Pump, pump it up

Last Tuesday, I had my first appointment to have saline injected into my expanders.  Throughout this year-long cancer journey I've had lots of strange experiences, but being "expanded" might take the cake.  So, you know I have these rubber/plastic expanders under my muscles and they have some saline in there.  I will have these expanders for at least three months, until my body is healed enough to have the surgery to remove the expanders and replace them with the silicone implants.  The expanders are hard and don't move.  I don't have to wear a bra because, believe me, these things aren't going anywhere.  Not up or down or sideways.  So, I will visit the plastic surgeon about 4-5 times and he will inject more saline into the expanders to stretch out my muscle and skin.  They explained the process to me before the surgery, but I was still very much surprised by the procedure!


My expanders have a port under the skin that's metal and magnetized.  Sidenote:  They said if I plan on flying, then I'll always set of the metal detectors at the airport and will have to explain.  My concern isn't the airport.  My concern is the Courthouse.  I'm really not looking forward to explaining to the deputies why my breasts keep setting off the metal detectors.  Considering the fact that the one time I wore a sleeveless shirt and jeans in there to file something on a Friday afternoon, one of them emailed my boss to thank him for sending me like that, they may be a little too eager to run the wand over me when I set off the walk-through...Anyway, back to the appointment.  


The Dr. had me lay down on the table, and he ran something metal over the top part of my breasts and apparently found the magnet.  He marked it and then numbed the area.  His nurse then came over with a big needle attached to a tube, attached to a syringe that looked like it was made to vaccinate giants, and the syringe was attached to a tube that was attached to a big bag of saline.  They injected the needle and the nurse started pushing the giant plunger on the giant syringe.  Ok, here's the really weird part--I could feel it expanding.  It felt like someone was blowing up my boobs like a balloon.  It finally felt really, really tight, and they stopped injecting.  I only had 50-70 ccs injected, but you could immediately tell a difference.  It's a very strange feeling to walk in the Dr.'s office and leave 15 minutes later with bigger boobs.  I'm still really small compared to most people, but it's exciting to see things growing!  I'm probably about the same size I was before the surgery, but before the surgery, I was not afraid to use a push-up bra.  These expanders are impervious to push-up bras.  They do not move.  So I'm looking forward to a couple more injections!


Yes, the expansion hurt.  I was extremely sore for a few days.  Extremely.  But it's already better and getting better every day!

These are a few of my favorite things...

It's time for your last-minute holiday gift guide, also known as Alison's Favorite Things.  The only differences between Alison's Favorite Things and Oprah's Favorite Things are that 1) you aren't going to get any of these things unless you go out and buy them yourselves, and 2) you probably won't scream when I announce each one, unless you really like nail polish and Scottish Highlanders. 


In no particular order of favoritism, here are some suggestions for last-minute gifts for yourselves or others:




1)  OPI "You Don't Know Jacques" Nail Polish.  It's kind of a plummy brown color, and perfect for your trendy girls (or boys) to wear in winter.  Also, my friend Samantha had on OPI's "Burlesque" last night, which is a gold glitter and perfect for Christmas parties.  http://www.opi.com/




2)  Nick & Nora pajamas from Target.  I received the "Kimono" print before my surgery, and I absolutely love them.  They are the cutest and most comfortable pajamas that I've ever owned.  I call them my "company pajamas" because I would put them on when I was expecting company, and I always got compliments.  


3)  A blanket made by Maxilea McCasland.  I don't know if you can actually buy these right now, but if you can get your hands on one, you'll never regret it.  Maxilea made one of her special throws for me, and I lived under that thing for two weeks.  Then when I would go to bed, other people would take over and use it.  Now, we all kind of fight over it.  It's hands-down the most comfortable blanket that I have ever owned, and every single person that has seen it and felt it can't stop singing its praises.  Not only is it soft and warm, it's very, very cute.  One side is leopard print, and the other is a bright, fuzzy red.  Here's a picture of Zac enjoying this amazing blanket:

