The Sun and the rain and the appleseed

The Sun and the rain and the appleseed

Written 8 minutes ago

For some reason, after pouring my heart and soul out to the world for the last 12 months, I am having a really difficult time getting out my last blog. It’s odd because I’ve never really had a problem with closure. Last night, Nathan and I were watching Mad Men, and Don Draper said, “I’ve started over a thousand times, and trust me – this is the worst part.” He was referring to the “end” of something being the worst part…because you have to let go, and move on. This is a valuable lesson about growing up.

I learned a lot of things about growing up at my Granny and Pop’s house. We spent a lot of time there during Summer months and holidays and Sundays, and we loved being there. There were a lot of restrictions at Granny and Pop’s house – we were really only allowed in the sewing room, the hallway, and the breakfast room…but we mostly spent our time in the sewing room. We played with paper dolls, learned how to sew pillows, played with Granny’s old make-up, Barbies, wrapped presents…what didn’t we do?

One time at Granny’s, Little sis Jayme and cousins Ann and Mary Katherine and I were playing with Granny’s make-up…undoubtedly taking a break from playing “Drs. Blackmon and Blackmon.” MKat and I were always doctors, and Jayme and Ann worked for us. And Ann was always singing something. I’m not sure what she was singing in the bathroom that day while we were rummaging through Granny’s old make-up, but whatever it was struck a chord with MKat. MKat cupped her hand over Ann’s mouth and yelled for her to STOP SINGING! Ann ran off to Granny, and the next thing I knew MKat was told to remove her make-up and come to the breakfast room table. It was the closest thing that 1988 knew to a time out. I was outraged that Ann told Granny that MKat “slapped” her, and I was mortified that Granny was punishing MKat for this outright lie. So I marched my sassy little butt back to the bathroom, removed my make-up, and marched right back to the breakfast room table. Granny was cooking in the kitchen – I will never forget the smell of that fried chicken. And she glared at me, “What do you think you’re doing?” I told her that Ann lied, and that if MKat had to sit there, I was going to sit there with her. And sit there we did, in complete silence. I was so proud. Until Granny said, “You can get up now and apologize.” MKat stood up on queue and apologized, and she quickly fled the tension of the breakfast room. I started to stand up, and Granny quickly said, “Not you. You wanted to sit, you can sit.” And it was in that moment that I realized two things. 1) Sometimes you have to stand up for what you believe in, even if that means going against the grain; 2) You have to be prepared to reap what you sow. And sow I did.

Our job as grandchildren was to set the table prior to dinner. It was a duty and a privilege to set the table, rather than a chore. There was always a fabulous display of the best fried chicken I’ve ever tasted, butter beans, sliced tomatoes with mayonnaise, iced tea, squash, and sliced bread. And when the table was set, it was time to get Pop. All of us would run to Pop’s chair in the dining room to coerce him from his chair. “Pop! Dinner’s ready, Pop,” we would say in unison. And every time he would ask, “Is it really ready? How many really’s ready is it?” We would count the really’s as we answered, “It’s really, really, really, really, really ready!” It took five minutes for Pop to get out of that chair because he was not going to sit down at the table until dinner was properly displayed on the table. And the lesson that I learned from this display is that you never called men to a table until it’s set and ready, because if you do, they will eat without you.

We sang Johnny Appleseed at the dinner table at Granny and Pop’s house. And it was no ordinary Johnny Appleseed. We stood in a circle around the table and held hands, beginning with the loudest, most obnoxious, “Ohhhhhhhhh,” that we could muster up.

The Lord’s been good to me (clap, clap)

And so I thank the Lord (clap, clap)

For giving (clap) me (clap)

The things (clap) I need (clap)

The sun and/(clap) the rain and/(clap) the ap-ple/(clap) seed (clap)

The Lord’s (clap) been good (clap) to me (clap)

A-men (clap, clap)

And as obnoxious as we were, Granny always said, “That was so nice.” And she was just as sincere as she could be. She loved our pure joy and love of song. And it was in that blessing that I realized that Granny felt blessed to have us there (probably because she could give us back)! And that was probably the first song I ever learned to sing other than my ABCs.

