A Fat Body In Motion

I don't know guys.  I have nothing major to say other than a fat body can move.  And move pretty well.

No excuses.

I've got aches and pains - but you know what?  I'm freaking 40 and menopausal.  I think that is pretty much part of the deal.  I can work around it.

So I move.  I might be slower.  I might scale.  I might not do it "just so".  But I MOVE!

I Crossfitted a few times in the last week - and perhaps my I had wholebodyitis afterward, but I showed up and completed the WODs.  Sans buddy even!

And today, I went back to Pilates - and I surprised myself by how much muscle memory I had and how well I moved through the exercises.  I kept thinking to myself during these exercises, wow, this fat body is really doing this.  Yay!

I have a feeling that this had a lot to do with the fact that I have been doing active release therapy.  But whatever.  I MOVED.  And it was good.

A fat body can move.  And groove.  Just sayin'.  Do people still say that?

Just So, Until It's Controlled

I think for as long as I can remember things needed to be "just so".

Yep, that's me.

This applies to everything in my life.  My home.  My job.  My nutrition.  My workout.

If I couldn't get it / have it / do it "just so" then it either didn't count or was not good enough.

This is pretty much what keeps me from making any real progress in my life.

Today I was fixing up my house and doing some decorating (because this is what I do to de-stress), and I was hanging curtains.  The folds in the curtains were not "just so" and I kept trying to fix them.  WHAT THE WHAT?  Why does this matter?  Who is even going to see these curtains or CARE?  No one but me, but they need to be "just so" or I won't stop thinking about them.  THE FOLDS IN THE CURTAINS.  Come on!  I had cancer.  Why do I care about folds in curtains?

At work, I will critique a project over and over and over until the vendor gets it "just so".  But, truth be told, the project would have been good enough several revisions ago.

This same problem is replicated in my nutrition and workout life.  In January, I signed up for Precision Nutrition(PN) and I fizzled out because life got busy (I just typed busty, haha, that is so ironic) and I couldn't do it perfectly.   I got so behind in the lessons and felt too overwhelmed with trying to catch up.  I determined there was no way I would ever work the program "just so".   So I quit following the program.  I wasn't doing it perfectly, so it didn't count.  I wasn't good enough.

I've heard people talk about the 80/20 rule and even the 60/40 rule (this one was mentioned at work, scary).  Meaning, that you are "good" 80% of the time and the other 20% you get to slack off.  You are still doing just a little bit better, so you make progress.

I have to tell you I hate percentages when it comes to measuring my success.  Because I have laser focus on those numbers and if it is not considered an "A" or "B" - then I am not good enough.  It is not "just so".  I can't get a "C" or a "D" at life?  This is absolutely not acceptable.

But guys, I'm fat.  I am getting an "F" in that department (haha - F - get it?  for fat?).

Failure is not an option

Is this a lightbulb moment?  Why is getting an "F" in my body OK but I can't freaking leave the damn curtains alone?  I need an "A" in curtains!  Curtains are important!

I really don't know.  Maybe because my body betrayed me.  Maybe because I find comfort in food when things get shitty.  Maybe because I think I'm not worthy.  Maybe I'm building a wall so no one can hurt me.  These are all theories I've discussed in various therapy sessions.  There have been no epiphanies had.  No ah-ha Oprah moments.  It still remains the great mystery.

Oh my gosh guys.   It's control.  I can't control the damn curtains, but I can control my body.  I've got my body under control.  It's controlled in a negative direction, but it is controlled. 

I can't control the curtains.  So I work and work and work until I feel like I have control.  I can't control the work project, so I demand and demand and demand until it is "just so" and I feel in control.

Wow.  I wasn't expecting to come up with this theory.  So now what do I do with this information?

Interestingly, one of my PN lessons was about focusing on the scale and making the scale move.  You can't control the scale.  But you can control your behaviors.  If you focus on changing your behavior, which you can totally control, you may in fact change the number on the scale.

Can I change my desire to control my body to be in the positive direction?  Can I aim to get a C or a D by trying?  Absolutely.  In fact, I know I can get an A.  I've done it here and here and here.

BUT, knowing and doing are two very different things.  :(

Is this thing on?

I'm thinking about blogging again.  For accountability.  I need to get healthy again and well, this blog is all about that.

After cancer, losing T-Boz and generally just being fearful, I got fat again.  And lost my mojo.  I found a whole mailbox on my computer that had been untouched since October 2010.  That was when the shit hit the proverbial fan.  I found emails and Facebook posts / comments that allowed me to piece together a pretty crappy year:

• House was burgled and sense of security in my own home lost
• Weird infection on my foot that sent me to the hospital
• Diagnosed with breast cancer
• Lost my boobs
• Had chemo
• Lost my hair
• Lost some friends
• Lost my best friend of 17 years; my dog T-boz (this one hurts the most)

That was all in one year people.  Hard to bounce back from that.  And some more crappy stuff followed that - like losing my ovaries and being put into instant menopause - losing any chance of conceiving.  Thinking suicide was the option because of the stupid cancer medication - it made me crazy.  Menopause aged me instantly.  Everything hurts, I have a hot flash about once an hour, my moods are unreliable and my nether regions, well I don't need to share everything.  

