I went to the 19th floor of “the castle” as I like to call it. It’s just the Northwestern mega-plex in the city. I don’t know why, but going in to the city always makes me nervous. It’s silly really because I lived in a Chicago suburb for a while and I lived in the city of Baltimore. Maybe it’s the three hour drive there? Maybe it’s the anticipation? Maybe it’s the reason I’m there? I don’t know. But Jeremy came with me this time, and it helped. Although he did tell me I was super chatty….but this is my usual response to nervousness.

So this time I came with a list of questions. What to do about my breasts? I’m happy to say, Dr. D offered a plan. This is very good. Because I need a plan. I very rarely do life without a plan. I like plans. It puts me at ease. Just to know he can try a few more things makes me happy. So on December 14th, he’s going to nip and tuck. (I’ve always wanted to say this….lol). But seriously….he’s going to nip…..or maybe tuck digger. Whatever it’s called….I’m just glad he thinks he can fill it in so there’s no indentation. And he’s gong to lift my breast flaps a bit. I can’t really explain why and wish I could show you how this will help, but I can’t show you, so just go ahead and take my word for it. I really think it will look better.

Then Dr. D had me go take some pictures. I really can say the before and current difference is truly amazing. I’m really surprised he takes my complaining so well because I’m telling you….I look AMAZING compared to my pre-reconstruction pictures.

He’s always such a good sport. He even called me clergygirl today….lol!

The neighbor girl came down this morning while I was in the shower.  As I opened the bathroom door, my 5 year old yelled “don’t show Nellie your boobie!”  Now, sensitive that I am, I felt a bit sad for a second, because although I wouldn’t go prancing out to show the neighbor girl my reconstructed breast, it did make me sad that my daughter was so embarrassed by my new breasts that she would yell that quickly to remain out of sight, so as not to be embarrassed by me.  Sigh…..

But then I realized that “boobie” is not a term we use in our home usually.  So I yelled down the hall.  Did you say “bootie” or “boobie?”  She yelled back “don’t show Nellie your butt!” 

Ohhhhh.  What a relief. 

I’m still waiting for the day my daughters are repulsed by my breasts…..but you know, it hasn’t happened yet.  They may surprise me.

Mastectomy.  One of the most vile words in the English language.  At least that’s how I feel about it.  Not a pleasant thought comes to mind when someone says this word.  But here’s the deal.  I’ve been hearing from women lately who are about ready to have mastectomies.  So here are my few words of encouragement for you.

1.  You are very brave.  You may feel like you don’t have a decision in the matter, but you do.  You could seriously tell them to get lost.  But you will be brave, and you will go and you will lay down, and you will allow them to put needles in you and allow them to drug you, so they can do their job…..and just the fact that you arrived at the hospital means you are very, very brave.

2.  The wait is excruciating.  I can’t say this is the worst part, because you will have an incredible amount of pain afterwords, but anticipating deformity is nothing anyone finds especially kind on the emotional well-being.  Once it is over, you can get busy getting better.  Of course, I waited 6 months for my surgery because IBC is treated with chemo first.  So my wait was a bit longer than normal, so I remember it well.

3.  Your armpits and shoulders will be incredibly tight and sore, where they aren’t numb.  My friend Mary came to visit me the day after my mastectomies.  She had a mastectomy a few years earlier and she graciously swung her arms around for me to show me that complete movement was attainable.  You will need to be diligent and you will probably need to request physical therapy.  For some reason doctors don’t really offer this up.  It should be as standard as talk about reconstruction but you know our culture…..looks above anything else!  I had barely any movement in my arms after my surgery, and just a few days ago Mary and I were talking about that tight muscle or tendon in the armpit that was excruciatingly tight after the surgery.  We were commiserating together.  Her answer was massage.  Gentle yoga is also really great.  You can get complete movement back, just give it time and keep stretching!  And a lot of the numbness in the armpits will decrease as well. 

4.  Don’t wait too long to look.  My doctor quickly took off my gauze and I was a little angry at her because this was only a day after my surgery.  I really felt like I wasn’t ready to see.  But now I look back on it and I do believe she knew what she was doing.  She was giving me a glimpse of my new reality.  And I needed to come to grip with my new reality.  I needed to see and accept the change in my appearance.  There’s no sense waiting around to emotionally accept your new normal.