I sing Johnny Appleseed almost every night, although not in an obnoxious tone like when I was a young girl with my sisters and cousins. I sing it to Logan and Parker as a lullaby. And it makes such a beautiful lullaby with a slow tempo. Singing it this way made me pay attention to the words which have developed a new meaning to me over the last year.

Ohhhh, the Lord’s been good to me

And so I thank the Lord

For giving me, the things I need

The sun and the rain and the appleseed

The Lord’s been good to me

Amen.

Oh, so good. Thank God. What are the things we need, anyway? The sun – the good, the light, the new day. The rain – the low, the dreary, without which we cannot grow. And the appleseed – a beginning at the cellular level, a lesson, growth. Acknowledgement that the Lord has a plan, and that His plan is good. Amen.

I have had the opportunity over the last year to learn many lessons. I have had the opportunity to know my true self in the face of great adversity. I have looked inside myself and accepted what I cannot change and with grace I have changed the things I can. I have lived a lifetime in a year. In my short 33 years, I have experienced much growth. I am an old soul. And I have many more lessons to learn. This appleseed is just a sprout. I will see much more sun and much more rain before I grow roots and grow tall. I have much life to live, and many miles to go. I only hope that I can take what I have learned from this experience and grow stronger, stand up for what I believe in, reap what I sow, bait my own hook, find joy in the simple lessons of my youth, be a good wife and mother, and leave this experience behind with grace. I’ve started over a thousand times, and trust me – this is the worst part…closure. 

Dear Mama

Dear Mama,

It happened so much differently than I was prepared for. I knew when I felt that lump years ago that one day I would have to tell you that I had breast cancer. It happened in my head so many times…each time the same way. In my head, I had already begun treatment when I told you. I simply told you that I had breast cancer. You told me that I was over reacting, and that you were sure that everything would come out fine. You told me about lumps and bumps that were found in yourself and my aunts that turned out to be nothing…you had that much out before I cut you off and told you that I had already begun treatment and that we knew it was malignant. Grace under fire. That defines you. You have such a presence of calm in a crisis, and it is truly a gift.

That’s the only thing that was the same when I actually told you that I had breast cancer. Everything else was completely different from what I had imagined. I guess in some way I felt that if I told you in a different way that this premonition wouldn’t come true and that the report would come back benign. And yet, the end result was the same – grace under fire. And they wonder where I get it from. They do…I don’t.

In fact I know where most of my best assets come from – my ability to tell a story with a slight exaggeration in order to raise the emotional energy of the audience; my resourcefulness; my love for eye make-up artistry; my strength and courage; my faith; my work ethic; my charm; my love of cooking…and eating; my ability to build a colorful sandcastle on a white sand beach; and my legs (which have been, and will forever be my best physical attribute) – there’s no doubt they came from you.

There is no way to properly thank someone for what you have done for me (and for Nathan) in the last year. There simply aren’t words. There is no Hallmark card that says, “Thank you for giving up your life for helping me with mine. Thank you for not moving to Houston with your husband, but for moving in with us for more or less eight months. Thank you for quitting your job. Thank you for playing mother to my children and for keeping my husband fed. Thank you for keeping my house sterile when I was at risk for infection. Thank you for attending chemo with me every time but one. Thank you for buying groceries when I wasn’t getting a paycheck. Thank you for keeping a brave face when I needed someone to be brave with me. Thank you for handling this better than anyone – thank you for your grace under fire.” No, there is no Hallmark card for that.

There is a song, though, that reminds me of our time together over the last 11 months, and it isn’t that sappy Martina McBride (love her, hate the song) ditty about the person who stands beside the lady with breast cancer. I cannot tell you how much I dread hearing that song every October. Nope, it’s not that song. It’s one from American Idol contestant Lauren Alaina from 2011. I loved the song when I heard it closing night of Idol last year, but it means a lot more to me now.