Geez, now that I see all of that lined up, I see that it has been a pretty crappy couple of years.  

However, the crappy can't win.  Right now it is winning because of fear. 

I have a lot of fear holding me back.  I fear cancer recurrence almost daily.  I fear that no man will ever find me attractive because of my scars, both physically and mentally.  I fear that there is no point to getting healthy again.  I fear that getting healthy will be too hard - impossible even.  I fear that I can't do it by myself.  I fear success.  I fear getting injured.  I fear what others think of me.  I fear pity.

How do I move past these fears?  One day at a time.  I've got to stop focusing on being perfect.  Or doing all or nothing.  Or giving up whole food groups.  Or exercising every day.  Just doing a little bit better is moving in the right direction.  So there will be no Whole 30 mentioned here.  No cleanse.  No challenge.  Just daily plugging along.  How can I be just a little better than the day before.  This is crazy too because I.  Just.  Do.  Not.  Operate.  This.  Way.  Period.

So time to pick myself up, dust off my mojo and get back in the game.

Is anyone still out there?

The Great Ovary Debate

Blog friends, I fell off the blog path.  I was over it, you could say and was tired of sharing everything when all I felt was a sad, empty, hopeless nothing.

But, I figured I needed wanted to update those who read this blog with what I'm facing now.

Last year I had to meet with a gynecological oncologist to discuss the removal of my ovaries.  Since I carry the freaking mutation, I am at a 27% increased risk of getting ovarian cancer (the normal non-mutant population has about 1.5% risk).  That is pretty significant.  So most of the docs I've talked to have suggested that removing the ovaries is the natural next step for me.  Removing the ovaries will bring my risk down to that of the normal population.  It doesn't eliminate my risk, unfortunately, because cells will be left behind with even the best surgeon.  It also decreases my risk for the recurrence of my breast cancer.

I've known since the initial diagnosis and identification of my mutant status that I would face the decision of whether or not to remove my ovaries, but I was too busy kicking breast cancer's ass to think about my ovaries.  When we sat down to discuss it seriously last year, I shut down.  It was too much for me to take on top of finishing chemo and losing Tboz.  I had no fight left.  So I put it off until early this year.

In January, I went back to see the GYN oncologist.  I was prepared and had done much research and thinking.

I told him I would like to wait until I am 40 because removing them prior to age 40:

• increases your overall mortality risk by 170%
• Yep, that is one hundred seventy.  Of dying.  Hard to get past this one, huh?
• increases your cardiovascular risk by 35%
• Most men in my family have/had heart disease - would imagine that because I am lucky like that, I will too
• increases the rate in which you decline cognitively (no comments from the peanut gallery, this is serious)
• increases the rate and severity of osteoporosis and bone decline
• Oh, and totally eliminates all possibility of creating a small person of my own and a lot could happen between now and age 40
• Removing your ovaries (regardless of when) also causes
• instant menopause
• Chemo pretty much put me into menopause and the breast cancer medicine I take has wreaked havoc on my hormones as well so I am already having so many hot flashes and TERRIBLE mood swings. I really hope this does not get worse
• Apologies to all in my path, I have been a hormonal mess. Sad, angry, happy, crying, all in the same day.  So sometimes, its just easier to stay at home.
• definite decrease and sometimes total elimination of libido
• DON'T READ MOM AND DAD - I don't need any kind of obstacles in this department.  I don't leave the house and Mr. Right is not going to come knock on my door, so I need motivation to get out there.  Libido (wanting to get some) is a good motivator. Sigh. 

He was OK with this decision.  He said it wasn't his recommendation but was agreeable to my plan.  He said that this means screening every 6 months.

• The screening methods that they have for ovarian cancer are poor and unreliable.  But docs use them, because that is all they have.
• Screening is a pelvic exam (with finger up your pooper), vaginal ultrasound (LARGE dildo type thing up your hoo-ha), blood test
• Typically, once ovarian cancer is found it is advanced, hard to treat and carries a low survival rate.

I asked him what most of his patients did, he said most removed the ovaries right away because they could not deal with the anxiety.  He also said most don't know what I know.

He commenced with sticking his finger up my hoo ha and pooper and left.  I cried.

I went to get my blood test and it hurt and the phlebotomist missed the vein.  I cried.

I went to get the ultrasound.  The dildo was in my hoo ha for 30 freaking minutes.  I felt violated and ashamed and terrible and scared and sad and alone.  I cried through the whole thing.  There was concern from the tech and they sent me home telling me the doc would call me for a follow up.  I went home and I cried.

Doc called and left cryptic message.  I cried.