5.  Lymphedema is not as common as it sounds on the internet.  I don’t know the statistics, but I remember reading on the internet about how it was so common and looking at gruesome pictures that made me SO scared!  And no one can promise you that you won’t get lymphedema  Sometimes there’s no rhyme or reason and it will just show up.  But you can keep your weight down, exercise and take precautions, and hopefully it won’t happen.  I know very few women who have serious lymphedema after mastectomies, so I hope this brings you some peace of mind.

I’ve scheduled my next breast upgrade.  I’m still unsure about it, but I meet with Dr. D next Wednesday, so hopefully it will bring some clarity to my situation.  I’ve had some restlessness lately about my breasts.  I decided last week that my breasts should look better than they do and I went to meet with another plastic surgeon here in Kalamazoo.  I just wanted a second opinion.  He had a few hopeful things to say but mostly it was the same.  I think the bottom line is that I had inflammatory breast cancer, massive amounts of radiation over a large area and there isn’t a lot of hope I can look better, at least with my clothes off.  Which really doesn’t matter to anybody but Jeremy, and to be honest, it doesn’t matter to him.  But it matters to me, so I continue to push back on the issue and hopefully one day those plastic surgeons will come up with a miraculous way to make my breasts look perfectly normal. 

So the second opinion……

There are two reasons I sought a second opinion.  None of which had anything to do with my dear plastic surgeon over in Chicago.  The first reason has to do with nothing more than total envy.  Last month our “Partners in Pink” support group started (BTW….it meets again tomorrow) and after the meeting we were doing show and tell in the bathroom.  Don’t worry, this is not required, but a few of us hadn’t seen each other in a while…..since reconstruction…..and we like to show-and-tell.  I’m telling you….once you’ve had breast cancer you are so used to going topless it is NOTHING NEW to show just about anyone who remotely wants to see.   So at show and tell, one of my dear friends looked absolutely fabulous.  I won’t give her name out of respect for her new beautiful bosoms, but they were perfect.  I’m telling you……they looked real, felt real, and were totally perfect minus the nipples.  I thought….wow….I need to find her doctor.  I was so envious of her breasts!  I wanted a pair of my own….lol!  But when I went to visit her doctor, he told me about the same thing.  And again…..I have to throw up my hands and say “why, why inflammatory!”  I get angry again…..why couldn’t I have had a normal breast cancer where I could have had skin sparing?  Ughhhh!

The second reason I sought a second opinion is because I do believe I am in the bargaining stage of grief right now.  I think you’ve heard me talk about the stages of grief before. Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance.  What you may not realize, that I have come to realize about this process, is that every time something happens on this cancer journey, I get to travel through this path over and over again.  When I was diagnosed, when I was disfigured through mastectomies, when I went through radiation, and when I was reconstructed.  It’s all about grief and loss and acceptance, and I get to travel this path every time the doctors do something new.  So here’s what I think.  I think that somehow I came ROARING into the bargaining stage last week.  Because I got a second opinion and then tried to bargain with my plastic surgeon.  I’m still TRYING to get someone to promise me my old breasts but IT IS NOT WORKING! 

So there’s the honest answer about where I am with my breasts right now.  Still hoping they can make them look and feel better, but trying to accept what may never be.

I did it!  I ran my first official 5k today in Chicago.  It was the Hot Chocolate 5k downtown.  I did pretty well.  I decided to position myself with the 10 minute mile folks, which was a huge mistake, because after about a half mile I spent the next mile dodging walkers.  Maybe because I ran track and cross-country in high school and college I know the rules of running, but common sense would tell you to MOVE TO THE SIDE if you stop and walk.  My time was right at 30 minutes, but I’m pretty sure it would have been better had I not had to do the dodging.   At about a mile-and-a-half I found a couple girls who were going just a bit above my pace so I decided to stick with them.  One of them fell back a bit, but the other I was able to follow till about the last half mile.  She was good at the fast little bursts around people and I couldn’t keep doing it, so I lost her at the end.  But to the woman with the green Fleet Feet t-shirt (I had plenty of time to read her shirt….lol)….thanks for the pace:)  Anyway.  I got a really fun jacket but I traded my brother-in-law for the sweatshirt which says “will run for chocolate” on the front.  I love it:) 

Here’s my sweaty, tired and happy self taken by Jeremy after the race:)

Sometimes you probably get sick of me posting all the current research.  But this article is pretty good and worth a read.  Especially if you want to avoid cancer.

