Taking charge of your medical treatment

One of my favorite cancer bloggers, Chemo Babe http://www.chemobabe.com/, asked a question recently that stirred something inside of me. She said that an oncologist told her that 60% of their patients wanted the doctor to make their medical decisions for them. Sixty percent!!

Wow. But you know what? I think I understand how that could happen. And while it seems odd and maybe a little bit crazy that anyone would put their healthcare decisions in someone else's hands... it actually makes sense to me.

When I was starting my treatment, I had no idea how complicated cancer was. I had no idea that I would be constantly inundated with questions that required answers (usually immediately). I had no idea that I would be so stunned by the notion that I was sick that it would be difficult to think or to process information. But all of that was true.

How about you? Have you put the burden of making your healthcare choices into the hands of the medical team that you see? Asking questions, getting a second opinion, taking time to do some research before you agree to a procedure are all things that you have the right to do.

At the end of the day, its your body. If you don't want to do something, don't do it. If you feel pressured by your doctor to do something, find another doctor. You'll be glad you took charge of your own healthcare.

Oh! My skin, my skin... trying to restore its beautiful glow

Sigh.  Of all the reasons why I hate cancer... one reason (and yes, its vanity but so what?) that I am constantly annoyed is that chemotherapy totally changed my skin. My skin today, two years after chemotherapy, is dry, flaky, scarred, discolored, less elastic, has less sheen... and overall just isn't as fly as it used to be.

I suppose I was spoiled. I was blessed with good skin. Really good skin. If I hurt myself, the scar would not keloid and the mark would disappear in short order. I did not have extraordinarily dry nor oily skin... so I didn't have to pollute it with a lot of products trying to affect a certain look. It just was nice... as it was. A little baby oil every now and then and I GLOWED!

So, today... the fact that these doggone scars are still hanging around bugs me. My radiation scar simply seems to REFUSE to go away and give me my skin back. If you've seen me at any point this summer, you probably noticed all of my scars hanging out -- port scars (2), reconstruction scars and the hyperpigmentation scar from radiation therapy -- because I've been wearing strapless, sleeveless, halters and deep v's with no shame.

Hey, this is me right now. The hyperpigmentation scar is similar to the one in this picture. It is a block (literally a square) of skin that is darkened from the radiation burns that I received in treatment. When I keep in mind that its only been a little over a year since I finished radiation therapy, and that when it concluded the skin was BLACK and BURNT... the fact that its brown now -- even though its not the right shade of brown -- is progress.

But, this is about Nicole's vanity. And I want my skin back. I want it pretty again. At the minimum, I want to stop frightening people when they see me looking sexy with my shoulders out and then they notice the scars and just pause. Scars tend to make people uncomfortable. Here's an example. I bought this cute halter dress this summer. It is cut a little low so you not only see my port scar and my radiation scar... but you can actually see the zip-line that goes around my reconstructed breast as well. And that scar is really not pretty. When I put the dress on to go to a party, my mother asked me what I was going to do to cover up that scar. When I replied nothing... she went on to suggest a few things I could do to hide my reconstruction scar.

Shrug. Whatever.

I was nervous about wearing the dress but I really wanted to be cute for this party. I was concerned that someone would look at my scars and just think yuck. But I just don't have it in me to cover them up. Not on my time. Now, in an office environment, you're not going to see that much cleavage anyway so its a non-issue. But on my time? When my whole point is to be sexy and feel free? I ain't covering up nothing.

At any rate... I'm embarking on a mission to try to resurrect the glow that my skin once had. But it is a bit of a challenge because I am really conscious about what products I use on my skin now. Most mass-produced products that you buy off the shelf at your local store have chemicals and additives in them that I simply am uncomfortable putting on my skin now. Your skin is your largest organ... so although it works as a barrier, it isn't impermeable. What you put on your skin, ends up in your body.

To avoid all these "bad" things... I have started searching (mostly through word of mouth) for handmade, all natural products and product lines that work well and smell good. Tall order, seriously.

Becoming a product junkie

My friends have provided a lot of resources and suggestions for small businesses who create these types of products. And I've also been checking out Etsy for other products as well. The plus side is that there are a lot of people out there creating wonderful products that are free from parabens and hand made. The down side is that all of the options are turning me into a bit of a product junkie.

