Never Say Never...

The old saying holds sway. It seems every time I’ve put my foot down and consciously made the decision that “I’ll never do that…” I’ve had to eat my words. For example, when I was young and naïve, I swore I’d NEVER date anyone with copious amounts of back hair. Silly, right? No one has control over their genes to make a choice whether or not to go Sasquatch. Well, I fell in love with a big, hairy man and not only did I date him, but I married him. Never say never.

Again, when I was young with no children in sight, I swore I’d NEVER drive a minivan. Who in their right mind would want one of those ugly ass things? Well, after having two of our three children, Scott and I took the kids on a vacation to Lake Tahoe. The car rental company gave us a minivan to use. Eureka! I instantly understood the advantages of automatic sliding side doors with space inside to separate everyone further than arm’s length. Yep, I’m still driving the silver bullet minivan we bought back in 2006 and will keep it another few years if it continues to hold up. Never say never.

Having breast cancer has taken me well out of my comfort zone on so many occasions already, and now I find I’m having to eat my words on two other fronts. As a mature adult, I swore I would NEVER get a tattoo and I would definitely NEVER get breast implants. I’m scheduled for a double mastectomy on March 20 which poses a few moral dilemmas when it comes to reconstruction options. Well guess what? Not only will I be toting a pair of implants for the rest of my life, but I will also have tattooed nipples on those babies. BAM, two more “nevers” down the toilet. I was considering going without breasts, but none of my doctors really wanted to go there with me. Apparently, the psychological impacts are too great for someone my age and they try their hardest to steer the conversation away from that option. I know it’s my choice, but I feel it may be best to defer to their years of experience here. Therefore, I will have expanders placed immediately after my surgical oncologist cuts off the bad girls. Plastic surgery and tats for tits! Never say never.

I hope you are able to avoid your “NEVERS” better than I have, but I know each time I have had to renege on mine, I’ve grown as a person and understood myself and others in a new light.

Now it’s time for a quick update: Two weeks ago on January 6, I had surgery to place a new port through the left side of my chest. Huge thank you to my surgical oncologist, Dr. Heidi Murley, for taking her day off to come get this taken care of for me so I’d have my port in place for chemo later that morning. She didn’t bat an eye at taking time out of her day to come to my aid even though she has children of her own at home. Boy was that a cold, snowy morning. The kids were home for a snow day, and I know Dr. Murley, just like myself, would rather have been snuggled up at home safely with the kids. We both made it to the hospital early that Monday morning, and she did a wonderful job on this port. No more open chest wounds after dealing with one for nearly two months!

Immediately after port surgery, I went over to OHC to get my fourth round of chemo. All went well as planned, and I was very thankful to get back to the fight. The side effects of chemotherapy are cumulative, so it now takes me about two weeks after chemo to feel back to 100% but the in-between time is still not anything I can’t handle! I’m doing fine. When I do feel good, I’m exercising and trying to keep my body ready for the next round. My strength is starting to wain a bit, so I’ve vowed to work harder. Thanks to those who have opened wine bottles for me lately. Hey, there’s something else I NEVER figured I’d have to do…ask for help popping a cork!