This time 2 years ago, I was on a beach with my family.  We took a random weekend vacation to enjoy the end of Texas summer.  It was a great trip and of course we took tons of pictures.  I had no idea at the time, that trip would be my last trip feeling like a normal person.  Though I have a favorite picture from that trip, I have a love hate relationship with it.  It is one of the hardest photos for me to look at.  It is a reminder to me of who I once was.  It is a reminder to me of a time when happiness was a simple luxury.  It is a reminder to me of a time when I was in great shape and training for my very first 5K.  When I took those photos, I had no idea what was right around the corner.  

There is only one reason why I appreciate this month and it is because it is meant to bring awareness to the very thing that tried to kill me, breast cancer.  It is a reminder to many women to get their mammograms and if you talk to most doctors, they will tell you October is one of the most diagnosed months of the year.  That part of it is great. For that reason, I appreciate this month.  I, personally, found my lump on a total fluke in October. I was not searching for a lump because it was breast cancer awareness month.  It just happened that way.  

October 27, I found my lump and this brings me to the title of this blog.  October to me is a reminder of the pure hell that I was about to endure.  I see breast cancer everywhere I turn.  PINK PINK PINK.  I actually used to really like the color pink.  I don't necessarily hate it now but what I hate is that pink is actually a pretty color - and breast cancer is the ugliest most horrible thing there is.  Aside from talking about colors...lets not forget about the cheerleaders prancing around wearing those cute little pink outfits with their "TATA'S" hanging out to supposedly bring awareness to breast cancer.  What exactly about your perfect boobs, perfect long hair, and perfect body brings awareness to such a disease? Because here is the reality of breast cancer....

At 33, I shaved my head bald and 2 years later still only have neck length hair - not long beautiful locks.  I had my breasts removed.  I have no nipples.  I have a 3 inch scar that runs across each breast.  I have back pain from the surgery.  I can't do push ups anymore without looking like frankenstein, not to mention it is probably the most uncomfortable feeling in the world.  I can't feel a damn thing anywhere in my chest.  In fact, I can't even feel my armpits anymore.  I have somehow found humor in the fact that I can't feel my armpit hair growing anymore.  I have scar tissue build up, which can be very painful.  I have ripples around my implants because essentially - I have an implant and skin and nothing else.  I fear cancer every day of my life.  While I have really come to terms with this new body of mine - it is definitely not one I planned on having EVER in my life.  I would have been thankful for my 60 year old possibly saggy boobs.  A mastectomy is NOT a boob job.  If I wanted a boob job, I would have paid the $6K to get one...not the $75,000 it cost me to have my boobs, my lymph nodes, and muscles cut and hacked through.  Do not get me wrong, my plastic surgeon did an incredible job with putting me back together...but it was not something I ever wanted.  

I am writing this blog because this is a real issue.  Most of you have never seen a picture of what a women looks like after a mastectomy and while I do not have it in me to post photos of mine...there are women who are more than willing to share that with the world.  So when you see those cute little cheerleaders dancing all over the place wearing their cute little pink knee high socks...remember what its really about and what the majority of us really had to go through.  

This month I will participate in several events that I feel are most important to me.  I will be participating in a fashion show put on by Fabooblicious.  Last year, this was by far my favorite event to participate in.  There is no other energy that compares to the energy, love and positivity, that you are surrounded by when your in a room full of cancer survivors.  To put it simply...it is UNREAL and I am honored to be a part of it again this year. 

This weekend I have chosen to participate in the Dallas Cowboys half time show to honor breast cancer survivors, the fighters, and the angels who watch over us.  I have chosen to participate because it is an amazing opportunity to bring awareness and to show the world that the face of breast cancer is no longer 50 and up.  Its 15 and up.  The age of diagnosis is getting younger and younger.  I hope instead of feasting your eye on those beautiful cheerleaders, that you will really focus on the women this has affected.  Their families, their friends, and us.  Notice the tears you might see in our eyes while we remember the struggles we went through and still might be going through.  Notice that despite what we have been through, or the hair that we no longer have, or the boobs that might no longer be there....that we still have the ability to put a smile on our face and simply appreciate the gift of another day.  

While I love to be a part of these events that bring awareness to breast cancer...there is one particular event that brings so much happiness to my heart and that is BRA day.  BRA day is breast reconstruction awareness day.  What I love so much about this event is that it gives women the opportunity to physically see the different options they have with regards to their reconstruction.  If you know me well, you know I have a huge heart.  Helping other women, is honestly, what has really kept me going.  When I am given that opportunity...there is no better honor than that.  For this event I will model my type of surgery for PRMA (my plastic surgeon).  While it can be a very vulnerable time...I know it is helping other women to not feel so incredibly scared about what lies ahead and that there is hope for feeling physically normal after their surgery.  