Every other week or so a bunch of small packages start showing up on my doorstep. The harvest from my labor of online shopping to find just the right combination of products to bring back my lovely glow. I am excited today because I have two new salt/sugar scrubs to try out. (They just arrived the other day) I'm looking forward to sloughing off the old, flaky, dry skin with my scrubs and then using my wonderful shea butter to help give my skin that wonderful caramel glow it used to have.

Right now, I don't have a specific regimen that I use on my skin. Besides using vitamin E oil on my radiation scar and the surgical scars that I have, I use a couple of products that have shea butter/shea oil as their base. I have some pure shea butter but I haven't really used it much lately. Well, I use it occasionally on my hair.

My collection of products that I can use is growing faster than I can use them all up. I realized that I was starting to have a problem when I went on vacation back in May and half of my suitcase was filled with all the different things I use on my skin and my hair. That is madness! But worthwhile madness because my mission is serious.

I expect that my scars will never completely go away. But that doesn't mean that I can't get back that sexy glow naturally. I want to shine like this...

Some of the online shops I use are:

http://www.etsy.com/shop/AuNaturalebymzsixx

http://www.lunableu.com/shop/

http://www.etsy.com/shop/HeartJCreations

http://www.etsy.com/shop/SimpleTraditions

With each shop, the owners are totally hands-on and responsive. If you have a question or concern, they always respond to your messages. Also, if you need something tweaked a little, they usually will do that too.

Gotta run... I have to make a choice between pomegranate sugar scrub or sweet rain shea butter sugar scrub. :)  And that's before I layer on all the other sweet smelling oils... (WINK!)

On being inspired... and being an inspiration

I was inspired by my own story. And it felt amazing...

We're all inspired by cancer survivors. But being a survivor doesn't always feel like an inspiration... until you look back over your life.

Before I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I looked at cancer survivors with a certain awe. I often thought, "man, I could never handle that"... Some people, like Lance Armstrong, make cancer look easy. Or rather, they make the survival of cancer look simple. But, I'm learning that it really isn't as simple as it appears on the outside.

I am told frequently that my story is inspiring. Or that the strength and grace that I've been exhibiting along this journey is admirable. Usually, I find that hard to accept. However, tonight I am sitting here with tears running down my face... because I was just reading some old blog posts and looking at a picture of myself at the end of my chemotherapy treatment.

When you finally see the scars from what you've been through... it humbles you 

Smiling after 4 months of chemotherapy. Exhausted and really just
getting started on my journey with breast cancer. 

In the picture, I'm smiling -- like I always do when a camera is present -- and I'm bald. I stared at that picture for about 10 - 15 minutes. Just taking in all sorts of details. The picture was a few weeks before my mastectomy, so my breasts were different from the way they are now. They had more "hang" to them... more size and volume. I filled out my turtleneck differently than I would today. I noticed my little pooch in my belly -- still there even after losing 30 pounds through my chemotherapy treatment. That's gone too now.

My head was bald and my face was devoid of makeup. I looked pale. Because of the drugs my skin was so fragile and dry, I was afraid to put on any makeup. I noticed the hyperpigmentation spots on my head (just a few) and the different colors in my face. I had hidden my hands in that picture, but I remembered that my hands and my feet were discolored and my palms and the bottom of my feet were darkened from the chemo.

I remember the event -- it was a brunch with my social group -- and I remembered that I felt okay that day. I had some energy. I was happy to be with my friends. It felt like a really good day. And I actually felt cute.

I wasn't.

Well, for all that I was going through, yes... I was cute. And pretty. Stunning possibly. But considering how much more I would go through after that picture and remembering how utterly exhausted I was at that time... I am amazed that I was looking so very normal. How do you manage to look normal and sickly at the same time? How do you smile in a picture after you've been through four months of chemotherapy, lost 30 pounds and are just a few days away from losing your breast?

Knowing what I know now, I don't know how I had the strength to get through it all

The person I am today simply cannot answer any of those questions. I have no idea how I did it. I just knew it had to be done and the alternative would be to give up and prepare to die and I simply wasn't ready to make that choice. So I made a different choice.