4)  Original artwork.  I'm blessed to have friends who are artists, and they all create fun, uplifting work.  (I'm sure they can also create sad, serious work, but for now, let's concentrate on the fun and uplifting.)  For fun children's art and some AMAZING photorealism, check out my friend Katie at http://www.thepaisleypartridge.blogspot.com/.  She can take a photo from one of your vacations or even a family photo, and turn it into a beautiful painting.  I have one on my wall, and can't believe that my friend actually painted it.  It's fantastic.  
For all of my Texas people, my friend Erin Bingham (Rhonda B.) is also a very talented artist, who specializes in more abstract work.  She just moved to South Texas and has opened a store.  I also have one of hers hanging on my wall, and it makes me smile every time.  You can tell her your colors and she will create an abstract piece that will pull every color in your room together.  
For my more Southern friends, check out Lane Berg, who is around Vicksburg.  He's a very talented young man who my family has been fortunate to get to know.  I don't have one of Lane's hanging on my wall, hint hint to all of my family.


Look them up on facebook, and feel free to message them if you would like to buy something!


5)  Books.  I. Love. Books.  I read all of the time, and the Fayetteville Public Library is one of my very favorite places in town.  I read all kinds of books, and can be a little snobby about what I read.  (Although, lately I've been reading more "trash" novels and thoroughly enjoying them.)  This last year, however, I've become obsessed with a certain series of books about a time-traveling nurse and her love affair with an 18th-century Scottish Highlander.  The first one is titled "Outlander," and I don't care how completely dorky it is, I absolutely love these books.  They are thick, very historically detailed, silly, racy, and completely enjoyable.  I've read every book in the series and even read the three novellas about a side character.  I would get so engrossed in these books that I was reading them at lunch and staying up way too late at night because I couldn't put them down.  If you like fiction, get this book.  You have to make yourself get through the first part of the first book because it's a little slow, but you will not regret it.  Or you may regret it when you can't get anything done and you aren't sleeping because you can't stop reading!  And if you're anything like me, you'll want to immediately book a trip to the Scottish Highlands and find your own Jamie Fraser!

I'm going to dedicate another post to book reviews, because I've had lots of time to read lately and I always have opinions on books!

6)  Colin Firth.  Okay, so you can't actually get someone Colin Firth for Christmas.  Although if any of you can actually gift Colin Firth, I would like to remind you that I've just gone through a very traumatic time in my life and Mr. Darcy would definitely make me feel better.  (The only time I would ever play the cancer card would be for my very own Colin Firth.)  Anyway, even though you can't actually give Colin, you can give Colin Firth movies!  "Love Actually" is one of the best Christmas movies around, and a must-see every holiday season.  A perfect stocking stuffer!  As a 30-year-old single, I personally love "Bridget Jones' Diary" during the holidays, or anytime really.  And, unashamedly revealing even MORE dorkiness in this post, my very favorite Colin Firth movie is the A&E miniseries version of "Pride & Prejudice," where Colin plays another, and my favorite, Mr. Darcy.  

And as a Christmas present to you, I will leave you with this:

Merry Christmas!

Pity Party--reservations for one please

I'm feeling sorry for myself this morning.  I'm tired of pain; I'm tired of waking up a million times in the middle of the night because I rolled over on my side or stomach; I'm tired of wearing pajamas; I'm tired of being tired all of the time.  I'm sad that I have to miss Christmas parties and sad that my body looks weird and I can't wear something cute.


I need to stop looking at Facebook because I see all these people in their fun sparkly dresses and I get sad because I can't do that this year.  Even if I went somewhere for a little while, I wouldn't be comfortable because right now, my body doesn't look or feel good to me. 


I'm sad because my best friend had to send picture texts of her trying on different wedding dresses to get my opinion.  I'm the maid of honor, and I should be there.  


I'm sad because I'm not working out and feel like I'm getting really out of shape.  (Ok, this one I can actually do something about, since I have a treadmill in my house.  I did walk on it the other day, but haven't been able to roust up enough energy to get back up there.)  I also need to start eating better, but it's so cold outside and my mom is such a good cook...haha, I have lots of excuses for why I should be able to eat comfort food and/or cookies every three hours.    


Everyone keeps telling me that I have such a good attitude about this whole situation, and for the most part, I do.  I wanted to be honest with all of you out there though, who seemed amazed at my positive attitude and strength.  Ok, here's the truth:  I don't feel that way all of the time.  I'm weak, and occasionally, like this morning, I start feeling blue.  Usually it doesn't last too long, and I have ways of pulling myself out of the blue hole.  I already feel better after writing it all down.  I do pray about my attitude, and honestly, I feel silly praying about wearing sparkly dresses, and that kind of embarrassed, silly feeling of not wanting to bother God who is dealing with REAL issues sometimes knocks me out of my funk.  I get a little perspective then.  


