Okay... so I'm not totally over wanting to have a baby

I actually believed that I had moved to a place of acceptance about not having children. When I started this breast cancer journey, I was told that the treatment could very likely leave me infertile. Because of the timing -- my cancer was found in an advanced stage and determined to be very aggressive -- I did not feel that there was time (or money) to invest in fertility treatments like egg harvesting. I opted to have my ovaries put to sleep so that the chemotherapy wouldn't ruin them entirely. The hope was that after I completed my therapy regimen, my ovaries would return to normal function and I could go on my way with having children.

I finished my chemotherapy treatment about a year and a half ago. Still no menstrual cycle over here. While a big part of me is rather happy about that, for all of the discomfort that your period may bring to your life... not having one means that your body is not releasing eggs to be fertilized either. In other words... fertility is still at zero for me.

In the time since I've finished chemo, I've dated a few guys and had some long talks with myself about the likelihood that I will never have babies. Before cancer I believed that I wouldn't have kids because I had not found Mr. Right. (shrug) Now it seems that even if I find him (or he finds me), kids of my own are not an option.

I thought I was okay with that. But I realized that I am not as okay as I thought. One of my oldest and dearest friends is expecting. Twins no less. I would be lying if I said I wasn't excited for my friend and his wife. I am beyond thrilled for them. They will be wonderful parents. But when I looked at some pictures of the nursery that they have prepared for their bundles of joy... I wept. I could not help but feel a twinge of envy. I had to ask myself how long I was prepared to feel saddened when someone I knew had a child. I had to ask myself hard questions like... would it even be fair to have a child knowing that cancer could very well come back in my life and could easily shorten the lifetime I have left? There are no easy answers because life just isn't promised to any of us. Anything can happen and life can be different in the twinkling of an eye.

I am just annoyed (yet again) that I feel grief over something because of breast cancer. At some point... this all just has to stop.

My Panties Are In A Bunch - Sexual Desire After Breast Cancer

Sexual intimacy issues are a REAL problem for many survivors

Okay, so you know the saying... "don't get your panties in a bunch"? It generally means don't get excited over small things. But in this case, my panties are in a bunch... but I think I'm justified over my excitement.

Your sex drive can suffer when you're diagnosed with breast cancer

Breast cancer plays a wicked trick on your sex drive. While you're in treatment (chemotherapy, radiation), your body may be a little too fragile to really engage in sex. The head trip about dealing with your mortality and the difficulty of seeing the changes in your body can also reduce your libido. Add to that, after the treatments and surgeries end you could be pushed into menopause -- a time where your body naturally drifts into a lower sex drive -- and you could have a recipe for some bunched up dry panties.

D. R. Y. panties ain't no fun for anybody... (laughs)  I'm just saying.

I'm still feeling feverish (sexually) and excited... grateful for that!

I think I'm in a different category though because I can't say that my sex drive has diminished. In fact, it seems to heat up a little bit more every month. Which presents a challenge for me (remember, I am currently the date-less/boyfriend-less wonder).

Your vagina CAN suffer... not cool!

I read somewhere that for breast cancer patients/survivors the old adage, use it or lose it, really does apply. The drugs used to treat our cancer often affect our vaginas in several ways: the skin gets thinner, intercourse can become painful and our personal lubrication may diminish or dry up completely. Reading that information made me cringe. I like sex. Didn't always but I definitely do now. And I'd hate to lose the ability to engage in wonderful sex, complete with powerful orgasms just because I didn't have anyone to work it out with. But, right now, I don't.

Do you hear me? My beautiful va-jay-jay could be harmed by the same drugs that saved my life from breast cancer. What the hell? I'm alive... I'm missing one breast... and my va-jay-jay could be broken?

*gasp*  The horror!

But wait... what about self-love? 

So what's a girl to do? Well, you know... (blushing)... you get to know yourself. I've become quite proficient at loving myself and I'm waiting for a delivery of some additional items to take that self-love to a different level.

To put it plainly... masturbation (self-love) keeps your va-jay-jay happy and in good use until a partner comes along that you're willing to share yourself with. And it feels pretty good too.  

All jokes aside, masturbation is a natural thing and the reality of being the single girl breast cancer survivor is that I am still very a sexual being. Diagnosed with breast cancer before my 40th birthday means that I'm still dating, I hope to get married one day and I still want to have good sex.