And last but not least is the 5K we are putting together for Pink Warrior Angels (our non-profit).  It is our first of many, and I am so excited for where PWA is going and how quickly we are growing.  The best part about Pink Warrior Angels...is that it truly does bring everything together for me.  Everything I have ever wanted to do.  It gives other women the opportunity to do those things as well.  Pink Warrior Angels opens up the door for women to help other women, for us to all support one another through our own struggles and I can promise you one day...no one who is diagnosed with breast cancer will ever have to fight alone.  It is just not acceptable and I am so proud to partner with Julie on this amazing journey.  Big things are coming for us and it is so special and dear to my heart.  

October is not about perfect boobs and pink ribbons.  It is about encouraging your mother, your sister, your daughter, or your wife to get a mammogram, to be proactive in their health, and to get a second opinion when needed.  It is a time to remember that this disease is a very REAL issue.  Sadly we are all beginning to know someone who is diagnosed with breast cancer.  I hope by reading this blog, you might know how to support them a little better.  I hope you will encourage them to reach out for support.  Remission has an after life...and its not an easy one. I feel very fortunate that, for some of you, I can put a real face to what breast cancer actually is.  While I hate the fact that it was a part of my life...I feel blessed in the many opportunities that I have been given to bring awareness and comfort others.   

I was a little hesitant to post this but I really want you to see the difference a week can make.  I went on my first descents trip with the hope in mind that it would pull me out of my slump.  I started a journal - just for my eyes - prior to me leaving.  I really wanted to be honest in what I was feeling, where my head was at, and what my fears were.  I was curious to see how that would change as the days went on through out my trip.  Close to a week after my return, I posted how I was feeling and what my first descents family did for me.  I am going to share both of those with you.  Before I do that, it was really hard for me to go back and reread what I wrote before I left.  I almost couldn't even comprehend that I was in such a bad place.  It made me sad that thats how I had been spending my time, daily.  So then I went back and read my journal entry post trip - and it lit me up to know that I had made that much progress in just one week.  I am not going to say much of anything else other than this.  First Descents is an amazing organization.  What they have done for me and so many others is something I could never be thankful enough for.  If you are not aware of first descents, please check out their website and read their story.  www.firstdescents.org 

So here goes...I am really putting myself out there by allowing you in to my personal journal and in to my very raw and real emotions with this one.  

Thursday May 14, 2015

I am 2 days out from my FD trip. I feel like I have been waiting for this trip for so long and now that its here, I am scared and nervous. The shy side of me is nervous to be with 15 people I don’t know for the next week. The scared and fearful side of me is afraid of the flight, as always. I am excited to learn how to surf. I am worried that I won’t have the energy or strength to keep up but I will try my best. I wanted to document my current state of mind before this trip. 

While I would love to come back from this trip a new person, I don’t want to put expectations on it. I am hopeful, which I guess could fall within the same category as expectations. Maybe not but here is where my head is at right now. 

I wake up every day scared. I wake up every day convinced that I have cancer somewhere in my body and then I go through this entire process of telling myself that I don’t. Its overwhelming and consumes me. It strips me of having any happy thoughts. In fact, I don’t know that happy thoughts even come across my mind anymore. I have struggled to even convince myself that I deserve happiness at this point. Why did cancer happen to me? Why can’t I go back when I didn’t think about death every day. DEATH! I think about dying every single day of my life. That just isn’t right. No one deserves to live the way I have lived my life since the day of my diagnosis. I have no joy. I am not happy about anything. I am sad most of the time and it effects my marriage, my friendships, and most of all ME. I have struggled to admit that I am depressed. I don’t know why. I don’t think that there is anything wrong with being depressed. I just don’t want to be depressed. I don’t want to live this way any more either. 

I have tried therapy, reike, acupuncture, working out, and a few other things. Everything seems temporary. I think this is the one time in my life that I just simply dont have the answers. I don’t know what I can do to make this better and I am starting to believe there is nothing I can do. This is just my life now. Sadness, living in fear, and feeling stressed out all the time. Again, no one should live this way. Laughing is a chore. It almost feels impossible and fake to squeeze a smile out. Its sad. I know it effects my ability to be a good wife and a good stepmom. Its just awful. I want to enjoy my life the way I used to. I want to learn how to accept the new me and accept that yes, life is different now, but it doesn’t have to be filled with misery. I want to get there so bad but I just don’t know how. 

So I ask this. God, please give me the strength to release my fears to you. Please take me down a path filled with happiness and joy. Please show me and guide me in a direction that is surrounded by your love and grace. Teach me how to put my faith to you at all times. To release this idea that I have any control over my future so that I may enjoy the current moments of my life. Please make your presence in my daily life. Amen.


Friday May 22, 2015

Farewell…

We all left our awesome bungalow this morning followed by lots of tears and see ya laters. 15 cancer survivors who all shared one common bond with one another. The emotions we all experienced this week were nothing short of amazing. The more I talk to everyone - the more normal I start to feel but I fear going home and no longer feeling that sense of normalcy. The conversations flowed from the minute we got in to the car until the minute we got out of the car and departed to our homes. 

