Holy Crap!

K, before I toddle off to bed, I checked out the description that my blog was given. I swear, I didn't write this; apparently one of my readers sent this in. Anyways, here it is:

The Brunette Lucy

Directory: www.breastcancerblogs.org

Description: This writer refers to herself as dark-haired version of the famed comedienne to lighten the dour mood of her cancer writing. She uses a casual confessional tone to great effect.

This is making me feel something foreign - flattered. THANK YOU to whomever submitted this!! Write me at my email, tamkells@gmail.com, & let me know who you are. As Ricky Ricardo would say, "You've got some 'splainin' to do!" 

Seriously, though, thank you. I'm truly, truly humbled.

Update!

Hi, Everyone,

Yet again, I'm behind! Sorry! I have an article that I'm writing to describe the reconstruction process, which I'll post soon. 

I want to say, again, that if your doctor recommends a mastectomy, please consider it! It was a hard decision (I wrote about that in Mastectomy  - the hardest, and probably best, decision I ever made), but it was the best decision for me. Having a breast removed is hands down one of the worst things a woman can hear; my stomach hit the floor. BUT, these days, they can do amazing things! My plastic surgeon is Dr. Neal Topham of Fox Chase Cancer Center - I wrote about him in "New boobies are coming, new boobies are coming" (you can see a photo of him in that article). He's very quiet, but he does amazing work! I thought that due to all the surgeries I'd had on my abdomen due to c-sections and endometriosis I wouldn't be a candidate for the TRAM flap. Most other surgeons would have agreed - not Dr. Topham. You should SEE my new boob! It's awesome. Plus, I got a tummy tuck. So there really, truly is light at the end of the tunnel. I'll post the full, in depth process in about a week. 

Also, my column is going crazy! People are actually reading my drivel. It's a Festivus for the Rest of Us miracle. My latest one, "Would you Buy a Smart Car" has lit up the comment sections in all the cities I'm being carried. I've provided the link to Upper Southampton, where a guy was really a snot. I thought the girl that he tried to lambast made him look like a troll. Good for her!

OK, back to laying down & moaning. I had an implant put in ol' lefty on Thursday, and it feels like my rib is broken. Besides, moaning & groaning is one of the few things I do with such staggering efficiency. Will write more.


PS Did you SEE that BreastCancerBlogs.Org gave me a badge for being one of the best breast cancer blogs? Folks, this is a sad state of affairs when people are giving ME any type of award, badge, or recognition. It only encourages me to write more drivel. Well, anyways, now me & my big swollen head are off to bed to continue the aforementioned moaning and groaning.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Sorry I haven’t written; my son, Dakota has been in and out of Children’s Hospital in Philadelphia that last two months. He’s fine now, but naturally, he’s really nervous about recurrence. I’ll write more about it later.

Today, I just want to wish all of you a very Merry Christmas & to ask that you remember to say a prayer for our troops. Many of them won’t be home today to celebrate with their families. God Bless them!

Pink Ribbons/Pinkwashing - There's a Difference

I love pink; it’s always been my favorite color; if it came in the form of sparkly, sparkly jewelry, even better.

And not just any pink, the Barbie pink that’s associated with breast cancer ribbons today. Little did I know all these years that pink would come to mean a whole lot more to me!

I love that women are wearing pink ribbons. To me, that’s a sign of support for me and what I’ve been through. In fact, look at my blog – pink. My twitter home page is black with pink ribbons. So I’m absolutely not adverse to pink ribbons.

I also know that other women support breast cancer, but they don’t wear ribbons. Because of that, does it mean they don’t support cancer? I don’t think so.

There have been some cute Facebook awareness campaigns, but there was also one that was kind of, well, crass. Remember the campaign about putting the color of your bra as your status? Me and others felt that it wasn’t in the best of taste. Think about it – using a bra as a sign of support for women who have lost one or both breasts. Yeah, I wasn’t thrilled about that one; but I knew it was well meaning.

Does that mean that I think the campaigns that women come up with on Facebook, or just about anywhere, are bad? ABSOLUTELY NOT! In fact, I’m honored that you take the time. It’s truly touching that people want to help you, raise money, cook dinners, clean your house or anything else they can think of to let you know that they’re supporting you. It’s kind of awesome. No, not kind of, it IS awesome.

