Ch-ch-ch-chia!

Normally I eschew the front side of the camera, but today I asked my awesome Hubs to snap a quick pic of me so you fine readers can see the difference a year makes.  Also, I was a wee bit proud that I could finally fit into this shirt again.  So clearly I had to document it.

Today my Hubs called me sexy, so, I must've stopped looking like Screech from Saved By the Bell.

Rock on.

Update on cancer and such

Ok.  So it's been quite awhile since I shared what's the haps with my cancer and surgeries and junk.  Well, let me make amends.  Also, I must warn you that I will say quasi naughty words.  Like nipples.  Be prepared.  Also, don't look at me, it's embarrassing.

Well my chemo ended in October.  They tell me that it takes several months for chemo to work its way out of your system so therefore, it's only been since this month that I'm probably done with having affects of chemo.  I'm not going to lie, they were no fun.  When your body is poisoned from the inside out, lots of things go to pot.  But cool things are happening.  Like, my hair is growing and my nails don't look all weird and ridgy and junk.

I had implants put in at the end of November.  They were SO MUCH STINKING BETTER THAN EXPANDERS.  Seriously.  It's like my boosies are breathing sighs of relief.  I'm all nice and healed up and feeling quite perky.  The Hubs is a fan.

So the next step:  to get *whispers* nipples.  I know.  So risqué.  Now.  Let me tell you, this part is optional.  I mean, really, having boosies period was optional.  But this is super optional.  So I'll go in next month for a little outpatient thingy where my awesome plastic surgeon will work his magic and create wee nipples for me.  I've no idea how he'll do it and quite frankly, I hope I don't have to watch.  He says he'll do something to do with cutting a bird shape and origami and...whatever.  I've no idea what he means.  I just know I'll wind up with nipples.

Also, I'll keep being poked and prodded and tested and such for any markers that indicate cancers anywhere else in my body.  It's weird, people.  It's like, my body has so many hiding places, you know?  Like, there could be something evil lurking in my liver, or hiding behind my ovaries.  It's like, a really really lame game of hide and seek.

At least, this is what I think about in my dark moments.

But mostly, I am full of the positivity.  Who knew that deep down I was an optimist?  Also, that will probably change.  (hahahaah did you get that?  What I just did there?  hahaahahaha well if I have to explain it to you then it loses it's meaning.  So.)

Another awesome thing happened.  I got a new job.  I was at my cancer center for an appointment in January and boom.  The next thing I know, I am working there!  I'm a Document Control Tech, Sr. which is a super fancy name for scanner.  That's right.  I get paid to stand at a copier and scan in gobs of papers.  I like it.  It's fun.  I mean, aside from all the cancer surrounding me and such.

I should probably explain a little tho.  I get weird looks and some outright straight forward questions when I talk about working at the facility where I go for treatment of cancer.  And you know?  I really can't explain it all that well.  It's a great environment.  I work for a company that works very very hard at making their patients feel at home and safe and comfortable.  It's filled with compassion and empathy and kindness.  Why would I not want to work there?

I did have a wee moment of ohmyGodgetmeoutofhere the other day when I happened into the infusion room where I used to get my chemo treatments.  See, that's where the really good ice machine is.  And so, I was filling my Tervis Tumbler full of crunchy ice when I heard some beeps coming from an infusion machine and it was like I couldn't get out of there fast enough.  And, I'm not gonna lie.  It'll be so bizarre when I come across my own medical record whilst I'm filing paperwork.  But, I'm a big girl and I can handle it.  So there.

So that's what's up.  I'm well.  I'm healing.  I'm growing hair like a Chia Head.  I'm scanning for money.

Happy Wednesday.

On losing my hair

So the day appeared.  The day I knew was coming.  The day I'd lose my hair.

It was a Tuesday.  Just a normal Tuesday.  I ran my fingers through my hair and a wad of strands lay in my hand.

It was about durn time. 

Seriously.  From the moment I was unhooked from the chemo needle I've been waiting for this.  I was beginning to think I was an anomaly, that maybe my hair would just stick there.  Because, word, I have got some thick hair.

