Sunday, January 31, 2016

As I embark on the next stage of breast cancer ‪#‎recovery, I've been looking into ways to preserve my hair.
I've discovered ‪#‎chemo‬ cooling caps.
Unfortunately the price for these caps are outfuckinrageously high, so I call upon you kids...if you have the hook-up as to how I can obtain one of these ‪#‎cancer‬ caps for free, loaner or little cost, I would be forever grateful. (or if you know someone who knows get my point.)

Tuesday, January 26, 2016

28 Days Later


And I left the plastic surgeon’s office thinking that first fill-up was not that bad….holy fuck me! Boy was I mistaken! –I know I already bitched about this last post, but seriously, the expander method seems a bit barbaric to me. IDK about this–after living with double K cups and then most recently double F boobs, I may just stay right here with a sweet little A cup….We shall see.
So 28 days later, I was received my oncotype score –while not too bad, it wasn’t the best–it was right in the middle. With a middle score, my oncologist presented me with many options. And in true Libra fashion, it took me a long time to deliberate. It was a long, long fucking weekend. I weighed the pro’s & con’s. I consulted with family & friends. I researched the chemo med’s she wanted to pump through my veins. I even had an extremely insightful call with Dr. Susan Love, those of you that know anything of breast cancer, know that Dr. Love is heralded as one of the best of best when it comes to breast cancer care, facts & recovery. I took everyone’s advice….and when oncology called, I told them to schedule my port placement. Le Sigh--Chemo port will be installed on 2/1/16.
Not gonna lie kids, chemo scares the ever living fuck out of me! Almost more so than have my breast mutilated by cancer.
Today makes 35 post bilateral mastectomy and I feel pretty good. Little Badboob and I will get motivated in a mo to take dog for a walk. It will be a balmy 60 degrees today, which is fucking insane, considering just days ago we were under a state of emergency due to the ice storm/blizzard that slammed the East Coast. We lost power for 25 hours, fortunately we have a gas fireplace and shitton of camping gear. Without missing a beat, Mr. Badboob had cooked up a full breakie replete with fresh made coffee during our power outage.
My chest swelling has pretty much subsided. Looking at my profile now, I feel like a prepubescent Tara. I have no boobs, just massive looking pec’s at the mo–pretty goddamned strange if you ask me.
I’m looking at 4 chemo treatments every 3 weeks, hopefully sometime late May or early June I’ll be able to look back at this long road and sigh with relief that I’ve made it. I hope that by going the chemo route, I’m not opening some sort of sneaky ass Pandora’s Box, my family history with illness is not the best. But I also know I must do all I can to preserve my health for myself and my family. A month after I turned 42, I found the fucking lump that literally changed my life. I’m hoping as I near my 43rd Birthday in October, I’ll still be able to declare that #cancerfree status….we shall see.
Local folks– I implore you to reach out to us during treatment times and watch my sweet baboo. From what I hear you feel fine during chemo. Then days 3-7 after, you feel like ass and don’t want to do shit. Those of you with small kids, know not doing shit is not an option–kids do not stop. I will need some relief, if only for a few hours at a time.
Now it is time for me to get off my ass and explore it all with dog and Little Badboob. Make it a good one!

Thursday, January 21, 2016


And we are here to ‘Pump You Up‘–Holy fuckamorolee!
This is how I feel after my first saline fill-up in my breast tissue expansion process, like fucking Hanz & Franz with their overly buff bodies….I have read that it hurts….I have read some women stop before they reach their desired cup size….and fuck me….I can see why….the pressure is insane….I’m told the expansion process takes 4-6 months.
Here I am, two days after first fill & I’m crazy sore. It’s such an odd sensation really.  I’m told the pain subsides by the end of day two….waiting….Next fill is in two weeks, just in time for me to get used to my ‘new normal’ only to be pumped up again.
I have some hematoma action going on where #badboob once resided–all normal I am told. I’m healing nicely, I am told. Thank fuck for that glimpse of shiny lining.
Once my breast tissue is expanded to desired size, then I’ll go back under the knife to have the implants installed.  I found out I can choose between gel or silicone implants. For all the research I’ve done in the past 59 days, post cancer diagnosis, there is still so much shit I do not know about.
goddammit. fuck all. fuck cancer.
So, I’m looking at 4-6 months of saline fill-ups. Oh happy happy joy joy [another sarcastic eye roll here]…. walking around with a big square looking chest, those expander fuckers are not flattering in the least bit….wear loose tops….wear asymmetrical patterns….wear layers all the breast cancer, fucking feel good, books say.
And fuck it, if I wasn’t clumsy enough before, I know have to contend with walking into a wall, falling down, who the fuck knows what else, so I don’t pop these fuckers. The first question the nurses ask at every appointment is have I fallen recently? No has been my answer. But let’s face it guys, it’s only been 30 days since bilateral mastectomy….indubitably I will fall….graceful I am not….clumsy as fuck I am….happy I am not having to worry about remaining upright without toppling into something lke the goddamned spazz I am….
I’ll be deciding upon my treatment plan over the weekend.
Mr. Badboob and I will discuss pros and cons regarding my options. Obviously, I want to remain healthy and cancer-free. The decision will be tough, no doubt. My stomach has been in fucking knots since learning of my options.
Fortunately I’m still relatively young and healthy enough, so they say, to bounce back & not become a shell of my former self, so they say.
I continue to be humbled by all your guys’z support. Thank you everyone who has been here so far and to those that will be here for me in the future.
Now, time to get off my ass and walk the dog.
Oh, I don’t think I mentioned, I ‘jogged’, momentarily, for the first time post-op, when walking the dog….uhm…what a bizarre feeling that was. Before, I’d have to hold my boobs down just to walk so those fuckers wouldn’t suffocate me….you can imagine the challenges I faced while running….so bizarre to not live with the fear of knocking myself out via boob to the face anymore [snarky eye roll insertion].