I believe that it’s in no small part to these campaigns that breast cancer is fairly treatable these days, if caught in time. According to my doctors, I was at Stage 3 with a bullet; it could have gone to Stage 4 any day. As it was, they took 20 lymph nodes, and 13 tested positive for cancer. I was lucky.

We still have a long way to go for metastic cancers, though. And not just metastic, but all cancers.

So here we are in October - Breast Cancer Awareness month. The pink ribbon is everywhere, and companies all over are turning products pink. There’s pink shoes, pink drinks, pink cans, pink handbags, pink shirts; just about everything turns pink for this month. While I know that the idea is to raise awareness, I think that’s been done. I think we’re all pretty aware of breast cancer right now. You’d have to be color blind or living under a rock not to be aware of breast cancer.

Now we need to move on; it’s time to look for a cure. If you haven’t known someone with cancer, let me tell you, the cure we have now is Hell on your body. Chemotherapy has come a long way, but it’s still a horrible way to kill cancer. Add Neulasta shots to the mix, and I was in more pain than I want to remember. I’m still dealing with issues from chemo; I occasionally have memory lapses. It’s a good thing Matt, my kids & Michele are around; they often jog my memory. I also have neuropathy pain, with the worst of it in my feet and on my spine.

Radiation, while it doesn’t hurt, is an exercise in fatigue. Plus, you have to go 5 days a week; in my case for 6 weeks. Think about it; driving 30 minutes each way for a 5-15 minute treatment, back home, and at it again the next day. A lady who was undergoing radiation with me was coming down from the Poconos – an hour and a half each way. 

I swear, I don’t know how women who didn’t have the luxury of working from home managed. Being a writer, I can write whenever I want to; often times, I wrote from my bed. To you ladies, holy cow; you’re my hero. I can’t fathom how you felt during both radiation and chemo. More than that, I can’t imagine how you did it. You’re amazing.

The way we’re treating cancer now is often times effective – but comes at a great price. There’s got to be a better way. And there are people for whom the treatment didn’t work. Again, there’s GOT to be a better way!

I also think of other cancer victims – not just breast cancer. Breast cancer is almost trendy these days, as dumb a statement as that may be. People suffering with other cancers don’t have all this attention lavished on them. Colon cancer, for example; I don’t think there’s going to be a big scary deal made out of it, yet lots of people die from it every day. What about bladder cancer? My mother in law, Gretchen, has it. Do you think there’s ever going to be “Pee for the Cure”?

See what I mean?

I can’t imagine how angry I’d be if I was suffering from lung cancer right about now. As we all know, lung cancer is associated with smoking, but not all cases are directly related. How would you feel if you’ve never smoked a day in your life, but you got diagnosed with lung cancer? People look at you as if you’ve brought it on yourself. And even if you did smoke, it’s still awful; especially since smokers are one of the few groups of people that it’s politically correct to mock. It’s unfair.

Cancer sucks. ALL cancer sucks. I think we’d be making real progress if we made October CANCER month.

I’m also annoyed at some companies who’re making money off the pink ribbon campaign. Everyone is jumping on the breast cancer bandwagon – and making a boat load of money off of people like me, and our suffering.

Commercials are everywhere, with announcers tugging at your heartstrings by saying, “For every $1, a nickel of it will go to breast cancer awareness”. Or something along those lines

What they don’t, no, won’t tell you is that there’s a cap to how much money they’re going to donate. After they’ve reached that cap, all the money that we think we’re contributing to breast cancer causes goes directly into the pockets of the corporation.

According to “Think BeforeYou Pink”,

Many companies place a cap on the amount of money that will be donated. For example, Give Hope Jeans, sold by White House Black Market for $88, donated “net proceeds” from the sale to the organization Living Beyond Breast Cancer. But they’ve capped their contributions at $200,000. This means that once they had reached the $200,000 limit they stopped contributing, no matter how many pairs of jeans were purchased.
In some cases, that cap is a generous amount. In some cases it’s not. But you should know that, whenever there is a cap, your individual purchase may not contribute anything to the cause, depending on when you shop and whether the cap has already been met.