Doc finally reaches me after I leave him numerous frantic messages.  They found stuff on my ovaries.  Each ovary had a complex cyst on it.  Most cysts they find on ovaries are simple and come and go.  Complex cysts cannot be ruled out as cancer.  The plan was to do another ultrasound in 6 weeks.  If they go away, then it is nothing to worry about.  If they grow, or stay the same, then we would need to explore options.

I hung up and decided I couldn't go through this every 6 months.

A few days later I scheduled my surgery.  I will be getting spayed 1 March 12.  

I will do all that I can to keep my uterus (my breast cancer medicine causes uterine cancer, so they will push for me to get that out too).  I don't know why I want to keep my uterus other than I just want some piece of femininity left.  And who knows maybe I could grow a small person.  Someone else's small person.

Asking my friends and family, once again, to send good juju, positive vibes, rain dances, prayers, praise to allah, whatever, that what they take out will not contain any cancer.

Love to you all.

P.S.  I got a new dog.  Her name is Muppet and we are bonding.  She is no Tboz, but someday I will see her for the great girl that she is and as a wonderful being completely separate from Tboz.

Thirty Days of Thankful - Day 8, 9 and 10

I know.  I missed a few days.  I've felt sorry for myself and couldn't get in here type up the things I am thankful for even though I know that is when I need to the most.  I hate cancer.  I am having headaches and alot of pelvic pressure and this is new.  My mind goes directly to my oncologist saying my cancer will most likely come back in my brain, bones or liver.  Well, you can guess what I think headache means...and pelvic pressure is thanks to Tamoxifen.  Sigh.

Anywho, today I am thankful for:

• Our veterans

My Pop - Walter - on the left was in the airforce

My Pop - "Brubs" - on the left was in the navy

One of my favorite things - real vmail from my pop (Walter) to his family

• The fact that when I lay my head down to sleep, I do not worry about bombs exploding.
• The fact that I acknowledge my fear to serve in the military.
• The fact that some do not have the fear and fight everyday for me.
• The fact that I have not lost life or limb.
• The fact that I am not impoverished.
• Having clean water to drink.
• Having food to eat (to excess even).
• Having a piggy bank that I do not count on to pay my bills.
• Having the luxury of frivolous expenditures.
• Finding the tiny shirt that the Overtons got my precious Tboz when we first met her.    It is so tiny and is a Texas A&M shirt.  I thought I had lost it and am working on a photo album (OK, really this just means I drug out the giant crate with photos in it and it is just sitting there in my room barely touched - I hate making photo albums) and found it tucked away with my photos.  I can't believe she was ever that tiny.
• Petfinder.  I look on this website constantly to find my new best friend.  I am thinking I would like a healthy young corgi/basset hound/jack russell mix.  Black or white and female.  I do not know if this exists, but I look all the time or when I especially miss Tboz.
• Hair paste stuff.  William had given me a huge goody bag of hair products and today I looked through it and found some "paste".  I put a tiny bit of it in my hair to give it some..., well, just because I could.
• Fleece vests.  I think I have 4 now and they camouflage the no boob and boob roll and stomach roll nicely.
• Portable heaters.
• Spinning - I totally escape for one whole glorious hour.
• In general, that my friends are still my friends even though I am quirky and don't socialize all that well.
• In general, that my friends are still my friends even though I may say the wrong things.
• My new sneakers from Privo.  They are white and so comfortable.  They were my present for finally attending to Tboz' remains.
• Big ass salads
• My parent's friends Joe and Kat because they help take care of mom and dad.
• My parent's friends JD and Vanita because they help take care of mom and dad.
• The prayer that my mom said for me and Tboz the day I let her go.
• Straight teeth.  
• Real mail.  Like in the mailbox.
• Cable
• Flip flops
• The email I received from my pal Allison.  I sure do miss her.
• Discovering that I can make tacos using savoy cabbage as the tortilla.  They sure are good.  I'm a genius.
• My giant diamond ring.  Even though I feel like I no longer deserve to wear it, I still do.  Suck it.

Thirty Days of Thankful - Day 7

Today I am thankful for:

