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!

Bring on 2014

I left Kentucky for the holidays with half of my chemo behind me. I was hoping to unleash one more attack on my cancer before bringing in the New Year, but the delay around Thanksgiving didn't give my body enough time to recover and my white blood cell counts were too low. I have had a wonderful visit with my family and friends while in Texas. This has given me time to heal unencumbered from ports and PICC lines. The ironic part is that it has also given the cancer time to rebound. When I feel good, so does the cancer.

So I find myself anxious to get back to the battle. The kids and I leave tomorrow to head home. I will be ready for the fight to start early Monday with surgery to place a new port through the other side of my chest then a dash over to OHC to get chemo. Let's get this rolling!

Starting off a new year, I choose not to reflect upon the fears and tears surrounding my diagnosis. Instead, I'll recall the good times that comfort me with warm, fond memories. To start with, the day I was officially diagnosed on October 4, 2013, my neighborhood friends rallied with me for an epic cancer party. I see joy and love and good times when I remember that day.

The day I went in for my first breast MRI, Krista had prepared me for the logistics which were basically me laying face down fully exposed with my ta-tas hangin' through a frame, arms overhead Superman style. What I was not prepared for was the music that came on the radio through my headphones once they pushed me into the machine. Justin Timberlake's "I'm Bringing Sexy Back" sent me into fits of laughter 'cause lawd knows I was feeling hot and sexy just then. The technicians thought I'd gone cuckoo in the hole. That was an unexpected fun memory. 

Now who can forget the shave day festivities and car party? I've already written about that day on my blog so I won't rehash, but damn that was a good day, too.

There have been so many other fond moments as I pass in and out of people's lives while cuing up for treatments. There are so many wonderful doctors, nurses, patients and patient supporters...so many snippets of illuminating conversations while waiting for the next chance to further the fight. 

I have a few additional thoughts to share with you. It appears Doctor Flora and his practice are not off the financial hook with the new drug I am taking. I don't think the manufacturer is actually covering their side of the cost. No one really knows for sure how it will all play out once they argue their case with the insurance company, but I'd like everyone to keep this courageous doctor in your thoughts and prayers. He is my hero and my champion. 

I've learned the power of a few words. All those messages of support I've received, no matter how succinct, give me strength each day. I thank you for all your encouragement and support. This is one facet of the human spirit I just can't get enough of.

Something we have all learned through my days of walking this earth as a bald lady, and I'm amazed at how quickly the kids got it: Accept those who look different and accept the differences in ourselves. We never know what battles others are facing and we can only control our reaction to them and how others perceive the differences in us. I don't feel eyes on me when I'm out and about because I've embraced my baldness and it doesn't bother me and my loved ones. It's a sign that the fight is underway and the treatments are working the way they are supposed to. Yes, being bald in the winter is dadgum cold, but what better way to learn to walk in others shoes, make them mine, and learn from the experience. 

Life isn't simple and I'm not asking it to be. I've feasted, I've loved, I've laughed, I've hugged, and I've healed. Now it's time to get my ROAR on and finish this fight. Happy New Year all!

My Sister, My Mom and Me

The Slater Grandkids

The Slansky Grandkids

My Tribe: (L to R) My Uncle, My Brother, Myself and My Dad

My Favorite View on This Earth