The Bright Side of Fat

 

thekidandi

Facebook kinda shits me here and there as to how commercial and whatnot it is but, there are times, when I get that ‘Facebook Memory’ as to what I posted a while ago and, this came up today. I remember so clearly this photo being taken and even though my gorgeous daughter was being silly, I still felt an amazing sense of pride for being her Mum. Nine years ago this photo was taken at my cousin Christine’s 40th Birthday party! OMG, that means my cousin Christine is going to be….. 50 oh so soon. Anyhoo, this photo of ‘the kid and I’ is very special to me. It is before I became a Coeliac and before I knew I had stage 3 breast cancer.

Moving On.

So, this was the week for me to meet with my surgeon to discuss the surgery I want/need early next year. The reason I would like this surgery early next year is because

  1.      I would like to be done with Breast Cancer
  2.      My wedding is in November 2017 and I would like 2 boobs for it
  3.      What does it matter? Just give me another boob please!

So, off to Mr Jim Kollias on Wednesday to discuss my upcoming surgery and to have my 6th monthly Breast Cancer check. Actually, from here on in, I am thinking I wont bother with writing breast cancer with capitals. I recall from school that capital letters were for proper words and those of being ‘important’. Well, you know what Oh Serious Breast Cancer? I have demoted you to lower case from now on!

Right, now we have that straight, let me continue…..

Mr Kollias has many names throughout South Australia and most of them good. Don’t get me wrong, I am going to BAG the SHIT out of him in this post but know this, he is the best in the business ok? Anyhoo… this is how it happened….

Into the lovely little office I went, went through the formalities of me looking great and me saying thank you blah blah and, off to the back room I go to rid myself of my tops and bras and sit on the bed to wait…

Now, keep in mind that Mr James Kollias, being the best in the Breast Cancer field in South Australia, keeps you protected, safe and bubble wrapped the entire time you are dealing with breast cancer. He will do everything humanly possible to rid your body of the cancer and make you feel A OK. You only have to do as you are told and he will make everything happen for you.

Once your breast cancer has been cut out, chemotherapied, radiologied, blitzed with drugs and sleep and some more drugs and more surgery, then comes along the true to life, the honest and IN YOUR FACE Mr Kollias.

There are no more warm snugly cuddly hugs of comfort, no more Mr Nice Guy.

He has always told us how it is when it came to my Stage 3 Breast Cancer but, I always felt safe and snuggly within his words. He was the Captain of our Ship. He would ensure everything happened correctly and his way. My only job on this ship was to follow his orders.

And I did feel all safe and snugly and protected and loved. Until NOW.

Now, I am FAT and ROUND!

On Wednesday the 5th of October 2015 (311 Days Since Mr Kollias and I met) I was meeting him again but this time to discuss my Reconstruction Left Breast Surgery.

I am requiring, wanting and possibly even needing a particular surgery called a TRAM Flap. TRAM stands for transverse rectus abdominis, a muscle in your lower abdomen between your waist and your pubic bone. A flap of this skin, fat, and all or part of the underlying rectus abdominus (“6-pack”) muscle are used to reconstruct the breast in a TRAM flap procedure.

While it’s the most popular flap reconstruction procedure, a TRAM flap isn’t for everyone. It’s not a good choice for:

  • thin women who don’t have enough extra belly tissue
  • women who already have had multiple abdominal surgeries
  • women who plan on getting pregnant
  • women who are concerned about losing strength in their lower abdomen

So, my big belly and myself are thinking, HOOK ME UP BIG BOY, because I am none of the above and more than that, HOOK ME UP TO THOSE SKINNY BITCHES THAT DON’T HAVE ENOUGH EXTRA BELLY TISSUE, I HAVE ENOUGH FOR EVERYBOOOOOODY.

Mr Kollias does not find this helpful OR amusing. Sometimes I wonder how Mr Kollias and I even get along!

Right, back to it….

I am now laying on the medical bed which is not comfortable nor relaxing and Mr Kollias starts the examination. I would have assumed he would have started with Ms Rightie, my lonely breast that stands alone… but no, he starts with my belly. He GRABS a big fist full of the belly area and wibbles and wobbles it up and down as though it isn’t actually attached to me (BUT IT IS)  and says,

“Wow, this is very large. YOU are incredibly ROUND’. This is a lot of FAT”.

I kid you not!

I am laying on this bed, with my one amazing but sagging boobie and my big gutses hanging out, feeling oh so vulnerable while he, the amazing Mr K, proceeds to tell me how round and fat I am.