• Sleep - fell asleep last night with no Ativan!  Didn't stay asleep, but good step forward.
• Finding the small piece of greenie that is in my purse.  This was the greenie that I brought to Tboz in the hospital and held while she chewed it.  I didn't let her have the last bit because I was afraid she would choke.  She used to hold them with her little paws.  She loved greenies.  It was her favorite part of the day to get to enjoy the greenie.
• Oz, the big sheep/husky dog next door.  Tboz loved Oz.  She would visit Oz after peeing on the mailbox. Oz was the only dog Tboz liked.  And they were so cute together.  She would go sniff his nose and then run off like a puppy.  The day before Tboz had to be let go, I took her over to see Oz and held her and bent down to let him sniff her and her him.  To say goodbye.  Shortly after, when we were at home, she perked up.  I think it was Oz.
• Oz being home and outside last night.  Last night I came home and was wishing for doggie companionship so much.  I looked over to see if Oz was out and I didn't see him.  I went down to the mailbox and heard his whimper and saw him in the shadows.  Yay!  I went over and just pet him and pet him and pet him and told him what a good dog he was and talked about missing Tboz.  It was nice.
• My pal Christine.  She is my spinning and yoga instructor and she always makes me feel calm and capable.  Lately, OK just twice, I have been doing spinning and then yoga on Tuesdays.  It really helps escape for 2 or so hours and I usually feel so much better.
• Running into this other lady at work who is a 12 year survivor.  I was given her name by another coworker and called her right when I was diagnosed.  She was so helpful and maybe the only person I talked to who was a survivor before my surgery.  She is flat like me and I think about her telling me the benefits of this almost every day.  She was not supposed to live, and she has lived for 12 years and counting.  She is a survivor.  I finally met her in person yesterday and she had lots to say about perspective.  She also said I was still very new at this and not to expect so much.  She also advised me to try and separate all the bad things that have happened to me to single events - not to say all these bad things happened to me!  But to say my dog died and I will need to grieve her.  This is separate from my breast cancer.
• Plans to see the Rockettes Christmas Spectacular thing with pal Allison this weekend.
• When cold outside and after 2 hours of exercise, the heat blowing on my face while driving with the windows down or top off
• My dad, for sending me a very nice email and a book (All Dogs go to Heaven) when Tboz was let go
• Cheese

Wow, this was a juicy one.

Thirty Days of Thankful - Day 6

Today I am thankful for:

• Cupcakes
• Ativan - it helps me sleep
• Fleece hoodies with thumb holes
• This blog.  I spent a good 3 hours or so re-reading my posts this weekend.  It brought perspective.  I read the comments too and felt the love again.
• My pal Kristen - she makes me laugh and is always encouraging.
• My ability to cook.  Thanks Mom.
• Dr. J for helping me through the painful process of letting Tboz go.
• My co-workers.  They make me laugh and are also very supportive.
• This girl at work, and I forget her name, which is terrible.  But anyway, she is also a breast cancer survivor and the other day I was talking to her about hair and fear and what not and she GOT me.  She understood and has been there.  These kinds of talks are so helpful.
• This other lady at work.  She had cancer too and has a really good perspective on fear.  This talk was also so very helpful.

Just a random note - its like all the cells in my body that produce hair woke up and started producing extra hair.  Its like the cells were all like, hey, we are supposed to shut down.  This sucks.  And then when chemo was over, they were all like, hey, time to wake up!  We're free!  Lets really get after it!  WOOHOO!  Life is good again!  And so hair is coming up everywhere.  Like on my knuckles.  I look like my dad and uncle.  I had to trim that hair on my knuckles.  Ewww.

I should take a cue from my hairs and live life like they are.  They are excited.

Thirty Days of Thankful - Day 5

Today I am thankful for:

• The ability to do not one damn thing but surf the web all day
• My ambition.  Change.  Its a brewing.  But only a tiny bit.
• Fizzy drink.  I honestly don't think I could live without this.  For reals.
• the relative good health of my Mom and Dad
• My creativity.
• My best friend of a gazillion years.  Erin and I don't talk alot, but I always know she is there.  She knows me - I mean deep down knows me.  I think those that know you when you were growing up will always know you best.
• no crying babies that live at my house.  See, there are positives to having to have your lady parts removed.  This will never be a problem that I have.
• Crossfit Durham.  The majority of my friends are from this place.  And they have supported me more than I can explain in words.  It has also taught me that I can be an athlete.  I'll get there again.  Someday.
• No blackeyes when I jump rope now.  See, there are positives to not having any boobs.  I totally hang out flat at the gym.  And I know its obvious, because I have asked my friends if they could tell that I have no boobs.  I wonder what other people think when they see me with no boobicals.  I feel like an it alot.  I wonder if I look like an it.
• The warmth of sunshine on face

Check out these hair pictures:

September 24

November 6 (artsy version)

Thirty Days of Thankful - Day 3 and 4

Picture from here.

I skipped yesterday so I will write 20 things I am thankful for:

• Pedicures
• Massage Chairs
• My friend Jessica for being there for me during my cancer diagnosis and surgery
• My friend Joanna for helping me through that terrible day that I lost my sweet Tboz
• The fact that my friend Mark was at the vet this morning when I finally picked up my sweet Tboz' remains
• Apple support - helped me restore function to itunes which is like my life support system
• Itunes - music is healing
• My friend Beatrice for porpoise checking
• Jeans that fit
• Pumpkin bread
• Mornings that no alarm clock goes of
• My hair growing back
• My neighbor Caroline who came over the night before Tboz was let go and she just hugged me and later told me she didn't think that Tboz would make it much longer.  This helped me so much to hear that.  To know that others saw her suffering and therefore validated my decision.
• My jeep, Sunshine.  She just hit 50,000 miles and I still love driving her.
• Facebook.  Its such a huge timesuck, but really helps me stay connected when all I want to do is isolate.
• The beauty that is fall
• My freedom to write this blog and speak my truth.  The truth will ALWAYS set you free.  You are only as sick as your secrets.
• Belly laughs.  Not forced "as if" laughs, but real spontaneous laughter that makes your belly hurt.
• Clean clothes.  Man I hate to put away laundry, but I sure do love the look, smell and feel of clean clothes.  I consider myself lucky to be able to have clean things.
• My cholesterol has finally come down ALOT (from 353 to 212).  Got the results yesterday and the medication and Paleo is working.  

