Not Everyone Gets A Trophy In My House

https://badboob.wordpress.com/2016/09/19/not-everyone-gets-a-trophy-in-my-house-boy/

NOT EVERYONE GETS A TROPHY IN MY HOUSE BOY….

Posted on September 19, 2016 by badboobandshit under alopecia, american cancer society making strides against breast cancer, ativan, benefit, bilateral mastectomy, bills, biopsy, blog,bravery, brca2, Breast Cancer, breast cancer awareness, breath, breathe, cancer, cancer free,cancer is a whore, cbc, celexia, chemo, chemo cold caps, chemo port, chemotherapy, concern,depression, drain bulb, emotions, environmental, exchange surgery, expanders, facts of life,family, feel yourself, fighter, finances, fml, freaking out, friends, friendship, fuck you, generosity,gift, grief, guilt, hair loss, happiness, health, hero, heroic, holidays, hope, hormone replacement therapy, hospital, hysterectomy, implants, Invasive ductile carcinoma, invasive lobular carcinoma, journey, kicking cancers ass, life, life changing, life sucks, mammogram, mark up,mastectomy, menstruation, mindfuck, motivation, nerves, nervous, nipples, Oncotype DX, party,peen, plastic surgeon, poop, premarin

Me to sweet babboo during our intensive Foosball game. Ha, he thinks I’m gonna let him win, nope he’s got to earn it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a hard ass. But I’m not going to let him win either….balance fuckers. We all need balance. 

And since I’m a Libra, I’m all about the balance. If you’ve seen my Fb or IG you may have noticed I’m all about those hashtags too.

When you’re going to start receiving chemo, you may have a bit of a freak out. I freaked the fuck out, bad. I cried every step in the infusion suite….But we know this is part of treatment. These toxins are to clear our bodies of any last remaining cancerous cells…

YOU’RE GOING TO BE SICK.

SICK AS FUCK.

YOU’LL BE HUNGRY, BUT CAN’T 

YOU’LL HAVE TO URINATE, BUT CAN’T

YOU’LL WANT TO SLEEP, BUT CAN’T

YOU’LL WANT TO WALK, BUT CAN’T

YOU’LL WANT TO EAT, BUT CAN’T

YOU’RE GOING TO BE SICK

SICK AS FUCK

For what seems like days, weeks, months, years…..when in reality it’s only been two and a half days….that’s how bad this shit fuck’s you up.

When I spit, I had to grab it with my hand…too weak to even rid my mouth of spit….

You think I exaggerate? Nope, not one lil deet. When you pee, you kinda let it drip (like the peens do) because you are too weak to even reach around and clean your pikachu….Yes, it’s that bad…no shit.

Forget ginger chews as the mouth sores rebel very quickly. Forget water, it hurts to swallow. I ate nerds. Boxes and Boxes of nerds…the big boy that’s a five serving…ha! One serving for me…yummy nerds.

It’s been 272 days since my bilateral mastectomy, and a few weeks since new tit exchange; you’d think at this point in the game I’d be able to look down at my self (my chest) and not cry, wrong…..When I shower, I do all I can to wash my fakeboobs in the quickest fashion. It’s so odd. Bizarre and sad. My boobs brought great enjoyment to me for many fucking years. Now I’m a clean slate. Still in my human skin, but a bit perky and nipple-less…Just the mere sight and I’m immediately reduced to tears. That gorgeous woman standing with me is Dr. Lisa Tolnitch of Carolina Breast Care; she saved my life December 22, 2015 by removing many tumors and two cancers from my left breast.

So those of you that have been here since day one, know I’ve bitched a lot. I also want you to know your bo,dies. Feel your boobs. Know your lumps, bumps…..I was unsure as to which direction I wanted to take this blog. Cause you know, cancer is gone, treatment is complete, new boobs in place….

We all know presecreening is essential to our health. Had I had a mammogram at 40, my cancer would have went undetected until my next mammo at 45….And while I did catch my cancers early on, there were still so many tumors a lumpectomy wasn’t an option for me….It may be for you.

Don’t let lack of insurance, fear of needle pricks or any other ism/excuse hold you back…if you find a lump, get that fucker checked out ASAP!!

K. Now for some goodshit…you know my pot of fucking gold……I thought my parting gift from the breast cancer game was fake tits…..wrong…..I’ll be one of ten featured models for Macy’s Model walk for strides against cancer! Yes you read that right! Me a model, for fuck sake!! So stoked to be a part of that. The models are encouraged to sell tickets and create a team…Team #badboob is currently in 18th position for The American Cancer Society, Greater Raleigh! So readers, boob feelers, friends I’m sharing my link with you here in hopes you’ll show some support be it monetary or sharing with your friends. I want Team #badboob to knock this #makingstridesagainstcancer walk so far outta the park. I know I can do it, with your help. Obv….

I‘ve raised over $235.00 this weekend…Not bad since the official American Cancer Society Making Strides Against Breast Cancer campaign hasn’t officially kicked off yet!
I’m asked to sell 4 seated tickets for family to watch my modeling gig….3 of the 4 have been purchased. If you’d like to help my family by purchasing that 4th seat, please submit $25.00 to my PayPal, firedaizey@gmail.com, monies will be turned into organizer during my fitting.