I was just inspired by myself. The girl in that picture had a hard time. A really hard time. But she handled it with a lot of grace and a lot of strength. She cried, she acknowledged that she was weak... but she got up and went to every appointment with a smile on her face. She sat through hours of chemo drips and joked and laughed with the medical staff the entire time. She consoled friends who were distraught because she was dealing with such a heavy burden... and then when she was alone... she poured out her tears and frustrations in prayer, and in writing.

THAT girl... is so inspiring and amazing.

THIS girl... doesn't even feel like that person any more. Just looking at my former self, made me feel ashamed for feeling down for a moment.

Damn. If I could get through all of that... is there anything or any reason I can't do more? Wow. I am humbled by my own experience.

I have been through some major stuff and I'm still here. It is overwhelming.

Being inspired by yourself has to be the strangest thing ever. But I really am at this moment. Knowing that other people are inspired by you is equally humbling.

What can I say? I did not start this journey trying to be a super-woman. I just wanted to get to the other side. And after I finished each step of the treatment... there was another side that I needed to get to. Until one day... I was told that I wouldn't have to come back for months until my follow-up appointment. And it hit me that I had climbed several mountains and crawled through a few valleys... and now I was on "the other side" and this side is almost as scary as that one.

Finding inspiration in life often is a matter of opening your eyes and seeing what someone else is going through. It takes putting yourself in their shoes and imagining for a moment that you have to do what they have to do. And then acknowledging that they are carrying a heavy burden. Maybe as heavy as the one you have, maybe heavier. But if they aren't shrugging off their responsibility to be the best person they can be... then they give you permission to reach deeper into yourself and be the best person you can be.

In physical therapy for my lymphedema

I am appreciative of the experience and the story it gave me. 

I am not the same person I was before cancer. I had hoped to return to normal. I am realizing that my expectation was misdirected. There is no returning to normal after this. I will never be that person again. But that isn't a bad thing. I simply can't go back. Even though there is some comfort in the memory of my life before all of this. That just isn't what lies in my future. I'm no different from anyone else. None of us can go backward in time... no matter how much we may want to or wish to. All you can do is start again from where you are and press forward.

I'm still carrying burdens and feeling pressured and hoping for grace and strength to get through these days. And I am confident that I can do it.

What story about your own life is inspiring to you? 

I am a FINALIST!

This post isn't really about breast cancer... and then again... it is. I've been keeping this blog for about two years now. I have been encouraged by many friends to turn the blog into a book. And since I like to write, it makes sense. I decided that I should write a book about my breast cancer journey -- but a separate writing project from the blog. I think it would be the lazy way out (and I'm not above lazy things) to just compile the blog into a book. But I do think that a well-crafted non-fiction story about my journey could be a compelling project.

When the student is ready, the teacher appears.

Have you ever heard that adage "when the student is ready, the teacher appears"?  I recently joined an online community of women writers called "She Writes"... and a few weeks ago they announced a contest for non-fiction writers. The winner of the contest doesn't win any money (darn-it) but they do win some hugely impressive (to me) consultations with a dream team of folks involved in various aspects of publishing -- from editors, to agents, to a life coach and a website consultant and more. However, in order to enter the contest, you had to submit a 10 page book proposal.

Yikes! I've never written a book proposal before. Heck, I've never SEEN a book proposal before. But, I felt that this contest was really calling my name and I knew that it would be good for me to enter. I was scared, actually quite timid feeling about it but it felt so right and the timing was so perfect... I knew that entering was something I needed to do.

Of course, I went through a million shades of fear before I finally settled down and wrote something that was worthy of submission. I clicked send on my entry about 4 minutes before the deadline. But I did it!

Well, the finalists were announced today and I am one of the few. (smile)  I am really thrilled. Nervous too but happy. As much as I love to write, and as often as I am complimented on my writing... I still wonder and worry whether its good enough.

There are a lot of bad writers in the world. Many of them published authors making lots of money. (sigh) I want to be there too. Lots of money and doing something that brings me joy. But I know that good artistry isn't always rewarded the way you would expect.