Thirty Days of Thankful - Day 2

Today I am thankful for:

• holiday peppermint coffee
• pajamas
• my friend Allison B. and all of her support and encouragement
• my friend Amy for just getting me - warts and all
• my friend Ericka for opening her home to me and making me feel safe
• my friend Mischa for being there when I need her like shaving my head
• that I do not have HIV (I see how terrible this disease is at work)
• having shelter when its cold out
• dbt because its one stable thing that I is keeping me sane
• the memory of tboz' corn chip smelling feet

Thirty Days of Thankful - Day 1

There is a thing on facebook that people are doing - 30 days of being thankful.

Thankful is a weird word.

Anyway, I think it would be excellent for me to do this to help me see that it is not always about how shitty things are.  I know this, but actually typing out some things might help it sink in and help pull me out of my dark space.

I will write 10 things every day.  Even if they are small, like I am thankful for the hot water in my shower.  Here goes Day 1, in no particular order.

I am thankful...

• that I had 17 fun filled years to enjoy my precious Tboz.  I would never give that up to avoid the pain I feel now.
• that I can call my mom any time and feel better
• that my Dad has started texting me
• that I have friends that are willing to help me out of the dark spaces
• that my body, after all it has been through, can do crossfit, spinning, yoga and pilates
• that I have good insurance
• that I have a nice home (even though it feels pretty empty now)
• that I have a flexible job at a time that I need it to be flexible
• that I am going home to Texas for the holidays
• for soft sheets

The Dark Places

I am not sleeping.

My mind wanders into so many dark places when I close my eyes.

My dark places are great places for things like guilt, sadness, fear, anger and grief to hide.  I pretend things are OK and then close my eyes and my brain reminds me that things have not been so OK for me.

These are some of the things that haunt me when I close my eyes:

• Guilt of not saving my precious Tboz. 
• Guilt of not being able to go pick up her remains. 
• Sadness of the loss of my best pal.  
• Grief over the loss of my boobs.  
• Loss of hope for my future with a partner - I'm so scarred physically and emotionally and can no longer bare children.  
• Grief of the loss of my ability to conceive (they want me to have a hysterectomy).  
• Fear of losing my parents because they are all I have left.  
• Disappointment with my appearance.  And by appearance, I mean fat.
• Anger over how hard I worked to not be disappointed with my appearance just to be right back where I started with extra scars, no breasts and lesbian haircut to go with it.  
• Fear and anger at more surgery ahead (see above re: hysterectomy and boobs). 
• Fear that every little ache and pain is the cancer coming back or a new cancer forming.
• Anger that my house was burgled and now somehow because my 14 lb deaf little watchdog is gone, every noise is a burglar.  It is weird how that works.  I felt protected just because she was here with me.

But I try to spend equal amounts of time validating how shitty life has been for me the last year (of course, you are (sad, angry, scared, disappointed), life handed you a shit sandwich) and telling myself things could be worse (I am so very lucky to have such supportive parents and friends, a flexible job that has allowed me to have a very shitty year with little repercussions for having to miss work or work from home and good insurance - health and home) so buck up.

But dammit some days I need to spend extra time in the yeah, shit sandwich alright.  Today seems to be one of those days.

In other news, my eyelashes are beginning to grow back and I think I officially have a head of hair.  It is no longer an "is she sick?" haircut, but a "is she a lesbian?" haircut.

I feel better after typing this out.  Thanks blog.

The Half Dead

I had a dream last night that Tboz was not really dead.

I also had a call from the vet that Tboz' "remains" were ready to be picked up.

So in the dream, Tboz was with me happy and running around AND I had her remains.  Everyone just ignored the little detail that this was impossible.

I have had similar dreams starring my brother.  He'll be alive and hanging out and everyone ignores the fact that we buried him.

I don't know what these dreams mean.  Maybe they are just a way for me to enjoy the life I had with them when on this earth.  Maybe they are trying to comfort me when I am most sad and missing them.  Maybe its just my random subconscious processing stuff while I sleep.

I always wake up from these dreams a little off.  I feel a little off.

I can't bring myself to pick up Tboz' remains.  I feel like I am enjoying a bit of denial.  I'm not ready to face that place or the hard reality that she is gone.  Forever.

Sigh.  At least the crying has stopped.  But I feel guilty about that too.  I really thought that when this happened I would be inconsolable, like forever.

Ramblings.

Still raw

I am finding that tears come less frequently, but the thoughts of regret and those last moments consume me.


The only loss that I can compare this to is that of my brother in 2004.  How can the loss of a pet compare to the loss of a human?  Love.  Love is what is common.  I am grieving the loss of love.