Additionally, which charities that companies are donating your hard earned, well intentioned money to is important. And that’s where Susan G. Komen and their “for the cure” comes in.

At this point, I have to say (I don’t want to get sued by Komen because they sue – oh, do they sue), the following statements are my humble opinion. You can look up the facts for yourself, but, like I said, this is my opinion only.

The problem with Komen is that only 15-17% of all the proceeds raised go into actual research – you know, the only way we’re going to find that elusive “cure”. They take in an impressive amount of money, and pay their executives quite well.

They point to early detection and the fact that they fund mammograms for women who can’t afford them. What they DON’T tell you is that they also contribute to Planned Parenthood, the nation’s biggest abortion provider; LiveAction.Org reported on it.

In fairness, they say that it’s for mammograms, or some type of awareness programs. But, from I’ve been able to ascertain, they don’t mandate that the monies go strictly to mammograms or anything else breast cancer related.

Truthfully, there are a whole bunch of other places where women can get mammograms for free with the help of Komen. Planned Parenthood never was a blip on my radar when it was time for my mammogram. Had you ever considered Planned Parenthood as your breast health provider?

I’ll bet your mouth is hanging open, right?

Another thing you don’t know about is the fact that they claim they own the phrase “for the cure”. In fact, they guard those three words with a team of lawyers. Google, “Susan G. Komen sues”; you’ll get an eyeful.

Some of the money you think is going towards breast cancer awareness, prevention and research is going towards a bevy of lawyers. They go after small mom & pop fund raisers who have the audacity to put “for the cure” in their name. Look up “Mush for the Cure”, or “Kites for the Cure”; Komen has gone after them with a vengeance. Their reasoning? They claim that when people donate money, they should know that they’re donating to Komen. Apparently, you’re too stupid to figure it out.

More than that, why would they care? Isn’t their supposed goal to end breast cancer? If a small group of volunteers raise some money and donate it, why would Komen care? I mean, shared goal and all. It makes you think.

You can read so much more about Komen at the website KomenWatch.org. It doesn’t make me happy to report this, folks. Not even a little bit. In fact, it makes me angry. And from what I’ve read, many other breast cancer survivors feel the same way. 

There’s much more to this organization, that I believe started out sincerely trying to do good. Unfortunately, as they got bigger & bigger, other things have become important.

The point of my little rant here is to be careful. Don’t be suckered into spending money because a company claims that they’re donating money for breast cancer awareness, detection or “the cure”. Find out what their cap is; if it’s pretty small, say, $200,000, your purchase probably isn’t doing anything. I know that figure is a lot to you & me; but when you figure sales can top $5 million, you see where it’s a pittance. There are also tax breaks for charitable donations; that has a lot to do with it as well. So that $200,000 donation is a tax write-off. Isn’t that wonderful; contribute money to breast cancer from sales that you might not have had at all, then get a hefty tax break for your trouble.

To make matters worse, some companies have ingredients in their products that have been shown to cause breast cancer! Komen’s new fragrance, “Promise Me”, has ingredients that have been linked to causing breast cancer! You can read more about it, and the “pinkwashing” of America on USA Today. The article is called, “Komens pinkribbons raise green – and questions”. There’s also a site that I quoted earlier in this post called “Think Before You Pink”.

 

Are all big companies the boogey man; the macabre folks getting rich on the backs of so much suffering? No; I really don’t think so. A good many do; but I can’t paint all of them with the same brush stroke. In fact, most of the people who’re putting together the drives for their company don’t know about the cap.

So, what’s the point of this post? It’s actually three fold.

First, it’s to acknowledge that cancer affects more than just breasts. Cancer is cancer is cancer; and it doesn’t know which month it’s supposed to strike. Cancer is horrible. Cancer is scary. Cancer is a killer. Cancer sucks. ALL cancer. I hope more than anything that all cancer sufferers, no matter where it strikes, will feel that we care. Our focus needs to be curing cancer.

