiet time I had to myself. My friend (and my husband’s cousin’s wife) Heather went through this same process over 2 years ago. She told me that she looked forward to chemo day. She’d have lunch with a girlfriend and then sit quietly and relax during treatment. She’s a smart lady and absolutely right. The opportunity for a mom to just sit for any length of time is a blessing….so in this, I’ve found something good: guilt-free time for me.

I went home and felt fine. I’m not exactly sure what I expected to feel….nausea? My hair spontaneously falling out? My insides being zapped? None of that happened. I felt normal. I went home and ate dinner. I ate a lot of dinner. I realized that night that I had a voracious appetite. I expected the opposite. Don’t all cancer patients lose their appetite and subsequently lose weight? Not this cancer patient. No….I have gained weight. Leave it to me to do the opposite of what’s expected, and I didn’t even do it on purpose this time. In case you’re wondering, the “Cancer Diet” is not a sure-thing. So far, it’s failed for me. I’m going to have to lose weight the old-fashioned way…..diet and exercise. Drat. I asked my doctor about this and she reminded me that I’m also taking steroids the day before, of and after my chemo, and  apparently, steroids have a tendency to increase the appetite. Lucky me….

Three days after my chemo treatment I felt a little “off”. I was really tired and probably slept over 10 hours that day. I was also running a low fever. At least, I thought it was low. By their standards, anything over 100.5 is cause for concern. I was at 100.4 and decided that was close enough for me to make a call. My oncologist just happened to be on-call that day and told me to watch my temp. If it kept increasing, I needed to go to the hospital. She also wanted me to come in the next day for a blood draw to check my white blood cell count. Fortunately for me, my temp began to drop shortly after that phone call (isn’t that always the way?) and I felt better. Perhaps my body just thought it was time to attack this foreign presence of the chemo? I don’t know, but I do hope it doesn’t happen again after my next treatment. If it does, I won’t be as panicked as I was the first time. It’s just my reaction and everyone reacts differently.

I went in for a blood draw the next morning and my results were completely normal. It was the first time in weeks that I actually had something that was “normal”.

I was really hoping to dodge the hair loss bullet, but sadly, no such luck. It began to fall out in noticeable numbers about 10 days after my first treatment. By day 14, I was losing fistfuls and because it was so long, I had a matted mess and essentially three huge dreadlocks in my hair. I couldn’t even get a comb through it after my shower. I threw it up into a clip on the top of my head and resigned to the fact that this would be my last day with long hair for a few years.

That evening, I had another reminder of how lucky I am. Two of my dearest friends in the world dropped everything, came over to my house and had me cut off their hair and then they cut mine. My husband and my friends Julio and Jim made me laugh and cry as we cut off the one thing that simultaneously gave me joy and heartache. It was the most liberating thing I’ve ever done. I was past that hurdle. The hair was gone and it’s all caught on video. Go big, or go home….might as well capture the entire event for all to see.

I am feeling better about the hair loss than I thought I would, but still, I feel as though I’m standing completely naked in the most public of places. This is WAY outside of my comfort zone. I have ALWAYS had long hair. It’s my cloak. It’s my protection. It’s my super power. And now, it’s gone. I’ve ordered a wig that resembles my real hair. I’ve been told that it’s good to have options. I’m sure there will be more than one occasion where I’ll be glad to have it.

In addition to the wig, I’m going to totally rock other head-covering options. I’ve found a bunch of different designs with skulls, camo designs and I even found one with flames on it. I’m also going to make a Badger themed one for UW Football games. I can’t show up without proper Badger gear! A Packer do-rag is also on the list. (Superstitions reign supreme during the football season. Gotta have the right attire or the team won’t play their best! It’s only weird if it doesn’t work, right?) I can wear these do-rags after this madness is done, when I go for a run. I’m doing my best to find the upside and a reason to smile about all of this. The hats, scarves and do-rags are just another accessory and I’m going to make the most of it.

And in case you’re wondering, the do-rag du jour is pink camo which my daughter bought for me, and it looks awesome.