I won't know whether I have won for another two weeks... but right now, I feel pretty good about taking this big ol' lemon and making it into lemonade. Or maybe lemon pie. Or what about lemon bars?? I love those! (laughs) I'm being silly but I'm happy... and though this post isn't about breast cancer directly, it is about another step in this adventure with cancer.

A year ago, I went to a formal dinner with my mother. It was a fundraiser for the cancer center where I received my treatment. The keynote speaker of the evening was a black woman who was being awarded for her work to raise money for breast cancer patients. She was a lovely woman who was bald from chemotherapy and frail. She was fighting her second battle with breast cancer and as she took the stage, she took my breath away. Not to sound horrible but she looked sick... and yet happy. I could not understand the happy glow that she had. And all I remember from her speech was how she said that breast cancer had been such a blessing in her life.

Keep in mind, at the time of this event I was still sort of bald from my chemotherapy. I had one breast because I had been through my mastectomy. I was weak. I was tired and I think I was in the midst of my radiation treatment. I was, simply put, a hot mess. I remember that I cried in the dressing room at the mall because I kept trying on dresses and nothing looked good. I felt like a monster. So, I'm looking at this woman who represents my nightmare -- me with a second bout of breast cancer -- and she's telling me that she's happy and she's blessed and breast cancer brought so much joy to her life. Even though, as she stood there, she was probably dying... she was happy.

I thought she was crazy. Until today.

I would not wish this journey on my enemy. I just wouldn't. Breast cancer steals a lot from you. It really does. It changes you in ways that you probably didn't want to change and did not expect either. But she's also right in that it blesses you. It awakens something inside of you that makes you try even when you don't want to. Even when you are used to talking yourself out of doing something. Knowing that you made it this far... even through all of your losses, it makes you want to reach out for more. And more. And more. And every time I lose something else... I just reach a little deeper and decide... there's got to be more.

So... I want to say congratulations to the other finalists. And I want to say thank you for the spirited competition from all the entrants. I want to thank the selection committe for thinking that a story about a single girl struggling with breast cancer might make a worthy story.

And I want to thank Fred and Ted and Jim. For showing up unannounced in my body... and waking me up.

I'm still dreaming that this little blog can become a book which can become a movie... and I will ride off into the sunset feeling like I've finally given more to the world than I have taken from it.

Navigating the New Normal pt. 2

New Normal... isn't all that normal honestly

The entire time I was going through treatment for my cancer, the hope that kept me going was... "when this is over, I'll be back to normal".  And that's normal for a cancer patient to feel that way. Your entire world is flipped upside down and everything you did before your diagnosis pretty much goes on pause while you fight your disease. So you hold on to the dream and the fantasy of wanting your life back... you want to be normal again.

Life before cancer seemed pretty good

My life before cancer was pretty good. I wasn't thrilled with where I was in my life but I was making headway to get those goals accomplished that I thought would bring me joy. I had hope that life was just about to be fantastic! I was looking forward to so many things. Fast forward a few months after my diagnosis and I'm in chemotherapy... trying to rationalize that I have advanced breast cancer and while it was likely that my disease would be treatable, the treatment itself was hard on my body and my spirit.

Cancer took a lot from me

Along the way... I lost my relationship. I think some of my friendships were strained a bit. My manager at work wasn't as understanding as I thought he could be. I was scared. My money was funny. I was weak and I was having a small crisis of faith too. I simply could not understand what was going on. I kept trying to just go with the flow of it -- because breast cancer treatment can feel like being caught up in a tsunami and hoping that the water throws you up on the beach at the end of the storm but not knowing if it will or not. I was caught up.

So, I created a mental lifeline of looking forward to returning to normal. I wanted to get back to a point in my life where people did not look at me and see a sick person. I wanted to get back to a place where something as simple as getting on the subway and going to dinner with friends was possible. I think a lot about the months of chemotherapy because it was the first part of my breast cancer treatment and also because it was the darkest time for me.

But normal was my lifeline.

Well... those days are long gone and all that is stretching ahead of me is the future. And I'm still looking for normal. Its just not where I left it. And I can't seem to find it at all.