I remember going through what ifs with his death too.  At that time, however, I had no idea about the stages of grief.  I went to classes with my family and we learned about this and went through it together.


Perhaps the loss of my brother prepared me to better handle the loss of my sweet Tboz.  I know that I am not going crazy (I totally thought I was going crazy when my brother died).  I know that what I am feeling is normal and that however I handle this is appropriate.


I came across this website that helped remind me how normal my feelings are and I was comforted.


This statement stuck with me (how to feel better right now):
"...choosing to recall the better moments and not focusing solely on the death as representing the totality of the relationship..."


This is advice that has come from others.  Her life was long - 17 years long - and FULL of happy memories.  I was lucky to have such unconditional love, sweet kisses, long walks, ball playing and warm snuggles for 17 years.  This was the totality of my relationship with Tboz, not those terrible last seconds of her life.

Pitter Patter and Jingle Jangle

I still hear you Tboz.  And its hard.

There are spaces where you should be that you are not.  But I hear you.  I hear your footsteps on the tile, I hear the jingle jangle of your collar, I hear you scratching at the door.  And it is hard.

I wonder if there were more things I could have done for you.  Could I have played with you more?  Could I have taken you on more walks?  Could I have not stayed away from home so long?

And then the terrible comes in.  Could I have saved you?  Did I give up too soon?  What if you were misdiagnosed?  Could steroids have helped you?

The question comes up so often during my days and even more so at night - how am I going to get through this?  And the answer is, simply so, because I have to.

I Miss My Tboz

I let my precious Tboz go yesterday.

Tboz was 17 and for 17 wonderful years she was by my side as my constant.  The one and only thing that I could count on 100%.  When things were tough, she is why I chose to fight to live.  I miss her so very much and I have a huge gaping spiky prickly hole in my heart that will take much effort to try and heal.

18 years ago, I was very ill and had to withdraw from college.  While ill, I asked Paige, my roommate, if her Dad (who is a vet) could be on the look out for a small, black girl dog.  Thinking this was so specific, I didn't think I would find such a dog anytime soon.

After I recovered and returned to school, Paige told me her Dad had found me a dog.  Dr. Overton said someone had dropped Tboz off at his clinic with a sibling, I believe. I went to Dallas with Paige to pick up my very own small, black, girl dog.

Young precious Tboz.
She liked to burrow
from the very beginning.

I remember driving back to Paige's house with her in my lap.  She was so tiny and lovely.  She had worms and I let her sleep with me anyway.  I think I loved her immediately.

TLC - Tboz (left), Left-eye and Chile

Paige and I were trying to find a good name for her.  We were perusing CDs that we were listening to at the time (Paige's dog's name was EZ-Z) and came across TLC.

We decided Tboz was a good name for her.  Really, I wanted it to be Roxy, because I loved Lenny Kravitz at the time and Roxy was Lenny's mom.  But 17 years later - Tboz could not be anything other than Tboz.  Tboz was the perfect name for her.

Tboz saw me through college and my first job in Dallas.  When it came time to move to Wilmington for my next job, Tboz drove with me cross country.  I was so scared to be on my own like this, but there was great comfort with having her with me.  Later, I had to make the difficult decision to return Tboz to Texas with friends because I would be traveling so much and I didn't know anyone yet to take care of her.  This was terrible and brought much guilt, but it was the right thing to do for her.

Tboz hated when I traveled.
I found her like this
when packing one night.

Tboz was a great air traveler.  I took her with me to lots of places.  She would lay in her little carryon under my seat and not make a peep.  I usually kept the top open so she could see me.  One time, I was sitting in first class with her and had to run to the bathroom during a long flight.  While I was in the bathroom, she had come to look for me.  Ooops.  Luckily the nice passenger next to me caught her before she went too far.

Tboz hung with me
through my drinking and smoking days.

In time, I got a roommate that would help watch her while I traveled and I returned to Dallas to pick up my girl and she was so happy to see me.  I remember how fierce her little tail wagged.  That was the beginning of a much deeper meaningful bond between she and I.  I was growing up and realizing the responsibility of loving something so deeply.

Tboz loving me
through chemotherapy.

Tboz was my comfort for some of my life's greatest tragedies and struggles.  She comforted me through new jobs, moves to new states, the sudden loss of my only sibling, a burglary and just recently a cancer diagnosis and treatment.  I think that much of my independence came from knowing she was by my side.

Over the last week it was time for me to comfort her and be by her side.  A year or so ago, she had passed out a few times.  We put her on blood pressure medicine and no more passing out.  However, last week she passed out again, this time urinating during the episode.  I thought she might be having seizures.  She was still happy and playful.

I took her for her scheduled annual check up a few days later and we did lots of tests: blood, blood pressure, etc.  When I loaded her in the car she passed out again.  Things got worse and she developed labored breathing.  I really don't know what happened between that morning and the tests at the vets - but she got worse.  Much guilt lies here - did I cause this to happen?  Did I not protect her?  Did too much stress cause her rapid decline?  I will never know the answer.