Another way to make myself feel better, especially on Monday mornings, is to remember what I'm doing on normal Monday mornings--going to felony court.  Almost anything is better than going to circuit court on Monday morning.  


Thanks for letting me vent.  I feel better already.  

Cure for your sleepless nights...

So on Tuesday, I got the first set of drains removed.  It was also time to stop taking my anti-inflammatory pills, which the Dr. described as heavy-duty Tylenol.  Dr. Stacey warned that I may feel some discomfort and my still-embedded drains may produce more for a little while since they removed the first set.  I didn't really listen to him; I was more concerned with the lightness I felt from having a set of liquid-filled grenades removed from my sides.  Well, I certainly remembered those words from him later that night when I began swelling up like a toad frog.  Per instructions, I've been wearing this very sexy white cotton bra from Wal-Mart ($6.00) that snaps six times in the front.  (Six times!)  They told us to get one or two sizes bigger because I would be a little swollen.  I'm normally around a 33, so Mom got a 36.  Well, by Tuesday night, every snap had come undone except for the top one, which was barely holding on, and straining with all its might.  This was not an "oh my gosh, that girl's boobs are so big" kind of swelling.  This swelling and straining was more like this:

I was puffy.  All over.  I don't really have much fullness, so it was more like hard expanders completely surrounded by swollen flesh.  It looked weird and felt even weirder.  I decided to go to bed, and propped my head up on pillows with a tea towel on my chest and two big bags of frozen peas.  One for each side.  Thank goodness for frozen peas.  I left them on for a while, and when finished, just put them in my pink barf bucket that's still at the side of bed from when I first got home.  I then slept better than I have for a long time.  If you're having insomnia problems, perhaps you should try peas on your chest.  Forget Ambien, Great Value frozen peas are cheaper, and they won't make you sleepwalk, sleepshop, or sleepdrive.  And I guess you could even eat them the next day, although I don't really suggest going that far.  Thankfully, the next morning, I woke up with a normal (my new normal) body minus the swelling.  I guess my body adjusted, and my beautiful bra fits once again.  

Great News!

And we all need some of that!  I forgot to mention that Dr. Cross called the day after surgery and said that pathology came back and everything was cancer-free!  That means no chemo and no more worries.  He also said that there were lots of fibroadenomas in my tissue, so if I hadn't had this procedure, I would definitely be going back for MRIs and biopsies every six months.  So the surgery was definitely a good choice.  Although I never had any serious doubts about my decision to have the surgery, I really appreciated hearing this from Dr. Cross, especially when I was sitting there wrapped in gauze and unable to move without pain and questioning my sanity.  

One Week Today

It's been one week since I had the surgery, and I feel great.  I know I need to update everyone on this last week, and sorry it's taken me so long.  I'm going to be pretty detailed, so if you don't want to read a lot, skip the rest and just know that I'm doing really well.


On the morning of surgery, I got to the hospital at 5 am.  I was immediately put into a small pre-op room with a nurse who did all of my initial stuff like drawing blood, hooking me up to an IV and asking me every question under the sun, several times.  I brought these very cute knitted knee-high socks to wear, but she informed me that if I "wasn't born with it," I couldn't wear it.  I was not happy to hear this...anyway, I then had about 30 minutes to hang out with my family who all showed up super early to see me before the surgery.  They also brought great fun gifts, so it was like Christmas morning, only instead of wearing fun pjs, I was in my birthday suit under a hospital gown and three blankets!  About 6:30, I had to say goodbye and the nurse wheeled me back to the holding room.  I met a million nurses and they asked me a million questions.  I saw my Drs and Dr. Cross prayed over me.  The fact that my surgeon prayed over me before the surgery made me feel sooooo much better.  I was very scared, and knowing that I had a surgeon whose hands were being guided by Someone bigger than all of us made me a lot calmer.  My friends Katie and Tasha, both nurses, came by to see me, and that also made me feel better.  Ok, so then someone hooked me up to something or gave me a pill or knocked me in the head, because I don't remember anything else until I was in my room.  


