So I confessed to Nurse Muneca aka my mama the other day

She called me a few days ago. It was the day after I went to visit my parents unexpectedly. It was a surprise visit. Well a surprise to them not to me. I knew my brother was going to be there. I heard from word on the street there was Puerto Rican food lying around because nurse muneca's sister was visiting. Not one but two!! Two funny, loving, puerto Rican women who replace Y with J and cook in the house??? Oh yea. I picked myself up to get my lame tired ass in the shower, curled my hair (I've been playing with colors/hairstyles when I have energy because it's our last days together) gauzed my incisions up, found a hat and asked Hercules to drive me there.

It was during this visit where I shoveled pasteles, arroz con grandules and hornado in my mouth (somehow I found strength for that huh?) that she asks to see my recent incisions. Off we go to her bathroom for her to check and ask questions. So her call the next day was to continue checking in on me and "the new situation" we are monitoring.

She starts: Hola beauty! Dime como te sientes, mi Nina? Hi beauty, tell me baby girl, how are you feeling?

To take things slow and ease her into my confession I start with "Well, still some discomfort, and I'm nervous about my misbehaving skin section". She calmly tells me I need to keep doing what I'm doing, assures me all will be ok, to be patient and pray.

Weeeeeelllll now here comes the confession. I have to tell nurse muneca that I have def not been behaving, I def have not been patient and the words that tumbled out of me as of late were the farthest from prayers you could get.

Que?! Que paso she asks me?? What?! What happened?? I would like to know that myself I think. Basically to sum it up I had a temper tantrum and behaved like a 2 year old child. Except that innocent children who are two years old don't know the words I used. I'm pretty sure bout that.

It was a simple morning between two people where a plate dropped, a tiny spark that was there (tension) quickly moved into a flame then finally a blazing roaring fire that resulted in me throwing vegetables and baking products with sounds that were similar to @&?! %#€? and things that sounded like shove this sweet potato up your %#€? @&$ And here while you are at it take this stick of butter and $&@? %#€. All resolved in my usual calm manner 20 minutes later where I sincerely apologized and begged forgiveness. I wasn't the only sinner in the room but this is my blog not theirs. In any case all is good. Except for the terrible fact that I'm left with this movie image of myself behaving in a way that I despise playing over and over. It's a bitter pill I've been walking around with for a few days now.   Ay chi wa wa.

I had to think on this real hard if I would blog this story and I def had to breath on it before I told nurse muneca. I am truly embarrassed and ashamed. I really am. I don't think I have done anything remotely close to or in the neighborhood like that in over 15 years. I dislike raised voices. I avoid heated confrontation to a degree I have perfected the art of the peace out/dip out when I see that trouble brewing, including my own. When I described it to a friend later she says (while laughing hard asking me did you reaaally throw that?)  well good, finally you are letting it out! You needed that I think. Maybe it helped you? I tell her in a dry monotone voice that no one ever needs to throw a sweet potato and butter while cursing. Surely we can't be a society of people that do such things. It doesn't have the intended effect, that it borders on ridiculousness, as well the important fact it didn't make me feel better. It made me feel worse. I was shaking for over 3 hours.

You see, I told her then, that I read the fine print on the cancer card. I didn't see anywhere it's says I get to be the meanest, angriest person in the room. That I don't get to misbehave on the regular. And tell people how unfair things are. But in a really, really salty way. And it sure doesn't say I get to throw things around. Good Lord why did I have to throw a stick of butter and a sweet potato?? Really??

But I go on to say it also didn't mention I had to be the MOST positive or uplifted person around. I feel strongly others too must work their brain muscle to be the best person they can as much as they can, situation permitting. This was a big one for me because I tend to think that telling others how to act and behave is an exercise in futility and quite frankly not my job. I say it's just that during this time I know I am weaker mentally and physically, although most times I'm pretty good, I worried out loud my usual strength of tongue holding or being super calm with histrionics happening around me might fail at times. Or worse, just upright leave me for good.

So after I confess to nurse muneca my terrible actions and behavior (leaving out exact words to protect the innocent-she got the idea) I stopped and waited for her to absorb this.