No really.  I make hairdressers earn their money.  Every single one of them tells me how thick my hair is.

However, thick hair does not mean good hair.

No, it doesn't.

So yesterday morning, whilst showering, I happened to look down at the floor of the tub and saw copious amounts of blackish strands circling the drain.  That's when I knew.  It was time.  Time to shave it off.

I've had some time to think about it.  I admit, I was pretty emotional sitting in the oncologist's office, discussing the effects of chemo and hair loss being the most prominent.  I cried.  I won't lie.  It turns out I am very vain.  And whilst I complain about my ever chronic bad hair days, I had hair.  Hair is normal.  Bad hair is normal.

But then, my Hubs reminded me that I get the very rare opportunity to see myself bald.  I mean, who didn't wonder what they looked like sans hair when Sinead O'Connor came on the scene?  So, in that regard, I'm pretty lucky.  I also know what I look like sans nipples.

But that's another story.

So, here it is, Thursday night, and I'm perched on a chair in the middle of my bathroom, a towel draped around my shoulders to prevent hairs from attaching themselves to me.  Yeah, that really didn't work, but whatever.

My Hubs is sniffling and holding his electric shaver.  My oldest daughter, Emma, perched on the side of the tub to take pictures of me with her Daddy's iPrecious.  (Really, I think she just was there to play on the iPhone, but whatever.  She said supportive and nice things.)  My youngest daughter, Addie, fled the room.  I think watching me being scalped was upsetting to her.  I can't say I blame her.

We got the before picture, good advice from others who went through this process.  Lance discovered soon that my uber thick hair was a true match for his electric razor so he grabbed my good craft scissors and went to work.  Snip snip snip.  Many snips later, he went back to the razor.  Buzz buzz buzz.  Dang, I have a lot of hair, y'all.

Pretty soon, it was done.  There's still stubble up there, in fact, there's quite a bit of it left.  But if I run my hand along my scalp, little stubbles come away with it, so I'm pretty sure in a few weeks, I'll resemble a cue ball.  I think that'll be way better than the rough side of Velcro feel I've got going on right now.

I didn't cry.  I think it's because I did it on *my* terms.  I didn't wait for chemo to snatch my hair out from under me.

This feels empowering.  I can handle it.

And because I know that all of you will wonder what I look like, I'm going to be an awesome friend to you and share with you what I look like now.

 I've even got a wand.

Chemo. The gift that keeps on giving.

So, since so many of you were clamoring for an update on Kearsie Healthwatch 2011, I thought I'd jot down a quick bloggyblog.  Ok, so there was only really one of you clamoring, but I aim to please.  So.

Chemo has begun.  I'm having my "good" week.  Which basically means that this week, all my side effects go away and I feel normal for just long enough to forget how lousy chemo is before I have to start the vicious cycle all over again.  I know.  It's kind of like menstruation.

Chemo is absolutely, 100% no fun.  I've only had one cycle thus far.  My next will be the 23rd.

Here's a quick rundown on what I went through whilst doing chemo:

*I am strapped up to the IV.  Two different nurses have to tackle this because apparently I have super strong veins that don't like to be pierced and as a result of their poking, I still have a bruise.  But that's ok because the other option is to get a port.  Poke away, nurses.  Bruises fade.

*I don't have allergic reaction to the two different chemo drugs selected for my torture:  Taxotere and Cytoxan.  But they go super slow at first, watching to see if I turn bright red or quit breathing.  This means that I sat with an IV for four hours.  No, I'm really not exaggerating.  I am glad I brought a book.

*My mouth tastes funny.  I try chewing gum and sucking on Jolly Ranchers but no dice.  Yep, this is my first side effect- my taste buds rebel against me.  This I will have to endure for 1 and 1/2 weeks.

*I am super tired.  Enter second side effect- extreme fatigue.  I go home and sleep the rest of the day.  And then half of the next day.  I will feel tired for many days.

*Nausea.  Because my name is Kearsie and this is how I roll.  Lots of nausea.  No vomiting, but many days of popping any and all nausea meds given to me in hopes that the stomach roiling goes away.  I will endure this for a week.  But I expected this, so I am not surprised.