"Like My Mother Does"

People always say

I have a laugh

Like my mother does

Guess that makes sense

She taught me how to smile

When things get rough

I've got her spirit

She's always got my back

When I look at her

I think, I want to be just like that

When I love I give it all I've got

Like my mother does

When I'm scared, I bow my head and pray

Like my mother does

When I feel weak and unpretty

I know I'm beautiful and strong

Because I see myself like my mother does

I never met a stranger

I can talk to anyone

Like my mother does

I let my temper fly

And she can walk away

When she's had enough

She sees everybody

For who they really are

I'm so thankful for her guidance

She helped me get this far

When I love I give it all I've got

Like my mother does

When I'm scared, I bow my head and pray

Like my mother does

When I feel weak and unpretty

I know I'm beautiful and strong

Because

I see myself like my mother does

She's a rock

She is grace

She's an angel

She's my heart and soul

She does it all

When I love I give it all I've got

Like my mother does

When I'm scared, I bow my head and pray

Like my mother does

When I'm weak and unpretty

I know I'm beautiful and strong

Because

I see myself like my mother does

Like my mother does

I hear people saying

I'm starting to look like my mother does

I wish I could say that I couldn’t have written that better myself, but as you know I just LOVE a little constructive criticism – no offense to the song writer(s), but no God-fearing country girl sings a song about her Mother…she sings about her “Mama.” And that’s the only thing I’d change about that song to make it mine. That’s my Hallmark card.

And with that, I wish you a Happy Mother’s Day filled with gracious love and thanks for not only the past year, but also the 32 prior to that. May you always know that your grace under fire gives me peace and inner strength, and may I someday be able to repay the unconditional support that you bestowed upon me in the last year.

I love you,
Beanie

The FINISH LINE

The FINISH LINE

Written 3 minutes ago

At a party in high school, I literally bumped into a friend of mine. If I remember correctly, I took an elbow to Gretchen - my right, natural breast. Lisa and I laughed, said our sorries, and then she said, “I like your boob.” Lisa and I ended up as roommates our first Summer of college, and I can’t tell you how many times we said, “I like your boob.”  It was kind of our inside joke way of complimenting one another. “I like your boob” translated to “You look hot! Your date is in trouble!” or “Remember that time when…” or “You are my friend.”

Friday was a perfectly Southern day. It was 85 degrees and overcast with an intermittent light breeze. It was a perfect day for the 138th Kentucky Oaks. Annually, Oaks is the day that the fillies race at Churchill Downs – the day prior to the infamous Kentucky Derby. Four years ago, Oaks began a PINK OUT! Churchill Downs is dressed in shades of pink in support of breast cancer awareness, and donations are made by Churchill Downs to cancer research. This year’s partner was for Stand Up to Cancer, broadening the awareness to types of cancer inclusive of, but not limited to breast cancer.

As you already know, Nathan nominated me, and I was voted into the 138th Oaks Survivors Parade. As a result of your support, we won 2 free tickets to Oaks. Our dear friends Matt and Athanasia (aka, “A”) came into Louisville Thursday night around midnight from Wisconsin. It was so wonderful to have friends with us Friday – their show of support was heartwarming. Matt and A were sitting in our section, so hanging out together all day was super easy. We had lunch, placed a couple of bets, and watched a few races. We had to be in our seats at 3pm, at which time I was handed a beautiful bunch of stargazer lilies by Dr. Hatmaker’s nurse Sofia! She was working the event, and it was so nice to see a familiar face. We lined up, and we were bussed to the other end of the track.

We were grateful that the school bus was air conditioned…this sparked a lot of communication amongst the survivors. Nathan and I met another couple (Dave and Lori) – Lori is a survivor of breast cancer, and they have two small children as well. We shared stories of children, treatment, and support from our friends and families as we were taken to the other side of the track. We were lined up outside the track, laughing about life in general when a lady came up to Lori and said, “I like your boots.” I turned to Lori and laughed, saying, “I am so sorry! I can’t help but laugh because I thought she said I like your boobs!” Lori remarked that she thought that was what the woman said, too, and she was thinking, “Out of all these women with fake boobs, mine are the ones you like?!” Nathan made the comment that there had to be more plastic in that line than a Barbie factory! And I couldn’t help but to think of that college compliment – “I like your boob.”

A sudden drop in temperature became the focus of conversation. Oddly enough, we were commenting on how beautiful the weather was when we learned that a potential hail storm was coming. The Churchill Downs staff loaded us back onto the bus and gave us the disappointing news that while the Oaks race would be postponed, they were cancelling the Survivors Parade. I know all of us were thinking, “This is what we came here for.” While other people are here to watch a race, we are here to finish one.