ER visits, Cardiologists, Echocardiograms, ultrasounds, sleepless nights and many pills later Tboz was not improving.  Her little body struggled to breathe - heaving her little chest.  Afraid to shut her eyes to sleep.  Passing out upon standing.  Peeing and Pooping in my arms after passing out. She was still eating and drinking by my hand, but she could not stand to eat or drink.  There was a brief period where she walked around a bit and I had hope.  But the next day, back to heaving breaths and passing out.  Heartbreaking heartwrenching terrible times.

I asked others how to know when it was time to let her go.  I was told I would just know.  That Tboz would give me a look.  And that when she was no longer able to do the things she loved, it would be time.  And if she was suffering, it would be time.

It was time yesterday.

I had decided to take her to the ER so that I would not associate her regular vet, Dr. J, with this terrible terrible thing.  Dr. J, my friend, agreed to meet me at the ER and do this with me.  But as I was driving to the ER, my heart tugged me to Dr. J's office; where there were people who knew her and loved her for the past 5 years.  Dr. J was there waiting and showed me a kindness that I will never ever forget.

Tboz was given a sedative and barely holding her head up, gave me a few kisses which I hope with all my heart meant, "mom, its time and its OK".

Dr. J and I sat on a couch with Tboz laying on my chest and we let her go.  And it was terrible.  The most gut wrenching thing I have ever experienced.

There is a hole in my heart that I know not how to heal.  Every space in my home reminds me of my precious Tboz.  It is an empty home.  A sad home.  No longer a home.  Because I no longer have a family in this home.

Tboz loved playing ball.

And scooting her blanket.

I love you so much Tboz.  You are such a brave, sweet, precious, smart girl and are loved by so many.  But no one loves you as much as I do.

Noggin Art and 3 year old Me

My BFF, Erin, was here right after my last treatment.  She left her busy life (she is a mom, a teacher about to start back to school, just moved and a wife - super busy life if you ask me) to come and sit with me while I was coming out of the poo poo days. I have known Erin for 25 years and she still loves me just like I am.  Bald, fat and flat!  And, she may be one of my biggest supporters, other than my mom.  I love her and am so grateful for her visit.

The other thing you should know about Erin is that she is super creative.  When she was pregnant, she painted her belly with body paint and it was so cool.  So we decided to do the same thing with my noggin.

Fun with wigs.

If you have seen me during this whole thing, you know I had some freaky yellow hairs that grew after I lost my hair.  Turns out this happens to most people who get chemo - I call it chemo hair.  I HATED THE CHEMO HAIR.  I think it just made me look sick and so I felt sick.  After this last treatment I was thinking how much I just wanted to shave my damn head and get rid of the chemo hairs.  But the docs didn't want me to shave it for fear of nicks that could get infected.

Shiny cue ball.

Well, while in the shower, I took a look at my intuition shaver and just said eff it and shaved my little noggin.  And friends, it was liberating!  I got out of the shower and I of course had missed large spots, but wow!  Its what I wanted this whole time!  A cue ball soft and smooth noggin!

Smooth as a baby's butt.

This is the first time I felt happiness, deep down pure happiness, in many many many months.

It was a perfect canvas for Erin's noggin art!  This art was done with washable body paint crayons we got from AC Moore.  Did you know that you could get body paint crayons?  Me neither.

Here are some photos of her work.  I loved it and it was pretty fun and relaxing.  I highly recommend this activity to anyone going through this process.  There may or may not be a hidden message.  Can you tell what it says?

Earrings from pal Nelly.

Pretty cool, huh?

Plant "hair".

Do you see the message?

Noggin art went out to dinner.

We took my painted noggin out to dinner and got lots of stares and a few compliments.  It deserved much more attention, but I was still in poo poo days, so we didn't do much more.

Noggin art was awesome.  Erin is awesome.  I felt awesome.

Until this past week.

I am trying to make small shifts towards better health.  Trying to not to be like I am with all or nothing thinking.  So went for walks with friends and even went back to Pilates.  Turns out I'm not as unfit as I thought.  Sure, I can't do what I used to, but I was actually able to walk quite a distance and even do the whole loop at Duke trail AND do an upside down push up (my nemesis) at Pilates.  Not bad for going from 3 months of just about no activity.  At all - like sitting in the recliner all day.

However, I got really really tired in the middle of the week.  I think maybe I overdid my activity.  And then I got really emotional.  I mean like the super duper whopper doody doo sad.

I am sad that I have gained so much weight.  I am sad that my cholesterol has increased so much so that they have doubled my medication.  I am sad that I lost my breasts.  I am sad that I worked so hard to lose so much weight and I have put much of it back on.  I am sad that I worked so hard to be fit and strong and am no longer fit and strong.  I am sad that my entire life has been disrupted.  I am sad that I have to worry about my cancer coming back.  I am sad that I no longer have the option to have my own children.  I am sad that my body as I've known it is no longer.

I feel like a failure.  I feel like I did not at all do my best.

