While I’m thankful that my baby sister started this blog and had the great idea to continue to document the legacy of our genes, it comes with a deep fear. I’m not afraid of failing at this, in front of people, but the fear that I have now somehow marked my children for this. Not only marked them for this, but will scar them by this.
As a full time working mommy, we carry a great burden of guilt with us. I believe that the guilt is actually something we want to carry, because if we didn’t feel guilty then we’d just be horrible mothers. But now I’m a working mommy, who leaves her kids in the care of others for 10 hours a day, and can’t take care of her children after that, relying on kindness or payment to sitters to support. What will they say when I can’t put them in bed? What will they say when I can’t pick them up and hold them? When I lose my hair? When I can’t get their milk with “pudding” in it?
I’m sure all these fears will surface and we’ll get through them, but we have to find some way to not continue another generation of women losing anything to this disease: life, body parts, living, energy….
1st Chemo yesterday was as good as it can be. We got there to start lab work, meet doc, start chemo at 1030am. We got in the car to go home at 6pm. LOOOOOONG ASS day!!!! The taxitol was rocky. I started feeling funky, got immediate acid reflux, followed by wave of heat induced nausea and other funk. They immediately stopped the drip, added saline, and a new histamine blocker, then sat for a while before restarting. When we restarted an hour or so later we went really really slowly. Got off and on symptoms. First I felt 1 or 2 days post flu- funky and weak but not violently ill. Then got wave of nausea that I took care of. Then later I got shaking chills with that fever onset like last week. It stayed pretty low but I was concerned. Popped more pills for the fever onset, steroids, this and that… It’s like walking a tightrope while playing whack-a-mole. They say in general I shouldn’t feel the more violent effects until today and tomorrow. Fun!
Hannah and Holland are managing as well as 3 and 4 can be expected. Hannah is on hair watch. I walked in from chemo and Hannah said “mommy! You still have hair!” Then this morning she came in my room, kissed my hand, then said “You still have hair. I just felt it.” Then she came back and asked me very sweetly if I could get up and help her. She told me “…hold my hand. If you feel weak you can squeeze my hand and I’ll be your prince.” I’m so blessed with my little people. They are a challenge and a blessing and the best thing I’ve ever done in my life.
Hi! It’s been awhile, I know. Killerboob hasn’t been quiet for over a year, but something has happened, and I think this is a great place to share it.
Unfortunately, that thing is my sister getting her own breast cancer diagnosis. Fortunately, she’s willing to share her story, too. For all the purposes Killerboob ever served, it’s about to up and do it again, with a new driver at the wheel! This time I’m on the outside looking in at a loved one who’s sick and the cancer journey is coming from a different angle.
It’s almost eight years later, a different kind of cancer, a different life situation (a husband and two young, crazy kiddos!) and a very different personality. Introducing: Killerboob, Chapter II
It’s amazing to wake up and not feel… anything? No pressure, pains, tissue expanders, nausea, crippling fatigue, headache…. just nothing. Just your feet on the floor. This is what feels good; blissful nothing. Just a day of how I remember myself. Just feeling normal. And this, in and of itself feels so damn good!!!!