Well, we can suck the fat outta your ass and put it....

Back from PS. She says best to not do anything till after rads. She says less chance of issues if TEs are put in place after rads have healed, and after fat graftings, so it's BMX, rads, heal, fat grafts, and TEs, then finally implants. No skin and nip sparing, because my cancer spread to at least one node. Works well for smaller sizes and I can stay a B cup size. Will take a year total. She wants nice healthy skin to work with.

I was disappointed but after hearing her explain that TEs should wait, I get it. So.....I will be flat for about 5 months or so till TE placement.

I am numb right now but feeling much as well! Have to get it together and post that later. Weird but in shock.

Nausea, I hardly knew ya

Before BC, I can count the times in my entire life that I am sick to my stomach. It's a low number and mostly from my wild party years and too much of the sweet nectar. Ahhhhh....how I miss those innocent, intentionally harmful dumbass moments. The nausea begins immediately after the first chemo, and will not stop until 6 months later, and only after chemo ends. It is unrelenting and mostly unresponsive to medications. It ebbs, but it is always with me to some degree. With medication and diet, it stays down to a lower level but I always feel sick. Anything and everything aggravates it - walking, driving, eating, drinking, seeing any kind of food anywhere. I try everything - ginger gum, ginger ale, saltines, eating with plastic utensils, and wearing Sea-bands. It stubbornly mocks my efforts at exorcism. But the absolute worst thing is the smell factor. It's 7 months after my last chemo, and there are still things I cannot even think about without feeling the stomach flips. Vani

Remote

During treatment, mostly when nauseated, memories of my former life as a paralegal would keep me entertained. My first job in the legal field--working for a mentally ill, spastic and eventual social disgrace. Subsequent jobs with the very pillars of the community--some quasi-normal, most with addictions to one thing or another - work, money, social status, trophy wives. The creepy guy that thought a slap on my nubile 21-year old ass (very slapable back then) appropriate. Me, not confident enough to elbow him in the face and stomp on his crotch at that time. The endless succession of others - a Libertarian that was very open about, his group sex activities (and the endless parade of hookers through the office); the devout Catholic in denial of her son's prolific porn addiction (despite it crashing our systems constantly); the married Nerd in love with the likewise married office administrator, an arctic bitch that had a love hate relationship with bipolar disorder and simply

The Worst Birthday Present Ever

Happy 47th Birthday! Oh, and you have an aggressive and invasive breast cancer. You must be medically poisoned, surgically altered and radiated. It may halt the cancer in its tracks, or not. It's going to be horrific at worst and bad at best, for an entire year. You will absolutely be left with lifelong complications, the nature and severity of which we can't say. That vacation you were going on in a few weeks? Cancel it and live or go and maybe risk a chance of quicker death. Yeah, my 2014 birthday sucked. Thank God for shock. It really is an underrated, marvelous thing. I will run on it for months on end. That and my own sense of pissed-off at the bad luck cast upon me. Oh, and Xanax. There is absolutely nothing, nothing, nothing that compares to being told you have cancer. To have this deadly diagnosis so rudely thrust upon me makes me stubborn to fuck it back by beating it. I decide immediately, no matter what, that I am now Funny Cancer Bitch. No way am I go

THE PERJETA DIARIES-a breast cancer blog

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