I know that cancers of the breast and colon are different. However, I believe that once we figure out what makes one cancer tick, and learn how to kill it, a domino effect will occur. There’s GOT to be a way, other than chemo and radiation, to kill it.

Secondly, I ask that you “Think Before You Pink”. Ask questions. Don’t be bullied into buying a can of soup that says, “Supports breast cancer” over the generic one. In these trying times, it’s especially important to a lot of us.

As you may know, my best friend is Michele Buono. She’s always had an issue about the pink ribbon campaign. She calls them the “I care more than you” ribbons. So, don’t feel that you have to sport a pink ribbon during October, or during any month. It’s OK; I’m not mad. You’re not offending me and probably most breast cancer survivors. But if you like the ribbon, wear it! That’s OK, too.

Last, and most important, I want to say a great big ol’ THANK YOU to all of you who’ve been raising money for breast cancer research. It’s because of you that I believe I’m alive today.

Thank you for your prayers, for your kind words, for your support. I’ve been blessed during my journey; I have an amazing family, awesome friends, excellent doctors, and a strong belief in God. And I’ve also been blessed by people that don’t know me personally, but have taken time out of their lives to keep me in their prayers. Although we may not have met in person, you’ve signed my guestbook, and sent me supportive messages. I’ve shared my journey with you, and I feel blessed that you cared enough to read this throughout the past 2 years.

Somehow, thank you doesn’t seem to be enough, but it’s all I have.

I still have reconstruction to finish, and of course, I’ll keep you posted. And you can “like” my Facebook page (that makes laugh – people like me, they really like me – giggle). I have it set up so that you can post your message to me. I’d love to hear your story, your thoughts, or anything that you’d be willing to share with me.

With Love and Gratitude,

Tamara

The Brunette Lucy

If you'd like to check out my latest, it's called, "The Age of TMI". If you've ever been on your land line, when your cell rings, then your call waiting beeps in, you'll relate to this silliness.

Mastectomy - the hardest decision (& probably the best) I ever made

I was diagnosed in October of 2009; I had three tumors in my right breast. One was very large and had grown quickly. They also detected something on my left, but it was smaller. So when Dr. Roderick Quiros sat down, looked me in the eyes and told me that he recommended a mastectomy on the right and a lumpectomy on the left, I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. Matt was sitting next to me, and I could almost feel the wind being knocked out of him as well.

You know, I’d seen ads for breast cancer and at that moment, I remembered watching them, thinking, “that has to be the worst thing for a woman to be told”; never dreaming that those words were going to be spoken to me.

I knew Matt was taking it really hard; not that I would lose a breast, but that I could lose my life. So I tried to be as positive as possible. Dr. Quiros recommended that I get a tissue expander put in at the same time as the mastectomy, so I clung to that. There would be something where my breast had been.

I went online, hoping to get an idea of what I’d look like after surgery. There are many courageous women out there; I wish I could thank them for showing what a woman looks like after her breast, or breasts, have been removed.

Still, that doesn’t prepare you for the real thing.

I can’t say that I’ve never been more scared, because I have. My son isn’t supposed to be alive. He had many birth defects, and out of only 51 documented cases, only he and one other baby survived. That was the scariest time of my life; this came in a close second, though.

The day of surgery was Hell on earth. I thought I was going to go in the hospital, be put out, and wake up with everything done. But that’s not what happened.

The small lump on the left side needed to be identified prior to surgery, since it was so small. I didn't realize how it was going to happen, and looking back, that was a really good thing.

Normal mammograms compress your breast, and it’s uncomfortable, but as soon as they take the image, it’s released. To locate this small tumor, the machine compressed it until it was almost flat. They couldn’t see it. They turned me & posed me in different directions. Each agonizing time, they flattened my breast almost completely and couldn't let the pressure up for 20-30 seconds. Still, they couldn't locate it.

This went on for what seemed an eternity, but I believe it was only half hour. It hurt so bad I was openly crying, and the girls wanted to stop. I wouldn’t let them, though, because I knew it was important to get even that tiny spot out of me; we pressed on.