We returned to Matt and A to watch the storm blow over. We said goodbye to our new friends Lori and Dave, who decided to regroup with their friends and take off. We were wavering back and forth about whether or not we wanted to bail when one of the survivors grabbed me and said, “We’re going to get to walk! Are you ready?” I must have looked confused because she repeated herself until I smiled, and then I grabbed Nathan. “Text Lori and tell her it’s back on! She’s going to miss it!” Lori and I both expressed such disappointment when the walk was cancelled that the thought of someone missing it made me want to cry. But Lori’s phone was dead, and she didn’t get the message. As we walked out, I heard other survivors talking about how their husbands stayed back to protect their Oaks attire from the mud. I asked Nathan if he wanted to stay back, and he acted like that was a ridiculous question. “I am going to finish this with you, Tina.” Those words will forever stand out in my mind. “Then let’s finish this,” I thought.

We were in the line, ready to step onto the track when Lori and Dave came running up behind us. She told him that she wanted to go back to her seat to make sure it wasn’t going to happen, and when she arrived we had already been bussed to the track entrance. They literally ran outside and ran around to the other end of the track to walk the parade. I screamed and hugged her when I saw her. I know it sounds funny, but I felt as though I made a new friend through the earlier bus ride, and I couldn’t imagine the walk without her!

The parade was overwhelming. The crowd cheered constantly for us as we walked around a ¼ of the track. As we crossed the finish line, I heard my name to my left, where I spied my VP Shelly and blew her kisses. Faces in the crowd looked at us with respect and awareness…and sadness, probably at how young our overall parade was (but that’s what happens when you have an internet vote!). Nathan was constantly smiling as the media (or the paparazzi, as we referred to them) snapped away pictures. Every 10 steps I felt a squeeze of my hand that left me wondering if I would cry. But Nathan kept me grounded, and as we approached our supporting party of Matt and A at the end, we beamed. It was so nice to have our friends there with us – just an amazing show of support. And that was it…it was O.V.E.R.

We had a great time with Matt and A. I’ve known Athanasia for 10+ years, but after this weekend, I will consider her a best friend. We talked for hours last night, and she gave me an analogy that will stick with me always. She said that when her family was faced with great adversity last August, a nun told her that we should look at God like a father (which I’ve heard a million times before, but this time it resonates with me). As a parent, we often protect our children from great harm (like running out into the middle of the street). When we do this, sometimes we hurt them a little in the process (like if we jerk them back from the street, they may get a pinch...or a spanking as a reminder of what not to do). But when you look at the big picture, the pinch or spanking was not nearly what the street could have been. The message was to look at the big picture and realize that when we face adversity, we are actually experiencing the hand of God pulling us back from a greater danger, so we should thank him for the save. I would hate to have seen what was in store for me if I hadn’t been through the last year! I’m just glad that we have the opportunity to say that we made it through, that we finished - we might even say that we “placed,” as they say in the racing circuit.

Hope and the "Twins"

Hope and the "Twins"

Written 59 minutes ago

What an emotional week! I returned to work Monday, only to get sent home because I still had one of my surgical drains in. While it might sound like fun to get sent home from work, I was totally prepared to celebrate my new normal now that I have Shelby and Yvette. So I was disappointed. Aside from that, I have once again drained any and all PTO I have built up since my last surgery.

I did take advantage of the time off, though. I had a mani and a pedi Monday...until that point, I was wondering when I would have time this week to do these things prior to Oaks/Derby weekend. 

“Oaks” is the day before Derby. The proceeds from Oaks go to breast cancer research, and for several years now the day calls for a PINK OUT! This essentially means that everyone at Churchill Downs is wearing breast cancer's favorite color. So I went on this fabulous website www.zazzle.com, where you can find or design anything breast cancer. I ordered Nathan a tie - it was pink, and there are black and gray fleur de lis all over the tie. Each fleur de lis has a breast cancer ribbon in the center of it. It should have been perfect for Oaks! But when it arrived, it was wider than the average tie, the back of the tie was stark white, and it was an overall disappointment. So Monday I also went to Kohl's for a new tie. I called Big Sis Tiff from the store for a little style help. I asked her if I could buy Nathan a seersucker bow tie, and she advised against it. So I ended up with a very nice pink and blue paisley. Nathan found it on the dresser Monday evening, and he said, "I like this tie." I told him the story about shopping for the tie and calling Tiff about the seersucker tie. I told Nathan that Tiff told me that the bow tie was nerdy, so I couldn't buy it. Nathan said, "I'm kind of nerdy," to which I replied, "That's what I said!" It was good for a giggle, but he's stuck with paisley.