I started reading a book recently that is supposed to help me move forward after surviving cancer. I will be honest, I wasn't really too hopeful that this book would be able to help me. However, I recognize that I sincerely need some assistance because I'm still stumbling and feeling lost a bit. How do you recover the person you once were when everything that kept you walking on solid ground was shaken and taken? How do you not feel utterly vulnerable every day wondering if whatever mysterious genetic/environmental/just plain bad luck vibe that gave you cancer in the first place won't come back?

Some days it is very difficult to put into words what that nagging feeling is in the back of my throat. I hate to admit that I'm still afraid. I was afraid of cancer (like everybody else) before I was diagnosed and even though I feel that I gained a lot and grew as a person throughout my treatment... I'm still afraid of cancer.

That is a difficult admission because I often try to comfort women who are scared of finding a lump and scared of finding out that they have cancer by telling them that they can get through it. I have said that a million times and I believe that its true. Just because your self-exam may reveal a lump doesn't mean that you have cancer. And even if you have cancer, more than likely, you're going to be alright. The treatment itself is hard but its not impossible to get through.

I know that in my head. I know it in my heart. But I still am afraid of cancer. This book though, in the few short pages that I've read so far, has helped me to articulate in my mind where my fear is coming from and I'm hopeful that it will give me the strength and courage to once again open my arms wide to the world and accept all blessings that God has for me.

You can purchase this book here: The Breast Cancer Survival Manual, Fifth Edition: A Step-by-Step Guide for Women with Newly Diagnosed Breast Cancer

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Giving up dating... and wishing

My insomnia is back and my nightsweats aren't helping. I'm back to living in an upside down world, time-wise. The only good thing about being up when everyone else is not is that it gives me a lot of time and quiet to think and to write. I will be honest, sometimes I don't want to think too much. Somedays -- sometimes for weeks on end -- I do everything in my power to keep from experiencing any long stretches of silence or quiet. I know its not the best thing to do, but sometimes its all I can do to keep the nightmares away or the fears.

I still cry a bit. But, like I said, I have been thinking a lot and asking myself tough questions. The result was an epiphany that left me feeling a little strange and a lot free-er. I've decided to put a moratorium on dating.

Ha! Funny, right? The girl who dreams of having a baby doesn't want to date anymore? Yep. That's pretty much where I am right now.

I got here -- as usual -- by some convoluted way. Months ago I joined a few online dating sites. Actually, now that I think about it, maybe I joined a year ago. I don't know, not really remembering clearly. At any rate... I've had some HORRIBLE matches pop up. I mean, utter foolishness for real. Its rather disappointing that there are so many frogs out there. Probably princes for some other princesses... but for me? Nothing. Anyhoo... the other day I was asking myself what I really wanted out of this life. Did I want to get married? Did I want to write? Flee the country? Something else? Or nothing else? And while I was thinking this way, I received an email that I had new messages on my profile. And as I was reading the messages, I just stopped for a moment and asked myself why in the world I was torturing myself this way...

He ain't here. (or maybe I don't have the required patience)

Now, please understand. I do not have a problem with internet dating. I've done it many times over the years and have actually met some nice guys. Dated one guy for a couple of years that I met online. So, I don't think that online dating is a bad thing and I'm not against it at all. But as I was reading the messages -- and most of them were lame as hell -- I just got weak. I mean literally, I felt the wind just seep out of me and all I kept thinking was... is this it? Is this what I've reduced myself to? Hoping and wishing that Prince Charming shows up online, or at a party, or heck at a sandwich shop when I'm going about my business? THIS is what it comes down to? I fought through all that sickness and fear just to end up still living on a wish and a hope that someone will notice me? Pass.

I know that I'm not every guy's cup of tea. And honestly, that's cool because there are a lot of guys out there who do not float my boat either. But this sitting around and waiting... This hoping and wishing... Ick! Its not me. I'm not feeling it. I hate when I try to force myself into an opening that doesn't feel comfortable simply because I think its the right thing to do. The truth is that I'm still trying out this new "normal"... and I'm going to keep bumping into walls and spaces that don't quite fit anymore. But I need to "feel" something... feel good, feel alive... just FEEL. And looking at static pictures on a website has no feeling at all.