Nurse muneca:  oh my God! Jew did dat?
Me (quietly):       Yes. I did. I'm embarrassed.
Nurse muneca:  jew brat!! Jew better sta praying. (With her accent she rolls the br sounds and makes it sound really really bad)
Me:                    Si, voy a resar (yes I will pray)

These I have handy in my favorites on my phone for occasions like this. 

1 John 4:18

There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear, for fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love. 

1 Peter 4:8

Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins.

Might just be the worst combination of words you can say to me

No, there's nothing you can do.

We all have our words, phrases or ideas that make us chafe and so uncomfortable we don't know what to do with ourselves. And for me it's to be told there is not much or any action for me to do or not do. 

Tuesday night I started to get those pains again. In a certain area in my skin. Like making me exclaim out loud ooooooo eeeeee and other stuff (not all bad). You see at this point in recovery you start to be able to distinguish different pain types. 

Shooting nerve pain is unexpected, it can not be prevented or predicted. My surgeon describes it by asking me "so did that little man with the needles come visit yet"? Of course I laughed said why, yes as a matter of fact many times this week to a degree where I was woken up from my sleep and finally had to go investigate to be sure I didn't have knives or cactus needles in my bra. In an area that was quiet as a mouse for a while. Nope, no, nothing in my clothes. Needle guy.

Pain from after surgery or incision healing pain. That decreases as time goes on and healing occurs. Im ok with this pain. I understand now how it works.

Discomfort and spasms from my chest muscles being stretched out. These poor guys had been lying dormant all their lives minding their own business and suddenly they need to wake up and do work. Well they tend to protest about that. 

The other pain that makes me very nervous is similar to the pain I experienced before the last minute surgery a few weeks ago. No dead rat smell or liquid just that pain in my skin in certain areas. Because I felt the echocardiogram guy on Monday might have been over zealous pressing down on me I thought I was sore?? Until Tuesday night pains. I wake up yesterday morning and see my skin once again is not wanting to heal and come together. That's what it was. How much does that $@&@? @&$??!!? Tons.

After calls, emails and photo for my doctor who was in surgery it was decided I needed to get in there to meet her yesterday afternoon for an in office out local anesthesia skin burning more incisions party. 

Very discouraging and frustrating. I wanted to know if there is something I might be able to do or stop doing. Please anything, give me action. I quizzed my surgeon as she was doing her work. What about this? No. What's about the fact I'm a leftie? Nope. It's that my skin in that area is thin and it needs to decide if it wants to come together and regenerate. It happens and there are other alternatives if this doesn't work. None of which are all that appealing and attractive to me. 

Here I go to talk in song or verse as it seems it's the only thing I can do. That and be still with limited movement from new incisions. 

Jon Bon Jovi. Living on a prayer. (Everybody please raise your lighters and sing it with me)

Whooah, we're halfway there

Living on a prayer

Take my hand and well make it- I swear

Living on a prayer

We've got to hold onto to what we've got

Cause it doesn't make a difference

If we make it or not

We've got each other and that's a lot

For love-we'll give it a shot

So sister innocently asks me the other day

How I'm doing. I tell her oh fine, except for the fact that I received a letter from my insurance company that I call "we are sorry you are now a drug addict and p.s. we have told all your doctors on you, the gig is up" letter.

She cracked up. Noooo, stop narrowing your eyes. My sister isn't laughing at me or the fact I'm now a druggie. I meant for her to laugh. You see when I tell you that I don't pander to anyone on this blog it might be a lil fib. I pander to my sister (who I call sister) because: she gets me and my wacky sense of humor, she has the best laugh, seriously you will make stuff up to hear it too, and she understands how very badly I need to laugh at some ridiculous stuff. She and I are willing participants in the lets step back and look at this from another view point experiment. 

I have talked long enough in this blog about my aversion to narcotics and the facts that my surgeries required them for after care. That if I even tried to test the waters a few days after there I was writhing in pain. Still- I haaaaaaatte them. Besides being highly addictive. Besides the fact that it's toxic for your liver. Besides the fact that they rob me of my true self. Besides the fact the pills made me itch like a loca. And (my goodness I am taking you down this path) besides the fact that each time you are handed the prescription you are reminded to have those stool softeners (eff you hydrocodone) and prune juice handy in front of anyone and everyone. Perfect. I def want to have those conversations. Fun times. Fun times.