Tuesday was a lazy day. I hung out until I had my drain pulled, and then I went to the cancer center to get my monthly tic-tac in the belly shot. My nurse Bev is a rock star at that shot. I compare the Gossarelin to a tequila shot. I used to be a bit of tequila connoisseur, but those days are long gone. At any rate, I never liked "training wheels" (aka, salt and lime) with a tequila shot, and I feel the same way about the ice for the Gossarelin shot. Every month Bev asks if I want ice, and every month I say, "Give it to me straight, bartender. I don't need your training wheels."

Wednesday I had the great privilege to attend the First Lady of Kentucky's Celebration of Hope, supported by Horses for Hope, an apropos charitable organization for the great state of Kentucky. There was a fashion show, a brunch, a UK basketball player, and a very accomplished young lady who was the keynote speaker. Rachel Annette Helson (google her – she’s pretty awesome!) recounted her aunt's diagnosis (now a survivor), and how that essentially sparked her (15 when her aunt was diagnosed) to being a life of theater and philanthropy. This made me wonder what kind of wonderful things my nieces Olivia and Ann Marie might be doing 10 years from now, and what kind of shape I might be in to see them through it. It was very emotional for me to attend this event. The most emotional part was when the survivors were asked to stand when their # of surviving years was announced. When the 40+ year survivors (6 were in attendance) stood, I lost it. I know it sounds grim, but when I think about 40 years from now, I don't necessarily think about being around...but this gave me something I have heard about for 11+ months...hope. 

Hope is like love or faith - you know what it is, but you can't see it...you can only feel it. Hope is more than wanting. Hope and faith are intertwined, but not the same. Hope is doing whatever it takes. And there it was - my epiphany. I have to do whatever it takes to be standing when someone calls upon 40+ year survivors. And whatever it takes is what I intend to do. 

I worked all day today, and by the time I got home I was miserable. As it turns out, it was likely a blessing that I was sent home Monday, because I was in no way prepared to work all week like I thought I was. My body is still very much in shock from surgery, and I need to let it gently heal. I cannot speed up the process. It's hard to believe that underneath that tiny fuchsia dress I'm wearing tomorrow, I look like I've been beaten. I'm bruised from nipple line (or what otherwise would be nipple line) to hips...whatever it takes. If there is a wardrobe malfunction tomorrow, it is not going to be pretty! Shelby and Yvette are still in the healing stage, and they are definitely not ready for that kind of debut!

Steel Magnolias would be an obvious inspiration for Shelby. Shelby did things when she was told not to…in fact, the only way you could guarantee that Shelby would do something was for her Mama to tell her that she shouldn’t do it. Her “signature color” was pink, specifically blush and bashful. Shelby was a Southern lady with an Achilles heel…her health. She was strong and soft at the same time. And she loved her Mama. And she was willing to do whatever it took.

In high school, was the lead in my Spring musical, class president, and a member of Drama Club, the Chess Club and the French Honors Society. As involved as I was in all of these things, French Honors Society was something I was really proud of. French was easy to me – it was beautiful, and interesting, and guaranteed to confuse the heck out of me when I traveled to Italy years later!! I even studied French as a Major in college for a semester before switching to Communications.  Yvette is for the boy in French class who used to cheat off of my French tests…and all the while I thought he was just trying to catch a glimpse of Bess and Gretchen! She is my adventurous side, my exotic side, my red patent leather peep toe heels side.

Tomorrow I will walk alongside 137 other survivors who were nominated to walk in the annual Oaks Survivors' Parade. It is an honor to walk, and I couldn't be more excited. I am expecting another emotional roller coaster of a day, and I've packed my waterproof mascara.  Oaks will be televised on NBCSports  all day. The parade will be roughly at 4:50pm Eastern time, just before the Oaks race (Oaks day is named for a single race). I chose to wear a tiny hot fuchsia dress (which will be complimented by red patent leather peep toes by the way) because I wanted my pink to signify strength and hope. Shelby and Yvette deserve nothing less.