Once I was in the room, I had to ask three times for someone to get my mom.  Nurse Destiny kept saying that someone else should have done that, and that wasn't her job, but she would ask.  Finally, another nurse came in and asked if I had someone outside waiting for me.  I said yes, a lot of people, and said that I had asked several times.  This nurse acted very perturbed with Destiny and immediately got my family.  I had been out of recovery for an hour, and they had no idea what was going on with me.  (Thankfully, I had wonderful, amazing nurses after Destiny went off shift.  For more Destiny stories, ask my Aunt Renee.  She had to put the fear in Destiny, and if you know Aunt Renee, you know that is very scary, haha!)  


The Doctors said the surgery took less than two hours and they were very pleased.  I was on a lot of meds, so would try to stay awake and say hi to all my visitors when they came in and then I would fall back asleep.  Dr. Cross came in the next morning and said everything looked great and I could go home whenever I felt like it.  So, I went home on Wednesday, pretty sore and very incoherent, but pleased with the surgery.  I also had four drains, which look like clear grenades attached to tubes that come out of my sides.  Weird.  And very uncomfortable.  My mom was taught how to empty them, and was supposed to empty them several times a day.  Thank goodness for Mom, because I don't know what I would do without her.  These things are not easy.


I spent the next two days sleeping.  I apparently watched movies and talked to people, but I don't remember.  My pain pills made me VERY nauseous, so I just tried to sleep after I took one.  They also made my pupils dilate to the point I looked like an alien.  I tried to stop taking them a couple of days after surgery, and haven't had one since Friday morning at 5 am.  I feel sooo much better now that I'm not taking those pills.  And thankfully I haven't had too much pain.


Yesterday, I went back to Dr. Stacey and he removed one set of drains.  Thank goodness.  I hate these things.  The other set will probably come out next week, and I will be sooooo happy.  


Today was a momentous day for not just me, but everyone who lives with me and who visits me.  I got to take a shower!!!!  It was kind of tough, and I got pretty dizzy, but it felt soooo good to finally feel clean.  I will probably take a nap this afternoon, because actually doing something like showering wears me out.  


Overall, I'm very pleased with how things are going.  I feel so much better than I thought I would, and the pain is much less than I thought it would be.  I'm enjoying this time with family and really enjoying wearing pajamas every day.  It feels like college break!  Thanks everyone for checking on me.  I love the texts and visits and  emails and calls!  

I survived!

Well, it's the day after surgery and I'm at home already. The surgery took about 2 hours and the sugeons were really pleased. I haven't had too much pain, probably because I have no qualms about asking for pills! The drains are the worst part of this...I have four and they look like clear grenades attached to some tubes. And they hurt. My mom has to empty them several times a day and I'm so thankful that she isn't squeamish. I'll have one set of drains until next week and the others will come out the following week.

Thanks to everyone who called and texted or visited me in the hospital! I appreciate y'all so much. And sorry that I couldn't stay awake to talk too much. I can stay awake for just a little while and then I cannot keep my eyes open.

I'll update more when I get my computer back. It's at the shop :)

Tomorrow, Tomorrow

Well, tomorrow is the big day!  I'm nervous, but have spent the last couple of hours at dinner with some of my amazing family and am in a really good place right now.  Thanks, Mom, Aunt Pam, Aunt Renee, Russell, Liz, Eric, Paige, Sarah and Zac for having dinner with me and making me laugh.  I am happy that I introduced you to guava mojitos and thankful that Sarah can eat almost as much guacamole as I can.  


Mom brought her cat up here today because she is planning on staying for several weeks.  To say that this cat is high-strung would be an understatement.  He's half-Siamese, a little cross-eyed, and very vocal about his displeasure of moving.  He hid under the couch for the first few hours that he was here, and has now made his way underneath the tree skirt of the Christmas tree.  This would normally not be a problem except that my tree is precariously perched atop a box to make it taller.  I keep expecting to hear a giant crash and a cat wailing.  I guess we made him this way when we named him Testes Kensington Lancaster.  Any cat with a name like that is almost guaranteed to have anxiety problems.  (He was given this unique moniker because he was born completely white and within a couple of months had developed very large, very black male cat parts.  And his wayward roaming father belonged to the neighboring Lancasters.  And every proper cat needs a distinguished middle name like Kensington.)  For the record, his name at the vet's office is Boo Radley and Mom only calls him Boo.   (He got the name Boo Radley because he looked just like Boo Radley in the movie "To Kill a Mockingbird."  Do you remember when Robert Duvall came out from behind the door?  He had those crazy eyes and was so pale?  That's exactly what this cat looks like all the time.)  