I KNOW I AM FAT FFS!

No, I do not say this out loud.

So, as I lay on that oh so uncomfortable bed, with my gutses hanging out, trying to think of something else, he, Mr Kollias, is grabbing handfulls of flab (yep, that’s my stomach) wibbling and wobbling up and down, still saying the words ROUND and FAT and I CAN’T WORK WITH THIS, I sink deeper and deeper into some daze like meditation.

Ok, I am no fool. I know I am fat. But for f*cks sake. Give me a break! I can’t use the ‘cancer card’ with Mr Kollias because he has been there with me from start til now. He is trying to tell me that

  1. The more fat I have, the more likely I will be to get cancer, especially breast cancer, again
  2. He can not operate on a fat person due to the risks involved
  3. He can not operate on a fat person for a TRANS Flap thingy without putting them ‘at risk’

Right then, after four rounds of him grabbing my gutses, told I am ever so ROUND, and that he can’t operate the way I want without a risk, It is thankfully now time for me to dress and smash his face in.

Ok fine, I didn’t smash his face in but I really wanted too!

Anyhoo, I dressed and went back to his ‘meeting room’ and sat in front of him while he proceeded to tell me that he can not do the surgery I wanted because I was EVER SO ROUND.

ARGH!

Right, he says to me that in order to do the operation the he and I want to have done he wants me to lose 10 kilos by January 10th.

I’m not sure if you remember he wanted me to lose over 20 Kilos previously but I would be dead if I tried to do that so, we are negotiating now like a car buyer v’s a car salesman. Mr Kollias is the Salesman ok?

We go back and forth for a while and agree on a 7.5 Kilo weight loss for him to do the surgery. That means I have to be below 75 kilos by January 10th, 2017.

Oh so easy I hear you say. IT IS NOT EASY I SCREAM BACK AT YOU!

Ok fine, I’ll try to calm down but let me finish with the conversation with the ever so amazing Mr K.

I tell him that I tried to lose weight for him from our previous catch up which resulted in breaking two bones in my ankle.

He says, hmmm, that’s really just an excuse.

I say, well, I am a coealiac and don’t eat any junk food… and he just glares at me.

I then tell him I have lost 2 kilos recently and he says, two kilos is not a weight loss, it is a poo! and then proceeds to blow a raspberry at me!

Then, I tell him I have started taking duromine and he tells me that chemicals are NOT the answer.

Right about now I should be receiving a bloody award for ‘not murdering’ someone.

There are no awards coming my way, no cameras and bunches of flowers or miracle weight loss fairy dust, just Mr K looking at me.

So, I say to the ever so amazing Mr Kollias, “What do you suggest I do?” and his reply, (get ready to inhale a big disgusted gasp”

“stop eating”

OMG, is that even legal? Are you aloud to say that to me?

Well, I think yes. BUT, the problem is, now that I am taking this Duromine (appetite suppressant which I think is broken) my meal sizes have reduced, I’m not snacking anywhere near as much as before blah blah blah….. and then I quietly, under my breath, say….. Do you think I should stop drinking alcohol?

Well, doesn’t that open the bloody flood gates?! Out it all comes from the Breast Cancer God of South Australia telling me if I stop drinking today, I’ll lose 3 Kilos in a week and then I’ll lose another 3 kilos in the next three weeks which is almost at my goal weight for the surgery!

He is looking at me like I am some very backward hick born child!

I haven’t even told him how much I drink (Thank Goodness!)

So, There we have it peeps.

As I sit here, looking at my lovely glass of sparkling wine, I know that it is one of the last as I HAVE TO LOSE THIS WEIGHT. Not just for Mr Kollias but for myself to have the surgery I want.

There is an alternative surgery involving using my back fat with expanders and then silicon blah blah but no, that isn’t what I want.

I want the stomach one, where there will be no artificial products in my body.

After all of the chemo and radiation, I am thinking I would like to repair my body with my body.

So, There we have it.

I have been angry, sad, angry again and everything in between since my appointment with Mr James Kollias on Wednesday but, at the end of the day, he is only doing what is best for me.

What really shits me through all of this is, I forgot to tell my amazing and incredible surgeon about the lump I was worried about! Thankfully he had done a thorough examination while I was there of good ol’ rightie and obviously didn’t find anything to be worried about.

Sorry it has been so long since my last post. Thank you for all of the ‘behind the scenes’ messages and in my face messages.

Love to you all. Stick with me. I am doing this ok? I am going to give it my all to lose that darn 7.5 kilos.

