Rapier's Wit

Today was my three month check-up. In August chemotherapy for breast cancer was completed. Oof. What a freakin' year that was for me ... for my son. Hell is a great way to describe it. I refuse to call it a journey. To me, a journey implies something fantastic and adventurous. Cancer and the treatment is torturous ride through hell. The only upside is that treatment is available, it was caught earlier enough, and I have decent insurance. Something a lot of people assume about cancer treatment is that the patient will lose weight. Nope. Not always the case and certainly not the case for breast cancer patients. Weight GAIN is most common. Whoopie! Just what a gal wants. No appetite yet you pack on the el-bees. So, I'm heavier than ever in my life. Every day is a reminder that although I am alive (thank you modern medicine), cancer will haunt me forever. Angst strikes at the most unexpected times. As anyone who has struggled with the scale, weight is difficult to lose, but it ...

A week and a half ago I awoke with pain in my jaw. More specifically, my tooth. This particular tooth has a crown, which by no means equals royalty of the molar world. In the past it has given me a bit of issue, but nothing alarming. X-rays would indicate it was just me clenching my jaw when I slept.In the past, my dentist would readjust it to suit my goofy bite. So, my chemotherapy treatments are scheduled on Wednesdays. Every Wednesday. The treatment I was due to receive is what I call the mega-dyna-whoppin' treatment. That one packs a wallop. Before getting that treatment blood work is done and I meet with my oncologist or nurse practitioner to have vitals checked and to discuss the blood work results. If the stars are aligned then treatment is a go. Sadly, my platelets were not high enough to safely deliver the infusion. So, it had to be postponed. The lighter of the treatments was given with hopes the following week my platelets would be higher. Enter funky tooth. A visit ...

The last time I wrote on this blog was May 12, 2014. So much has happened since that last post. On May 29, 2014 I had an ultrasound guided biopsy on my left breast. There were a couple other lumps that were aspirated. The large lump discovered near my armpit was biopsied. It would only be three days until the call came from the doctor's office. At work, I still insisted the nurse tell me what was discovered. "Invasive ductal carcinoma." I wrote it down on a Post-It along with the appointment to see the surgeon the following day. It was business as usual until I hung up the phone and it hit me. My co-worker said I said catatonic for what seemed 10 minutes. She insisted I just go home which broke my numb state. Sliding the Post-It toward her I broke into tears. In a panicked state, I dialed the doctor's office pleading that he see me immediately. He was in surgery, but the nurse would try to contact him. We hung up and I called my Breast Health Navigator. She talk...

If you've been following this blog since forever ago then you'll know that on a whim I nicknamed my breasts Thelma and Louise. It was a joke during a conversation I had with a guy online back in the late 90s. It started by laughing at the weird things men name their junk. Thelma and Louise seemed far more appropriate than Laverne and Shirley. With that out of the way, please understand that I have never been shy discussing my boobalas. It is like ignoring the 800 pound gorilla in the room.  Usually, the discussion revolves around the impossibility of finding a bra that truly suits me (hence the secondary title of this blog) and the difficulty in wearing pretty much any shirt, sweater, jacket, etc... Today, the Girls need to have a serious talk with all of you. When I was 19 a lump was found in my left breast. Immediately, my gynecologist was notified, he examined me and sent me to a general surgeon the same day. Within a week the lump was subjected to a needle biopsy whic...