Enough about the cat.  I realized tonight that I hadn't really given too many details about the actual procedure.  What they will do tomorrow is make a couple of incisions and remove most of my breast tissue.  They cannot get all of the breast tissue, but they will get most of it.  They are doing the nipple saving technique, for which I'm very thankful.  They will put in expanders at the time of the surgery with a little saline injected, so I won't be totally without fullness.  They also put in a "mesh" piece that will become part of my body within a few months.  I will have two sets of drains, which will look like bulbs at the end of tubes.  These drains will be safety-pinned to my Ace bandage, and have to be emptied two times a day.  Thank goodness my mom isn't squeamish!  I will have one set of drains removed on December 6th, and the others removed the next week.  I can't shower for a long time.  This bothers me.  I did buy some dry shampoo so maybe I won't look too much like a greaser.  Maybe I should start growing some dreadlocks.  Anyway, every 7-10 days I will go back to see Dr. Stacey and he will inject more saline into my expanders.  Eventually, in about three to four months, I will have another surgery to get the final implants and to make sure every looks like it should.  I'm choosing to look at this surgery like a really long boob job.  I'm blessed to have doctors who are concerned with saving my life AND making sure that I look good when I live it.  Vain?  Probably.  But I've spent the last year feeling really bad about myself and my body, and I don't want to do that anymore.  It may be vain but I'm excited to look good.  So, tomorrow begins my long process of healing, both mentally and physically.  


I have so many people to thank and I'm afraid that I'll forget someone.  Mostly, I want to thank everyone who has been so kind and supportive.  Your kind words and actions mean sooooo much to me.  Also, thanks to Maxilea, Pam, and Paige for the awesome blanket, books, pj pants, jackets and warmer.  My brother couldn't be marrying into a better family!  Thanks to Renee for the card--I love mail and I love gift cards and I'm going to buy something fun and wear it in Charleston.  Thanks to Jean Mallett for the basket of fun goodies!  Thanks to Sam's Club (not the store) for the friendship and the awesome banana bread.  Thanks to cousin Katie for the furry footies and book.  Most of all, thanks to everyone who has texted or called with kind thoughts and promises of prayers.  I'm so blessed.


Ok, I'll update when I'm out of a drug-induced haze!  Talk to you all very soon!

Pre-Op

On Wednesday, Mom and I went to all of my pre-op appointments.  First, we hit the hospital where they make you talk to the money people, of course, before you see any nurses.  My nurse was kind of old, and was not in a good mood.  I don't know about you, but hospitals make me nervous.  A nurse with a surly attitude does not help matters at all.  Mom and I were determined that we would talk to her until she decided to be nice to us, and it took us an hour and a half, but we finally succeeded in getting her to smile.  What I learned from the hospital pre-op:  you can't take fish oil pills before a surgery.  Who knew?

My second appointment was with Dr. Stacey, the plastic surgeon.  He's very young (31ish!) and has a cute little nurse named Amy.  They are both very nice and helpful, and they always make me feel like everything is going to be ok.  Amy is also very open and informal about what may happen; for example, I shouldn't freak out if I wake up and things look really, really crazy.  Apparently, that will get better.  One thing that was a little...well, unsettling, was that while Dr. Stacey talked to me, he had a picture of my naked chest up on his laptop.  I had a hard time answering his questions because I just wanted to reach over and close the screen!  (I had another uncomfortable moment the last time I was there, when he handed me a silicone implant for one hand and a saline for the other.  It makes it a little difficult to stay serious and not laugh when you're holding boob implants in each hand!)  What I learned from pre-op with Stacey:  I may never have to wear an underwire bra again.  (I learned lots of other disturbing things, but I'm choosing to focus on the positive)

My third appointment of the day was with Dr. Cross.  Dr. Cross is amazing.  If any of you ever need a surgical oncologist, and I pray that you don't, please go to him.  I cannot say enough good things about him.  Anyway, this appointment was very short; he drew on me with a purple pen, wrote me prescription for a Z pack because I have a cold, and then let me leave.  What I learned from the third pre-op:  I won't ever have to have another mammogram!  Yay!!!!!  No more evil machine!