No wonder I was so sad.  Plus I am chemopause so no telling what is going on with my hormones.

I fight tears so hard.  I feel embarrassed if I cry.  I call it exploding.  But damnit, things are sad right now.  Who wouldn't be sad?

I exploded on Mom, I exploded on friends, and I exploded on my acupuncturist.

My acupuncturist asked me what I would tell the 3 year old version of myself if she were telling me these things.  I had no idea.  I think this is kooky.  But when she left me to rest with all my needles in, out came 85 thousand years worth of tears and it came to me what I would tell 3 year old me.

I would tell her that it is sad that your body is no longer the same.  It is a loss and is something to grieve and be sad about.  I would tell her that just making it through treatment should be considered success - no matter how you got through it (in my case it was with the help from my pals cake and pizza).  I even patted the pillow I was laying on to comfort this 3 year old me.  HOLY KOOKY BATMAN.  I guess those voodoo needles brought out the kookiness the therapists always want me to believe in.

I felt such relief after this acupuncture session.  Tears are healing and I wish I wouldn't fight them so much.  Who knew I could be in touch with 3 year old Melinda?  KOOKY DOODLE DOO!

Chemo can Suck it - Chemo #4

Hey Chemo - SUCK IT!

NO MORE CHEMO FREAKING THERAPY PEOPLE!!!!!!

Chemo Sucks.  True Dat Yo.
Button from pal Alison G.

Chemo #4 has come and gone and I have to do it exactly NO MORE TIMES!

I cannot tell you the difference that this makes in how I feel and my overall disposition. I feel so much better!  Yeah, sure, chemo #4 shot me down and I had my bad days, but now when I start feeling better I can build on that.  Momentum baby!

Pink Power bracelet from
pal Sue Dangle

During treatment, I was getting worse (physically and emotionally) with each one and I think this had a lot to do with the fact that I knew it was going to just get worse.  I was just going to keep getting knocked down so what was the point trying to feel better?  In my mind, I kept comparing it to being beaten or abused.  You get knocked down enough you just feel like this is your fate and you submit to it.  Its hard to get out of that cycle.  I really don't know how people go through more treatments.  I guess you just do what you have to do - but holy hannah, 4 treatments did a real number on me.

This is my funny shirt from pal Allison B.
All the nurses got a kick out of it.

Did you know that 6 treatments is the standard for the regimen I was getting?  When we first started treatment, I asked why we weren't doing the standard 6 treatments.  My doc said that they had found similar effectiveness with just 4 treatments.  This is a benefit of going to a place like Duke.  Had I gone to small town USA docs, they would probably just treat with the standard.  My BFF, Erin, believes every thing happens for reason - we talked about this during her recent visit.  I'm not sure I believe this - but maybe I ended up in Durham so I could go to Duke so that I only had to get 4 treatments.  Yay smart, educated and aware Duke docs!

The other thing that made a difference this time is that my momma was here again.  My Mom is the best Mom there is and at the last minute got on a plane and came here all the way from Texas to take care of me.  And to let Tboz in and out and in and out and in and out....good gracious that dog was almost hurt during the last treatment.  She was really getting on my last nerve with the in out in out in out all day.  I love her, but this is really hard to tolerate when you feel like you can't get off the damn couch.

My Momma

Anywho - I am grateful that my Mom could be with me and I really enjoy her company, even when we just sit there.

So to wrap up my chemotherapy experience - it totally sucks, but it is doable.  Side effects are totally manageable and not at all as it is portrayed on TV (at least for my regimen).

Today is Day 9 post treatment #4.  Day 10 is the day my blood counts are lowest.  Once I get past Day 10, I will declare myself a winner winner chicken dinner and will no longer allow myself to feel like a victim of this stupid disease.  From now on, I have more control of how I treat this disease.  There is certainly still more to come, but I am not going to get my ass kicked trying to treat it.

OPERATION REBUILD MELINDA CAN COMMENCE!  Yippity dooooo daaahhhhh!

Steroid induced insomnia

I take steroids the day before treatment because they think I am allergic to the Taxotere. Steroids are nasty little hormones and they make me stay up and buy stupid infomercial things. But tonight, I am reading all of my posts and all of your comments.

Things I noticed:
- reading your comments make me all teary and grateful for all of the kindness and support I have received through all of this. Thank you. Sincerely.
- I was so positive in the beginning. What happened?

Final Chemo in about 12 hours!

Hot Flashes are no bueno

Oh yeah, I forgot chemopause brings hot flashes.  Thanks hot flashes for keeping me from sleeping and then waking me up.  Oh yeah, its great that you come visit when its 100 freaking degrees outside.  My head sweats.  Its weird and uncomfortable.

And then I also forgot the taxotears.  I read about them but had yet to experience them.  Basically that your eyes water alot when you are getting taxotere (one of my chemo drugs).  Its true.  It happens and people call them taxotears.  I woke up today with lots of stuff in my eyes.  Where I come from its called eye boogers.  Ewwww.

Weird, huh?

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