I dated a lot when I was younger.  Of course, if you wait till you’re 27 to get married like I did, you’re bound to have a few dates.  I went through a lot of frogs before I found my prince charming.  And when I found Jeremy, or he found me as I’d like to think, he was quite a bit younger than me.  I like to say he’s three years younger than me but for 6 months of the year it sounds like he’s 4 years younger than me.  I know, it sounds horrible doesn’t it.  I was a senior in high school when he was in eighth grade. 

Here are some things he likes to tease me about.  And I say tease, because it was our deal when I agreed to marry him that he would never ever, under no circumstances tease me about being older than him…..and well, that did me a lot of good now didn’t it!  He teases me all the time.  So one thing that happens quite often in the car is that we’ll hear a song I loved in middle school, and I’ll say “oh I love this song” and I’ll turn it up and then I’ll turn to him and he’ll have this blank stare on his face, like “I’ve never heard this song?”  And this is because he was in first grade and WHO REALLY REMEMBERS ANYTHING ON THE RADIO IN FIRST GRADE!  And I’ll be reminded of how old I am.  The second thing that COULD happen is that he has heard of the song because of some retro station from the 80’s or because he just knows more music than I do.  But anyway, music can say a lot about your age.  And the other thing that happens is that I will have some memory of being some place and I’ll say “when have we been here before?” or “why do I remember this?”  And he’ll groan and say…..”Jen, that was with XYZ boyfriend!”  And we’ll both laugh because we both know that I dated a lot, especially for some reason in my 20’s…..I suppose I was trying to narrow in on the kill, but still, he thinks it’s funny.  Partially because sometimes I say “oh, I went here with so-in-so.”  Or something to that effect.  Jeremy didn’t date as much, although he had a lot of “girl” friends…..you know…..or so he likes to say. 

This is going someplace, I promise.  So I dated a lot in my 20’s.  And here’s maybe the reason why I dated so much.  I was in my 20’s when I was in seminary (Jeremy is not a pastor nor did he go to seminary in case you were wondering), and I was a single woman on a campus with a 3 to 1 ratio of men versus women.  Need I say more.  There were lots of men to choose from and not so many women.  And a good portion of those women were second degree students who were coming back to school as older adults.  And a good portion of the men were younger and out of college.  So if you were remotely attractive, you were KNOWN on campus.  And because every man knows he needs a wife to be in ministry…..I mean who else is going to play the piano for you if you get placed in an old country church…..lol….and be the part-time church secretary.  OK…I’m totally stereotyping here, but unfortunately that is the way it WAS for a long time.  Thankfully not so much anymore.

So one day I hear word that a “Beeson Pastor” has been asking around about me.  It’s a small campus and a friend of mine was a Beeson pastor.  Now a Beeson pastor was an elite group of 20 pastors on campus that were invited to come and get their doctorate in a one-year type program.  They were paid, given an apartment, and flown all over the world to see churches that were pace-setters, so-to-speak.  So this guy just happened to be single, and seeing that he was a Beeson pastor, and decent looking, I gave word back that I MIGHT be interested.  You have to play cool ya’know!  So he calls me and we went on a date.  For about a month, things seemed to progress.  He seemed like a really nice guy.  Then all of a sudden, I quit hearing from him.  I think maybe I saw him around campus a bit and he just seemed to be aloof.  At first I was sad.  I moped around for a few days.  I ate ice cream and didn’t care what I looked like.  But after a few days I picked up the pieces of my semi-broken heart and got back in to living.  In fact, for several days I purposely thought…..this man is NOT going to see me looking bad and I did my hair extra well, and dressed up.  I not only looked better, but I felt better. 

And so it is with cancer.  I am putting cancer behind me.  I’ve been looking good and feeling good.  I dress up and do my hair because I can.  I have hair and I have the energy to do it.  I have a pair of red shoes that I love to wear.  I have enough black and grey in my closet to last me a week, I live in neutrals, but lately I’ve been wearing my red shoes a bit more.  I even bought some red lipstick.  I’m feeling more bold.  I’m feeling more courageous.  I’m not as scared that cancer’s going to sneak up on me.  I like my new breasts.  I feel like I am beginning to resemble the woman I looked like prior to cancer….something I wondered might never happen.  I’m feeling strong enough to pursue what it might mean to make myself feel whole again (I’m talking my breasts here and future surgeries to improve my breasts).  Those red shoes represent strength and courage and my ability to recover.  They remind me that I am no longer the wall-flower that I wanted to be when I didn’t have hair and wanted to sink in to the floor every time someone looked at me longer than 2 seconds.