I know we all shared tons of compliments for one another. Uplifting each others souls and unintentionally pointing out the amazing qualities to each other - that we ourselves may have forgotten existed. Those qualities we knew deep down that we possessed but ones that got lost in the translation of cancer. Every conversation was pure and genuine. 

On the way back to the airport we were talking about cancer again. We talked a little bit more in detail about our specific cancers and started to talk about our friends back home and how our relationships are different. It isn’t just friendships though, its all relationships. You can express your feelings, your depression, your fears, and your hopes until you are blue in the face to someone who has never had cancer. You get a lot of responses of people who just feel bad and don’t really know what to say. So as we were sitting in the car talking…I stopped in mid sentence because there was a lot of huh huhs, and noises of agreement to what we were saying. I realized something…When we are having a bad day and we start to vent or talk about whatever it is we are talking about….we aren’t necessarily looking for answers. We are just looking for validation - and that validation coming from someone who actually REALLY understands….means so much more. 

So now that I have been home for a few days…I finally had a chance to sit down and really process this amazing trip and what it has done for me. 

What I took away from my week is intangible. I am not even sure there are words to explain the magic that happened on the beach, in that house, and at campfire everyday. Though I am speaking for myself, I am confident this feeling is mutual. For one week, we all had the opportunity to be our authentic selves. We all let walls down with each other that I am sure we have a hard time doing at home where we can sometimes feel “alone”. I am confident we all shared laughs like we haven't experienced in a long time. We each had our moments with one another where we would open up and cry - and most times those moments ended in laughter. We shared an energy that was so positive and encouraging to one another. It is something that cannot be put in to words. From the cheers that came from shore to those deep conversations that always ended in a smile and a hug. Yes, we all share one very unfortunate life event with one another…cancer…but if not for that life event we wouldn't have found each other. I am so thankful for each and every one of my fdgnarbars friends. You all know more about me than people I have been friends with for 20 years and theres something to be said for that considering we only had a week to get to know each other. I love you all like family. I miss you all more than words could explain but I have come home with a new outlook on life. Each and every one of you taught me something different about myself and I will take that with me each day I move forward in my journey. I am not alone anymore. I was - for a long time - but not anymore. I have first descents to thank for that. For one week, I was able to be 100% authentic. I was able to silly Jen again - the Jen I thought was gone because of cancer. Before I went on this trip - I was confident I was going through a grieving process. One that was centered around the loss of…me, and who I was pre-cancer. But she’s still there. That girl still exists and you all showed me that. I was able to laugh till my belly hurt - a feeling I haven’t felt since Nov 7, 2013. Though it makes me sad that I am not entirely sure when I will see you again…You are all in my heart and my mind forever. I will never forget the moments I shared with each of you and the inside jokes or the dubsmashes. Thank you for letting me be me and for laughing with me. My hope for us all is that we will continue to live the life we all deserve to live. My hope is that we can all find happiness in this life - and find the joy in each and every day. My hope is that none of us will ever feel alone ever again. From this day on - we have each other. #FDGNARBARS FOR LIFE BABY!!!!

I deserve joy and I will find it in every single day. I deserve happiness and I will remind myself of this daily. Right now, I am happy. Sadly, I forgot what that felt like. I have slept better in the last week than I have in 2 years. I went above and beyond what I expected of myself on this trip and it was a pleasant reminder that I am strong both physically and mentally. I have a new motivation every morning when I wake up and I now know I am 100% capable of pushing myself beyond my own personal limits. And last but not least…I will allow myself to be vulnerable. Thank you FD for restoring my hope, my energy, and my mind.

Before I get started...I hope I am not offending anyone with this blog and if I am then...O'well.  But as you know I am very honest in my thoughts and in my writing.  Im not one to beat around the bush with my feelings...ever.  


Sometimes I will look at women with their long beautiful hair and I think to myself, you have no idea.  As you sit there and flip your hair or throw it in to a ponytail....you have no idea how quickly that luxury can be stripped away from you.  I don't wish this upon anyone, please don't take it that way.  In all honesty, I just wish people were more grateful for the little luxuries they have.  The little luxuries that cancer seems to take away from its chosen.  And to all of those who complain daily about the little stresses of every day life...I could only wish that my life would go back to those simple days.  Don't get me wrong, I was a complainer too, but I find myself getting angry with those sort of people now.  You just have no idea.  On the other hand, I wouldn't expect you to have any idea and hope that you never will.  