*FIERCE HEADACHE.  It feels like ice picks are being driven through my temples.  No pain reliever completely takes it away, but thankfully, the headache fades around day 5 following chemo.  I am tough, I can take this, oh man thiskillswhereisthetylenol.....

*Hunger despite no taste.  Because of the steroids, I am starving.  I am nauseas, and have no taste buds, but I want to eat everything in sight.  Because of this, I gain 5 pounds.  I was told this could happen.  So therefore, I let myself eat ice cream straight from the carton.  The streroids are to keep me from getting a nasty rash on my arms and face.

*I break out all over my face.  It's not the rash.  It's just the regular hormones coursing through my body doing their monthly thing, only I seem to be super sensitive and respond by getting fierce acne.  Nice.  I feel 15 again.

*Joint pain, specifically in my lower back and pelvis.  This is because the day after chemo, I get a shot to boost my white blood cell count and it manifests the pain where the most bone marrow is.  I no longer feel 15, instead I feel 85.

And then, by around day 6, I feel better.  Not great, but better.  Soon, the nausea and headache and joint pain become a faded memory, and I do things like put on make up again, and clean my bathroom.  I even begin to cook again.  My face no longer holds my "I feel sick to my stomach" expression and I start walking upright again, not clutching my lower back whilst hobbling around the house.

I feel normal again.

Normal is very nice.

I'm very pleased that my phase of normal fell in the month coinciding with my two girls returning to school.  Today was their first day.  I still have my hair.  I did not stand out amongst the eighty bazillion other mothers there at school today dropping off their kids, meeting their teachers.  I feel very proud of my ability to blend in.

I will lose my hair this week.  It takes somewhere between 10-21 days to lose your hair following chemo.  And both of the medicines I have to take have hair loss as a side effect.  So I bought a hat.  No wig, because I've yet to find a place that my insurance pays for.  But it's hot outside, so maybe I won't want a wig anyway.

I also had a big talk with my girls, explaining to them that some kids might ask them questions why I am bald, or even make fun of me.  I tried to help them know what to think and say.  Here's hoping that was just a precautionary measure that won't be needed.

I was also very pleased that Emma's teacher is a two year cancer survivor, that she understands what our family is going through and will be a source of help for Emma, should she need it.

Survivors?  Are everywhere.  This is pretty cool.

So there you have it.  I'll be doing this chemo biz until mid October and then I'm done.  My IV bruises will fade.  My hair and nails will go back to growing normally.  I'll drink copious amounts of water to flush my kidneys.  I'll be ok.

Where I pimp my friends and say how awesome they are

Three of my friends on the facebooks came up with different fundraisers just to bless our family.  We were so surprised by these unexpected random acts of kindness!  My friends are truly awesome.

It is so very humbling.

But, because I want to share with all you peeps out there that I'm not friends with on the facebooks all these awesome fundraisers, I am writing this post to share with you kind readers.  By the way, why aren't we friends on the facebooks?  We clearly don't spend enough time together.

Pray for Kearsie Pink Wristbands

My friend, Allison, ordered a mass quantity of pink silicone wristbands and had them personalized.  On one side, it reads Pray For Kearsie and on the other side it reads Strength.Hope.Faith.

Here is the event page where you can find out ordering info.  

***

Love * Hope * Awareness Stella and Dot Jewelry Event

This is an online jewelry event my friend, Rachel, is hosting through the company Stella and Dot, which sells all types of cool and funky jewelry.  Very fun stuff, guys!! And gals. I shan't exclude anyone.   

Here is the event page to check that out.  There is a link to the online catalog.  

***

Uppercase Living Kearsie Murphy Medical Fundraiser

Uppercase Living is a shop that sells removable vinyl lettering and designs.  So very cool to think of decorating your home with letters and fun designs!  This is hosted by my old high school friend, Karen, who bought me my first Pizzatato.  

Here is the event page to find out that information and how to order.  

