Wigs and Things

''Hello! May I please have an ounce of marshmallow root, and an ounce of stinging nettle?''. ''Sure, but...you have to tell me first!''. ''Okay...tell you what ?''. '' You know ; Did your period ever come back? I've been dying to find out!''. Now to answer the burning question of both you and the local herbalist's, the answer is yes, my period did come back. And yes, I am such a 'townie' that even the herbalist is keeping track of my sporadic cycles with intense (and surprising) enthusiasm. I went in there right after Christmas, so less than a month ago. I was a regular for years, both there and the other herbal shop the next town ever. Even though I am not religious, I like to blend medicinal teas reminiscent of biblical times, the ''Red Tent'' days and all of that. My love affair with herbs began when I was 24 years old, as I walked past an herbal shop on my way to and from...

August 30, 2017, the day I lost my breasts, lost my cancer, and regained control of my life! It was bittersweet to say the least. Of course it was. But it needed to be done. Pete and I arrived at 5:30 a.m. on Wednesday, August 30th, and they checked me in and brought be back to pre-op. I changed into a gown, rifling through the goody bag they gave me. ''A sample of Young Living lavender oil, huh? That's a nice touch!'', I thought to myself. I watched the news, the nurse gave me an i.v., and Pete came back and joined me. ''Here is something to help you calm down'', they said. I was perfectly calm, but okay. The next thing I knew, I woke up in my room. Pete was watching the Big Bang Theory, and it was late afternoon. ''Is it over?'', I asked, confused. It was. My general surgeon only had to remove two lymph nodes, none of which had any cancer left. Victory! My plastic surgeon did a beautiful job with my free tram reconstruc...

I am not going to lie to you, saying goodbye to my breasts was hard. Not because I am a vain type of person, and not because I have been one to accentuate my breasts. Quite the opposite, in fact. I recall over the years so many people, my husband included,  telling me I should wear this or that because I ''have the chest for it''. I always felt uncomfortable and preferred modesty. My relationship with my breasts was so much more than that. They swam in everything from the icy canals of Long Island, to night swimming in the Atlantic, to the warm waters of the Indian Ocean. They were fitted for many a bra, and felt fancy when a new one made just for them arrived at the shop. They were covered with cocoa butter and nipple butter and vitamin e oil to keep them in good shape and ease the pains of nursing. They grew and shrank and grew again through three pregnancies, and fed three babies, one of whom for three and half years. They nursed in two hemispheres at once on t...

Pre-op appointment for free tram flap Colonoscopy Time! Haven't I been tortured enough? You may be thinking that now that chemo is done, everything is all sunshine and rainbows and butterflies. How do I break this to you? No. In every possible sense of the word. If you are having post-chemo surgery like me, there is an insane amount of prep work to be done. Such as... 1. Pre-op visits. Since I am having a general surgeon perform the bilateral mastectomy and a plastic surgeon perform the free tram flap, this means two visits. 2. Port removal. My surgeons will not take my port out during surgery, and since I am having radiation I would have to wait at least six months for it to be removed after surgery, which brings us into the Spring. I will be damned if I am going to have this hard plastic thing serving pretty much zero purpose continuing to occupy my body until the Spring. I opted not to have anesthetic, and yes, it di...

"Strong like Mom'' and ''Bring your baby to Chemo'' Day. No, there is no such thing as ''Bring your baby to Chemo'' Day.  Pete just pushed him around the hospital and had lunch in the bistro during my last chemo sesh. Benadryl in an iv before my last Taxol infusion My fancy certificate.  Ringing the bell.  Well, I am officially done with chemo! After 4 doses of A/C and 4 of Taxol, I am elated to announce that I am DONE and DONE with my chemotherapy journey. The side effects have been, well, pretty awful, and my hair, skin, and nails have taken a beating. Taxol has caused terrible bone and joint pain, and my body aches horribly. Luckily by the time my ''good week'' rolls around, I am feeling almost normal. For anyone embarking on their own journey with chemo, just remember you, too, will soon be ringing the bell as you happily skip away from the infusion chair. You may be a shell of your former...

