A Baby's In There

Son #2 was watching an episode of Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood one afternoon.  The episode talked about Daniel Tiger's mother, her pregnancy, and the upcoming birth of his brand-new baby sister.  Son #2 sat glued to the television with his mouth hanging half open.  Excitement radiated over his tiny face. 

As the show ended, the melody of the final song hung in the air.  Son #2 scampered to my side while I relaxed in my rocking chair.  He snuggled against my arm and looked lovingly into my eyes.  Then, he said something that made me almost fall out of my rocker.  Son #2 pointed to my breasts currently undergoing reconstruction and innocently stated.  "A baby's in dere."

"What?"  I asked, a bit confused and almost laughing.

Son #2 pointed to my breasts once more and said in a matter-of-fact tone.  "A baby's in dere."

"No no no."  I giggled.  "A baby lives in the tummy."  I said as I pointed to my stomach.  Then to clarify things for my youngest son, I said.  "There is no baby in my tummy.  But a long time ago you and your brother were in my tummy."

Son #2 closed his eyes for a moment.  He looked at the last couple pictures of Daniel Tiger and his mother on the television screen.  Slowly, he turned his head back to me.  This time he pointed at my stomach.  "Dere's no baby in dere?"

"No.  There's no baby in there."  I confirmed. 

Son #2 looked sad.  I leaned over and wrapped him in my arms.  "You know what?"  I whispered in his ear.  "One of my babies is right here."

Son #2 giggled with delight.  I tickled his tummy and cried aloud for both of my boys to hear.  "I love you, my little babies!"

Son #1 yelled back from his room in mock disdain.  "I'm not a baby!"

Son #2 imitated his brother.  "I not baby!"

"That's what you think!"  I hollered.  "You'll always be my babies!"

Psalm of the Day Gadget

When I first started this particular blog, I wanted to add a gadget called Psalm of the Day.  I love the book of Psalms in the Bible.  The songs are beautiful and the poetry is inspirational.  I grew up reading a Psalm or two at the breakfast table every morning with my parents and siblings.  It was a great way to start the day.

When I saw this particular gadget, I was so excited.  I couldn't wait to view the inspiring daily text.  I clicked on my layout page and shifted a few sections around.  Then, I placed the gadget in a prime location on the web page.  Quickly, I updated the page and then went to view it on the browser.  I scanned the page for the Psalm of the Day gadget and smiled with delight as soon as I found it.  Then, I began to read.  At first, I was confused.  I had hoped that one of my favorite verses would appear but the first verse to appear was about a battle.  I paused for a moment, raised an eyebrow, and then snickered in amusement.

"What kind of weirdo gadget is this??"  I thought.  "Seriously.  A random verse about a battle without any other context is absurd."

I immediately deleted the gadget from my blog and then I cracked up laughing.  I guess if I want inspiration, I'll have to crack open the Bible.

By the way, some of my favorite Psalms of hope and inspiration are Psalm 46 and Psalm 27.  Psalm 46 begins with "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble." while Psalm 27 ends with the text "Wait on the Lord:  be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart:  wait, I say, on the Lord."

Energy Returns

A few months after completing my chemotherapy and radiation treatments, I felt my old energy return.  I'm not going to lie.  It felt really good to get my strength back.  For months, I dragged my tired behind all over town to work, appointments, kid productions, play dates, and more.  The only thing that kept me going was the grace of God.  Without Him, I would have fallen flat on my face from exhaustion. 

With my energy back, I took new pleasure in spending time with my family and friends.  Our little family spent more time exploring parks, waterfalls, rivers, lakes, art galleries, and local concerts.  It was really exciting to get out and play again.  The kids especially enjoyed the activity.  My two sons love to go to new places so they soaked in the fun.

My energy has returned to normal now but I make a point of not overdoing it anymore.  If I feel as though I'm going to become stressed about something, I pray for peace and study my Bible.  I also try to put things in the order of importance. 

My list looks like this:
First, the most important thing in my life is God.
Second, the next important and sexy thing in my life is my husband.
Third, the next important rascals in my life are my children.  (They have me wrapped around their little fingers.)
Fourth, the next important crazy and lovable people in my life are my Mamont, Brobont, Sisont, and many other relatives and family members.
Fifth, the next important people in my life are my many awesome and favorite friends. (Every last of one of you are my favorite people.)

When I regain perspective, I realize there is no need to stress over insignificant or even significant matters.  God will take care of it.  Period.

