As Dorothy Parker put it (on her headstone), please pardon my dust. Just spent the last hour or so bringing all of my breast cancer-related posts over from Single Shot Seattle to DoubleWhammied.com. Apologies to any and all subscribers who may be wondering if I’ve had too much coffee this morning or what. (Hey, I’m a fast writer at times, but nobody’s that fast!).
Anyway, I’d love to bring the comments over, as well, but I’m not sure if I have the WordPress savvy to accomplish that. At least not this morning (at the moment, I’ve got about an hour to shower, wrap my nephew’s birthday gifts and then hoof it to tap dance class).
Thanks so much to those of you who subscribed to my new blog during its first few hours (my baby’s already got followers!). Looking forward to chatting with you about all things breast cancer in days, weeks, months to come.
Speaking of which, now that I’m all done with radiation (can I get a hallelujah?), the doctor appointments are starting up again. I’ll be meeting with my oncologist on Monday, who will most likely be checking my blood to see whether I have any white cells left at all. And perhaps weigh in on the condition of my skin. After that, I’ll start meeting with my plastic surgeon to discuss my reconstruction options (am praying I have some).
For those interested, my lobster red chest is much better since it’s had a couple of weeks off from the EZ-bake oven (i.e., my daily radiation treatments inside a tomography machine). In fact, I actually went out in a scoop-neck shirt for the first time in ages last night (I’ve had to wear my V-neck shirts backwards for the past month or so because of the radiation burns). The left breast, which continued to get a “boost” of radiation the last week, still looks like somebody ironed it on high. But I’m hoping the skin will return to normal soon, especially the nipple which for some reason has started to lighten (am hoping I don’t have to use a Magic Marker from now on to even ’em up).
Anyway, that’s probably enough boob talk for one morning (hell, it’s probably enough boob talk for a month). Take care everybody and thanks, as always, for reading!
Double Whammied 
Hallelujah Diane!! I’ll be following you every step of the way!!
Thanks for following me over, Ann. And for the “Hallelujah!” I’m ecstatic about finishing up radiation (not that it’s not pleasant getting the crap burned out of your skin every day). Definitely looking forward to getting on with the “new normal,” though, as they call it.
I am one week into my Krispy Kreme sessions.
I will happily give you your hallelujah, play
my own hail Mary, and raise you an om. Your turn.
Congrats on making it through your first week, Sue, and get ready to become the “greasiest gal in town”. I slathered whatever they gave me all over the radiated area, trying to keep the skin from hardening/stiffening up. Don’t know your situation, but I definitely want my girls back and in order to get them back the skin has to be able to stretch to accommodate a tissue expander/implant (radiation can “harden” the skin sometimes). FYI, wear old t-shirts, etc. when you’re using your “goo.” I wore a black satin nightgown once and the greasy ointment loosened the dye. When I got out of bed in the morning, it looked like I’d been sleeping with a chimney sweep. ; )
Double Hallelujah Diane!
I caught your posts on MSNBC and because it’s pure luck that I’m not in your situation (50+ woman with fingers crossed at yearly check-ups), I feel it’s important to keep up with your story. I love your candidness and applaud your tenacity – keep up the good work both writing and health-wise.
Vonnie
Yes, no Magic Markers. Don’t think they have the color you need. I know you’ll be glad to get reconstruction behind you.
Best,
Brenda
Thank you so much for sharing your story with such great wit. I am about to start chemo (getting my third eye inserted next week…Happy Thanksgiving to me) and now I feel like I’ve got a realistic view of what is to come. I’ll continue to follow for as long as you continue to write. It will be good to compare notes.
A co-worker of mine has the “third eye” and yesterday, when she heard that I needed to have one inserted, she made me touch it. I didn’t want to touch it. But in her words, “You must.”…so I did. I all but curled up and said “ew” right next to the copy machine. I’m sure that made her pleased. I think that will be what I do when I get mine. I’ll make peoople touch it just to see their reaction. You must.
I actually found myself asking somebody if they wanted to touch my port (aka, the alien eyeball) just the other day. I still find it fun to watch their inevitable reaction of disgust, shock and fascination. Hey, you get your cancer kicks where you can. ; )
Obviously, I’m sorry to hear you’re heading for the chemo lounge, Kim, although I will say that the infusion experience itself is not bad. My oncology nurses were kind and upbeat and very good at their jobs. I even got a free foot massage (from a volunteer) during my first session (they’ll probably fuss over you your first time, too). After the infusion is when things can get rough, as you know, but seriously, if I can get through it, anybody can.
Please feel free to drop me a line anytime and let me know how you’re doing. Ditto for throwing questions my way. I’m not a doctor or nurse, but I’ve been there and I’m happy to help. Best of luck, kiddo, and I’ll be thinking of you..
Wigs…do you ever talk about wig shopping? I am thinking that I’d like to get five. All different colors just to reflect my mood for the day.
The chemo lounge experience was easy…I even took a nap. When I woke up, it was time to go home. So the next week is a challenge, eh? Better get my holiday baking done. Right. NOW!