I am so extremely blown away by the kindness of these three ladies, and all the people who are ordering from them, all just to help out our family here at Chez Murphy.  I'm so overwhelmed by the generosity of people who are ordering these products, especially during these hard economic times, they are doing what they can to help.  

And I am so very grateful!!!

Keyboard Confessions: The One Week Crash Course in Cancer Edition

Every week I sit down and write some confessions.  Mostly it's just an excuse to write a list.


Sometimes I write confessions because I feel The Muse.  Today, The Muse has spoken.

1.  So, Breast Cancer is Crazy.

2.  My boosies look awesome.  I'm going to enjoy them while I can.  This is not to be taken in a naughty way.  Also, shame on you for thinking that.

3.  Or maybe you weren't thinking that and now you are thinking that and you're like, dang, why did you have to say that?

4.  Sorry, kind reader.

5.  So, I'm sitting here in my bathing suit.  Why?  Because it fits.  And, it's padded.  hahahaahahaha, still laughing that it's padded.  Also, this is the swimsuit I said eons ago that when I tried it on it was like shoving an apple into a condom.  Remember that?  Well, I'm not hunting for that link.

6.  Man, this post is turning into smut.  Also, for the record, I've never shoved an apple into a condom.

7.  Back on South Beach Diet.  Combining weight I lost in surgery and weight I lost this week, I'm down 10 lbs.  I know, pretty rock star.

8.  I got a free camisole from Nordstrom today because I'm getting a total mastectomy.  Very cool service they provide for us ladies in the need.  This camisole will have little pocket thingies for the drainage tube thingies.  I love the word thingies.

9.  Also?  I'll get my hair washed for free as well after surgery.  That is going to be awesome.  Because before?  My last surgery?  I didn't get to shower for like, 5 days.  It was sicknasty.

10.  I have a date tonight.  Also my kids will be at a sleepover.  Is it too late for me and The Hubs to get passports?

11.  In fact, I need to put on real clothes for said date.  I don't suppose my padded bra swimsuit is good movie theater attire.  This isn't Miami Beach.  Also, for the record, I've never been to Miami Beach.

12.  Today I got a light up Michael Jackson glove in the mail.  I was so excited for it that it made my kids want it.  Too bad, suckas!!

13.  Just kidding.  I'll let them touch my glove a little.  Some day.

14.  I have a big pimple on my chin.  It seems unfair that I must battle acne AND breast cancer.  Can't I catch a break?

15.  I need a haircut.  That is all.

16.  I lied.  I have more to say.  Can I sap out for a moment?  Thank you, kindly.  A huge thank you to any and all people who have been so very encouraging to me during this crazy time.  For you ladies (and my sweet Hubs) who let me blather on about all things BC (Breast Cancer, duh) and all the encompassing worry.  For not lecturing, for not saying inappropriate things**, for saying all the right things...you ladies are awesome.  I hope you know who you are.  I couldn't make it through this without you.

17.  I've also decided to do my best to answer any questions that anyone might have.  So, if you're sitting there, reading this post or past posts and are confused, or full of questions, please feel free to ask me anything.  If you want to remain anonymous, just ask under an anonymous name and I'll do my best to give you the info you need.  So, fire away.

18.  Hmm.  I'm tapped out after this one, I think.  It's been a weird week, so, cut me some slack on my lack of creativity.

Happy weekend!

**such as "I know this lady who died of cancer and if she'd eaten better she'd still be alive so watch what you eat".  Yes, this is inappropriate.  Well meaning, but still inappropriate.  For the record, this really happened.

I've got news. No, I'm not pregnant.

So. Some of you who know me on the facebooks already know the news I'm about to drop here on the innernets.

I got some news.

It's not really good news.

There was breast cancer in the tissue they removed from me last Thursday.

Well, I lied.  There is some good news.  And that's the fact that even though my mammogram didn't detect anything suspicious, all physical exams I've had showed nothing abnormal and all of my blood tests haven't flagged anything weird...I had this surgery and they found it.

Actually, that's great news.

Let me bring you up to speed.