Shopping for New Boobs

In between the mastectomy and radiation, I met with a plastic surgeon about my upcoming reconstruction.  My plastic surgeon is very much a perfectionist and meticulous.  He is also very exacting and particular.  I am incredibly grateful that he has all these attributes.  It gives me great confidence in his vision for my reconstruction.

When my husband and I met with the plastic surgeon for the first time, we poured over pictures of various types of procedures.  I had no idea there were so many options for reconstruction.  I also had no idea that the reconstruction process was so personalized for each patient and their specific set of circumstances. 

I have to say that it was fun shopping for my new boobs.  Not everyone gets to pick out a new set of headlights when they're in their mid thirties.  After giving it a lot of thought, I decided to get an obscenely large rack.  To be more specific, I decided to get porn star jubblies.  No.  I'm just kidding.  However, I did decide to go back to my breast feeding days.  My tatas were very large and fantastic.  Now, I will have very large, fantastic and perky boobies until I die at 101 years of age.

Oh...won't my senior citizen pals be envious.  My boobs won't hang low.  They won't wobble to and fro.  I won't be able to tie them in a knot or tie them in a bow.  Sadly, I won't be able to throw them over my shoulder like a continental soldier.  Cuz...my boobs won't hang low. 

Fuzzy Rabbit Hair

While in the midst of radiation treatments, I began to notice a change on my scalp.  If I peered at myself closely in the bathroom mirror, I could make out the beginnings of my hair.  Prior to cancer and chemotherapy, I used to have thick, long, dark brown/black ringlet curls that hung past my waist.  When I stood out in the sun, my curls would shimmer with red/brown highlights.  I really loved my hair.  My husband really loved my hair as well.

I could feel tingles of excitement and also tinges of worry as I examined my scalp in the mirror.  Cancer patients always talked about how their hair had changed after taking chemotherapy.  Some talked about bald spots while others reported curlier hair.  Since my hair was already curly, I worried that it would come back straight or thin or a different color.  Those attributes are not bad attributes.  I think I would probably look pretty cute with straighter or thinner hair.  My old hair could be quite bushy in humid weather, similar to Animal from the Muppet Show.  However, I wanted my old hair back so I could feel more like me again.

So there I sat on my bathroom counter examining the sprouts of hair on my head.  As the weeks passed, the sprouts eventually turned into fuzzy rabbit hair.  That fuzzy rabbit hair was black, thick, and very straight.  With the right kind of makeup and fun clothes, I rocked that fuzzy rabbit hair!

Radiation: The Gift that Keeps on Giving

Once my scars had healed from the mastectomy and my surgeon had released me to everyday life, I made an appointment to visit with the radiation oncologist.  My radiation oncologist and his staff are wonderful and hilarious.  I really enjoyed my time with them.

My primary oncologist prescribed a chemotherapy pill (Xeloda) and my radiation oncologist recommended daily treatments for a good portion of the autumn season.  Every day, the staff and I would meet, discuss symptoms, talk about our personal lives, laugh, watch me glow with radiation, and then wish each other well.

During one of the sessions, they passed along this bit of Christmas holiday wisdom.  Radiation is the gift that keeps on giving long after your treatments are done.  Therefore, therapeutic lotion  and vitamin e gel will be your best friends.

I Look Like I'm Ten

Immediately after my mastectomy, I wore bandages for at least five days before I looked at my scars.  Drainage tubes hung from my sides.  I moved around the house gingerly so as not to disturb the bothersome tubes.  Draining the tubes and recording the volume of fluid collected  was an interesting task.  I have a warped mind and was strangely fascinated with my disgusting souvenirs from the surgery. 

Eventually, the home health nurse came by the house to change my bandages and look at the scars.  As she removed the bandages, she commented that the scars looked fantastic.  I was surprised.  Then, I looked down at my scars and realized I looked like a ten year old.  This was crazy!  It was almost as if I had traveled back to a time prior to puberty.   Yet, I was grateful that I looked like a ten year old.  Before going into surgery, I had tortured myself by searching for pictures of mastectomy scars online.  Here is a word of advise.  Never search out these pictures.  You will have nightmares.

I Have No Arms

After many weeks of chemotherapy, I had a double mastectomy.  My surgeon was amazing.  He removed my boobs and tumor like a plastic surgeon and stitched me back together like an artist.  My tumor was gone, off to the lab to be dissected and analyzed.

After the surgery, my chest was wrapped in bandages.  I had a drain hanging from each side and I had several bottles of narcotics to take away the pain.  After visiting with the surgeon briefly, I also discovered that I had restrictions on movement and lifting for several weeks.  In essence, I had to act like I had no arms. 