Finally, they found it, and told me that they were going to stick a needle from underneath the breast to mark it. I had to stand there with my breast almost flattened, while they inserted a long needle inside. And I mean, it was a long needle – a good twelve inches.

I thought the imaging was done, but it wasn’t. I had to have another imaging procedure. Some type of dye inserted, and I was put in a machine and posed in different positions, holding completely still. With 12 inches of a needle sticking out of me. Finally, after being there for hours, it was time to take me to surgery. At that point, I was actually looking forward to the anesthesia.

Right before they put me under, I remember crying.

After the surgery, it didn’t look too bad. I mean, they’d put the tissue expander in, so it looked like I still had a boob. A small, nipple-less boob, but there was something there. I thought that it might not be so bad after all.

I came home, and set about getting ready for Christmas. There was supposed to be snow on Christmas Eve, and I was really looking forward to it.

On the 23^rd, however, I started feeling bad, and began running a fever. At times, it spiked to 104.1. Dr. Morrissey originally thought that it was probably due to the last drain tube that he’d removed. I was in a lot of pain and had a lot of swelling, so Dr. Morrissey wanted to surgically reinsert the drain tube. Surgery was set for Tuesday, the 29^th.

When I awoke, the tissue expander had been removed. Turns out, I had contracted MRSA during the original surgery, and the six days of fever and pain were actually a raging infection. Dr. Morrissey remarked that he’d never seen anything like it.

Swell. Not only did my real boob try to kill me, now its fake cousin was giving it a shot!

Due to it, I spent the next two months in and out of surgery. Just when we thought the MRSA was gone, it came back.

Finally, Dr. Morrissey admitted me to the hospital, and left the wound open. I was on IV meds, and they cleaned the wound twice daily. Gotta be honest; it hurt. But it was finally over; it was time to begin chemo.

The thing is, my mind was occupied during those months. I was too busy trying to stay alive, I didn’t notice the fact that not only wasn’t there a little bump anymore, there was actually an indentation. I finally took a good look at myself and it was hard. There’s really no way to explain that feeling, other than, well, horror.

Due to all the surgeries, my scar was about half an inch wide; my breast bone protruded a little, but below it was an indentation. I knew I was going to lose a breast, but I didn’t think I would be concave.

I hated to shower because I could see what I thought of as a mutation. Getting dressed was another reminder; especially putting a bra on. The American Cancer Society was awesome, and they gave me an allowance to purchase a breast form (I didn't hear anything from Susan G. Komen Foundation - but that's a story for another time).

Gotta be honest, though. When I saw it, I had to laugh. The thing was basically triangular, which was supposed to mimic how a natural breast would sag a little. It was weird; and being the dork that I am, I’d whip that bad boy out to show anybody who wanted to see it.

Still, I felt different. Almost like a freak. The thing is, I know that who I am isn’t tied to whether or not I have breasts. And in fact, how shallow am I, when we have soldiers returning from battle missing limbs. They have to deal with learning day to day tasks all over again. And here I am, missing a breast. I’ll bet that women who’ve come home minus a leg would trade places with me in a heartbeat.

The logical, rational part of me knows that; but we women are emotional creatures. It’s a real struggle for me; I wish I could be as self confident as some of the other women whose stories I’ve read. I actually saw a blog where a woman was topless on a beach after having a double mastectomy and no reconstruction. I was blown away that this beautiful woman was so comfortable in her own skin, she didn’t feel the need to undergo reconstruction surgery. I hope I’ll get to that point.

The thing is, though, that had I not had the mastectomy, I might not be alive. In fact, I met several women during my treatments (chemo & radiation) that had lumpectomies, only to find out that their cancer had metastasized. Now they’re in fights for their very survival. They felt that had they undergone complete removal, they might not be in the situation they found themselves in.

Not being a doctor, however, I have no idea of whether or not their decision to save their breast was the reason their cancer had spread. I’m just reporting what I was told; what other women believed.

Either way, I’ve been declared cancer free, and I plan to keep it that way. I’ve also begun reconstruction. My new plastic surgeon, Dr. Neal Topham, is a genius. Dr. Morrissey suggested that I see a micro surgeon, due to all the complications. He didn't think he could do as good a job. To me, that's the mark of a really good doctor - he knew his limitations and wanted only what was best for me.

