I live in Missouri with sultry summers. Sometimes I get my words turned ass-backerds, but I try not to over analyze, just tryin’ to keep it real.
“Raw” as one friend said. Words have always been the way I made sense of my life. I was asked how I felt and looked so I started selfies and diaries of my progress — here is the nuts and bolts of my recovery, the whole shebang.
My diagnosis: Microinvasive ductal carcinoma, nuclear grade 2, moderately differentiated, 1mm in greatest dimension, Stage 1.
My prognosis: Unilateral (total) mastectomy, bilateral reconstruction with anti-hormone therapy.
My fav color is not ‘pink’. This is about my breast cancer experience. My boob being amputated. It’s surviving PAIN. Surgeries. Emotionally raw nonfiction is the nitty-gritty of breast cancer. This blog spurred my book, which has tons of close ups from six reconstructive surgeries, depression, and opiate nightmares, Tamoxifen, the anti-cancer drug and death. I walk you through as I recovered from struggles to rejoin my husband and my friends in our outdoors lifestyle.
Besides four years of physically struggling to get my life back after a total mastectomy, I dove into music and writing. I’m no musician but listened and sang along to get a teenie bit of comfort or let loose of my anger. Within days of a total mastectomy I was thrown into depression.. Its evil tentacles transformed my inner defenses into nightmares of murderous rage. Within months, I hinged on the edge of opiate dependency despite the idealism of spiritual healing. Somewhat sarcastic, my wit is somewhat relief.
The book’s selfies are all from my iOS5 as true diaries of my progress. There is no censorship, hopefully formatted for ease, with a modicum of editing.
Occasionally, I offer not-so-politically-correct opinions. There IS obviously, the 1st Amendment at work, all those opinions borne out of deep convictions, reference not to an elephant or donkey, but at times sarcastic as an ass or two. So pardon the tongue-in-cheek inference.
My family heard me cry, my frustration and coaxed my anger through my worst days. I didn’t need to be perfect or strong with them. Their comforting words, from their compassion… is how I came to ‘THE NIGHTMARE OF BREAST CANCER’. Because it is just that.
Dr. Jew explained the pathology report that my cancer was STAGE 1. Understanding my cancer was not ‘Stage 2’ but ‘Stage 1’ was no less scary, yet that downgrade made all the difference. I did not require chemotherapy or radiation treatments.
An abnormal mammogram, mastectomy and reconstruction from October 2013 till now led to sharing my hell with words as the only way to make sense of breast cancer. Years of breast reconstruction, medications, physiological changes, cancer clinics and monster nightmares.
I escape in the outdoors; gardening, fishing and in autumn’s coolness, and deer hunting with my husband/pardner. Love the feel of a wood gun stock and dirt between my toes. True gardeners garden barefoot… me. The breeze on my face, my grandkids laughter and my pointer, Rocky make life worth the struggles. Grandkids say the dangdest stuff ‘n my dog is my bubbas ‘n the goofy man I’m married to all make me laugh.
Marriage and family issues all in Midwest-mom-speak, not as a doctor, but through a retired Hallmarker’s eyes for everyday moms.
This is about — the rigors, the physical pain, the intensity of emotions, the doctors, and and how it all affected my family. I’d rather yak about outdoorsy stuff but this is the survival of the fittest. There is no little niche for escape. Being vulnerable is gut wrenching and scary. Uncensored selfies (© woman in recon) concise with this context, the MPAA Movie Ratings would surely rate them R, but I promise they’re rated more F for “family” or M for “medical”.
If you just had a mastectomy and are scared, looking for answers, hopefully you will find a few answers here. Here, I share my reconstruction and my utter despair and finally my faith and hope as I recovered — hopefully you breast cancer patients feel the positivism too.
My mission: Provide other breast cancer patients with real info and hope they too can kick boob cancer’s ass.
© Copyright P. L. Frommer 2017. All rights reserved.