And….if anyone wants a #badboob shirt, let me know! We get free shipping on orders over 12!!
Donations For Team #badboob Here.

TIME KEEPS ON SLIPPIN, SLIPPIN, SLIPPIN….

Posted on June 11, 2016 by badboobandshit under alopecia, bad boob, benefit, bilateral mastectomy, bills, biopsy, blog, boobs, bravery, brca2, Breast Cancer, Breast cancer, breast cancer awareness, breast reduction, breath, breathe, Cancer, cancer free, cancer is a whore,celexia, chemo, chemo cold caps, chemo port, chemotherapy, concern, depression, double mastectomy, drain bulb, emotions, environmental, exchange surgery, expanders, facts of life,family, feel yourself, fighter, finances, fml, freaking out, friends, friendship, fuck cancer, fuck you, generosity, gift, grief, guilt, hair loss, happiness, health, hero, heroic, holidays, hope,hormone replacement therapy, hospital, hysterectomy, implants, Invasive ductile carcinoma,invasive lobular carcinoma, journey, kicking cancers ass, life, life changing, life sucks, love,mammogram, mark up, mastectomy, menstruation, mindfuck, motivation, nerves, nervous,nipples, Oncotype DX, parenting, peen, period, plastic surgeon, post op, power port, raw, real life, recovery, sacred, scared, smile, snoopy, spirit, strength, strong, suck it cancer, surgeon,surgery, survivor, suture, tamoxifen, testing, titanium marker, tits, tumors, Uncategorized,viral, warrior, weight, xanax

Fucking Life

Fucking Death

Shit. Does. Not. Stop. Ever.

If you’re one of the lucky ones, you’ll get some laughs along the way with little memory of the hardships you’ve endured….

BILLS STILL NEED TO BE PAID….CARS & HOMES MAINTAINED…APPOINTMENTS & SHIT WILL NEED TO BE DONE….BOOBOO’S CARED FOR….LOVED ONES LOVED….COMPROMISES….LOTS OF FUCKING COMPROMISES….AND JUST BECAUSE YOU HAD CANCER AND A FEW ROUNDS OF GRUELING ASS CHEMO….SO FUCKING WHAT?…LIFE. DOES. NOT. GIVE. A. GODDAMN….GET YOUR TREATMENT AND GET OFF YOUR FUCKING ASS.

So lemme tell ya, there’ve been a few [very few mind you] perks from chemotherapy. It’s been pretty fucking nice not having to look for that hard, sneaky fuck of a white chin hair….sometimes it’ll pop up on the left side, others the right….and I can almost never pluck that bitch first try…I no longer have to pluck nipple hair….ever…. again….been using the same razor [just to get the strays] for months….fucking score, right!…no periods in months….with the playground being demolished in a few weeks, that’ll be one monkey permanently off my crotch….lots of time has been saved in the shower….conditioner & shit….boom I’m done in mere minutes….money has been saved on make up and shit….with no eyelashes, I don’t need mascara, duh….with monster fucking pimples, no need to use foundation to try to cover, it only makes it worse….and with shitty puke fest, I’ve saved a shitton of money on my vehicle and fuel….so there have been some good points….very small, minor money saving occurrences during my breast cancer jaunt.

Weeds are tall as fuck outside

We laughed hard as hell in the living room

Spider webs outside

We played rescue garage

Still dusty as fuck inside

Splashed our asses off in the pool

Fucking life does not stop

MAYBE NEXT WEEKEND WE WILL DUST THE HOUSE, WEED EAT THE YARD, MOW THE LAWN AND LEAF BLOW THE SPIDERS THAT HAVE TAKEN UP RESIDENCY IN THE CORNERS OF OUR HOME INTO THE WILD OBLIVION.

The scale has finally begun cooperating with me again. Thank fuck for that small feat. By resuming our walks with our lumpy yellow dog, the pounds are slowly dropping off. Goddamn three or four weeks of inactivity and the pounds take it as some sort of fucking invitation to jump back onto your gut or ass….or arms….or neck….gobble gobble….fuck, once I grow double chins, there’ll be more places to hide food on my body. [insert wow face emoticon with hands to mouth ala Home Alone fashion here]

Seriously can’t stress what a constant, itching, burning pain in the ass the power port is. I feel its presence with each step, cough, word I speak….the incision site was really bothersome last week, over the weekend I noticed it had begun to scab slightly….and that fucking plastic ‘vein’….my gawd….remove that bitch today! Please and thank you. Thank fuck this fucker will be removed in 35 days. I’ve talked to so many breast cancer survivors who say they do not experience any problems from their ports. Hallefuckinlujah to you! I seriously am envious. There’s enough bullshit to learn and deal with once you find you have cancer and I’m sick of the port. The method of delivering the toxic chemo should not be another obstacle. But it could be worse. This I know. There are so many other outcomes that could have happened once the super doctors removed the cancer back in December. Fortunately, easy. I got off with my life. I am titless, but have plastics being installed. I am not terminal. I have lots of look forward to and accomplish yet in my life.