So reason #14 why I intensely dislike narcotic medicine is in addition to all I listed above you get a I'm sorry your a druggie letters from your insurance company and please seek alternatives (I asked and begged) and here are links for help. Second page was list of all controlled substances filled in last 3 months, who gave them and how much (looking at it scratching my head-well now that you put it like that) and notice we are mailing out to everyone. Please understand that I understand why it's tracked and why they send this out. There IS an epidemic out there. Just not at Casa de Lolita. 

Because I'm all about the relationship and improving it I wrote a letter back. You know they offer advice, tips and "help" so I wanted to be sure the relationship is balanced and I offer advice, tips and help.

Dear insurance company, 

I received your letter of concern for me regarding my use of narcotics or as you say controlled substance. I thank you very much for thinking of me and your offer to help in my time of need. 

However I'm concerned one department may not be taking to the other? Just a guess. Maybe controlled substance department can partner with the department handling customers who have been given terrible shit sandwiches with multiple surgeries and that type stuff? Surely you have departments like this. I get letters from all of you fine people.

I know, I know what your thinking hehe, I talk a lot of smack about pain meds and marijuana. It's just that-talk. The truth is I chucked the pain pills 6 days ago and didn't tell anyone and I'm just not convinced about the mowie wowie part. I like to say it to tease my almost 80 year old parents (maybe you can offer counseling about that?). Although I admit I kept the prune juice. I have gotten accustomed to the taste. It's because what I'm left after this last surgery is a few new incisions and bruises that are causing discomfort, not outright pain. Not pain that I need to "be high" to forget. As well that nerve pain I say bad words over is going to hang around sometime I'm told and it sticks it's middle finger up at anything I take so why not make peace I say.

Oh hey! Speaking of making peace instead of spending money worrying bout me and sending letters out can you agree to pay for my wigs, hairpieces and all that jazzy stuff? In return I can offer my services to find money to pay for it. I have lots of thinking time on my hands.

Your partner in eradicating addictions and saving money, 
Lolita
P.S. To make you comfortable and regain trust I'm willing to submit to pee tests. A few conditions. You pay for it (I'm good on that getting more bills thing) and just for fun lets say  we ALL do it. $87.23 says I have the cleanest pee around. Seriously let's do that because that's one of my co-pays and I can cross that off my list. 

FAQ section of the blog

Frequently asked questions and answers section of the blog

Q:  Why the blog? Why such a public way to document your personal/private experience with cancer?
A:   Easy way to communicate to a large group. Many who want to know a variety of things especially to answer the "how do you feel" question. Hopefully that you read the blog so on the day I blog on and on about pain and lots of eff words isn't the day you innocently ask-how are you? To protect the innocent I have to fakely answer that question and lie my azz off. I can't add lying on top of cursing to the growing list of transgressions I'm committing. To share what I call moments of-are you friggin kidding meeeee?!!?!?- that happens in the life of a cancer patient. You have an idea, but really you don't. I'm shielding you like a mother hen in my blogging. As explained to a family member, there isn't much privacy I realized early on. That I simply could not go from size va va voom to itty bitty titty committee size (yes, I said that) without way more questions, as well I'll disappear some and sound slurry when I talk. Conspiracy theories would abound.

Oddly lots of questions about my hair even though I'm constantly told it's NO big deal, it'll grow back, you'll be fine, you will look gorgeous. Blah blah blah. Mmmmkay. 

Q:  Are you sure your hair will fall out? Maybe it won't.
A:  (blankly staring at you blinking my eyes). Listen I have a hard enough time getting myself off the island on the daily, I just don't have time to yank you off the island. You know the island. Fantasy island. (holding your hand now) Honey, that was a show in the 70's, it wasn't a real island where dreams come true. It was fake for tv. No one lives there, not even Tattoo or that guy with the Spanish accent. The type of chemo I am gonna get all of it is gonna drop off of me. Hair on my head, eyelashes, eyebrows the whole thaaaaannnngg.