I would give anything to go back to the way my life was in October of 2013.  Sure, I had my share of stress going on but stress took on an entirely new meaning once I was diagnosed with cancer.  Instead of worrying about how the laundry was going to get done, or why my kid wouldn't eat the spaghetti I just made, I now drown myself in the stress of my mortality.  The fact of the matter is, I did face death.  Thankfully, it did not take me, but I stared it directly in the face.   And in a sense, my old self did die.  As much as I try to go back to "Jen before cancer", its just not possible.  According to my therapist, I am going through a grieving process now.  I am grieving the loss of ME.  I am resentful, I am angry, and I am sad.  I miss her and I find myself doing everything I can to find her again...though it seems impossible.  So at what point do I accept that she is gone and move on with this new person I have become?  Will those closest to me still love me the same?  Do they mourn the loss of who I once was?  Why do I continue to let this stupid cancer crap consume me every single day of my life!?

Nothing comes simple anymore but I have learned to find patience with that.  I know physically that everything will return to a place of somewhat normal again.  My hair will grow back, my bones will stop aching all of the time, and running 1 mile won't feel like my 10th mile.  I can deal with all of that.  I can find patience in that.  I have a hard time finding patience within how I handle all of this mentally.  To me, that part of it seems permanent.  Though my depression has somewhat subsided and I am able to rationalize my thoughts a little better, I still struggle on a daily basis.  I am scared.  When I promised myself I would no longer live in fear...I still sit here scared.  But my fears aren't that I am going to die in a plane crash or that someone is going to break in my house and shoot me.  My fears are that my cancer is going to return and instead of me dying some quick death....I am going to die a slow agonizing death from cancer.  I lived this.  Cancer was a part of me.  It seems like a really bad nightmare or a really sad movie that I swear I have seen a million times it wasn't.  It actually happened to me.  It.  actually.   happened.   

Something that I really struggle with is this.  They say stress causes inflammation in the body which contributes to cancer.  So here I am constantly fighting myself to not be stressed so that I don't get cancer again, but come on.  Its impossible.  Then I am left feeling guilty for feeling stressed when I am trying to do everything else to remain healthy.  How do you do it all?  Is it even possible to have a cancer diagnosis and live to see 95?  Not to mention that the stress and fears I deal with everyday only enhance all of those little stresses I wish were the only things I had to deal with. Not sure if that even makes sense...

I would love a time machine.  Take me back to when I "thought" life was tough.  Take me back to when I didn't worry about death every minute of every hour.  You can have my hair, take it.  That was the easiest part of this entire journey.  But just take me back to when every day wasn't consumed with scary thoughts.  I am not angry at those people who bitch and wine about their daily struggles with kids or family, or how they had a bad hair cut and so on.  I still do find myself bitching.  But if that was ALL I had to worry about, my life would be near perfect.  I am not sure how many readers I have who haven't ever had cancer or a life threatening illness.  I just hope that after reading this you can find some patience and gratefulness towards your life.  Be thankful for those little challenges.  

Honestly, when I started this particular post I had no idea what was going to come out.  I don't want it to sound like I am in some really dark, horrible place right now because I am not.  I just find myself reminiscing and wishing I could go back to that life pre-cancer.  That wasn't the hand I was dealt though.  I need to continue on my path.  I have been promised by other survivors, this gets easier as time goes on.  Part of my healing is grieving my old self and so I move on to the next stage in this process.  I am thankful for each and every day I am given.  I am thankful for my current state of health.  I just wish it was easier.  At times I feel bi-polar because I can't seem to stabilize my thoughts...ever.  

This weekend I will be attending the Young Survivors Coalition in Houston, TX with a friend and fellow survivor I met through social media.  While there, I will meet up with a few others I have met through this blog.  Its a rewarding feeling to know that I have been an inspiration to even just one person or that in some small way I have helped someone else through out their journey.  I know this weekend will be an amazing one filled with hope, survivorship, and friends. Thousands of strangers who don't know a thing about each other, but all share one HUGE life experience with one another.  I never asked to be a part of this club but I am.  The bi-polar part of me hates that I have to attend a conference to find some sort of peace but in reality...I am thankful for the opportunity and people it has and will bring in to my life.  

On a separate note, today marks one year since my last chemo.  A huge milestone in my book.  This day last year marked the end of the most challenging 4 months of my life.  At times, I truly thought the chemo was going to kill me.  That horrible poison dripping in my veins followed by handfuls of meds to decrease the side effects I would deal with.  March 3, marked the end of all of that for me.  I had 4 amazing best friends carry me through it.  I had a husband who dropped just about everything to care of me in more ways than I ever could have wished for.  A mother who left my dad for 6 months to help our family get through it.  A son and daughter who embraced my sickness and were never ashamed of their bald stepmom.  2 cousins who I became very close with.  2 brothers who probably had no clue what to do to help me but did their best and without many words said....I knew it was hard for them to watch me suffer.  Some of my friendships fizzled out and others became much stronger.  But here I am.  Alive.  I survived that which was meant to kill me.  Though parts of me have been stripped away...in time I will find the new me.  