A lot of people have asked if I'm getting nervous.  YES.  Yes, I am. Extremely.  I have total faith in my doctors and I know that everything will turn out ok, but I'm still really anxious.  I'm more nervous about the pain, and getting sick from anesthesia.  I'm also starting to freak out a little about not being able to do anything for a month.  I have known about that, of course, but the actual reality of not being able to bathe myself or fix my own hair finally hit me.  I'm very independent, and having to rely on other people soooo much kind of bothers me.  I'm blessed to have a great mom who is taking off work to take care of me, and wonderful friends who have promised to come over for movie nights.  

I'm going to consider this my Hugh Hefner period because I will be wearing pajamas for a month and will be doing lots of worrying and talking about breasts.  It's worked for him for about 80 years, so I guess I can do it for a month!

Gobble, Gobble

As always, today's theme is breasts.  However, since this is a special Thanksgiving edition, I'm going to talk about my favorite kind of breasts...turkey!  Mom's in the kitchen right now whipping up a massive Thanksgiving feast, including a glorious-looking turkey that could rival one of Martha Stewart's birds.  I'm not really going to spend any time writing about actual turkey breasts, but rather something that I'm very thankful for every day, especially holidays.

I have a lot to be thankful for today, and could spend all day writing about all the blessings in my life.  I think, though, that today I'm going to focus on cooking.  A weird topic, you say?  Well, it's a general topic that has a lot of meaning to me.  In case you don't know, my family is full of great cooks.  Amazing cooks.  Male and female, every person in my family can cook.  We all learned how to cook, either directly or indirectly, from my Nannie Jean.  Nannie was one of those unique ladies who could do anything well.  I could, and probably will in the future, devote an entire post to Nannie, but today I want to focus on the cooking legacy that she left to her family.

Nannie was a fantastic cook, and her recipes have been featured in a couple nationally-published cookbooks.  The thing about Nannie though, was that she didn't actually measure anything.  Ever.  (Her recipes in those cookbooks were the first time any of us actually had a general measurement idea for her peach cobbler.)  She passed down her recipes to her daughters and son by showing them how to make things, rather than have them follow a recipe.  They learned at a very early age how to cook these amazing dishes, and did it by watching Nannie.  They, in turn, passed it down to their daughters and sons the same way.  Nannie had a wooden spoon that she used all the time, and I guarantee you that if you said, "one scoop in the wooden spoon," everyone of us would know exactly how much of that ingredient we would need.  

My family is very creative, and I think their artistic leanings make them even better cooks.  Cooking, especially without recipes, requires a little bit of creativity and flexibility.  Also, we all call each other all the time to get advice and help remembering things.  My mom and her sisters have been on the phone with each other several times this morning exchanging advice and tips about Thanksgiving dishes.  So, today, I'm thankful for the cooking legacy left to my family by my Nannie, and the closeness that we all share as a family, also left to us by my Nannie.  She loved all of us very much, and she never seemed happier than when her entire family was sitting at the table(s) eating a big meal that she had cooked with so much love.  

Happy Thanksgiving!!!

Men are from Mars

It's been a couple of weeks since I've written, mainly because I've been doing a lot of writing for work and haven't felt like doing it when I come home.  I've had several people send me emails or texts about the blog, and it really feels great to know that my friends and family are reading it.  I've had some comments about how it's apparently difficult to "follow" or comment.  I have no idea how to fix that.  Sorry.  Thanks for everyone who is reading and sending me messages or emails in response.  If I figure out how to make it easy to comment, I'll let you know.  Also, the screen apparently is really big or really small depending on the computer that you're using.  I don't know how to fix that either.  Sorry again!  Finally, someone commented that my blog subjects aren't cohesive and I kind of skip around from topic to topic.  To that, I say sorry, but I'm using this blog not only to keep people informed, but also to get some of these crazy thoughts out of my head.  So yes, I may write about cancer on one post and knitting on another; I'm not trying to be published.  Yet.

On to the real stuff...

Many people, mostly women, have asked what made me initially go see a doctor and how I knew that this was something other than just a hormone-induced cyst.  Basically, I found a lump that was really close to the skin.  It felt different.  I can't explain it much better.  I know that people would like to know exactly what made it feel different, but I can't really explain.  I just urge you to see a doctor if you find anything  Just in case.