Q:  Are you bald yet? Or when is your hair coming off? 
A:  This one is mostly for my niece. When my brother and his wife told the kids the news explaining what they would see or experience her main question is-am I bald yet? When she came over during my wig party and we were alone admiring all my lip glosses she tells me she wants to see under my wig to see if my hair is still there. The same another time when I had a hat on. As of today, it's there. Week of Jan 6th it will be gone with first chemo treatment so I'm told.

Q:  Are you going to wear wigs, scarves or rock a bald look? Have you decided yet?
A:  I have no idea really. I think that's why this week I turned my blonde hair (almost 15 years) to the screaming-look at the elephant in the room- purple. Yup purple like. It was to see if I could walk around in the outside world while people looked at and commented (or not but wanted to) on my hair. It wasn't that easy. The second day I wore a hat. Plus I started making "I'm different friends" each place I visited. While all my life I've been used to people, strangers, always striking random conversation or talking to me (new people who hang with me find this interesting and amusing) I'm just not sure I'm all that comfy yet with instant bonding. I like to take things slow. If this confuses you talk to a pregnant women and she will tell you all about it.

Q:  Can't you go on a special diet, or take herbs or xx? My friend did that. (It's always a friend never someone's momma)

A:  Shut your pie hole and go please (pointing at the door) no worries we are still friends but we are on a break.

Q:  What do you do most of the day now?
A:  Lots of doctor/surgeon/test visits. A get up and get out of the house doc visit is an exhausting day. I walk slower so getting around takes up time. I stare at my nails or the walls because staring at the walls didn't make me use my arms causing pain. I focus on healing, how will I handle what's next. Because I doze off when I'm doing this I have to start all over again when I wake up. I take pictures of my dog. I send pictures & emails to friends/family of incredibly stupid silly stuff. Then when they don't respond in 30 seconds I call them to be sure their phone isn't broke. I'm very busy.

Q:  Do you have good insurance or insurance at all?
A:  Yes, Hercules has insurance which covers me. Quite a few places tell me: you have the good insurance. Still it doesn't cover everything and we have 20% co pays for things. I have this process: receive mail, snort sorta maniacally laugh at the figures, fan myself with some, categorize and label: Pay right away category or the special category I call "they will send Carmen and the boys after me" or "kiss my grits till I get to it". It's all fine and I always find my way.

Q:  So you really don't sit around crying?
A:  No I sure don't. Sometimes I think maybe I should because I'm asked so much. Like I worry I'm suppressing deep emotions. So I make a cry face then it doesn't happen then I worry that will cause wrinkles so I stop. What does make me cry at times is when I receive unexpected gifts or unbelievable generosity from the most unlikely sources, sometimes people I don't know or didn't expect to reach out. And just the generosity and spirit of my entire family. That and when my friends or family make me laugh so hard I cry or pee my pantalones.

Q:  So um, what size will your new boobs be?
A:   When you send out the invite to the "let's talk about our boob size and show our boobs party" with accept or decline for me to check either, I shall promptly cross it out and write in--hell naw in bold letters and fedex it back to you. To be sure you get it back as soon as possible.

Q:  Do you really say bad words that much?
A:  During the worst of the nerve pain, after surgery pain time and during the time that infection was brewing (it made sections of my body hurt SO bad)- oh yes, I cussed my tail off. I simply could not help myself and couldn't believe myself. You will be proud to know that my mantra prayer is the Hail Mary. Always has been and runs through my head daily so there are times I yell out---pray for us sinners! Or great balls of fire! Or instead of can of beans just omg BEANS!! I have no idea why on that last part.

Today a friend sent me a message

It was a simple message with a few words of encouragement and wishes. It lifted me up a great deal. I'm always struck and left with the realization we will never ever know just how much tiny gestures we do can mean to another person on any given day. Just how powerful we really are. I've always used a silly phrase: I use my powers for good. Meaning that I put a best foot forward to use my words to or towards another for good. I try this everyday and then reset and then try again. How amazing to get this back to me, unexpectedly. 