Hey Soul Sisters!

FRIDAY, APRIL 20, 2012 9:41 PM, EDT

Hey Soul Sisters!

A soulmate (or soul mate) is believed by some to be the person with whom one has a feeling of deep or natural affinity, similarity, love, sex, intimacy, sexuality, spirituality, or compatibility. A related concept is that of the twin flame or twin soul, which is thought to be the ultimate soulmate.

Plato

In his dialogue The Symposium, Plato has Aristophanes present a story about soul mates. Aristophanes states that humans originally had four arms, four legs, and a single head made of two faces, but Zeus feared their power and split them all in half, condemning them to spend their lives searching for the other half to complete them.

Theosophy

According to Theosophy, whose claims were modified by Edgar Cayce, God created androgynous souls—equally male and female. Later theories postulate that the souls split into separate genders, perhaps because they incurred karma while playing around on the Earth, or "separation from God." Over a number of reincarnations, each half seeks the other. When all karmic debt is purged, the two will fuse back together and return to the ultimate.

I took the entries above from Wikipedia (I know, real credible source, right?). I’ve always held the romantic notion thateverything happens for a reason, that the people we encounter along the way will affect us in some great way that we may not recognize right away, and that we are rarely cognizant of the effect that we have on others. But this put a different spin on that. The sheer thought that God may split our souls and allow us to connect to them in human form is just lovely to me…Lovely, but I don’t know if I can wrap my head around that. What I do think is that there are people that you meet throughout your life who are a piece of your life puzzle…your life is more complete for meeting them…somehow they bring something to you that was missing. This is what I feel a soul mate is…and I believe that we have many of them. Jerry Maguire said it best when he said, “You complete me.” Every time we meet another soul mate, our puzzle is more complete than it was before. I could further theorize that when your life puzzle is complete, you have served your purpose. Romantically, we would not die until after we have served our purpose.

When we moved to Reno, Nevada, Nathan and I didn’t know a soul, more or less mates. I met a couple of people who I consider to be pieces of my life puzzle. One of these people was Christine Meyers. Christine and I shared an office together in the Radiology Department, and we shared a lot more than that! That girl truly knows more about me than I know about myself! She’s just one of those fabulous people you can truly put your trust in and tell her all the sordid details of your head…and I did. And I learned a lot from her. She had a theory that your life is a cup, and you fill it up as you go, and you get to choose what you put in your cup, or how you fill your cup. She would always say, “I’m going to ride (my horses) this weekend. What are youdoing to fill your cup?” She called me Bean as if she knew me my whole life. Love her. Christine was a free spirit, and I felt like me around her. She is one of my puzzle pieces…one of my soul mates.

Nathan is, of course, one of the biggest pieces of my puzzle. Our puzzles are fused. We have truly grown together through experiences that tear couples apart. And we built a beautiful family of two boys, Logan and Parker...also soul mates. My life would truly be incomplete without them - they were always missing before they were there.

I have always referred to my Granny as a soul mate. Sometimes I have so much of my mother’s mother in me that I feel like she’s around even when she isn’t anywhere close. I used to curl up next to Granny on the couch and pull her transparent and soft, aged skin between my forefinger and thumb. There was so much knowledge in that skin – so frail and thin, even when I was a little girl. And it is transparent and soft still. My Granny, my soul mate. One of few things that Granny can actually remember now is beauty. If I remember only one thing when I am in my eighties, I hope it is that I and the children who came behind me are forever beautiful. Granny and I have few conversations at this stage in her life that revolve around anything other than age and beauty…and it all starts with that skin. That skin has been passed down to generations, and we are lucky to have it.

People often ask me how I found Dr. Quintero. He was one of 3-4 people my breast surgeon recommended, and I interviewed all of them. I felt that my reconstructive surgeon should have a strong bedside manner. I was going to be working with this person for over a year, and the end results were to be permanent. So a relationship with this person was thought to be of great importance. Who would have known that my reconstructive surgeon would be a soul mate? I knew when I met Dr. Q that he was my choice for reconstruction, which essentially consists of the whole expansion process, implants, ongoing tweaking, and potentially adding nipples later down the road. And there you have it – relationship building. Who knew he would connect me to my new favorite girlfriends, Yvette and Shelby.