My surgery is in a couple of weeks and I'm getting really nervous.  I'm also getting a little overwhelmed with trying to get all of my work stuff taken care of for this month and next month.  Thankfully, I have some really great people at my office who help me and haven't even made me feel badly for piling a lot of extra work on them.

It's interesting how different people have reacted when they found out about all of this.  Generally, the women have reacted with total support of any and all of my decisions and have asked questions about how and when.  They never questioned my need for secrecy at first and even if they didn't, they acted like they understood.  The males in the group have all reacted differently.  Some guys got that scared, glazed over look that some guys get when they hear something that's uniquely female.  They just mumbled, "just let me know if you need anything," and would occasionally ask if I'm ok, with their fear that I would answer with details about my breasts written all over their faces.  (I always wanted to say the word "nipple" to these guys, just to see them turn bright red and squirm.)  Others very vocally offered their opinion about how I should handle things, including how I should tell everyone I know.  These guys did not understand that I needed to keep this information among a small group of people, and had no problem telling me that I was wrong to do that.  I just found it very interesting that men and women reacted so differently.  I always wanted to ask the males who had such strong opinions that if the situation was reversed, and they were having biopsies and tests run on, let's say their testicles, if they would want the world to know.  "Oh hey, sorry I'm a little quiet today, I just had a giant needle attached to a vacuum cleaner suck tissue out of my testicles."  Or "I need that court date moved because I'm going to spend the morning standing in a room with five strangers while one of them smashes my manbits in between two pieces of plastic and takes pictures."

Speaking of, I've always heard female members of my family say that a man must have invented mammogram machines, because no woman would ever invent something so painful.  Seriously, why hasn't that thing been outlawed yet?

In my quest to become an 80 year-old,

I've decided that I need to learn how to crochet.  Or knit.  Whichever is easier.  Can anyone help me?  I have this dream of sitting in front of my fireplace knitting (or crocheting) while my cat sleeps on the back of the couch.  No, I do not have a cat, but I will have one while my mom nurses me back to health.  (I will dedicate a later post to "Kitten" even though I know at least two people reading this blog hate cats with a passion)  Anywho, I need to learn the knitting/crocheting skill.  Please help.  (I just quickly re-read this paragraph and I'm pretty sure that my friends may think this is a cry for help for something other than learning to knit.  That's kind of a nerdy dream.)


Also, in my quest to become an 80 year-old, I'm now the proud new owner of an Arkansas Razorback Snuggie!


Ok, I tried to find a google image for a Razorback Snuggie and when I typed it in google images, an add for a back razor popped up.  Needless to say, I abandoned my search.  In exchange, here's a picture of Boo, the cutest dog in the world:

Look him up on facebook. 

Rhonda Biggerstaff

Today's post is about my wonderful friend Erin, aka Rhonda Biggerstaff.  She's one of my very best friends who has recently moved far, far away to someplace in Texas, and I miss her dearly.  


Tonight, I had to make a very difficult call to Erin.  She's getting married in Beeville, TX, the weekend before my surgery and I'm supposed to be a bridesmaid.  I was so honored that she asked me, and so excited to spend a weekend with my girlfriends celebrating Erin and Micah.  Unfortunately, due to both financial reasons and my surgery, I can't go to Texas.  I've been so upset the last couple of days when I found out, and I've made myself sick over having to disappoint Erin.  So, I called Erin this evening and told her the issues and that I couldn't come to her wedding.  I cannot express in words just how horrible I feel about this situation.  Showing extreme grace and kindness, Erin did not hesitate in telling me that she was not upset and that she understood.  She also said that she was worried about me taking on too many responsibilities and trying to do everything I possibly could do myself.  Instead of being upset with me, she was concerned about my well-being.  I could not ask for a better, more gracious friend.  


This situation has been so difficult for so many reasons, and seems to get more difficult as the surgery date draws closer.  I am so blessed to have such wonderful, caring friends.  I only hope that I can be as good of a friend to them as they are to me.  


Enough of the sadness, I promise the next post will be humorous.  And in case you were wondering, Erin got the name Rhonda Biggerstaff when she got caught by her high school principal doing something she shouldn't, and he asked her name.  She immediately popped out, "Rhonda Biggerstaff" and Rhonda she has been ever since.  