Here I am looking at the day on this blog post...11/7.  One year ago today I woke up knowing that I was going to walk in to that doctor's office, and knowing that I was going to be told I didn't have breast cancer.  The hardest part of this for me, was that I had never been so confident about anything in my life.  I had never been so sure.  I am not sure if it was because I had this notion that there was just NO way I had cancer...NO WAY not me...or if I was trying to throw a blanket over a harsh reality to comfort me for the time being.  This day last year is one of the most vivid moments through out my journey.  I am not sad today.  I thought I would be.  I thought I would feel those feelings again, but right now I don't.  I wanted to write this blog today to document how 1 year feels for me and next year when I turn 2 I'll do the same...and so on until I am old and gray in my rocking chair.  Though there is a lot of time left in this day and my feelings may alter as the day goes on...in this very moment...the present moment...I choose to feel blessed that I have today.  I choose to feel blessed that I have been given another year to survive. 


I woke up this morning and almost forgot what today was.  Then it dawned on me...last year on this day I heard the words every person in the world fears.  I have anticipated this day since October 1 of this year.  Why?  Because, for me, my journey actually began the day I felt my tumor. In that moment, when I felt that lump and my stomach dropped...it was the first moment that I ever even considered that I might have cancer.  The last year has been one of the most challenging of my life and what I am thankful for today...is that I made it through.

But how am I feeling 1 year later and what challenges am I dealing with today?  Well, the fears of recurrence sometimes consume me.  Sometimes to the point where I just want to stay in bed all day.  Those thoughts are exhausting to say the least.  It's like a never ending marathon that goes on in side of my brain.  I have been attending weekly therapy sessions which my insurance does not cover.  The medical bills continue one year after my diagnosis.  Its necessary though.  I am currently receiving a therapy called EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing).  I will let you do your own research on that, however, it is focused on PTSD.  Has it helped?  Absolutely.  I have slowly learned to accept the fact that I do not have control over this life.  I have learned that I cannot marinade myself in those fears because it affects everything else that surrounds me.  I don't eat well, I don't work out, I am tired all of the time, I am stressed all of the time,  I don't sleep well, and I am in a constant state of worry.  Really, its the classic symptoms of depression but I have learned that all of those are choices I make.  I have fought the idea of taking anti-depressants and will continue to do so for as long as I can. I have made the decision to change the things that I can and I have done just that. 

Really, I have only acknowledged the changes I need to make in the last 3 weeks.  I wish someone told me how long it would take for my body to recover from chemo.  For a short period of time after chemo was done (9 months ago)...I must have felt like a million dollars because chemo fatigue was indescribable and for me, one of my 2 worst side effects.  So when chemo was done, I had all kinds of energy I wasn't used to.  I started to live my life again, as if I never had cancer.   I would fill up my days with these to do lists that really just became my mask for whatever fears I had that day.  The busier I was, the less I would worry right?  The answer is no because it would always catch up with me after 2 days and I would be so tired, and so hypersensitive to every little thing, that I would find myself crying because I was sure I had cancer again. When really, it was my body struggling to function because I had exhausted myself with way too many things.  In the last 3 weeks, I have learned to slow down.  I have learned its okay to sleep for 12 hours, to go to bed at 8PM on a Saturday night while everyone else is up drinking, to only do 3 things a day instead of 200.  I have a clearer brain now that I have started to slow down and its not running rampant all of the time.  With a clearer brain, comes clearer and more rational thoughts.  Where that headache used to be an obvious sign that my cancer had spread...has now been rationalized to...its raining outside, you haven't drank any water today, do that, take a pain pill if that doesn't work, and rest. 

Another thing that is new to me in the last week...are triggers.  I put on a sweatshirt last week that I hadn't worn since chemo.  We used to use a different laundry detergent then...one of which we cannot and will not ever use again.  The smell took me to such an awful place.  It reminded me of the drives to chemo treatments when I was scared out of my mind and dreading what the next 10 days were going to be like.  I tried to leave it on because I wanted to face this but I found myself slowly going in to panic mode and realized what I was doing wasn't making sense.  There is no sense in torturing myself to prove a point.  The fact of the matter is...I am going to have these triggers.  The colder weather, the smells in the air, certain soaps...there are always going to be reminders surrounding me.  So I ripped the sweater off, threw it in the dirty laundry, panicked for about 10 minutes and out loud told myself, "You are in your bathroom right now, you don't have cancer, its Halloween, your going to have fun tonight, your healthy, your cancer free".  My husband had seen that something got to me and asked me what was wrong.  His hugs are always so comforting to me and so I cried for a minute and moved on with the day.  It was the first time I had really noticed a trigger like that but I am proud of how I handled it.  I can tell you that my EMDR therapy is definitely the reason that I was able to rationalize that moment in my head. 

