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Tuesday, June 23, 2015

Buffy the Breast Cancer Slayer

There is a time, in the 80's, that I am a devoted aerobic gym rat. There is a nice gym for women only, and I use the hell out of it for years. High impact, low impact, sculpt, the sauna....I love it all and it shows. My late 20's are my best as far as physical fitness goes. My ass and abs are chiseled and shapely. Then, somewhere between 28 and 35, I let it go to shit. 

Slowly and by degrees, I allow my sedentary desk job to take over. Too tired to work out after a 10 hour day. Too much trouble. It's raining out. You get the idea. 

Today, after many, many years of neglecting my body, I joined a gym. My husband started me on the path to fitness by making my dead ass walk every night after my diagnosis. Now though, it's so beastly hot here that one risks heatstroke so I figured it best to take it inside.  

My gym is co-ed, and huge. It has many fancy machines, treadmills, ellipticals, stair-climbers and stationary bikes. I signed up for classes too, so tomorrow is Yoga Sculpt day! The price is very fair and I'm motivated to go, because it simply feels good to sweat. They play cool music and the staff is helpful and friendly. 

I do wish that during my long period of recovery that I'd started sooner and with something at home. The Biggest Loser has a program that offers a 15 day free trial, boot camp style. See the link on the right sidebar and check it out. 

Monday, June 15, 2015

I don't wanna work, just wanna write on my blog all day

I love that song, don't you?  So apprapo of my feelings now. 

And that will likely happen soon, since yours truly is working for a "difficult" person right now. The translation of course, is utter narcissistic sociopath, who likes to pick on women and make them cry. Legendary for this charming trait. Well, this is gonna be fun, because unlike those other poor women, I have no fear of the crazy. Been through chemo and radiation, remember? Oh! And they cut off my BREASTS. So I am now very protective of my body and mind. My days of enduring the ranting and raving of a maniac are long over. But I will take the cash until the first episode of psycho emerges, then tapping out. Next!

Thursday, June 4, 2015

Farewell, F#%k Me Pumps

Ahhhh, how to quantify my love affair with high heels? 

I barely bust 5'3 without them. High heels have been very good to me. Standing taller. Looking thinner. Shoe envy from others. Always turned out in new ones. Fond memories of my first pair (faux snakeskin), the hundreds since, in all their various incarnations. Wedge, pumps, platform, spike, even kittens. Dating in them, working in them, dancing in them. Well, like all fiery affairs, time and circumstances have now forced us apart. That's right. Can't do high heels anymore.

The impetus is simple. I've had two heel mishaps in the last few months, the last resulting in a nasty, near bone-breaking experience on concrete. My left foot is currently sporting a large hematoma, but luckily no cast. Apparently, BC has taken any bit of physical grace I may have had. I feel unstable and hesitant, fragile and brittle. 

I went right down in a parking garage at a temp gig, thanks to low lighting and shitty sloped concrete. And my platform espadrilles, which my husband made me toss. He's had it with things that have any potential to harm me and is not shy about it. 

So, I am shopping today for sensible shoes, to go along with my just-acquired sensible job. It all just makes me feel old and used up. Maybe I can get a senior discount.

Only 2 Herceptin infusions left...the end is near

I am not sure how I feel. Should be thrilled that Herceptin will conclude soon, and my port will be removed, right? No more painful needle jabs. No more active treatment except Tamoxifen. My wild ride through Cancerworld will be over, more or less.

Part of me though is scared to stop. What is going to ensure my continued NED status? This is where it gets really scary. All there is to do is hope, try to make supportive lifestyle changes and maybe pray.

Monday, June 1, 2015

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. 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. Vanilla scented trash bags, citrus moisturizer, any kind of chicken soup, (thanks hospital for serving that constantly during my treatment), rice mixes, etc. Writing this is making it happen.

Still, I have to say that if I never recur, it will have been worth it of course. I can only hope it was worth it in the short run, because it scares me to think of ever having to do it again.