I don’t know where you are in the process.  Cancer is an awful diagnosis.  I can’t promise that you will ever feel completely whole again.  I can’t promise that you can or will move on.  But I hope that at some point you will.  I hope at some point you can pull out those red shoes and stand tall and strong.  I’m amazed that I can, but I am!

I’ve started following a new blogger (non-cancer BTW).  She’s the daughter of someone I work with and I’ve been checking in lately to see how she’s doing because she’s just getting started on two things:  Blogging, and raising money by running a marathon.  And the thing I enjoy most about reading her blogs is that I don’t think she’s really figured out how to do either yet, so if you can stop by and encourage her, that would be great…..in either the blogging or the running….lol!  Here’s a bit about her cause and what she’s doing:

“I’m running a marathon to raise awareness and support for two great causes: http://www.just1person.org/ and www.fsdinternational.org/donate/projects/Pape.”

Life is normal.  Everything is normal.  I eat.  I sleep.  I feed the kids.  I water the kids.  They grow.  I study.  I work.  And life goes on.  This is good.  This is very good.

I’m enjoying my kids.  Although, I have an (almost) three-year old little boy, and this makes life rather challenging.  I was at the family doctor the other day and I had Elijah busy with my iphone playing games through most of the visit, but at the very end, my lovely little boy got bored and started throwing a very monstrous fit about something (there are so many these days I can’t remember why he throws them anymore).  The doctor, who is very cool and very patient with all my kids, looks at him for a few seconds and says…….”Yup, there’s that testosterone kick’in in.”  So he’s a bundle of energy.  And thanks to my class (I’m taking Lifespan and Development) I’m reminded that at age three a child will be busier than any other point in their life.  So we’re just holding on for the ride right now and we’ll weather the three-year-old storm.  At least I think we’ll make it…..well, at least Elijah will make it.  He may leave a mess in his path, a little hair in his chubby little hands from his sisters maybe, a tidal wave from the tub, but we’ll get through somehow…..lol.

So I’m doing well.  I’m taking a class finally.  And I’m doing pretty well.  Even my teacher has told me I’m doing well.  I think she wants to encourage me…..here I am, 37 year old woman, three kids, recent cancer survivor, pastor…..I’d be encouraging me too….lol! 

I’ve lost the weight I gained from radiation.  I know, don’t ask me why I ballooned during radiation, but I did.  I gained 20 pounds.  All I can theorize is that I was so tired that my body slowed down.  I was completely opposite with the weight gain/loss expectations.  I think you’re supposed to gain in chemo and lose in radiation.  I did the opposite.  I lost in chemo and gained in radiation.  Now, it would have been nice to have been the other way around because then the losing would have been last.  But no,of course not, that would be too easy.  But after some diligence and some pavement pounding, I am almost back to pre-radiation and pre-baby weight. 

I’ve been running.  I ran a 5K race last weekend at my college reunion.  It was just a fun run, but I ran it in under 30 minutes which was a nice little achievement for me.  That, and I didn’t walk.  It’s always good to run the entire race when you actually set out to do so.  And I did.  And I’m relieved, because it would have been really embarassing to have to walk during a race at your 15 year college reunion (especially when I ran cross country for 4 years in college!)

I love my job.  I love the people I work with.  I love being in ministry.  I love praying with people and for people.  I love the care aspects of ministry.  I like planning new ministries.

I like my new breasts.  It’s taken a while, but I finally feel like they are either adjusting to me or I am adjusting to them.  It took us a while to get aquanted, but now I think I like them.  I’m going to let them stay.  I can see the scars lightening.  Post-digger is relaxing a bit so things are evening up.  I’m heading back to see Dr. D in November.  I’m still undecided about implants.  But if you asked me today I would say “I’m doing it.”  The problem is, that tomorrow might be different.  And until I can feel really sure about it, I’m going to wait.  So when I go back for my visit I’m going with a boat-load of questions to ask him. 

And finally, I love not having doctor appointments.  My next appointment (besides seeing Dr. Plastic) is an actual physical in December.  I haven’t had a physical in 2 years since life has revolved around only cancer. 

It’s good to be healthy.

He puts poor people on their feet again;
he rekindles burned-out lives with fresh hope,
Restoring dignity and respect to their lives—
a place in the sun!
1 Samuel 2:9