Monday, January 18, 2016

Cancer Robbed Me


cancer robbed me of a lot of goddamned shit.
Cancer robbed me of time with my youngest. I found the lump seven days after five’s birthday. 19 days later I would be in the hospital with doctors tearing into my breast tissue with their precision scalpels & shit. Those days leading up to surgery, I knew picking five up & giving him super-duper swirlaround hugs would be some of my last times actually doing this with him…..All children grow, this we know….Not all parents are going through recovery during those last days when your youngest is growing by leaps and bounds. I knew during my months of treatments & recovery & bullshit that goes along with cancer that I’d not be able to to this with him once I fully recovered, because he’ll have grown so much. Shit, months down the road, he’ll likely be taller than me. I cherished these hugs. I recited in my mind his smell, laughter & hugging back. I inhaled his essence….knowing that cancer will be behind us one day….months from now….years from now….this nightmare would be a distant but life changing event….he’ll continue reach up to my chest every now and again asking how my boobs feel or if that’s where my boobs were….he’ll tell the cashier at he grocery store “go to hashtag badboob if you want to read about my mommies cancer”….ha!….what a sweet and loving little boy….I know he’ll grow into a strong and compassionate man….he does, after all, have a two pretty damned good role models….While cancer has robbed me of picking him up, it hasn’t robbed me of loving him, harder, every day.
Cancer robbed me of intimacy. Not only with my spouse, but with myself. In the 60 days since the diagnostic mammogram, it’s mostly been fear and worry discussed between me and Mr. Badboob. It has robbed me of sleeping, quite comfy might I add, in the crook of his arm. Instead, the 27 days post-masecto I’ve been sleeping in a cushion of pillows, all but alienating him from my embrace….so unfair cancer is.
Cancer has robbed me of my tits. Fucks sake, I’m only 42–wasn’t quite ready to get rid of them….even if I’m getting new tits installed….it just won’t be the same. My upper portion of my body is still in quite a bit of pain….still gnarly bruised & shit….the hell they’d do? Sit their medical equipment atop me during surgery?….while I’m still in pain, I’m still numb at the same time….don’t know how many of you have seen post-masecto chests…ugh…at the mo, my breasts look awful….and to sucker punch me even harder….I have absolutely no sensation where my nipples were….I mean none….that skin that was once my breasts is gone and mostly likely that source of pleasure is gone….it just means me & the mister will get creative again with sensations and feel goods, when the time is right.
Cancer has robbed me of wanted to get up some days. It has robbed me of giving a shit about my appearance some days. It has robbed me of brushing my hair….though, tbt, since getting my hair cut short back in the summer….I’ve rarely brushed it….preferring to go with the ‘cute messy look’, but now, I hardly even bother with the dry shampoo….It has robbed me of so many simple pleasures, like simply sitting up–pain free. Or not having to peel a sports bra off my incision spots….for those of you that don’t know…the self-healing tape they use, sticks to your clothes….you must carefully peel off your affected area….nothing like receiving a kick while you’re down, eh?
While cancer has robbed me of so much, I do realize, it has strengthened some bonds. It has introduced a new dialogue in our home. We speak more. We hug more. We laugh more. And of course we cry more. Fuck you so very hard breast cancer!
Please for the love of fuck….check yourselves ladies….I was able to catch my breast cancer before it wreaked too much havoc within my body….besides the loss of boobs.
Cancer will not rob me of enjoying today.

Saturday, January 16, 2016


Posted on January 16, 2016 by badboobandshit under badboob, beer, benefit, bilateral mastectomy, bills, biopsy, Breast Cancer, breast reduction, breath, breathe, Cancer, cancer free, cancer is a whore, chemotherapy, double mastectomy, drain bulb, early detection, emotions, environmental, expanders, facts of life, family, feel yourself, finances, fml, freaking out, friends, friendship, fuck cancer, generosity, gift, grief, guilt, happiness, health, hero, holidays, hope, hormone replacement therapy, hospital, implants, Invasive ductile carcinoma, invasive lobular carcinoma, kicking cancers ass, life, love, mammogram, mark up, mastectomy, menstruation, mindfuck, motivation, nerves, nervous, Oncotype DX, parenting, party, period, plastic surgeon, post op, presents, proceeds, raw, real life, recovery, scared, smile, snoopy, spirit, strength, strong, surgeon, surgery, survivor, suture, tamoxifen, testing, tits, tumors, viral
How Did It End Up Like This?