Talking with my oncology team about the importance of my sex life was sometimes awkward but it was an important part of myself that I wanted to be sure that someone was aware that I was concerned about. Searching online for more information regarding sexual dysfunction among breast cancer survivors gave me a lot of insight as well. Counteracting the effects of menopause, without the use of hormone treatments, is my goal. However, that doesn't mean that I want (or plan) to just give it away to any ol' person who comes along.

Intimacy in relationships (both sexual and non-sexual) take time to build. I already feel self-conscious about my body because of all the changes I've been through. Being uncomfortable with my body sexually, won't help me to connect with a good guy (when the time comes). So, I think of my exploration of my own body as homework to prepare for the guy who comes along...


I think that my regular doses of self-love are assisting me in reconnecting my new body to my old sense of sexiness and sensuality. Things are different, to be sure, but there's still a whole world to discover and explore over here.

So... my panties are definitely in a bunch. But it is a good thing.

This is slightly awkward... but I'm going to paste a link to my amazon store [Nic's Self-Love Essentials Amazon Store] with a few select items, that you may find interesting. They are sexual in nature - so don't click if you're going to be horrified at the sight of certain apparatus - but nothing too crazy or too out there.







This is MY body. What's left of it is mine. I want to be alive for a long time, but I also want to have a lot of years ahead of me with some really great sex. I don't think that's a bad thing at all.

*Update 7/2015: I wrote this post in 2010. I wasn't in a committed relationship then (though I am now) but the advice about self-pleasure still applies. To counteract issues of vaginal atrophy, you will need to remain sexually active. It is your body... love it. Don't be ashamed or afraid to touch yourself.*

That's all for now... 

~Nic

I think I miss my fat belly

I'm still getting accustomed to my new boobies. I have been reminiscing and recollecting a lot about this journey the past couple of days. Realizing just how much I've been through, how much change I'm endured and how emotional this trip has been in its entirety. While I do like my new boobies and I am finding them to be quite satisfactory at this point, I do think about my body before breast cancer and I miss it.

Including my fat belly. I really miss that soft, squishy part of myself. When I opted for the TRAM-flap reconstruction, the largest selling point for me was that my breast would be constructed from my own tissue and I would not have to endure an implant. I know that many women opt for implants and are happy with their decisions. I think that its great that there are options for all of us to consider actually. For me, the thought of going from a natural H cup to any type of implant seemed just above and beyond what I could fathom for myself. I just didn't want any foreign object in my body.



The fact that the TRAM-flap would also give me what amounted to a nice little tummy tuck was a bonus. I figured that it was a pretty good trade-off for the 12+ hour surgery and the 2-3 months recuperation time that I needed afterwards. I had hoped that the new breast and the flat tummy would propel me farther down the lane of recapturing my sexiness. It hasn't exactly done that though.

My tummy, while flatter, is not FLAT. And even all these months later, there is still a significant area that is numb. I have a belly button but I forget about it a lot because I can't feel it. (Although the numbness is making me consider getting it pierced actually.) I guess I didn't really think about what I would look like after the surgery. I assumed that I would be slim and trim with perky new boobies. When the truth is that while flatter, my tummy isn't flat and in order to get my body to look the way that I picture it in my head... I'm going to have to work out and eat better.

Gag. (laughs) I'm starting with yoga and running a couple of days a week. I'll tell you how it goes.

All in all, while I miss my belly a bit I am growing increasingly happy with my breasts. I can only hope that soon I will be happy with everything I see in the mirror and I won't keep having these "remember when" flashbacks.

You never know how folks think about your breast cancer

The other day I received a request from a former boyfriend for my cellphone number. I wasn't surprised to hear from him, since we have remained friends in the years that have passed since we dated. However, I was surprised to see a request for my phone number. Most people who know me well, know that I'm not the biggest telephone person these days. (something I'm sure would make my parents laugh considering how long I used to have the phone glued to the side of my head when I was a teenager)

So the request for my number immediately made me wonder what was going on in his life that he needed to actually speak to me and hear my voice. I was then surprised to receive a text message from him a short while later. This particular ex-boyfriend is rather eccentric. And I don't mean that in a "he's a weirdo" sort of way. But I mean that he has a very unique perspective on life and he finds the most abstract things funny or interesting... or whatever. So, receiving unusual notes and pictures from him is pretty normal. I expect for him to send me something I've never seen or heard of before... something I probably would not have noticed had it not been brought to my attention by him.

Imagine my surprise when I opened the text message and it was a picture of a woman lying on her back -- with her breasts exposed. She was a very pretty young woman with fairly large breasts. There was something vaguely familiar about her look. While I was trying to process why he sent me that picture, I realized that he had sent a message as well.