So today...I am 1 year old.  My life started over 1 year ago.  In that moment, I didn't know it was happening and I didn't realize it until recently.  I am a different person now.  I am a better person now.  I realize and appreciate the love of my family, the love of my husband, and the love of my friends more now, than ever before.  I have a certain patience I didn't have before though its unlikely I will ever be cured of impatience. Its not in my blood, but I am able to slow down and see life with a more thoughtful and thankful eye.  I appreciate the moments I get to pick up my camera and capture the smiles and laughter of perfect strangers.  I appreciate the ability to cook a healthy meal and pretend like I am Betty Crocker in the kitchen.  I am so thankful for the people that this journey has introduced in to my life.  Stand in a room with 30 cancer survivors and I promise you, you will be surrounded by strength, beauty, smiles, but most of all...appreciation.  As horrible as cancer is, when your faced with what feels like death at the time, you are quickly reminded of what this life has to offer and not to take it for grant it. I wish the world could understand that. Though I don't wish cancer upon anyone, I always say, that I wish the world could see life through the eyes of a cancer survivor.  We'd all be a little more patient, a little more thankful, and a little more sincere to each other. 

Though at times, and on my bad days, I have a hard time finding the smiles inside...I know those are the days I have to find the most patience with myself.  In some ways, cancer has changed me but I will not allow it to change all of me.    In fact, I have a fortune cookie message that is taped on my computer screen that says "Always accept yourself the way that you are".  That message applies to so many moments in my journey. From the moment I shaved my head, to the first time I went in public bald, to accepting my body after cancer invaded it, loving my body after a double mastectomy, and accepting that every day is not going to be easy. They say you become a survivor on the day you were diagnosed. That is the day you started surviving cancer, and fighting for your life. I didn't do it alone though. I have survived this last year because of my husband, my mom and dad,  my 4 best friends (Cassidy, Heather, Kelly, and Jen), my brothers, my cousins, my aunt and uncle, my neighbors, and old friends.    The special care packages that always brought tears to my eyes, the reminders of love from heaven, the words of encouragement, and mostly with their love and patience.  Today, that is what brings tears to my eyes.  Its not the fact that I had cancer.  Its the fact that I was surrounded by more love than most people will ever truly understand.  1 year later, that love and support is still there and I am so thankful for every single moment I am given to spend with each of them.

For most, January 1 is when your year starts over.  For me, its November 7.  November 7, 2013...is when I became a cancer survivor.  I am optimistic and confident, for the first time since I was diagnosed, that this will get easier as more time passes.  I ask for continued prayers, continued support, continued patience, and continued love as I continue on this journey to finding myself after cancer.  Next year, when I turn 2, I hope that I can write in this blog with the same appreciation for life that I have in this moment right now.  I hope that I can tell you I am running a 5K with no pain, that 8 hours of sleep gets me by just fine, that these aches and pains have started to subside, and that I am feeling like my old self again.  Though there is a very bold line that separates Jen before cancer, and Jen after cancer...I am still me.  There will always be those parts about me that will never change, that will always be who I am regardless of cancer. I will not let cancer define me.  I am still the caring, forgiving, stubborn, impatient (but less impatient), hard headed, outspoken, shy most of the time, funny, sarcastic, and  one of the most honest people you will ever meet.  Though at times I am tested in weakness,  I am stronger than ever before.  After all, I did kick cancers ass. I'm kind of a badass in that sense.  1 year later - I am the hero of this story.   

Oct 15th of this month was BRA day, Breast Reconstruction Awareness Day.  To be honest, I had no idea this day even existed until I was asked to model as a show and tell girl for my plastic surgeons office. Actually I think I volunteered but whatever.  At this point, I would probably offer to do  just about anything for PRMA. I have been, more than blessed, with the experience I have had with Dr. Ledoux and his staff.  I believe it is so important to feel confident in your decisions and trust your surgeons through-out this process.  So with that being said...this is my experience with my reconstruction process.   

You might remember a previous blog when I spoke of my original diagnosis - and my OBGYN telling me there was a great reconstruction/plastic surgeon next door.  How in that moment, I was trying to cope with the fact that I had cancer - while at the same time being told in, not so many words, that my breasts were going to be removed.  My Obgyn, my general surgeon, and my oncologist all recommended for me to go to PRMA.  This was all towards the beginning of my treatment and, to be honest, I was having a hard time digesting the fact that this was happening.  My breasts were going to be gone.  Cancer already took so much from me, and now its about to take a part of my body from me.  Sounds traumatic doesn't it? 

As I neared the end of my chemotherapy, My oncologist, Dr. Amy Lang, asked me if I had met with a plastic surgeon yet.  I was so busy sleeping my chemo off that this part of the process kind of left my brain for a few months.  When I told her that I had not met with anyone yet, she turned her chair towards me and said with so much confidence that she was going to refer me to Dr. Ledoux at PRMA.  She told me I would love him and how amazing he was but again, none of this registered at the time.  It wouldn't be until my first appointment with him that I would truly understand that she had sent me to the most perfect doctor....for me.   