It was going to be a real trick dealing with my young children while on the restrictions.  My oldest was five and my youngest was one.  They both loved to be cuddled and held.  My oldest was very sensitive to the fact that I had cancer and worried about the outcome of my surgery.  My youngest needed me to provide comfort and security as he explored the world on his two feet.  My husband was a great help while I recovered from the surgery.  He helped me snuggle the kids when they needed it the most and I am forever grateful.

Die Tumor Die!

Slowly, I was getting closer to the end of my chemotherapy treatments.  My tumor was shrinking steadily.  We were all very excited.  Periodically, I would talk to my tumor.  Our one sided conversations would go like this:

"So.  You're still here."

"I see that you want to stay.  Well, you don't get to stay."

"You may have taken over my once fabulous boob but let me tell you this buddy.  You're gonna die."

"Oh what?  You don't like that idea?"

"Are you sad?  Good!  Die tumor!  Die!"

For the most part, it did die.  When the doctor did my mastectomy, some of the tumor had survived.  Fortunately, he was able to remove all of it from my breast.  Unfortunately, I also had some lymph nodes that were positive for cancer cells.  A portion of the lymph nodes were removed but I knew more therapy loomed in the future.

Why Is the Room Still Spinning?

When I began taking Adriamycin and Cytoxan, I faithfully followed my schedule of anti-emetics.  One of the pills affected me in a way that still makes me shudder with horror. 

A day or two after chemotherapy, I noticed that I was unsteady on my feet.  I wondered about this new cocktail being given to me but then shrugged off any worry.  The next day, my dizziness worsened.  The room began to tip back and forth.  I could barely get around the house.  Another day passed and the room began to spin.  I tried to stand but it was impossible.  I wondered if throwing up might stop the spinning but could not muster the courage to vomit.

It was summer time and my kids were playing rambunctiously in the living room.  I wanted to spend time with them so I lay on the floor and tried to watch them play.  It was like looking at the deck of a ship as it was angrily tossed about during a hurricane.  I hugged the floor and tried to focus on their fun. 

For four days, I lay on the floor of our living room.  Periodically, I would stagger to the restroom or shower like a drunkard.  Mostly, I slept.  Sometimes I watched the children out of one eye.  My husband is a hero to me.  He took on everything during those four awful days.  Finally, I stumbled to the kitchen to read the dancing description of side effects from each medicine bottle. 

As I read the list of side effects, I came to realize that my dizziness was caused by one of the medications.  How I despise those devil pills!  If I had a sling shot, I would send each capsule flying!

Chemo Comparisons

Chemotherapy, though harsh, has some interesting benefits. 

My first twelve rounds of chemotherapy were of Paclitaxel.  Paclitaxel was not very nice to me in some ways because my hair fell out in large clumps and I had some peripheral neuropathy happening.  However, the antihistamines and anti-emetics given gave me an incredible high that lasted for days. 

My thoughts would run like this:

"I'm here.  I'm cool.  I look like a harpy.  Dude."

"I see you talking to me but processing what you are saying just isn't happening.  I'll fake it."

"Are you upset with me today?  I'm high.  I don't care."

I could go on but we would just be delving into the ridiculous.  To summarize, Paclitaxel was my F-it Pill.

My next eight rounds of chemotherapy were of Adriamycin and Cytoxan.  That combination was very mean and the anti-emetics given were not as fun.  Adriamycin is aptly nicknamed the red devil for so many reasons.  My hands turned a dark, murky red-brown and my nails discolored.  I also spent four days lying on the floor watching the world spin but that is another story.

Organ Donors: Can I Donate My Boobs?

Before I was diagnosed with cancer, I had considered becoming an organ donor and having that designation placed on my driver's license.  Well, I highly doubt anyone wants my organs anymore. 

My sad little organs have endured 20 weeks of chemotherapy along with large doses of antihistamines and anti emetic drugs.  Hopefully, they don't have any stray cancer cells hiding in their tissue.

The charitable side of me still wants to donate a body part, though.  I want to help someone in need.  In fact, the first things I would like to donate are my boobs.

What?!?

Nobody wants my boobs?!?

I can't possibly understand why.

Lake Church

I did twenty weeks of chemotherapy during the spring and summer of this year.  My head was fashionable bald and decorated with feminine accessories.  I still had terrific boobs albeit one was trying to kill me.  With all that in mind, my husband and I decided to take advantage of the terrific weather and spend Sabbaths down at the lake. 