See, I had some stitches removed yesterday.  It was just supposed to be a short visit, getting the stitches removed and then I could carry on with my day.

However, the doctor poked and prodded for about 2.4 seconds and then sat down and said, "I've got some good news and some bad news.  There was breast cancer in the tissue they removed."

And pretty much from there on, my mind was full of bees, buzzing away, my body doing that hot-flash-panic thing, my eyes round as saucers, staring at my husband as the phrase "I have cancer" settled into my mind.

It was a very very surreal moment.

My husband, being the gentleman he is, got up from his chair and came and stood by me, rubbing my back in little circles.  I love that man so much.

I could tell my doctor hated to tell me this.  I mean, I am young folks.  I'm only 35.  There is no history of breast cancer on my mother's side of the family which is what they look at.  My mammogram was clear.

And yet.

And yet.

This is the scary thing about breast cancer.  It is silent.  So very quiet.  Just steadily growing inside, plotting it's takeover.

Cancer is a bitch.

And yet.

And yet.

Here's the awesome part, folks.  For there really is a silver lining in this horrid situation.

See, if I had not had this surgery this year, and waited until next year...it would've been too late.  Because the mass they removed was full of invasive cells.  Meaning they would've done a hostile takeover and it would've been ugly.  If I had had surgery a year ago, they wouldn't've found it.

This, my friends, is kind of a miracle.  Do you understand that?  How perfect timing this is?

So.  Now what?  Well, my doctor was baffled by my predicament.  As he put it, finding cancer in me is as rare as finding teeth on a hen. So he is talking with other doctors and they will present my case this coming Tuesday at a Breast Cancer Conference.  He'll hook me up with an oncologist and a general surgeon and we'll go from there.

What does this mean?  Well, it means a lot of tests. It means possibly an MRI.  It means figuring out if my lymph nodes are affected.  It might even mean they have to take all of my breasts.

I'm not gonna lie- that part has me laughing.  I've lived most of my life with enormous bosoms and it would be JUST.LIKE.ME. to have to live the rest of my life with no bosoms.

But I'm not going to freak out.  Hopefully.

Instead, I'm going to focus on all the positives.  That, for whatever random reason (or divine reason) I had this surgery NOW.  That they found this EARLY.  That my life might be saved because of EARLY DETECTION.

It's scary.  I won't lie about that either.  It's scary because, I think as a society, we're trained to be scared of the words CANCER and DEATH.  Both are uncertain.  Almost entirely out of our hands.  Invisible.  Uncontrollable.

And yet.

And yet.

I believe in a Great Big God.  And I believe that He knows me.  I believe it when I read in the Bible that He knows the very number of hairs on my head.  That He knows when I'll sit down, and when I'll stand.  He's got my life mapped out already and I'm just following along according to His plan.  And He's on my side, folks.

Jesus loves me, this I know.

Some of you might not understand that.  You might not believe like me.  And that's ok.  Because, I believe in Him enough for you.  I think He loves you, too.  So there.

It sucked telling everyone.  It was hard.  Emotional.  I'm not a crier, and yet I cried buckets.  It was especially hard telling my kids.  My kids.  My poor kids, who looked so confused.  Asked hard questions like, "Momma, are you going to die?"

Yeah, I had to leave the room.

But life is so precious.  Each hug they give me is their gift.  They make me gobs of cards.  All with misspellings and hilarious snippets:  "Momma, I'm sad.  Daddy's sad.  Addie's sad but she's not crying."  They are precious to me.

My husband.  My partner.  I shall not take for granted how awesome he is.

My amazing, amazing friends.  All praying.  All supporting.  Offering to watch my kids.  My Bestie is flying down, just to be with me.

I am truly blessed.

So here is my life now.  This blog?  This blog is supposed to be a place for humor.  For the hilarity.  For the random.  I'm not sure how "cancer" fits into that and yet.

And yet.

This is what I will be living with now.  So.

I shall keep za blog updated.  I shall not give up.  I shall kick cancer in the ass.

Thank you for reading this insanely long and intense post, my kind friends.  Pray for me.  And trust in Him.  He's pretty powerful, y'all.