Subject line was: Reminds
Body of message in the text:  me of you. Hope you're not offended.

(laughs)  Seems that my ex came across this picture -- I didn't ask how -- and the woman in the picture reminded him of me. It would be odd except he and I have had a few conversations over the past couple of years about my breast cancer and how the treatment has affected me (physically and emotionally). I found myself staring at this young woman and I realized that she really did look a bit like me... skin color, hairstyle, and breast size. Well... she reminds me of who I used to be.

My reaction was complicated. I laughed (because only this guy would do something like this). I smiled. I thought that she was pretty. And then I sighed because I realized that I no longer looked like that. She had an innocence in her face (yes, while she was laying there half-naked) that I don't think I have anymore.  And she also had breasts that were significantly larger than what I have now. It made me remember (in a different way) how much I have changed because of the breast cancer.

As I looked at the picture, I realized that I was a little envious of the way she looked. Her breasts were perfect, although large. And they were obviously hers and not fakes because they had a "flow" to them (that's the best way I can describe it). As you age and grow, your breasts lose some of that little girl/young woman perkiness and they soften such that they sort of flow a bit on your body. They give you a softness that I often find missing from women with artificial breasts.

When I did look that way, I didn't appreciate the way that I looked. I had a complaint and a worry about everything. I never thought much about how it may have appeared to someone else... I worried that I wasn't pretty enough most of the time. (tragic waste of time and energy I know now) It was sort of empowering to know that at one time I was so lovely and someone remembered me that way.

I replied by text that it was a good laugh and I remembered when I did look that way. And I thanked him for even thinking of me after all of these years. He then called to hear my voice and to find out how I was really feeling... after all this time with treatment and surgeries and ... stuff.  That made me feel good too because even after all this time, I like to know that people still think about me from time to time.

You never know how your stuff will affect someone else. And something like breast cancer affects you so deeply and changes who you are and who you think you are and who you can be... that when someone takes a moment to remind you that you were (and therefore still are) a beautiful person... its simply a touching moment.

(the picture above is an edited version of the picture he sent me... )

Lingerie shopping... taking back my femininity and my someday

For a weekend where I really didn't do much... it turned out to be somewhat eventful. I felt really happy on Friday when I left work. I was planning to meet a couple of friends for drinks, and hopeful that I would see another friend later in the evening. I had been pondering and wondering whether or not I was ready to be fitted for a new bra.

I decided that I was ready. The swelling has gone down significantly on my breasts from the surgery and I thought that purchasing something really nice -- while getting fitted properly -- would kick off my weekend in a great way.

I scooted out of work with enough time to stop by this uber-chic European lingerie store downtown. I've been there before but I've never ever purchased anything there. In the past, it was primarily because they didn't carry my size. (The sales lady told me that once with sort of a sneer on her face... ahhh... don't you just love being snubbed when you want to spend your money?) But also because the prices are ... well devastatingly outrageous.

This isn't the run of the mill Victoria's Secret shop that you find at every mall across the nation. This store... is "special" (she says with a whisper of awe and a lilt of glee). I won't put the name on this post because I have NO plans to direct any traffic their way. But its still a really nice store.

You know how some people are fascinated by the store windows in New York during the Christmas holidays? This store's window fascinates me the same way. The lingerie in the window is always so very beautiful and colorful. It looks ephemeral... like its as light as an angel's feather. The lingerie never looks trashy or cheap or hooker-ish. It always gives me the sighs... and I look at the window and think...

"if I can get something from there I will FEEL like a lady and it will probably radiate outwardly and guys will treat me more like a girl and less like one of the guys".

Yes. That long azz sentence runs through my mind whenever I see the window of this store.

Right now, I'm closing my eyes and envisioning the beautiful pink and white lacy set that was in the window the other day. (sigh) So, like I was saying. On Friday after work, I felt that since I was in the mindset of reclaiming and celebrating my dreams I should go to this store and feel like a lady for a little while. I walked in and looked around briefly and asked to be fitted. I explained to the ladies that I was a breast cancer survivor and I had no idea what size my new breasts were. Interestingly enough I was not wearing a bra when I walked in their shop -- something that seemed quite distasteful to those two little ladies. (laugh) Whatever.

I went into the dressing room and the older lady came in with her measuring tape. I will give her credit. She did not gasp when I slid my dress straps down. Her face did not reflect any shock or surprise. I figured out later on that she was uncomfortable with my nipple-less noobie. (noobie = new boobie)

First of all, my complaints and concerns that my boobies were small were wrong. I am a respectable F cup (that's a DDD in the US). So, that made me feel a bit better. Secondly, there are some gorgeous items for ladies my size.