I was scared as fuck when I discovered that lump 216 days ago. I cried hysterically, dramatically & violently every fucking day up till my bilateral mastectomy 174 days. I also know I’m not the only one scared in life. A lot of us are. Life can be a ginormous fuckstick at times.

35 days from now the new tits will be install as well as my lady bits being removed.

Sweet Babboo will be beginning his stint with the public school system in 77 days. That’s only 76 good mornings before he’s released into the world. Infuckincredible. The badboob family had sons graduate in 2013 & 2014, for fuck’s sake. With my first two sons, I was the young parent. Now I’ll be the old, granny parent. [insert crying emoticon here] Fucking yikes I say.

I believe I’m out out the chemo induced hell…my bowels are still outta whack…my brain still scrambled….my life is still fucked….but I am here….the sun rose again this morning….time to suit up and splash in the pool.

https://badboob.wordpress.com/2016/06/11/time-keeps-on-slippin-slippin-slippin/

MISTAKES WERE MADE

Posted on May 16, 2016 by badboobandshit under alopecia, badboob, beer, bilateral mastectomy, bills, biopsy, blog, bravery, Breast Cancer, breast cancer awareness, breast reduction, breath, breathe, Cancer, cancer free, cancer is a whore, cbc, celexia, chemo, chemo cold caps, chemo port, chemotherapy, christmas, concern, depression, double mastectomy, drain bulb, early dectection, emotions, environmental, exchange surgery, expanders, facts of life,family, feel yourself, fighter, finances, fml, freaking out, friends, friendship, fuck cancer, fuck you, generosity, gift, grief, guilt, hair loss, happiness, health, hero, heroic, holidays, hope,hormone replacement therapy, hospital, hysterectomy, implants, Invasive ductile carcinoma,invasive lobular carcinoma, journey, kicking cancers ass, life, life changing, life sucks, love,lysol, mammogram, mark up, mastectomy, menstruation, mindfuck, motivation, nerves,nervous, nipples, Oncotype DX, period, plastic surgeon, post op, presents, proceeds, raw, real life, recovery, sacred, scared, smile, snoopy, spirit, strength, strong, suck it cancer, surgeon,surgery, survivor, suture, tamoxifen, testing, titanium marker, tits, tumors, Uncategorized,viral, warrior, weight, xanax

Oh yes they were.

Fucking you think you have your shit together [well, I never really thought I had my shit together, but I’ve got comfy blankets and built the facade blankie fort]. You live the with diagnosis and medical treatments. The poking, the prodding, all modesty has been tossed aside when your chest has become the focus for many–clearing the cancer then the reconstruction of the breasts….life has adjusted, as well as it can considering, cause you know fucking cancer and loss of boobs at 42. You look straight ahead, try to hold your head high when all you want to do it hide.

But hey, your oncologist prescribes a shitton of chemo/cancer meds. You’re sedated, you live, you learn, you laugh, you cry & cry & cry & cry until you think your tear ducts have actually dried the fuck up….Oh but no. There are more tears, there are always more tears. The tears that fall in the shower. The tears that escape while hugging someone. The tears of pride when seeing your spouse and child playing together. The tears of life.

You may get used to your new life, but you may never like it. Well, I don’t like it. Obv, I’m glad I have my life. Obv, I’m glad I’m not sitting here with six apple sized tumors in my tit at the mo. But,  but what would life be for me today, had I not discovered those little pea sized fucking lumps?

They say our experiences shape us and prepare us for what’s ahead….what the fuck am I being groomed for? I do hope to make a positive impact in the breast cancer community. Whether it be by counsel or friendship. You don’t have to be alone. You shouldn’t be alone. 

Life may be easier if we were easier on ourselves, if I were easier on myself. If I loved myself more. If I laughed more. If I forgave myself more. Who the fuck knows. I feel, the majority of us mean well, but we are too goddamned harsh on ourselves and selfish. I am learning to love and forgive myself a bit easier. I’m beginning to surround myself with positively radiant souls whom I adore with all my heart. I’m tired of being tired, sad & sick. I want energy, levity & longevity.

Last chemo-infusion is Friday gang!! Did you hear me?? Just a few more days and my last dose of chemo will course through my veins fucking up absolutely everything inside and outside my body. Then, I can begin to wean myself from the pharma-cocktail I’ve been taking for months. I will be able to look toward the exchange surgery and know that is my reward for having successfully kicked cancer’s ass to the curb! Last week was a pretty good week, this week should be fucking great too. Next week, well not so much. I’ll take up residence on the loo with my trash can. I’ll sweat out toxins in my sleep. I’ll feel as if I’m going insane within my mind. And just when I don’t think I can handle anymore and am ready to toss in the proverbial towel…the chemo fog will lift. I will see the world with clear eyes and sharp mind again. And I will once again thank everyone who called, cooked, prayed and loved me when I could’t love myself,

Be kind to yourself.