Dr. Topham did what’s called a DIEP (Deep Inferior Epigastric Artery Perforator) flap. What that means is he took tissue, fat and skin from my lower abdomen and created a new breast. We’re calling it my bionic, baby, Barbie boob. It’s bionic since he made it better, baby because it’s so new, and Barbie because it doesn’t have a nipple.

I have to say that the scar is pretty intense, but they say it’ll fade in time. Man, I hope so. Still, it’s much thinner than the half inch scar I’d been sporting for a year and a half!

One of the perks of this procedure is a tummy tuck. If you’ve had children, and especially if you had a c-section, you know that there’s excess skin in our abdominal region. Sometimes, it’s almost impossible to get rid of, no matter how much you diet & exercise. So, that was awesome.

However, this is only the first in a three part process. Next up, since Dr. Quiros was taking no prisoners during the lumpectomy, a large part of my left breast was taken, causing it to look much smaller than before. On January 12^th, I’m having surgery to both lift it, and insert an implant. My two girls will once again be the same size – woo hoo!

The third part is making a nipple for my bionic, baby, Barbie boob. After they create it, they’ll tattoo it to match ol’ lefty. I should have a complete set this time next year.

I’m also hoping that by this time next year I’ll have gotten over my feelings of inferiority. I hope that I’ll be able to look in the mirror and not cringe at the sight of my chest. I’d say I’m on the way to accepting my new “normal”, but it’s still a process. I’m taking it one day at a time.

The thing is, I can take it one day at a time. I’m alive and I plan to stay that way for a very long time.

Besides, Matt wouldn’t know what to do with himself without me around to annoy the living daylights out of him. He doesn’t seem to mind it as much when I do dumb stuff or spend money on something trivial.

He’s actually happy that he can still say, “Lucy, you got some ‘splainin’ to do!”

Complications, complications, complications

More often than not, people use smart phones for really dumb things. I speak from experience.

Before I get started, I have to tell you about another wonderful person that I "met" through eBay. The eBay store is Old Dragon's Bead Lair.

As you may remember, when I was first diagnosed, I'd heard about chemo countdown bracelets. They were fashioned out of elastic and whatever variety of beads you had lying around. You wore one for each round, and when you completed a treatment, you take off one of the bracelets. I set about making myself a set.

This got popular real fast at the chemo ward. And an idea was borne.

My friends & I began to make beaded elastic bracelets, put them in a basket with a note explaining what they were (and that they were free), and left them at the chemo ward. Generally speaking, by the time my next round came about, the basket was pretty much empty. My friends and my sister, Teresa, started buying beads and making more bracelets to donate to the chemo countdown.

As I moved on to radiation, I met a beautiful woman, Corinne. Her 76^th birthday was upcoming, and she loved my beaded bracelets. I went online and found a really easy pattern for making a necklace. I wanted to surprise her with something I made myself, and while making it, prayed for her. She loved it.

Long story short (although it doesn't seem all that short, does it?), it started me on a road to making necklaces to give to nurses and patients. To the nurses as a thank you, and to the patients as a pick me up. I know it was just a token, but it made me happy to think that for even just one moment, another woman was able to forget about whatever cancer she was battling. Sounds silly, I know, but I was hooked.

Since I've made a ton of the necklaces, Matt wanted me to sell some of them. His way of thinking was that I should sell some to buy more beads to make more necklaces. And, Michele (best friend – aka “Ethel”) & I plan to go back to making chemo countdown bracelets. But, Matt's idea of selling some so I can keep going made sense. I currently have a few for sale at my Etsy site, of course called, TheBrunette Lucy.

Now, what does the recap of all this have to do with Old Dragon's Bead Lair? Well, another long story short, they found out about the chemo countdown bracelets and thought it was nice. So guess what I get in the mail a few days later? They sent me at least 10 spools of coloured elastic to continue making the chemo countdown bracelets! Holy Cows!