When I first got diagnosed with breast cancer, I read a piece entitled, ''The Perks of Having Cancer.'' The perks of having WHAT? Seriously? There are no perks... Not now. Not ever. One of the ''perks'' which stuck out in my mind was how you learn who your true family and friends are. Three months in to this nightmare, I have found this resonating with me significantly. I have not heard from certain family members. It took eight days after my diagnosis for me to speak to my own mother, and that was only because I called her to inform her I was starting chemotherapy the following day. ''Oh, I didn't know you were starting so soon.'' Really? Initially I received a card from my mother and another from my brother. My brother also sent me a text message about two months later. I responded, he did not. That was it. In three months of being diagnosed with breast cancer and undergoing chemotherapy, I received one card and a text messa...

Great news! I had my last dance with the Red Devil (adriamycin/cyoxan) four weeks ago. After four intense rounds, I really didn't think I was going to make it through. That's the reality, it was rough. But, I did. I survived it. And do you know what the best part is? It worked! The Red Devil worked. My 3 cm. tumor is no longer palpable and the ultrasound showed it has withered away to nothing except a bit of tissue around the biopsy marker. So if you are reading this and thinking there is no way you will survive it, trust me, you will. Here are some things which helped me-tremendously: - Ginger ale and crackers. This was all I could consume for the first few days afterward. - Sancuso patch. Sancuso patch. Sancuso patch. Did I mention the Sancuso patch? It is a miracle! This helped with my nausea more than anything and allowed me to function for the sake of my family; I could drive my children to school and care for my baby without feeling sick. - By three days post-chem...

Today is Wednesday, the day of my CT and bone scans and surgical port placement to receive chemo tomorrow. I weaned Sawyer on Monday morning before my MRI, since I wouldn't be able to nurse for 24 hours due to the contrast dye. Monday night was brutal for us both. Tuesday night was better. Sawyer even drank a bottle for me and fell asleep doing so holding on to my finger! The early morning hours of Wednesday soon snuck up on us, and Sawyer ended up sleeping between  us in our bed. I was going to wake up before we had to leave for the hospital to pump the last batch of  'good' milk for my sweet baby. After today, every bit I pump until my supply fades away will be useless to him. Around the same time Sawyer woke up, when I normally I would have just nursed him, I had woken up with sore, full breasts. They were still on their schedule to feed. Sawyer was still on his schedule to nurse. Hmm...what to do? I was about to make him a bottle and then pump. We went ...

I always thought that when I would experience Portland, it would be of the Oregon variety. Maine, even. Certainly not a chemo port. But, here I am, in the most precarious of situations, having a port surgically placed in my chest to start receiving chemotherapy tomorrow. As my wise friend M.K. once said, ''Sometimes when life hands you a shit sandwich, you just have to eat it.'' I guess this is, essentially, me taking the first bite of the shit sandwich that is breast cancer. A port is a small plastic entry point surgically placed under the skin to the opposite side of where the cancer is. It is where the chemo is administered. For me, this will happen every other Thursday, for 8 rounds, over 16 weeks. The procedure was performed by a vascular surgeon, and it only took 30 minutes. I slept the whole time. They gave me hydrocodone, which I later took at home and made a quick, eh...reappearance. Thankfully, I haven't needed any more pain meds and it ha...

Today I nursed my baby for the last time. This day has come for me before. Twice. But on those occasions, it was on mine and my baby's terms. Not cancer's. I think that is what makes it all the more harder; it is the first thing cancer is taking from me. Soon it will be my hair. My energy. Possibly my breasts. And, ever looming, the ominous threat of my life. Even 10, 20, 30, 40 years from now, I will always wonder if it has come back for me. And I cannot handle it. Breastfeeding means a lot to me. I love tummy to tummy, putting my baby in milk comas, him holding my finger in his little hand. I love all of *our* quirky, nursy things that we do. I love wearing him in a carrier close to me where he can just nurse and fall asleep to the sound of my heart. I love when he wakes up in the middle of night and just nurses back to sleep in my arms. No bottles. No formula. No water. No pacifier. Just us. We are enough for each other. Until I became a breast cancer warrio...