A thank you to the Encore Program for taking me in. I am going to fill you all in about this Encore Program from the YWCA soon.  Hopefully, work works with me on this one 🙂

I don’t do shout out’s very often do I?  I am going to today.

My shout outs are…

Veronica Stanbridge : for listening to me sook and cry and worry about the stupid lump that turned out to be nothing. I know how hard this is for you to relive this horrible disease after your amazing sister Maggie passed away from it. Veronica ‘Amazing’ Stanbridge is in the black 🙂

bez

Mandy Azzam: Yep, I might know when you are not coping with things but you give it back knowing when I am not doing so well. I love that you leave me be until our lunch dates when I let it all out.

Tamara Martin: You always know when I’m having a bad day. Not through my actual voice but through the voice of our emails. Thankyou for knowing when I don’t want to talk but really want to talk. You know me too well.

Uniden Digital Camera
My bestie Tam

Everyone in my life means so much to me. Please don’t be displeased to not find your name here but it is Friday night after a huge week at work and, it has been a tough week for me. Everyone who is in my life, with true honesty and love (eg: no backstabbing or bullshit) means so much to me.

xx

Soon to be ‘two boobed bailey’

 

 

Phew!

Yep, I pooped.

I can’t say I am feeling overly great but obviously much better than I was. Yesterday I think I was ‘awake’ for two hours at the most and that was scattered time. Not in a two hour block.

The main feelings are fatigue and headaches which are easily dealt with so there isn’t much to complain about my way.

My pretty fluff on my head is still growing and unlike other people, I am NOT shaving it. It feels so nice and soft. I will take what I can get for the moment. I wash it very gently so I dont pull any out and pat dry it. I am now very precious about my fluff hehe.

That’s about it from me today. Am thinking, back to bed with some headache tablets. I am really happy I can still read with these headaches because I am currently reading the last book of Game of Thrones!

GOT

My Broken Bum

When you have breast cancer, mastectomy, chemotherapy ‘we refer to chem as spa therapy for any new readers), ancillary clearances and so forth, you get given a lot of information about all of the possible side effects which I call ‘feelings’ and they really leave nothing out. The lists have all sorts of weird and wonderful feelings that ‘may’ happen like hair loss (yup, got it), mouth ulcers (nope, skipped that one), loss of appetite (have you seen the size of me? Nope missed that one too) and so on.

What was NOT on any list I have read or heard was HEMORRHOIDS.

I thought I’d broken my bum the other day as I sat crying on the loo wondering what on earth was happening down there. Was I one of those women who didn’t know they were pregnant and was actually giving birth to a child on the toilet? I have read about this quite a few times so it isn’t uncommon. Do I put my hand down there in case there is a little person that I think is a poop? Oh please let this be a poop. I don’t want to touch it, and to make you all feel better, the poop finally came out with me shrieking in ‘labor pain’ and there was no baby to rescue. Phew. AND I didn’t need to touch it ewe!

I really didn’t want to go to the local doctor about this just yet because really, we have only just met and I am constantly asking him to look at my scar where the boob used to be and he might think me a bit of a perv if I go in there and ask him to look at my bum so I did the absolute worst thing in the world and checked out Dr Google.

**Warning, unless you are completely prepared and have an iron stomach, do not type in to google, Hemorrhoids. Those pictures will never ever leave your brain**

The reasons for hemorrhoids had nothing to do with me as I read through the list, pregnancy, child birth, old age, and then there was the answer…. moving a stool. Whilst I hadn’t moved a stool as such that day, I had moved a bedside cabinet the day before and it was quite heavy!

Ah ha! I had my answer, or so I thought. Please keep in mind I am not overly bright but if something says you can get a sore bum from moving a piece of furniture, and you have moved a piece of furniture recently, then that is what you will believe.

Obviously, I wanted a ‘second’ opinion so went to another site and again, they are talking about moving stools and it clicked. Nope, it was not furniture related, a stool is a poo! Why the hell do they call it a stool? It is nothing like a stool. It is a piece of poo that comes out, not something you can invite the neighbour to sit on. Where on earth do these people come up with words like stool for a piece of poo. A poo is a poo for goodness sake.

Dr Hands came home from work and I told him the sad news of my bum and without even taking a breath to understand my pain and discomfort, he is in peels of laughter. He can’t stop. He laughs for so long and I just stand there looking at him. Wow, this is not the Dr Hands I know. Who Is He?