Having breast cancer has sucked really hard. I feel like I've been through the wringer & back. BUT, it's also introduced me to some of the nicest people I've ever met. Remember Dorothy Brandes of “Smiley'sTreasures”? She sent me a free mastectomy bra, and now she & I keep in touch via Facebook.

All in all, things have been difficult, and I'm pretty sure that if I was given the choice between having cancer and not having it, I'd choose not. But, God doesn't work that way; He doesn't ask us what we would or wouldn't like. He knows that the obstacles He puts on our journey aren't pleasant. The thing is, though, he litters the pathway with amazing people who'll help you along. And He puts them in some pretty odd places!

I added a few words to an old saying:

“When God closes the door, He opens a window.”

My addition?

“Make sure you feel the breeze.”

It feels like a hurricane in my house.

Now, for something completely different. Me grumbling (mutter, mutter).

I've been sporting my new Bionic Baby Barbie Boob for a few weeks. However, the dumb drain tubes they inserted were still putting out too much fluid to take them out.

By the 4^th week, I began to run a fever. I called the doctor's office on Monday morning, but didn't hear back. So, I faxed the spread sheet I'd been keeping (detailing the fluid from the tubes & documenting my fevers) along with a letter Monday afternoon. I figured that they'd get it, & I'd get a call in the morning.

I waited all day Tuesday for a call back, but I didn't get it. Getting annoyed, I left another message late Tuesday afternoon.

I finally got a call back Wednesday around 11:00 am. I spoke to a girl, although I can't remember her name, and explained the situation. She asked if I could get down there (Fox Chase – Philadelphia) in an hour. I told her that it takes an hour and a half to get down there, so no, I wouldn't be able to. Since I already had an appointment on Friday, she told me to keep it, which I did.

When Dr. Topham (my booby daddy) got a look at my drain tube spread sheet, along with the swelling and other gross and unnecessary to explain (here) stuff, he gave us the bad news. I had indeed contracted another infection. Yippee!! I had to be admitted to the hospital for the weekend to get IV antibiotics. Swell. So, I spent the weekend in Fox Chase Hospital; ugh.

But here's the really weird part – I was in the same room and bed as when I had the original reconstruction surgery. It was an odd flashback like experience. The good news, however, was that I didn't have a roommate! It was like having a private room, so – that part wasn't horrible.

Bad news – the food still sucked. I mean, really, really sucked. Their cafeteria is closed for renovations, & whoever it is they're using in their stead is awful. For example, scrambled eggs shouldn't be as yellow as Big Bird, and glow in the dark. It takes some effort to make something so easy turn out so bad. I still haven't had scrambled eggs in the two weeks since I've been home.

On Monday, they did an ultrasound and determined that there was more fluid that needed to be freed from my body. Guess what I came home with? A brand new drain tube! Woo Hoo!

Oh, well, I went to Dr. Topham's office on Wednesday. My favourite intern, Matt (just a coincidence) removed it!! So I'm officially drain tube free for the first time in over SIX weeks! You can't see me, but I'm smiling & hollering.

Unfortunately, the infection has inflamed nerve endings, so I'm having some more pain issues. Gotta say; I'm going to be really happy when all this cancer pain stops. I'm sure that I'll get over it soon – I heal well (thanks to Michele for correcting my original post - we work really well together).

The GOOD news is that my Bionic Baby Barbie Boob is looking fantastic! Why call it the big “BBBB”? Well, it's bionic in that they built it better than before. It's a baby because it's only a few weeks old, and Barbie because it doesn't have a nipple yet.

Hence, my Bionic Baby Barbie Boob – the BBBB.

I have to be honest – the BBBB was Matt's creation. Sometimes, he comes up with some funny stuff. . . . . . OK, it happens a lot. We make a good team, too. I'm lucky to have both Matt & Michele. Big time.

Well, happy campers, that's the update. I'll keep you posted as best as I can. Gotta be honest, the column and healing are taking up a good bit of my time. I haven't updated as much as I should have. I'm really sorry.

Don't forget, though, you can keep up with me on Facebook. You can post to my wall, ask me questions, give me your opinions, and whatever else you'd like to share! And if you'd like to read more of my silly drivel, you can read my column here. Finally, if you'd like to contribute to the chemo countdown cause, buy a necklace at my Etsy account.