Here I type 25 days post bilateral mastectomy.

Holy Shit! I still can not believe this is my life.

Breast Cancer Survivor has now been added to the list of many amazeball things [insert sarcastic eye roll here] I’ve accomplished.

A fucking survivor I am….goddammit!

It’s still hard to fathom I accidentally found the lump in a moment of intimacy, because I didn’t want my fucking boobs flopping around–now I have no boobs–That was 67 days ago for fuck’s sake. I do not tell yo this story for pity. I simply tell this story to get these crazy thoughts outta my head. What a fucking mindfuck.

Tuesday, January the 19th will be a busy day for me and my #badboob. I go to the plastic surgeon, first real post-op appointment with him. The plastic surgeon did make his rounds the morning after surgery….fucking around 6:00am….Who the hell is up that early? Doctors and the medical workers that’s who….the real superhero of my story….I am not the hero. I did not remove the cancerous tumors from my breast, they did. I just laid there drooling under sedation & shit.

I will be receiving my first fill-up. Then onto the oncologist to learn of my cancer treatment plan.  Will I be on chemo via port or pill? Will I be on hormone replacement therapy for the next five to ten years? Fuck if I know. I mean, I will know Tuesday, but at the mo, I do not know, ya know? And fuck me if I’m one of those bitches that balloon to 600 pounds while on hormone replacement therapy~~Gah!!

I was told HRT users can sometimes go into early menopause…..this does excite me….just a tad….seeing as how my baby-slide has been closed for sometime & those pesky fucking periods are so yesterday….bring it on or better yet….free uterus to good home….only serious inquiries considered.

Local schools are on holiday this week and I’ve a new sitter lined up for five! I know they’ll do great! I’m relieved we found someone close enough and trusting enough to leave him with during these medically necessary appointments. We’ve done a few meet & greets & shit….those of you with children, you know how difficult it is to secure someone to watch your child.

Now to get all those fuckers scheduled for school holidays, I’ll be set.

With lack of boobs, I tend to slouch much more than I ever did. That, to me is such an odd sensation. I’ve hoisted those babies up for years….shoving them into ill fitted bras….straps that leave marks hours after bra has been taken off via secret pull through your tee shirt move….for years & years I’ve put up with those mammoth beasts….and now they are gone….soon to be replaced with implants….face palm….mind blown!

Thursday, January 14, 2016


There are people who in this world get shoved around and there are people who do the shoving! -Jo, Facts Of Life—I plan to shove cancer as far away from me as fucking possible.
It’s been 23 days since my bilateral mastectomy. And yet I still wake up every morning crying….Crying like a fucking baby….The tears will sneak up on me & run down my face until I realize I’m in full cry mode. Usually, I’m able to wipe them away before hubby or five sees me breaking down. I know letting emotions out is good, cathartic and essential to fully healing, but dammit….I’m getting tired of these puffy ass eyes & bruised ass chest where my boobs once laid.
Cancer is such a fucking asshole. Ya know what, cancer is the definition of#assholism. Young, old, healthy, obese–It doesn’t give a fuck who you are. Fuck you cancer. The day when a cure is found will be the most gloriously celebrated day!
I’ve met some many fantastic women since beginning my blog. I had no idea that I would make friends when I began #badboob.  But if you think about it, some of my [and possibly your] closest friends came from a shitstorm of a situation that automatically bond you; those turn out to be the best and closest friends to have in your life.
I look in my closet at all my cute tee’s[that I may or may not be too old to still be wearing] but fuck it, they’re my tee’s. I see sadness when looking in the closet. I know this flat deformed chest is temporary, but still….it sucks. So big bulky sweaters it is while out in public….comfy tanks while at home.
My incisions still get throbby when walking. It feels like nipple freeze without nipples. If that makes sense. How weird is is to my to have those feelings in my boobs when I’m otherwise numb, all nerves have been severed; there is virtually no feeling on my chest–other than the pain still associated with the surgery.
Enough with your fucking sob story already Tara….Erm….it’s my blog & that’s why your here? Right?….Let’s hear some good shit….Well….Uhm….You see, with cancer….there really is no good shit….except when it is removed, treatments are over & you are officially deemed cancer free.
I did visit Dianne’s Selection & Lovely Lady Boutique yesterday. Picked up a few post mastecto bras and inserts yesterday. Been playing around with them a bit this morning. Trying to get used to seeing myself with ‘boobs’ again….ugh….it’s not easy kids….more tears….I did also pick up a handicap placard yesterday….just in case chemo really kicks my ass. I want to be prepared. And completed a fuckton more paperwork as well, hoping to get some good replies from all the financial forms I’ve been sending.
I am getting my strength back. Have almost, almost I say, full mobility in my arms. Now to get that goddamned pain to stop and I may feel like myself again very soon.
Be kind kids