Once he composes himself, he yells out “Price check in aisle 3 for Hemorrhoid cream, Price check in aisle 3” and he hasn’t stopped. Three days now I have heard this being hollered through the house. As I waddle out of the toilet he laughs and laughs. I am not entirely sure why he thinks this is so funny…

The next thing is getting treatment. Remember that day I went to our little country local chemist and bought a ‘value pack’ of condoms because Pharmacy Mary said they were better value if we were going to use a lot of them…. and then a few hours later Sam went to see the same Pharmacy Mary and bought the biggest box of latex gloves…… how do I walk in and ask Pharmacy Mary for bloody hemorrhoid cream?

Price check on barcode.
Price check on barcode.

Image from http://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0CAUQjhw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.jantoo.com%2Fcartoons%2Fkeywords%2Fcheckers&ei=NOehVdv-C-ezmwXQgKqwBA&bvm=bv.97653015,d.dGY&psig=AFQjCNGev82xPnGPnP12wXzz41r1OWNUsA&ust=1436760236631183

Being a Brat!

This morning I woke to nothing. No angry phone calls from Dr Hands telling me to get up and drink and eat. No text messages from Dr Hands asking if I was up yet? No dogs barking. Nothing. It was quiet, peaceful, perfect. The time? 9:40am.

Wow, so no wake up from Dr Hands this morning at 5am like I expected after yesterdays debacle. I was expecting a plate full of food to be shoved in my face at 5am with a bucket of water to drink and a few tablets to ward off nausea and headaches but nope, nothing.

I felt liberated. I stretched and then realised that still kinda hurts (remember, breast and lymph nodes removal?), I curled back up in my gorgeous and amazing bed and then felt the rumblings of the double dose of coloxal + senna to make me poop. I had taken a double dose last night because it has been a few days since the old pooper has been in action and wow, hello to four days worth of poop! It was disgusting.

Moving on…

I wandered out into the kitchen to put the coffee machine on and noticed the dogs had had full run of the house and were tucked up on MY SOFA!  HMPH! I had put a fresh clean sheet on my sofa yesterday and fluffed up pillows and had a blanket there ready for last night and today when I needed a change of scenery from bed and wanted something a little fresher smelling than the usual dog smelling sofa.

Well, that effort was totally wasted because Kelly had not only been sleeping on this all morning but had cleaned her feet while laying there and left big wet splotches all over the sofa. This was a little message from Sam. I know it was. He would normally have the dogs up the other end of the house with the hallway door shut so as to not disturb me. Not today.

After making my coffee, catching up on emails, still smiling to myself because I didn’t need Dr Hands to be at my beck and call and I could look after myself, I started to feel a bit sick in my stomach. So I made another coffee and prepared a barocca.

These didn’t make me feel better either. I was a bit shaky, bit nauseas, bit dizzy and all I could hear in my head was Dr Hands asking

“How much water have you had today? What did you have for breakfast today? Water. Food. WATER! FOOD!”

Ugh, even in my head he is demanding and bossy. I walked into the pantry (yup, I have the most awesomest pantry in the world) and picked up a packet of potato chips. I am old enough to decide what I want for breakfast and if I want potato chips, then that is exactly what I’ll have!

Featured image

I dont feel well.

Sam is such a know all. He’ll know straight away, he probably knows right now, that I am feeling like crap simply because I didn’t do as he told me to and get up to eat a good and nutritious breakfast. Like seriously! Who made him GOD!!??  Even if he doesn’t read this blog, which he probably wont, he’ll know? Why can’t I think like a grown up and prepare something a little more nutritious than potato chips and coffee for breakfast?

My Auntie just rang  (Lyn) to check up on me and I said to her that sometimes Sam gets a bit cranky at me because I can be a bit of a brat and you know what she said? Oh, I can’t imagine you being a brat…. and there was soooooo much sarcasm coming through the phone that it almost drowned me.

So, now I know that I must and should eat something nutritious but all I feel like is ice cream. I am going to be one of those fat, bald, one boobed cancer patients. Yep, totally am and no one can stop me… well, until Sam gets home anyway 🙂

I’m Alive

Just a quick post to let you know I am still alive and moving.

I am not going to go into great detail just yet because I am ready to go back to bed for a while but lets just say the internal spa treatmenet I had yesterday (commonly known as chemo) was a breeze. Seriously, it was fine. Lots of pretty coloured liquid squirted into me, pretty orange wee wee to follow and I was outta there.

It was a two hour session but with all that goes on and having Sam and Accalia there with me, it was out of there in no time.