Unexpectedly for reasons I have not known this person for very long. What a nice surprise to know they thought of me enough to send a simple message. Also because before I took leave to do my cancer battle with my nunchucks and high heels (as I draw in picture form in my cards I send out) I had a conversation with this person about some tough times they are having in their life as well. We all have something terrible or tough we need to face from time to time. I am so painfully aware of that fact. I guess it's how we face it is the true determining factor how you will get through each day that defines you as a person. And this amazing person spends a great deal of their day laughing and making others do the same just by being themselves. I can testify as the message they promptly sent me back had me indeed laughing out loud, very loudly. Deciding in advance how we will face tough times isn't something we can always plan out. You stumble along, tripping around, somewhat blindly like, hands out in front feeling your way while stubbing your toes on things you didn't foresee. And then finally just figure it out. Sometimes though the stuff keeps coming. In a big dump truck with that loud beep- beep sound you hear as it's backing up at your front door. You hear the truck and the song from that old show Cops starts running through your head. "Whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do when they come for you". This figuring out how you are going to behave part starts from the moment they hand you the shit sandwich at the shit sandwich shop. Don't go there on purpose. Ever. Their product is horrible and costly. 

As I go out in public on my little journeys these heal get better soon days I have a new set of eyes. During quick jaunts to the doctors, pharmacy/tests I view people I see out and about differently now. I sometimes wonder which of the people I come across are in crisis, you know "holding the sandwich" or pain that was covered up with a cute hat, lipgloss or in my friends case-laughter. We might never know, will we? 

So besides telling this person how very happy I was to receive their message and how very badly I wished the same they did. To a fervent degree. The wish was that I heal fast and be 100% soon. I also asked them to please take care. To do all they can to be strong in their mind as well as their body for all they must face on a daily basis. It was my wish back and sort of plea. Because I converse in Spanish more often than English with this lovely person our conversation today was in Spanish.

I finished my message with some words I'll share here. 

Cada dia tenemos que ser.......
Positivo
Fuerte
Carinoso
Alegre
Listo 
Lleno de fe y amor
Tambien gracioso o chistosos--- hehe :)

Everyday we must be.....
Positive
Strong
Loving
Cheerful
Ready or clever
Full of faith and love
Also witty and funny :)

Clearly this person needs no lessons from me on that last part.

I start with some borrowed words today

I read something this morning from Dr. Wayne Dyer about happiness. He writes:

St Francis shows us how to be happy. The secret of happiness from St Francis of Assisi

You come into this world with nothing and you leave with nothing. The only thing you can do with your life is give it away. This is the true essence to feeling purposeful.

"Lord, make me a channel of thy peace.

...that where there is sadness, I may bring joy"

From the Prayer of St. Francis

I have done lots of reading about and by these two men throughout my life. Both at different times or another have brought me incredible amounts of comfort, peace, self understanding, acceptance and just purpose. In fact the book by Dr. Wayne Dyer called The Power of Intention was practically life changing for me many years ago. I have a worn copy close by that I may open from time to time reading words I know so very well. The same goes for the St. Francis prayers (amazing simple words about love, peace and light). I don't even look, I just open and read whichever or whatever is right in front of me. And sure enough very often happens to be exactly what I very much needed to hear at that exact moment. Coincidence?

Oh that cancer lady is getting weird talking about strange things, I think she's cracking with  the thought of being bald soon or the pills and the cursing!!! (You yell out over your shoulder)

The reasons I wanted to share this with you was in an earlier blog I posted something about thoughts and watching them with care as from thoughts often forms words and then habits. It's why that little snippet from the prayer of St Francis means so much. 

Bring sadness to joy he says. Oh sure sounds easy we snort. But what I know to be true is I'm so lucky to have a lot of that in my life. Especially now. Please hear me that I'm not that person that says false words of I'm soooooo blessed or jeepers imma a lucky gal blah blah blah. Nope neh. Trust me I don't. First off I don't use that word jeepers or shucks. Second point is If I don't tell you your baby is cute it is def cuz I don't think it is. Sorry. The end. Once long ago I told nurse muneca that a baby everyone was saying is cute was ugly and she said oh my goodness jew stop that, jew don't say that, he's cute. I crossed my arms and said well I'm not saying that.