My sales assistant brought me two or three very nice but quite non-fancy bras to start with. She chose them because they were smooth and could be worn under all types of outfits without showing. I tried them on and they were definitely prettier than the lounging bras I've been wearing while I'm healing...but they weren't "pretty pretty" like the display items. I liked them but not enough to purchase.

I asked her to bring me something "pretty pretty" preferably an exotic color or something with embroidered flowers... I wanted something that when I closed my eyes to remember what I had on under my clothes... I would smile. I want that secret "my lingerie ROCKS" smile to be a permanent fixture on my face.

She brought me the prettiest lavender lace bra that I've ever seen. It is simply gorgeous. Almost too pretty to wear actually. I asked for matching panties -- though I suspected that they didn't have them in my size. I was wrong. She found something that worked. It is so pretty. I purchased the lavender set and also a beautiful black lacy bra -- I think every woman should have one black bra that is so lacy and frilly that she snickers every time she thinks of it and her lover can't wait to catch a glimpse of it when she is dressing or undressing. I think that should be an adult rite of passage. Anyhoo...

I get to the register, heady with cherubs and hummingbirds dancing around my head... (like I'm in a cartoon or something) and I realized that I was overspending but I didn't dare stop myself. This was more than just buying some bras and panties to get through the day or the week. This was another step for me to becoming more girly and lady-like. I was not going to refuse myself the opportunity to feel great.

So I handed my card and made my purchase. Did I mention that this place was tres snooty? When the receipt printed, there were TWO places to sign. One, the regular signature to approve the purchase. And the other was a signature line stating that you read the return policy and agreed to it.

*blink blink* Whatever...

I was soooo heady and happy that I laughed to myself and signed... twice. (shrug) And I jetted off to the other side of town for happy hour. Now, my evening did not go as planned but it was still good. I was happy with my investment and in a good frame of mind. I showed my new purchases to a couple of female friends at the bar and they sort of made me question my purchase. They thought my items were pretty until they saw the pricetag and then they were shocked that anyone would spend that much on underwear. Especially if you could get something equally as pretty a lot cheaper.

Their thoughts and comments stuck with me for the rest of the night and I started to wonder if I just had FOOL written on my forehead. And then I remembered an email (that has circulated for many years) and I remembered that my purchase wasn't about being appropriate but it was a chance for me to appreciate myself.

The reality for me right now is that no one will probably see me in these beautiful lacy garments anytime soon. But I know that when I do choose to wear them, I will be as pretty on the inside of my clothes as I hope I appear on the outside. I know that when people look at me they don't see a breast cancer survivor. They just see a woman, walking down the street or riding the subway. I don't even wear my breast cancer pins anymore. I am simply... Nicole again.

But on the inside, I am truly different -- even with two boobs again -- and I feel that I have to really honor that feminine spirit within. Truly bow down and respect what it means to be a lady, what it means to be a girl, what it means to be feminine.

I know its hard being a girl today. It is extra hard being a breast cancer survivor girl trying to reclaim her "sexy swagger" while sporting one nipple-less noobie. Its a tall order and whew... sometimes I just am not up to the challenge. But I realized when my sales assistant kept clucking about hiding my scar within the cup of my bra... that I am DAMN PROUD of my scar. No, its not pretty... but so what?. Like I told her, never mind that scar.. what matters is that I'm here. And if that scar wasn't there... I would not be here.

My first instinct was to take my tissue-paper wrapped lingerie and bury it in the back of my lingerie drawer. Pull it out every now and then to fondle and appreciate it but really never wear it. But... I decided that I'm going to wear it this week. Because life is too short to hold out for someday... today is someday.

Below is the email that I thought of immediately after having regrets about spending so much on three little items. I hope that it sticks with you and reminds you... today is your someday.

Free printable download

I made this story into a downloadable file. Click here  [Your life is a gift]  and print this out to remind yourself just how precious life is. Treat every day like a special occasion. Because it is.

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Celebrating the return of dreams...

I received an email with this title: Celebrating the return of dreams. And it struck a note with me that sort of summed up how I’ve been feeling the past few days. The email was from the YSC (Young Survival Coalition: http://www.youngsurvival.org/) and it was about their upcoming bicycle ride fundraiser. Just for the record, I’m NOT going to ride 220 miles in the Tour de Pink. LOL… not gonna happen.