Lake church is terrific.  Depending on our mood, we camp, dive, swim, picnic, hike, walk the dog, or skip rocks on the water's surface.  I absolutely love going to the lake.  It is so peaceful and soothing. 

My husband and I used to have lake church all the time before we had kids.  We still try to go to the lake with the kids but sometimes it can be like trying to corral ants.  However, my New Year's resolution will be to go to the lake as often as I can.

Sara Bald

I did a photo shoot with an awesome photographer this summer.  Here are the links to the pictures.

http://brandireynolds.com/2012/06/21/life-is-art-sara-is-a-warrior/

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Brandi-Reynolds-Photography/238973019533299

Lessons From Tyra

I secretly love to watch America's Next Top Model.  The hair, the makeup, the clothes all capture my imagination.  Their fashion ideas are so fun and funky.

Now that I am bald, I watch with a discriminating eye to see if I can swipe any fashion and makeup ideas for myself. 

For me, sporting a bald look takes guts and style.  I'm trying not to look like a small boy in summer so I wear dark eye makeup, shiny earrings, dark lipstick, and girly outfits.  So far, my strategy is working.  I still feel feminine. 

Thank you Tyra for shaving some of your models' heads!

The Buzz Cut

On my birthday looking very much like a harpy, I called my husband and asked if he would buzz my hair.  He agreed to do it.  With a sense of warped excitement, I headed home. 

There my husband stood with clippers in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other.  His brother and sister-in-law joined us for the fun and began to video tape the procedure.

Snip, snip, snip.  Off went my nasty strands of hair.

Buzz, buzz, buzz.  Now, my head was exposed to the world.

When I looked in the mirror, I was surprised to see my head was nicely shaped. 

"Very cool."  I thought to myself.

I guess if my head has to be shaved, it is a bit of a bonus to have a nicely shaped head.  However, my husband feels that I should have left my harpy hair on my head and run around town with no hat.  The shock value of my head would have been out of this world.

Locks of Love

When I started chemotherapy, I was told that all my hair would fall out.  Fortunately, I'm very warped and the thought of losing my hair did not bother me. 

Four weeks into chemotherapy, my hair began to shed like my fluffy border collie in the middle of summer.  That is not a pretty sight, I assure you.  I do have very thick hair.  So when a third of my hair fell out one morning, you couldn't even tell.  My husband and I decided to braid and cut my hair so I could donate it to Locks of Love before there were only three strands left.

My husband is such an artist.  He cut my hair into a really cute chin length bob that stylishly framed my face.  I was impressed.  A few days later, chemotherapy won the battle with my hair follicles.  The rest of my hair fell out in clumps until my head resembled that of a harpy's from World of Warcraft.

The Bucket List

I've started a bucket list of sorts.  It's written in chicken scratch on my calendar in the kitchen.  Things that I have included are storm chasing, becoming a scuba diving instructor, getting a snowboard, playing my husband's songs on the piano, relearning my Spanish, and redoing the backyard.  So far, I am actually working on these things.

I started the bucket list because I felt a little pressure to get some fun things done in my life that I had put aside.  Cancer has a funny way of changing priorities.  Life can't be stressful all the time.  That makes me a very sick girl.

So, I'm working on my fun and spontaneity.  I need to get that back in order to fulfill the neglected free spirit inside of me.

Vegan

After finding out about my breast cancer, I decided to become vegan.  Now, I've been vegetarian all of my life.  However, I've heard and read that eating more naturally and organically helps when fighting cancer.  Now I eat more dark, leafy vegetables and I try to buy more organic items.  It's a bonus when those organic items are also locally grown.  I also juice my vegetable periodically and make dragon slaying smoothies.  I've perfected both the veggie juice and the smoothie.  The smoothie is good now but wasn't when I first tried it.  The veggie juice is getting closer to V8 all the time.

I'd like to say that I am very strict about being vegan.  Sadly, I am not.  Most of the time I am 70% vegan and 30% angry.  How do you like them percentages?

Finding Out

I had just finished breast feeding my baby when I noticed some really weird changes in my right breast.  I am really lucky I weened my baby when I did because the tumor measured at least 5 cm at the time of my mammogram.  A few weeks later when I began chemotherapy, my tumor was 11x13 cm.  I also had a lump in my lymph nodes.

The reason I weened my baby when I did was because he got two teeth early.  My little baby was a biter and bit me with a vengeance while nursing one day.  That day was the last day he nursed.  That was God's weird way of looking out for me.