Binder Free

I haven't spoken much about my binder.  For the first few weeks after my surgery in April I had to wear a nylon binder/girdle contraption 24 hours a day - except when I was showering. It was very itchy and difficult to put on.  It actually caused the hives to come back on a few occasions until I realized that I could put a slip on under it. After the first couple of weeks I was able to step down to a spanx type binder.  This was pretty heavenly, it was still very tight - but much smoother.  The other advantage is that I could put it back on by myself, and didn't have to ask for help each time I got dressed.  The disadvantage is that because of the new binder's shape I had to totally disrobe every time I had to go to the bathroom.

I need you to imagine the significance of this statement for just a moment.  I had to totally disrobe each and every time I had to go to the bathroom for almost two months.  It was a huge embarrassment and inconvenience. I am sure that people wondered why it took two to three times longer each time I had to excuse myself.

I am so thankful to be cleared from using the binder. It is still difficult to pick up items that weigh more than thirty or forty pounds.  From time to time I get strange, phantom pains, or an itchy sensation where by belly button should be.  I am constantly adjusting to my new normal.

Part of my new normal is the reality of what doctors' appointments are like.  I feel as though every medical professional  in the Richmond area has examined my new breasts.

Doctor's visits begin with the wait. I can't get upset about it, there are far too many people suffering from cancer.  I sit in waiting rooms with people who are in various stages of the same struggle that I am experiencing.  Sometimes I start up a conversation with them, other times I am far too timid.  I see the glances of family and care givers trying to figure out my place or purpose in the cancer institute.  It is hard, I have almost perfected the art of chemoflauge.  Sometimes I just want to cry out, "It's just make-up, I hurt too!"  That is the truth, it is my truth.  I hurt often.  Mostly pains from my stomach incision and the muscles surrounding it, sometimes pains from my newly formed breasts, occasionally discomfort from my port.   Sometimes brand new pains that last for a day or two and throw me into a tailspin, terrified that the pain is caused by a new or metastasized cancer.  I smile through it, work through the pain and fear, it is my new normal - I have to adjust.  There is no other option.  I have to remind myself almost daily that I am only 5 months out from major surgery.

When I am called back to be seen by the doctor I am handed an impossibly small blue gown.  As I continue to lose weight it becomes easier to close, however I can always see my bright red scars reflected in the mirrors that surround me. They stand out in stark contrast to my pearly white skin.  I measured, my scars if placed from end to end read would reach from the floor all the way to my new breasts.  The irony is clear.  For me this is the hardest part, being stuck in a room where I am so vulnerably able to inspect my new self.  The woman that cancer created.

Internally, I am very much the same Rebecca. I feel as though my personality shines through, no matter what I am feeling.  This gives me great peace.  Every day I become stronger and am able to do the simple tasks that I used to give little or no thought to.  I am thankful now for every little thing, every day.

It is inspirational for me to hear from people who have followed my story.  It warms my heart to hear how the words that I write here affect them.  Often times these posts are very difficult to write and leave me emotionally exhausted.  I continue to write with the hope that I will both inform and inspire.  More than anything I want to spread the importance of early detection.  I am alive today because I was inspired to perform self exams by a fellow warrior.  I am thankful every day for her guidance, bravery, and willingness to share her story so openly.

There are not words adequate to express my gratitude for all of you who have supported me through this past year.  I am so thankful for all of you.  I cannot begin to tell you how many times that I read and re-read your kind messages and posts.  I keep a bag with every single inspirational note and card that I have been lucky enough to receive.  It is overflowing. I am so blessed by wonderful friends and an amazingly strong support system.

I look at the calendar in disbelief that it has been almost a year since my diagnosis.  There are many different ways that people decide on their "cancerversary." I have decided to claim the day of the epic phone call when my worst fears were confirmed.  That is the day that I became, and will remain a survivor.

Please continue to spread love and light in all things that you do. Find the light in the darkest of situations, it is always there if you open your heart to find it.

I will continue to #fightlikeamommy, after all #itisstillmyfairytale.

Only 3 Left!

I cannot believe that this part of my journey is coming to an end.  There is an anxiety that is not often spoken of during this portion of treatment.  When I was first diagnosed I had a plethora of doctors surrounding me at all times.  It was hectic and stressful, but oddly comforting that I was embraced with such immense care.  As I have progressed through treatment many of my doctors have "dropped off." They are still there if I need them, but I don't have to check in regularly.  It is both a relief and a source of anxiety.  After July I will check in with my surgical oncologist once a year, and my oncologist every three months for the next five years.  I am aware that that sounds like a lot, but in comparison it seems like nothing.

This is one of the headbands made for me by Buy a Thread.  I cannot say enough how much I love them, and how beautiful they make me feel.  You should totally go look at their website, you might even see a super cute model.  Buy a Thread

Many of you have been asking about scans, unfortunately the new standard of care is to only have scans if you are symptomatic.  I will have "tumor markers" drawn every three months to see if there is indication that cancer is growing somewhere in my body, but no MRIs, CAT scans, or anything else.  I have to be honest, this terrifies me.  I would be totally okay with having scans done every other week.  However, that is no longer the "standard of care," and I am told that it probably wouldn't be safe to expose myself to that much radiation.

I did receive some pretty amazing news this week.  I get to have my port taken out after my last treatment.  This is awesome!  It has been in for almost a year, and is uncomfortable - useful, but uncomfortable.  I am so glad that my surgeon feels confident enough in my treatment plan to allow me to have it taken out, many cancer patients are asked to keep the port in for a year or sometimes two following treatment.  I am blessed.

The kids are doing great.  They are so sad to be leaving their teachers, but excited about the adventure of summer.  I am pretty sad about school ending too, this year we have been graced with teachers who are total rock stars.  I will be forever grateful to them for helping me pull my sweet babies through this year as gracefully as we have been able to.  

Recently, Tommy reacted to this shirt I was wearing.

This totally amazing shirt was made for me by Lexi.  I am so thankful for her friendship and support, and for her momma, my chemo buddy.

He said, "Fighting Cancer wasn't even that hard mommy."  For a second I was taken aback, then I realized that I had done exactly what I set out to do last August.  I kept the pain, and fear hidden from them.  I fought like a mommy.

I want to thank you all again for loving me through it. I have learned so much about myself, I have made friends in the most unexpected places, I have learned how important it is to live each and every moment.

Please continue to spread the word of early detection, and the importance of self exams.  Had I not been aware of my body, the subtle pain and tiny skittle sized bump I would not have found my tumor. If I had waited for my first mammogram to make myself aware of the risks of breast cancer I would likely be dead.

With the help of my brilliant friend, Beth, I was able to find the perfect dress for my last chemotherapy treatment.  My aunt Jan is making me a fancy cape to go with it.  I am going to look like a real live princess.  I am so excited.

My dear friend Lauren threw me a surprise 31 party.  It was a huge success and I was so honored.  I have the best friends.