I'm no longer ashamed of telling guys that I'm a breast cancer survivor. I don't get annoyed or angry if they react poorly or decide to stop talking to me, or stop calling... Eh. Their loss. But I really am not feeling (at this moment) this passive role that I've fallen into. Its all my fault. I blame myself. I reasoned that if I really wanted to get married, I had to push myself out there and make contacts with guys. But the way that I chose to go about it was wack.
So, for a time... maybe through the fall and winter... I'm going to take dating off the table. If I meet someone and I want to hang out, I'll do that. But nothing serious. No strings. Just fun. Just laughter. Just feeling...

Insomnia and night sweats... oh my!

Sleep has not been my friend for a long time. Even before my cancer diagnosis, I didn't sleep that well... but I had no idea that it could actually get worse! Lawd... I want to sleep. I want to go to sleep like normal folks and not sweat all night (or cough all night thanks to my summer cold).

As it turns out (surprise, surprise) insomnia is a common side effect of breast cancer treatment and often continues well after treatment ends. I've been taking Ambien off and on since my diagnosis... but since I've been sucking down cold medicine for two weeks, I've been wary about taking Ambien on top of the Nyquil. Doesn't sound like a good recipe to me.

Nyquil doesn't make me sleepy.  But it contains my cough and clears my sinuses... so for that I'm thrilled. Basically, I've traded sleep for being able to breath easily and not cough all night. I can't seem to do much about the night sweats. (shrug) I just keep the fan blowing on me constantly and hope for the best.

I've tried tea, silence, soothing music... sigh. Nothing's working. So, I guess until this cold is gone, sleep will escape me. Here's a funny... "younger pre-menopausal women who are thrown into menopaus because of their breast cancer treatment are more likely to experience insomnia..."

Sigh. Is there ANYTHING associated with breast cancer that I'm not likely to experience thanks to my youth (relative though it may be). Geez... If you see me on the street (or more likely on-line) and I'm nonresponsive... ignore that. I'm just sleepy.

Having cancer, being depressed and considering suicide

This is probably one of the most difficult posts I've ever written. I will start this post by saying that I am not suicidal. I am not depressed. And this post is not a plea for any type of help.

But I want to address the dark side of dealing with huge mountains of fear and disappointment with your life. My burden in this world (right now) is dealing with my breast cancer. Yours may be finances, or lack of appropriate employment, or addiction or maybe loneliness and grief... or it could be a million other things. What the specific burden is doesn't matter as much as how we deal with it. We all have something in our lives that bows our backs, makes us feel weak and small... and for a few of us -- those who have fought the demon of depression -- it makes us consider ways to end it all.

[I am speaking from my personal experiences with depression and suicidal thoughts. I am not a clinical counselor or a medical professional. If you feel that you may be depressed or if you are having thoughts of ending your life... please take a moment and talk to someone trustworthy about your thoughts.]

Recently the news was buzzing about a young female celebrity who attempted to take her life. As a fan of her music, hearing the news of her suicide attempt really broke my heart. Some of the snippets of conversations that I heard and participated in reminded me that a lot of people do not know or understand about the mindset of a suicidal person. As someone who has in the past considered (never attempted though) suicide as a possibility... I have to say that it is not the simple exit theory that many folks believe that it is.

Well, it is and then it isn't. Statistics show that breast cancer survivors are more likely than other women to contemplate and attempt suicide. And of those survivors, African American survivors lead the pack. It is so very sad....

But I understand. The reality is that no matter how much inner strength you have, feeling vulnerable inside of your own body is a wholly betraying feeling. Wondering whether you can go on with the treatments, or go on with the fear of recurrence takes a heavy toll on you emotionally. My cancer was diagnosed at stage 3. But I often wonder how I would have dealt with being diagnosed stage 4. For those who don't know... stage 4 is the final stage of cancer diagnosis and means that your cancer has metastisized to your bones. Usually, it means that there isn't much that can be done to cure you and the treatment is to make your final days/weeks/months/years more comfortable.

How do you face knowing that you're dying? At no fault of your own? And with a small sliver of hope for a different outcome?