I remember walking in to my first appointment at my PRMA.  I was scared.  I had no idea what to expect.  I didn't know what kind of information I was going to walk out of there with.  I had no idea what my options for surgery would be at that point.  I knew nothing other than...I was getting a double mastectomy at the age of 33.  All I had envisioned was having 2 insanely huge scars, no breasts, and wondered how I was going to look at myself in the mirror with confidence after all of this. 

Dr. Ledoux walked in to the exam room and I immediately felt a sense of calmness and comfort.  He would explain the different types of surgery but, for me, my best option would be immediate reconstruction with expanders.  I had lost 20 pounds through chemo and didn't have an inch of fat on my body.  To be quite honest, I am not sure I would have wanted any other surgery than this.  At the time it seemed a little overwhelming to think that I was going to need 2 separate surgeries, and that the process was going to take about 4-6 months to complete.  It's hard to digest everything in that first appointment because its another one of those appointments where everything kind of goes in one ear out the other. This is where my advice to you comes...take someone with you.  Do not go to these appointments alone.  My mother had brought a notebook which I secretly referred to as my cancer care book because she took notes on EVERYTHING - including the details involved in this surgery. 

After meeting Dr. Ledoux, I have to say that I felt better walking out of that appointment than I did going in.  I had the expectation that I was going to walk out of there a complete basket case with everything becoming so real.  It was comforting to know that I had this option. I said from the beginning that I never wanted to be vain about this. That I just wanted to look as close to myself after surgery as I did before.  It's what will make me feel good about looking in the mirror everyday.  It's what's going to restore my confidence after this hell that I have been through. So it IS important and not in a vain sort of way...but in a way that I needed to continue living my life as normal as possible when this was all done with.  Of course the absolute MOST important part was that I wouldn't have cancer anymore, but I needed the encouragement that I received in this first appointment.  The encouragement that I would wake up to something there and not just 2 scars.  The encouragement that I was going to be ok.  The encouragement that I would have a good outcome and that my doctor was going to put me back together and make me whole again.   Dr Ledoux held all of that inside of his hands and I knew that. I had to trust that he was going to put me back together both physically and unbeknownst to him...mentally as well.   

I feel lucky.  For many reasons....I feel lucky.  I obviously feel lucky to have my life.  As my husband said, I feel lucky that I caught this early.  Because of that, I was given the additional option of keeping my areolas, however, I would have to have my nipples removed as they contain milk ducts and I had invasive ductal carcinoma. From a physical standpoint, this was just another piece of good news for me.  I don't feel lucky for that though.  I feel lucky and I feel extremely confident that I was placed in to the best hands possible.   I know he doesn't ever expect it...but I can never repay Dr. Ledoux back for what he has done for me.  He pulled me through a portion of my journey that I had absolutely NO IDEA how I was going to cope with.   One day, my hair, my eyelashes, the weight, my life...would all come back to me.  This was the one part of me that was going to be gone forever.  I hate to refer to it like that but it is true.  This part of me would never return - at least I thought it wouldn't. 

The morning of my double mastectomy, I can tell you, I was in about as much panic as any one person could be in.  I cried the majority of the night before all the way up until 10 minutes before my surgery.  I had never done anything like this before.  My entire life, I have been healthy minus my asthma and a fractured foot.  I knew this was in God's hands but I was having a hard time releasing my fears to him.  (I still do today).  I had all of my pre-op work taken care of and there I was waiting in that room, IV in my hand, wearing a silly paper gown, no hair on my head, and scared out of my mind. Though my husband, mom and dad were all there to hold my hand...I was in a zone of fear. In this particular surgery, my general surgeon, Dr. Rosenthal and Dr. Ledoux would work side by side on my mastectomy and then Dr. Ledoux would take over on the reconstruction.  The first doctor to show up that morning, was Dr. Ledoux - with a smile on his face.  I thought to myself, why cant I just smile like he is right now.  Well, shortly after he started talking to me...I immediately felt that sense of calmness from him again. He sat me up, marked me up, asked me how I was doing...and then before our conversation would end he asked "Can we say a prayer"?  It was this very moment that I finally felt at peace with what was about to happen.  My fears were lifted as he asked for God to protect me and to guide the surgeons hands through-out the next 6 hours.  I cannot express, in words, what this moment meant to me but I was ready.

I remember waking up from my surgery, and though I was completely out of it at the time, my nurse wanted to take a look at my incisions.  This was the moment of truth.  I was about to look down and see what I had only envisioned would be 2 large scars.  Even though I knew I would have expanders in, I had no clue what I would look like.  The first words out of my mouth?  "I have more cleavage than I have ever had in my life".  Maybe it was the drugs talking at the time...the overdose of medications that I will blame on my husband, but it was true.  Though my breasts were gone forever, or at the very least in a pathology lab at that point, I didn't feel the way I anticipated I would feel looking at them for the first time.  Though recovery was difficult at times, I always say it was a walk in the park compared to chemotherapy.  As time went on, I healed, and we would start to move on to the next step...expanding. 