Sam and I even decided to have a quick lunch at the pub on the way home and then I hit the sack. I was in bed at 3:30pm when we got home, work at 5:30pm for my daily mum call, woken at 8:30pm by Dr Hands (Sam) to take my temperature and demand I drink water and administer some panadol and that was that.

The excellent and amazing this about this chemo, and I hope it continues, are the dreams! They are better than any movie or book I have read. Lots of drama and excitement and yes, a wee bit of hanky panky.

I can’t say I am feeling all perky and lovely today but that alright, I can feel a bit pooey.

I am waiting for this particular drug the nurses called ‘dexis’ to kick in because apparently I am going to feel amazing and wonderful and everything will seem perfect. Apparently I’ll be on these dexis for two days ‘woop wooop’ party at my place and then I’ll go through withdrawals for two days, party is over on Sunday peeps.

The only thing I am really suffering from besides tireness is a slight headache.

I’ll tell you more later because now I have been fed and watered, I am going back to bed.

Thank you to everyone for the amazing and wonderful good wishes.

PS: I think I am going to have poop problems because there was a lot of talk about constipation and binding (that is a crap word hehe) but thanks to my night nurse, I have sachets to help that happen. I do NOT like NOT pooping.

Me and Dr hands 🙂

Back to bed for me xx

xxIMG_0013

To Poop or Not to Poop… that is the question

Here it is ladies and gentlemen. The one you have been waiting for. The Poop Blog.

There are a few ‘oldies’ here that followed my previous blog ‘I Woke Up Fat’ discussing the time, well, when I woke up fat. These people know my fascination for poop and have been waiting, I’m sure, for it to pop along here somewhere. Well, it has and here it is.

I don’t know where my fascination for pooping came from but its here and I love to poop. Imagine my concern, my terror, my absolute horror, when I could poop no more. Three whole days without a single poop occured after surgery. Not even a ‘need’ to poop. Nothing. WHERE IS MY POOP!!??

Turns out, my new friend Endone takes away your poop. So who do I chose. Do I keep my new friend Endone who takes away the pain of my recent boobectimy and lymph nodes or do I turn my back on Endone and wait for my great mate Poop?

Once I had worked out that I can’t have both in my life at one time, I did turn my back on Endone. Today I made the decision to give it up. Go cold turkey with Endone.  I didn’t want to be so harsh and I felt just awful for it but I was worried about where the poop was going? Where do you store poop when not plopping it into the loo? I am big enough that I dont want to create more room on this very womanly body to have a holding bay for my poop. I am eating and drinking so I know it is in there somewhere. So I kicked my friend Endone to the curb, well, kitchen bench and took a couple of panadol and went about my day.

As time went on, I felt poop return. It was only a little niggle but I knew it was there. I smiled. I almost even blushed. It was almost time.

Once the time came, I almost skipped into the toilet but refrained due to drippy still being attached to me, and down I sat, ready for poop.

It was over so quick. I couldn’t believe that a few days of food and water and that was all I had. A rabbit could do more than this. To say I was disappointed was an understatement. There were almost tears. I didn’t even feel this robbed when leftie was taken. WHERE IS MY POOP DAMN IT!

Thankfully, there was a better outcome a little later but not my usual release of amazingness. That will come back I am sure. But what did come back was the pain. Oh the pain! And it was not the pain of missing my poop, this time it was the real pain. The wound pain, ooooh no, now it was time to say goodbye to my poop again. This is getting really quite difficult to balance.

Endone won. 2 Endone were had tonight due to the pain and discomfort and bossy Dr Hands (Sam) giving me a lecture on keeping up with the pain medication and didn’t I listen to the nurses in the hospital and blah blah blah. Does he not know what it is like to miss your Poop?

And who the bloody hell says Endone makes you sleepy? It does not make me sleepy!! Well, it makes me dopey, ok ok, dopier than usual. And slow. It makes me slow. Imagine a turtle, with big rubber boots on, and a brick on its back, having eaten too much at dinner, and maybe had a few glasses of champagne, that is how I feel after Endone. But asleep I am not. It also makes me think which is waaay out there because I dont think I am much of a thinker usually. I try not to dwell on things or go over things but once Endone is around, I think a lot. And obviously babble on about all sorts of nothings 🙂

So that was my Sunday. Deciding who I wanted to be friends with more. Poop or Endone.

On a brighter note, I am heading to the hospital in the morning to hopefully get drippy removed. I will chat to the nurses then about how to balance this current issue of mine. They’ll have the answers, they are amazing people.