Being diagnosed at stage 3 was close enough to the door of stage 4 for me to seriously wonder why me? And to ask the hard questions about whether or not it was worth it to go on? I know for many folks... I am being blasphemous by even uttering that I considered suicide. But I'm going for raw honesty right now... and yes, I did. Yes, even though I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am loved abundantly -- more than I could ever repay -- I thought that the pain and the burden of being a cancer victim was just too much.

How I got through it.

I am lucky (interesting choice of words, I know)... to have gone through a period of clinical depression a few years ago. That experience taught me how to recognize when I'm slipping into a dark abyss and what to do to pull myself out of it. Please believe me when I say this, depression is not the same as a funky mood. And... dealing with depression along with breast cancer is HARD. Because people actually give you an "out" when you are a cancer patient. They are afraid of you, because they are afraid of geting whatever unlucky vibe that you have. They are afraid for you. They are well-intentioned but sometimes fumbling. And meanwhile, you're more afraid than you've ever been and you're out of control of what it will take to correct the situation.

It is a tough time, to say the least.

One thing I have admitted to myself is that facing my mortality by going through breast cancer treatment has changed me. And changed my family and friends. Before I knew in a surface way that life was big and great and awesome... but crawling through the valley of cancer treatment -- chemotherapy, mastectomy, radiation therapy, breast reconstruction, breast reduction -- brought it down to a cellular level that life is as big as you allow it to be in and around you.

Tough times will come. And they often come when you don't expect it, falling right behind some other tragedy... before you've had a chance to catch your breath. But if you have a breath, you have a chance to do better. To make things right. Or just to enjoy your friends and family for just a little while longer.

Numbness equals wardrobe malfunctions

I learned something this past weekend that gave me a great insight and understanding about something. I understand the great "Hollywood boobie wardrobe malfunction" now. I used to sit back and cluck about all the paparazzi pics that would show various female celebrities losing their tops at inopportune moments and having really nonchalant reactions to the situation.

I (like most folks around the world) watched Janet Jackson and Justin Timberlake take it too far and show her nicely pierced nipple to the world. I (like everyone else) wondered whether it was truly a publicity stunt gone wrong as they stated or if the showing of the breast was the stunt and it went as expected. After my party experience last weekend, I've realized that... it probably was a stunt that went too far.

I went out on Friday night to a party. I was looking forward to being out because I was in a bit of a funk and needed to shake it off of me. Literally. I had already been out the night before at a birthday party that was a real blast, so I was truly expecting a great time. And I had just that. The party was a blast. I danced. I drank. I laughed with good friends. I flirted with cute (though too young) guys. I had a really good time. I went to a second location to laugh and dance some more -- it was only a few doors down from where I was already partying -- and I ran into an old college buddy. So, that made for an even better time. (don't ya love when you run into old friends and they are just as nice as you remembered?)

Anyway... by the end of the evening I was enthralled in a deep conversation with a couple of people. We were chatting and I was animated in my responses -- hands and arms moving all around. So much so that I did not feel when my top slipped down and I flashed my conversation partner.

Sigh.

Luckily for him (and for me) it was the side that looks like a normal boobie (not the breast that was reconstructed but the side that was reduced) so while it was shocking and inappropriate it wasn't (or shouldn't have been) scarring for life or anything. He looked embarrassed but did tell me that I was hanging out. The other person in the conversation helped me to retie my dress tighter so that I wouldn't have that problem again.

Sigh.

Even days later I still feel embarrassed but also a little saddened. The embarrassment will fade away. I know that. But the fact that my luscious and lovely perky girls have little to no feeling... will not. I am becoming more comfortable with wearing things that show off my cleavage (because I'm happy to have it) and that highlight my perkiness (because I'm excited about that too)... but I had not thought too much about guarding against hapless wardrobe malfunctions along the way. Puts a wholly different twist on the whole game.

That said...

I was rather cute on Saturday.  That in itself is a big enough deal. I felt attractive and confident and I believe it showed in the way that I interacted with others. I was easy and breezy... and it was a good time. (even with this long arm bandage on)

Power to the numb boobies!! Pink ribbon sistas unite in the struggle. (laughs)