I'm shameless. Sigh.

Look, Ma, a new boob!

I'm back from the hospital, sporting a brand new boob. I wish I could say it has that “new boob smell”, but, it just kind of smells like the other one. I wonder if that would be different had they used tissue from my butt area. Just sayin!

I'm still having pain issues – big time. The first hurdle I had to get over was the bed in the hospital. When you've slept on a soft side waterbed for over 30 years, sleeping on a hospital bed is like sleeping on a rock. My back has yet to recover from it.

My actual breast area doesn't hurt all that bad; but then again, I have dilaudid. I probably shouldn't judge. My abdomen, however, is hurting. That's the area they took a great deal of skin, fat and muscle from to make my new boob. An awesome new boob.

I have four drain tubes – which are the antidote for sexy. There are two from under my arm for my new boob, and two from my abdomen. I have to “milk” them, which is basically making sure that the line is open. You run your fingers over the tube, down to the collection bulb. Then, I have to empty the bulb into a cup that has exacting measurements, record the volume and the colour. I wish I could use the word “gross” to describe the colour, but I don't think my doctor would find that helpful.

On the bright side – I'm home! AND, I have an awesome family. First and foremost, I have an awesome husband, who does everything in his power to be sure I'm comfortable.

I also have a daughter who has taken it upon herself to be my personal slave. She keeps track of all my medicines on a chalk board, and like clockwork, she appears with whatever it's time for. She also cooks my lunch, and insists that I eat it in bed on a nice tray. I wish I could say that I'm a really good mom who tries to make her stop. I did give it the appearance of trying to make her stop, so I should get brownie points for that.

My other two have taken care of laundry duties, and have been my little gophers – running for everything from medicine to ice cream. Seriously – I saw a commercial for ice cream bars, and thought I'd just die if I didn't have one within the next 24 hours. Those kids got in the car, and I've been sucking back Dove ice cream bars like a kid at a carnival. I should probably stop consider that I'm going to have to return to my workout regime at some point in the future. The eliptical machine we have only supports so much weight. Plus, I don't want to negate my awesome new tummy tuck.

I also have Gretchen, the world's best mom. She went out and got a pillow for under my legs. Plus, she's been praying on those God beads for me. I also have an excellent sister, Teresa. She went to Padre Pio's for me, bought a neat bracelet, and touched it to the healing statue for extra insurance. She's also the one who went nuts making the chemo countdown beads to give away. There's also Michele, the Ethel to my Lucy. She came down with Matt to visit me and of course, made fun of me. Only a best friend will point and laugh when you're lying in a hospital bed - & make you laugh right along with her!

I've also been blessed with a whole big bunch of other family and friends. I pretty much hit the jackpot when it comes to that. I promise you, if you have a support system, it's best to lean on them. They really, really want to be helpful and even though you don't want to be a burden, believe them when they say they want to do something. Please let them; I swear, they want to feel useful. You can tell them until you're blue in the face that their support means everything, but until you let them do stuff, they won't be happy.

Oh, another bonus of my surgery! They took down all the scar tissue on my stomach and under my arms! I'd had a ton of abdominal surgeries over the years – for endometriosis and three c-sections. I had scars running up and down and side to side. That's why when they asked if I'd be upset that I'd have a small horizontal scar that could be hidden by a bikini, I almost peed my pants laughing. I haven't had a thought about wearing a bikini since I was 12.

Also, when I had my original mastectomy, they took out 20 lymph nodes. My underarm was a mottled mess of skin and displaced fat; there were more hills and valleys under there than the Swiss Alps. It's now an actual underarm again. My hills are no longer alive. Yay!

Well that's it for now. I'm going to the doctor this Friday for my follow up. We'll discuss nipple reconstruction and “evening me out”. Old leftie is about a size smaller than my new, proud right boob. They'll sneak in an implant so it doesn't continue on its road to a full blown insecurity complex.

If you're in the mood for silliness, you can read my latest article. It's called, “Try My Product”; which is a Lucy vs. the Video Professor piece. Read it to see who wins – grin!