The most interesting, yet weird part of this process were the expansions. I would sit in front of a huge mirror, needle in my "breast" and I would just watch it grow before my eyes.  However, the BEST part about this part of the process, was that I got to say when I was done.  Hmmm??  What size did I want to be?  How many women get to watch their breasts grow right before their eyes and decide...yep! That's the perfect size for me! If I had to find a positive in losing my breasts - then this was it! The expansion itself was not painful...and what pain I would feel from them, I would relate to a post work out muscle pain.  Sore for a couple of days, nothing major, body adjusts...and then on to the next one 2 weeks later.  For me, it was recommended that I expand a little bigger than I think I might want to be because I was told the implants would appear smaller. Let me just tell you, these expanders - became 2 rocks on my chest.  I always laughed inside when I had to hug people because I felt like I was bruising them with these 2 things.  I was expanded to 370cc's and was exchanged to 400cc Mentor silicone implants 2 months after my final expansion.  Which, by the way, that exchange surgery was NOTHING.  I was in and out of the hospital and took a low dose pain pill for one entire day.  I left the final sizing up to Dr. Ledoux and, 2 1/2 months past surgery, I couldn't be happier with my final results.  I feel great in a bathing suit, bra shopping for the first time was awesome, and I never even acknowledge my scars.  Dr. Ledoux did an amazing job putting me "back together again". 

This is a part of my journey that I tend to get very emotional about because I can never quite come up with the right words to say.  So I will try this avenue...

Dr. Ledoux, 

From the bottom of my heart, I want to thank you.   I, my husband, and my family thank you for what you have done for me.  Thank you for that moment of prayer before my first surgery.  I will never be able to express to you exactly what that moment meant to me.  In that moment, I felt like I was family and I knew you were going to take great care of me through out this entire process.  This particular part of my journey could have been extremely traumatic but you made it the exact opposite.   From the first appointment,  to my first surgery, on to my exchange surgery, and follow ups...you have been my light through out this entire process.  I have always looked forward to my appointments with you because you assured me that I was going to be okay and that my end result was going to be something I would be proud of...and I am.  You turned this in to a very happy part of my journey.

You are a doctor, and your job is to perform a surgery on women but you are far more than that to all of us. What you have been able to give back to, not only myself, but all of your patients is so much more than that.  I know this because I have spoken to many of your patients who have the same reaction when we speak of you.  There was no other doctor for us and we are all so blessed to be a patient of yours.  My journey could have turned in a million directions, but I am so thankful that it led me to you as my plastic surgeon.  I don't believe there is another doctor out there that would have cared for me the way you have, who would have given me the results that I have, or who would take time out of their day to take a picture with me for my blog. You have gone above and beyond your intended call of duty for me.  I never felt like just another patient to you.  I couldn't be happier with the results, with how your staff has taken care of me, and with the continued support that you all show to your patients.  This is a part of my journey that I can close a door on with confidence and I am forever grateful to you for that. 

These words do not even touch how I truly feel, but it's all I can come up with.  Truly, I am just speechless. It brings me happy tears that I have been so fortunate.  Thank you for everything you have done for me and for being such an amazing soul to me through out this journey. 

Jen

Almost 1 year ago, I never would have believed that this journey would have taken me to where I am today.  Amy says it perfect..."You couldn't pay me enough money to go back and be that person again".  This journey has led me to a group of the most amazing, inspiring, and supportive friends I could ever hope for.  It has given me the opportunity to help other women through their own journeys no matter how small it might be.  It was never an easy road to get to where I am right now, but I am proud of where it has taken me.  I am proud to be a survivor and to be a part of such an amazing group of women.  I was so honored when I was asked to be a part of this segment on San Antonio Living.  The experience itself, was absolutely incredible.  Given the opportunity to bring awareness to the younger generation and encouraging them to do self exams and mammograms means everything to me. I am forever grateful to my support group for everything they have done for me and all of our ladies.  If you are local, I encourage you to join our amazing group of young survivors - and that goes for the young at heart too!  I now have a group of 40 women who have my back, who understand me, who "get it".  I couldn't ever ask for more than that.  For 6 months, I locked myself away. I was depressed, I felt alone, I had no idea how I was going to go forward in life.  I can never thank Sandra and Amy enough for creating this amazing group, for welcoming me with open arms, and for adding me as a board member.  I am forever grateful to both of them.  So without further or do...here it is. My first TV interview.  What an awesome experience.  Was I nervous?  ABSOLUTELY!!!  But life is about being vulnerable and opening yourself up to new experiences.  Let your guard down, put yourself out there, and see where life takes you. 

For more information on the BFF Young Survivors Group please visit our website:

http://bffsanantonio.weebly.com/

You can also contact Sandra directly at: 

210-562-6502 or via email: sanmiguels@uthscsa.edu