That's what Florence sings to us in her song Shake it off. I feel like I hit the jackpot each morning when Pandora serves it up to me first thing. Every time I turn it up while drinking my breakfast shake in the sun filled kitchen and try to take it in. You know figuring how to make that feeling last a little longer after it's done.
What's the devil on MY back lately?
This problem left boob skin situation over here. Pointing at it talking in a tone of voice similar to how a stay at home wife tells her husband that "his kids" have attitude problems as soon as he walks in the door. In fact I would like to formally declare my desire to disassociate myself from that leftie right now. Oh that? Yea no that's not my boob if someone asks. Not that anyone has asked in addition to the fact I know that's not possible. It's there all day, every day reminding me. I don't want it to go away, I just want some cooperation.
We are now at prrocceeddurre #4 since the big "get the fu&$@ cancer"out surgery on October 31st. It seems each time I felt a little strength come back or a little better then boom here's a dead rat to park themselves in my bra and everything looks great as I make the doctor rounds then a few days later I start hooting and hollering ooo ooowwwww and there ya go-skin separating.
If you are tired of hearing about it I don't blame you. I am way over my sorry misbehaving boob myself. Oh hey, if your counting how many times I'm gonna say the word boob we are at number #4. Back to the being tired of me not healing right. I get it. Like come on Lolita I've been praying my buttoski off, so have the people up at my church and now I have to ask them agaaiinn!! Or listen girl we mention your name at the dinner table nightly, it's getting repetative!! Oh yea. I know, I know.
In an effort by my doctors to keep me out of major surgery and away from complete anesthesia the last couple procedures were with local anesthesia and a late night party at my surgeon's office. The first party was last week, Wednesday if you recall and the most recent was again on Wednesday this week. I check in at the surgeons office saying heeeyyyy, it's the problem child. Because the office at this time is closed it's just us girls. On Wednesdays the doctor doesn't go to the office because she is busy in surgery ALL day. Then after her 12 hour day saving lives or changing them she gets to come meet me and get it in some more. In addition if anyone there had plans well that's not happening. No one complains, no one ever gives the idea but I feel terrible.
While waiting for doctor to arrive yesterday I wanted to stay in the waiting room instead of the "other room" a little longer. Mostly so I didn't have a panic attack now that I know what's coming. In the waiting room there happens to be display of the gel fake boobs in various sizes. So because my right side has no issues I quickly looked around and put size number 2 in my shirt. Hmmm. I took a few pictures, sent that out. Put that back and grabbed the next size, more pictures. Of course suddenly someone is behind me and probably still laughing.
While my doctor is doing her work we start to go over all the reasons for this, again I crave or beg for action to do or not do. Although she has never said that this is highly unusual she confirms it when I outright ask her. Yes, people do have to return to surgery to skin snip or infection. It's just very unusual this keeps happening. Excellent. "I'm special". Not in anyway I want to be either. From day 1 of Lolita, you have breast cancer to now. I was perfectly happy to live out my life privately minding my own business with no excessive peeks at my boobs. Well too late for that. We both go over the list again, I confess to every foolish thing I might have done to find blame or the culprit and solve the mystery. She shares with me she has gone over the list several times herself to determine just why this is happening. I fit none of the criteria. So here we are. More stitches, more down time, more unsureness. Lemme tell ya I'm running out of room and skin down there which I was made painfully aware of last night and today.
All this while unfortunate, painful and unexpected causes a bigger issue in a bigger picture of this process. She always quizzes me on my next oncologist visit, what else needs to be done (port placement was put off) and chemo start date (have to be healed for that to start). My surgeon is a plastic surgeon but she specializes in reconstruction so she is well aware of a ticking clock we have going on and a small window of opportunity. Chemo needs to happen within 3 months of removal date of cancer for best results. She knows this and I know this and my family definitely knows this. All hands on deck type thing to keep this moving along.
My parents will arrive tomorrow to smother me with love and concern. My dad is bringing more vitamin packed food although lately he has been focusing in areas of skin and blood thickening foods. This is his area of expertise, in fact my dad could tell you the compounds in any food. When we were very young he banned soda, processed foods, pringles, bacon to name a few and had us eat our wheaties with wheat germ during a time when no one was talking about this. He is on "the job". My doctor highly approves.
Nurse Muneca's (my momma) concern is more centered around my pain (more severe this time) worrying I'm tense not allowing healing as well the issues I experienced with the narcotic pain med today. I detoxed my body for almost a month only to get back on the prune juice/hydrocodone train again. This time with terrible side effects. As I was severely nauseous all day and could barely move or eat she suggests that maybe she brings some potato to see if she makes me mashed potato with the marijuana butter that I got from the medical dispensary that's been sitting in my fridge.
Although nurse muneca is secretly a very funny and clever person she was in no way shape or form "yoking" as the way she says it. She was serious about wanting to ensure I'm not in pain and can eat. We'll see, we'll see I tell her on the phone while smiling.
What's the devil on MY back lately?