The truth is during times of stress, sadness or struggle I have incredible amounts of joy. It is not a false front presented, then the door closes while I turn around sobbing sliding down with my back to the door. Doesn't happen. 

Is it because I happen to be born into a family and surrounded by fun wisecrackers or people who are funny, ready to laugh? Is it because of my refusal to become totally mature? Is it because I internally process terrible or serious things in the way I do and laugh inappropriately or irreverently? Who knows I shrug. Please note: do NOT take the time to respond below with your thoughts on my immaturity trying to be helpful and answer. These "questions" require NO answers, I repeat NO answers, kindly remove your fingers from the keyboard. 

Then (goodness gracious) I made some coo coo for cocoa puffs decision to actually document thoughts here publicly for all to bear witness? I don't try to write this blog pandering to a supposed reader. Why would I do that?? I say boobs like 10 gajillion times.  How embarrassing. The truth is to get the words out at all and press publish before I delete is I use Jedi mind tricks. Telling myself don't worry Lolita no one is reading, no one will see this girl, go ahead and say that. And it works. Jokes on me when quite a few people or friends message me privately to say girlfriend that entry was killing me! Or omg you are too much! I silently die inside remembering that hehe oh yea I did write that. Woops.

So I will gladly testify that where there is sadness those who bring me joy lift me up. That when you tell me I'm positive, I believe the only thing I'm positive about is when you laugh, I laugh. That and if you fall I'm def laughing (terrible, terrible!!). When you tell me I'm brave the real truth is imma chicken who is scared of the dark, smelly things, and extreme awkwardness to a degree I want to run from it while saying feet don't fail me now. I only borrow my courage from others who I see with real daily struggles. That and I tell myself to get over myself. A lot.

I realize I've been dancing around

A few things these days. Not physically of course. I can't, I'm an invalid. Or that's the phrase I use at the pharmacy when the lady with short arms can't reach over to my car to get my prescriptions nor can I in anyway do that stretch reach thing. Painful and not allowed. I'm sorry, I'm invalid is there someone who can help? It's much easier than to get into the whole long sorry story. Besides a girl has to maintain mystery these days.

The dancing I'm referring to is about the upcoming chemotherapy part. That I hadn't talked about. Until now. I say the word with an extreme look of distaste on my face, a semi frown (I don't ever do full frowns they can cause wrinkles) and a middle finger ready to salute. That's how I feel about that. Well much more but I do try to keep my foot in the may get to heaven someday door.

Each different doctor I bring certain people for a few reasons. Their energy/vibe or humor, their physical ability to keep me from running out the door and the questions they may ask because as we well know I'm not the most focused these days until they start saying the words here's how it will look in the end. So for oncology visits it's always the same. Me, my brother and Hercules.

The after surgery visit to my oncologist is an important one. I had previously been to see Dr. GQ with my crew. (No I'm not trying to rap). That first visit was to review lab results for his thoughts on chemo before surgery or move onto surgery. Cleared for no chemo prior, surgery first.

I say Dr. GQ because thats what my brother calls my oncologist. He is a well respected doctor, a very dignified man with a calm aura, low speaking voice who has been doing what he does for many years. And he wears very nice suits. Because of the way he talks I sometimes expect him to say Lolita San this is what you must do. Lolita San this is why we need to do this. Quite different from my other doctor or hospitals visits where shenanigans may occur.

So here we all are a few weeks after surgery in his patient visiting room. He goes over the pathology report. Clear margins. Good. A couple lymph nodes removed (not all) and nothing there. Ok good. I'm fine, you're fine, we're all fine. Peace out. Drops mic. Buh bye. Not so fast Lolita San.

You see there are a few things I keep being told during all my visits, which has determined my course of action concerning surgery and now my chemo treatment plan. It's the type of cancer I have. Once again please take note: anything medical I say is what I understand that's happening to my body, everyone is different. I have the attention span and maturity of a 14 year old, I take lots of drugs now and soon apparently marijuana so do not repeat what I say medically. You could possibly look like a dum dum and it's not my fault. I have excuses. You don't.