After a 5 hours surgery, I awoke with (finally!) my new body…and I mean that it is unrecognizable from just a few short days ago. My new friends are high and mighty (they will settle with time)…and HUGE! They were much larger than I expected them to be, but Dr. Q says not to get too attached because they are quite swollen. To put things into perspective, a cosmetic surgeon cuts into the breast with the smallest incision possible. The cosmetic surgeon then places the implant under the muscle, covers it with breast tissue consisting of fat, ducts and lobules, and then stitches the newly sculpted chest. This, my friends, is a boob job. I did not have a boob job.

Wednesday Dr. Q cut into the scars that were created as a result of my bilateral (double-sided) mastectomy (essentially my breast surgeon Dr. Hatmaker carved all of the breast tissue – fat, ducts and lobules). He pulled out the 650cc and 700cc expanders and evaluated the space for the new silicone implants. Dr. Q placed some pig skin (yes, there are so many jokes that we could work with on this, but they would be so obvious) underneath my “skin flaps.” Skin flaps are the very thin pieces of skin and remaining breast tissue that Dr. H left behind after the mastectomy. They were less than ¼ inch thick on each side. When he showed me the pictures of my very thin skin flaps today, I couldn’t help but think about my Granny’s fabulous but paper thin skin in all of its beauty. Dr. Q placed 700 cc and 800 cc high profile implants (the way that my ribs sit, one had to be larger than the other) into the pockets that the expanders created. He stitched me up and surveyed his work. The term high profile refers to the projection of the implants, or how far they stick out. Even though I have 750 cc implants in, they are not covered by breast tissue – so the implant is literally ¼ inch underneath the surface of my skin. This is notcosmetic surgery. This is reconstruction. So we worry about different things. With cosmetic surgery, you worry about the symmetry, the beauty. But with reconstruction, you worry that the skin flaps will die without proper blood supply. We will worry about this until next Tuesday. If the skin flaps die, I will have no Yvette and Shelby…ever. I welcome prayers specific to blood supply. 

Because I have so little of my own tissue to work with, these massive new friends of mine would otherwise be misshapen if Dr. Q didn’t do what he did next…fat grafting. Essentially, he took fat from parts (as in multiple parts) of my body to inject it into my chest. He then molded it so that my chest appeared to have more padding. Let me start by saying that I don’t know why anyone would elect to have liposuction. This is one of the most unpleasant experiences of my life, and I say that after I’ve had chemotherapy! And yet, I just keep thinking what a nice tight body I’m going to have as a result of cancer – yeah, I know what you're thinking, but this isn’t exactly a great trade off, I can assure you of that. So for the next 3 weeks, I will wear a girdle that is equivalent to 3 sets of Spanx. It is tight! This will prevent blood clots and mold my body into a new shape. Suddenly I feel like I ought to be on a Weight Watchers commercial singing.

“Feeling Good”

Jennifer Hudson

Birds flying high
you know how I feel
Sun in the sky
You know how I feel
Breeze driftin' on by
You know how I feel
It's a new day
And I'm feelin' good

Fish in the sea
You know how I feel
River runnin' free
you know how I feel

Blossom on a tree
You know how I feel
It's a new dawn, a new day
a new life for me
And I'm feelin' good

Dragonflies out in the sun
you know what I mean
don't you know
Butterflies all havin' fun
That's what I mean
Sleep in peace until the day is done
That's what I mean
And this old world is a new world

And a bold world
And I'm feelin' good

Stars when they shine
You know how I feel
Scent of the pine
You know how I feel
Oh freedom is mine
And I know how I feel
It's a new dawn, a new day
a new life for me
And I'm feelin' good

It's a new day
I'm feelin' good
It's a new day
I'm feelin' good
It's a new day
I'm feelin' good

It’s been a long year, but I like to think that my last surgery was Wednesday, and that this surgery introduced me to my newest soul mates Yvette and Shelby. That thought brings me a certain sense of closure, and an even greater peace. Throughout this life, and especially this process, I have been pieced together, like a puzzle. I know that there are soul mates out there who I have yet to discover, and as I find them I will find more of me. One thing is for certain, I have not yet served my purpose, and I’m not entirely sure that this life puzzle has any borders at all.