This problem left boob skin situation over here. Pointing at it talking in a tone of voice similar to how a stay at home wife tells her husband that "his kids" have attitude problems as soon as he walks in the door. In fact I would like to formally declare my desire to disassociate myself from that leftie right now. Oh that? Yea no that's not my boob if someone asks. Not that anyone has asked in addition to the fact I know that's not possible. It's there all day, every day reminding me. I don't want it to go away, I just want some cooperation.
We are now at prrocceeddurre #4 since the big "get the fu&$@ cancer"out surgery on October 31st. It seems each time I felt a little strength come back or a little better then boom here's a dead rat to park themselves in my bra and everything looks great as I make the doctor rounds then a few days later I start hooting and hollering ooo ooowwwww and there ya go-skin separating.
If you are tired of hearing about it I don't blame you. I am way over my sorry misbehaving boob myself. Oh hey, if your counting how many times I'm gonna say the word boob we are at number #4. Back to the being tired of me not healing right. I get it. Like come on Lolita I've been praying my buttoski off, so have the people up at my church and now I have to ask them agaaiinn!! Or listen girl we mention your name at the dinner table nightly, it's getting repetative!! Oh yea. I know, I know.
In an effort by my doctors to keep me out of major surgery and away from complete anesthesia the last couple procedures were with local anesthesia and a late night party at my surgeon's office. The first party was last week, Wednesday if you recall and the most recent was again on Wednesday this week. I check in at the surgeons office saying heeeyyyy, it's the problem child. Because the office at this time is closed it's just us girls. On Wednesdays the doctor doesn't go to the office because she is busy in surgery ALL day. Then after her 12 hour day saving lives or changing them she gets to come meet me and get it in some more. In addition if anyone there had plans well that's not happening. No one complains, no one ever gives the idea but I feel terrible.
While waiting for doctor to arrive yesterday I wanted to stay in the waiting room instead of the "other room" a little longer. Mostly so I didn't have a panic attack now that I know what's coming. In the waiting room there happens to be display of the gel fake boobs in various sizes. So because my right side has no issues I quickly looked around and put size number 2 in my shirt. Hmmm. I took a few pictures, sent that out. Put that back and grabbed the next size, more pictures. Of course suddenly someone is behind me and probably still laughing.
While my doctor is doing her work we start to go over all the reasons for this, again I crave or beg for action to do or not do. Although she has never said that this is highly unusual she confirms it when I outright ask her. Yes, people do have to return to surgery to skin snip or infection. It's just very unusual this keeps happening. Excellent. "I'm special". Not in anyway I want to be either. From day 1 of Lolita, you have breast cancer to now. I was perfectly happy to live out my life privately minding my own business with no excessive peeks at my boobs. Well too late for that. We both go over the list again, I confess to every foolish thing I might have done to find blame or the culprit and solve the mystery. She shares with me she has gone over the list several times herself to determine just why this is happening. I fit none of the criteria. So here we are. More stitches, more down time, more unsureness. Lemme tell ya I'm running out of room and skin down there which I was made painfully aware of last night and today.
All this while unfortunate, painful and unexpected causes a bigger issue in a bigger picture of this process. She always quizzes me on my next oncologist visit, what else needs to be done (port placement was put off) and chemo start date (have to be healed for that to start). My surgeon is a plastic surgeon but she specializes in reconstruction so she is well aware of a ticking clock we have going on and a small window of opportunity. Chemo needs to happen within 3 months of removal date of cancer for best results. She knows this and I know this and my family definitely knows this. All hands on deck type thing to keep this moving along.
My parents will arrive tomorrow to smother me with love and concern. My dad is bringing more vitamin packed food although lately he has been focusing in areas of skin and blood thickening foods. This is his area of expertise, in fact my dad could tell you the compounds in any food. When we were very young he banned soda, processed foods, pringles, bacon to name a few and had us eat our wheaties with wheat germ during a time when no one was talking about this. He is on "the job". My doctor highly approves.
Nurse Muneca's (my momma) concern is more centered around my pain (more severe this time) worrying I'm tense not allowing healing as well the issues I experienced with the narcotic pain med today. I detoxed my body for almost a month only to get back on the prune juice/hydrocodone train again. This time with terrible side effects. As I was severely nauseous all day and could barely move or eat she suggests that maybe she brings some potato to see if she makes me mashed potato with the marijuana butter that I got from the medical dispensary that's been sitting in my fridge.
Although nurse muneca is secretly a very funny and clever person she was in no way shape or form "yoking" as the way she says it. She was serious about wanting to ensure I'm not in pain and can eat. We'll see, we'll see I tell her on the phone while smiling.
Shake it off-partial lyrics by Florence and the Machines
And I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't
So here's to drinks in the dark at the end of my road
And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope
It's a shot in the dark aimed right at my throat
Cause looking for heaven found the devil in me
Well what the he@l I'm gonna let it happen to me, yea
Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out oohh whoa
And it's hard to dance with the devil on your back
So shake him off, oh whoa
