Wigs and Things

Twas the night before my mastectomy, when all through the lake, not a creature was stirring, not even a snake. The sage was lit around the circle with care, in hopes that a yew tree would be planted there. Ah, the humble yew tree. As anyone who has read a prior post entitled, ''Agony and the Yew Tree'' knows, one of my past chemo meds, Taxol, is derived from a yew tree. Since chemotherapy has played such a significant role in saving my life, I felt it was important to properly thank Mother Earth for creating it. Let me stop right here to add something before we continue; I am not a religious person. In fact, the very thought of begging for my life to an all-knowing, all-powerful God makes me want to cringe. Why? Because why has he put me in this situation in the first place? And it's not because ''everything happens for a reason'', or it's ''God's plan''. It's because sometimes people just get cancer.  ...

The Saturday night before my mastectomy, I hosted a party called,  Thanks for the Mammories: A Farewell Party for my Breasts . I wanted an adult-only party in the evening (as much as I just love being interrupted a gajillion times by my children), with beer pong, garden lights, 90's music,  breast cupcakes, wine, good beer, and Jello shots.  I made strawberry margarita jello shots with lime and they were delicious. We had prizes, too; whomever had a pink fox sticker on the bottom of their shot won a pink candle, whomever had the coveted yellow fox sticker won champagne gummy bears. It was super-fun to celebrate the last Saturday night ''my girls'' would ever have. We had attended a lot of fun parties over the years, and hosted quite a few, too, so I felt this was very befitting. Since my 34th birthday would be two days after I arrived home from the hospital and I would still be very sore and have 4 surgical drains in, I requested guests bring something in the colo...

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...