Start at the very beginning. Doctors view pathology reports with several factors. I have what's called invasive ductal carcinoma. Most women who have this terrible disease will get this kind. I have a family history. And I am considered young (stop snickering-seriously I will kick you). I have heard it 10 times now. Once I looked at my brother who is very helpful by reminding me I'm older and said "howdya like that bro she says I'm young". Although I have been a reluctant $& year old for some time (oh woops sorry about that, I'll get my number keys fixed) it's just well the novelty wears off soon about the fact that I'm "young". Apparently not the best thing in this scenario.

Other important part: I have fuck face triple negative cancer (oh dear she's cursing and she used that f word). That my dears is where I might divide in the road with a person's friend, aunt, sister or anyone we know with breast cancer. That they were able to do this or that in their treatment or they did this surgery and they are fine or they take pills or not have to chemo or why do you have to have chemo? Or why aren't you taking those pills? Why can't you eat tumor shrinking food? Or see this healer In Brazil? My loved ones, I say to you with the heaviest heart that you will never ever have any idea how very much I have struggled internally over everything. Grappled with decisions  to move into acceptance and action. And that is why my brother goes with me to oncology visits. To keep me honest. Because in the parking lot after when talking to him I do tap dances. He gently helps me move into reality. He is the face of my family looking at me lovingly telling me I must do all I can do at this moment. Especially chemo, toxic chemo. So of course I wish so very badly any or all of the above could be true. That I would have an easier road that allows me to live in peace, that allows my family peace that we did all we could. That I would not need to look over my shoulder for the next 30-40 years. It is the single most frustrating thing that has ever happened in my life. It can sometime seem I don't get much say in how I would like to move forward.

Because some years ago smart people discovered not all breast cancers are the same. Triple negative means I don't have the estrogen or progesterone receptors typically treated with pills. Triple negative likes it's ass to be kicked with chemo. Sometimes a lot. It's a more rare type. Like 1 million women with breast cancer (how terrible, really terrible) only 15% or around 150,000 women have it. It tends to favor African American/Latina women and it likes them young. How nice. Sounds like a real asshole. 

So my cancer is considered an aggressive type cancer with slightly higher chance to return in other ways, like in my bones my liver or my brain. And those Lolita San are not curable my doctor tells me. I know because I asked him. I asked my family to pretend they were not in the room and that I'm joking but what if-WHAT IF I decide not to do chemo doctor?  Doctor seemed ready for my question and calmly listed those reasons I have heard over and over. Because I need numbers, I really do, I ask him to rephrase it for me that way. He again has his homework done and tells me if I choose not to do this treatment plan that it's a 30% chance or likely cancer may return to my body in those uncurable ways. Silence. I'm proud of my brother who held his words until then and finally calmly said, loleets, this is just too high. And if I do the chemo, what then I ask as I pinch the spot between my eyes. Likely to reduce down to 5 to 10%. And that's still too high my brother says.

It happened that I knew before surgery I was stage 2 cancer, grade 2, I knew the tumor size was considered a little bigger. It was a new area of concern not on previous mammograms exams going back over 10 years. I also happen to know and been told several times that Dr Jones, my radiologist saved my life. Had I not followed a sequence of events I did, had she not stopped, and caught it in another year I could have easily been stage 4. Let's take a moment there. It's enough to digest and I know you have to catch up to me as I've been with this in my head and heart for some time, along with some family members.

Stages I'm told aren't as important as size (unless it's stage 4) and then size isn't as important as how it behaves in your body. Like what is it doing and where is it going? Mine was a acting a fool but caught early enough. So the reasons why my chemo recommendations are more and longer than I hoped. Instead of a few rounds and a few months it will be 16 or more rounds and 6 to 8 months if my body allows. Then more surgeries. 

While I may not like or care for all that life has given me from time to time to struggle with. What I have always known is that I'm never alone. None of us are.

Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.

Thessalonians 5:16-18