 

But I liked the spirit of the story that opened the email and it made me pause and think. The author of the story was a young woman when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. She was married and had small kids but still the news of having breast cancer hit her hard and she was really shaken. She mentioned how she lived day by day during the time of her treatment. She never really looked to the future too far because it was difficult enough to get from one day to the next. I really identified with that feeling.

 

I started looking for cars a few weeks ago because it’s time for me to have a car now. Travelling by public transportation is simply too limiting, too time consuming and becoming too inconvenient and too expensive for me to continue. I am fortunate that I can afford to buy a car. The other day, I also accepted that I was allowing myself to feel strangled by my medical bills. The stack of paper in my room is simply outrageous. Bills, bills, bills… everywhere. I gathered them all up and looked at my savings and said… enough! I withdrew a hefty chunk of change from my savings – it hurt my heart to do it – but I realized that unless I got that monkey off my back, I was going to continue to feel bogged down and stifled.

 

Getting through the process of writing down all the bills that I owed and making the money available so that they could be paid was difficult. I wanted to cry on Friday night when I got home because I was so angry. But I had made an innocent comment a few days before and it was continuing to resonate with me. “I need little luxuries in life to keep my wheels balanced.”

 

Once I did the hard part and I knew when the money would be available, I could breathe a little easier. I realized that I was extremely blessed to be able to access enough money to wipe out those bills. And even though they are bills that I never expected, they were mine and they were for a good reason. My life. I’m worth a few thousand dollars. I really am. Writing those checks the other day, freed me in a major way.

 

I went car shopping on Monday (window shopping) and found the car that I want. It is NOT one of the cars I had on my list. It is a car that I’ve wanted for a long time, I just didn’t think I could afford it.  In fact, two years ago when I was diagnosed, I didn’t think I would ever be in a position to get it. I looked at it, looked at the sticker price, I sat in it… and then I resolved that I could afford it and that I would get it. Not that day, but soon enough. I have a few things to do first but then, with lots of good luck, good fortune and blessings on my side, I will have my dream car.

 

Since the day I went car shopping… I realized that a lot of dreams have popped back into my head. Like renovating my bedroom. Writing a book proposal and submitting it to a few agents. Finally purchasing my first full length fur coat. And so forth. They are things that probably won’t matter or make sense to anyone besides me, but I am looking forward to hitting each and every one very soon.

 

When I read the headline of the YSC article, it clicked. I am finally in a space where I too am celebrating the return of my dreams. When I decided that I wanted to buy the Mercedes Benz instead of the cheaper Pontiac or even a little hooptie car, I realized that I was giving myself permission to stop living on hold. To stop holding my breath waiting for the next “cancer” issue to fall out of the sky. I am moving from survival mode… to simply SURVIVOR.

 

I need a good cover story

I've been wearing these lymphedema bandages for a few weeks now. And I've gotten used to the way that they look. Sort of. They aren't sexy and they do not go very well with my wardrobe... but it doesn't bother me as much because my arm is really going down pretty well. I can see progress and it is making me happy.

My issue is that people I see on the street are amazed at the bandages. I am stopped constantly and asked.. "what happened to your arm?".

Sigh.

I suppose that it is startling to see a gorgeous lady (that would be me) strolling down the street like nothing is wrong with her arm bandaged up to the shoulder. A bit strange to see I'm sure. But it is my reality right now. Here's what's strange about the constant questions though... I simply don't feel like taking advantage of the obvious "teaching" moment.

Normally -- rather, for the past two years, I've taken every opportunity given to me (and forced more than a few) to educate people about breast cancer.  I have had what I call... "breast cancer Tourette's" for the longest time. Just could not help myself from responding to anything that opened the door for me to discuss my journey with breast cancer. But I don't feel like sharing all that right now with every stranger I see.

It is strange for me. I can see the genuine concern in their eyes... but it feels like a chore to say...

oh, I have lymphedema (which just means that my arm is swollen) because I had a mastectomy about a year ago... by the way I am a breast cancer survivor.... yes, at my age. no i don't have kids... yes, its a shame. okay bye.

Who DOES that on the street with strangers? Well, not ya girl. At least not for the past couple of weeks. (shrug) But you know... I have decided that I need a good cover story. Like, I was attacked by werewolves in the dark or something. And I need to practice it every day so that it rolls off my tongue easily.

Because I really will be wearing this sleeve of bandages for another 2 weeks I think. I just don't know what story to tell...

Ideas?

(as you can see, my arm is getting smaller... yay!)