There's a place in France...

(I'm not going to finish that rhyme...and I didn't see any pantless women.  Topless, yes.  And for all you women over 50 that are reading this, women in France of the same age have no problem baring all for the world to see.  Just think of all the extra Vitamin D!)

Many people have expressed concern for how I handled everything last fall.  I don't want you to think it was all terrible...Along with having a lymph node removed last fall, I also went here:

So not all was bad :)  

Roller Coasters

I've had a lot of people ask me why I didn't tell more people last year when I found out about the cancer.  The simple answer is that I didn't want people to worry.  The better answer is that I didn't want people to worry, and I was an emotional wreck.  I was on the verge of tears pretty much all the time, and I was so very tired, both mentally and physically.  My body was dealing with all the pokes and prods of constant doctors appointments, biopsies, and surgeries.  My mind was constantly racing with what ifs and fear.  I was also trying to work as much as possible because I didn't know how many days I would have to miss in the future.  So, the mental stress and physical exhaustion combined to make me a ball of nerves and tears.  Every time someone said something nice to me, I would smile, say thank you, and then cry as soon as I was alone.  I gave my family and closest friends strict orders not to tell anyone, until I was emotionally stable enough to deal with people approaching me with concern.  (By the way, not that I would ever encourage anyone to use a cancer diagnosis as a test of friendship, but I quickly found out who I could trust by asking people not to say anything.  I'm still upset about a person who told other people (acquaintances) who then approached me at a tailgate less than a week after my diagnosis.  I cried for several hours that day.)   I know that it may not make sense to anyone reading this, but it was what I needed to do to be ok.  I have a lot of amazing friends, many of whom didn't know about this until very recently.  My keeping it quiet has nothing to do with who I value or how deep our friendship.  I value you all of you very much and I consider you all wonderful friends.  Some of you live far away and we get to hang out or talk so infrequently that I didn't want to make our conversations about me and my issues.  Plus, I kept hoping that it would all go away, and then no one would have to worry about me.  It didn't go away, and I realized that I'm ok now.  I can handle talking about it.  Obviously :)

All that said, I'm still pretty emotional.  I have occasional breakdowns, usually over stupid things, like songs on the radio or cheesy tv shows.  And I'm pretty sure that I'll have more as it gets closer to my surgery.  So please continue to be patient with me, and thank you for understanding when I'm too tired to hang out or just acting weird.  I'm getting nervous and overwhelmed, but every kind word from you all makes it all just a little bit better.  

I'm a (Diet)Cokehead

My name is Alison, and I have an addiction.  I crave it everyday, and have only gone about a week without  it.  What is it, you ask?  It's evil and wonderful and bad for you and so good on your tastebuds.  It's...Diet Coke.  I love Diet Coke.  I want to drink it every single day.  I do drink it almost every single day.  If I don't have a Diet Coke in the morning, by the afternoon I am craving it so badly that I will spend as much time as it takes to justify in my mind why it's ok if I drink just one.  I always promise myself that I will stop drinking it tomorrow if I can just have one today.  But I am declaring here on my blog that today is the last day that I will drink Diet Coke!  I am counting on you to hold me accountable.  Public shaming is totally acceptable.

You may be wondering why I'm so concerned about Diet Coke.  It's not like I'm an alcoholic or use drugs, and as far as vices go, it's seems pretty harmless.  (I tell myself this every day when trying to justify an afternoon fix.)  Well, when I asked my doctor if he had any advice about how to alter my eating habits, he had two things to say.  One, model your diet after those cultures who seem to live the longest, namely Mediterranean cultures.  Lots of veggies, olive oil and fish.  Two, stop drinking Diet Coke.  It affects your nerves in the same way as certain nerve diseases.  He said he had been doing lots of research about it because he loved Diet Coke too, and had realized that it was one of the worst things you could put in your body.  Plus, I've read lots of articles about how the chemicals in Diet Coke actually preserve your fat cells.  Who wants to preserve their fat cells??  Not this girl.  I don't do Brazilian Booty Lift workouts just to have my fat cells preserved behind a Diet Coke forcefield!  So, since then, I've tried my hardest to quit.  And I can't.  It made me realize just how addicted I was/am.  I need your help with this addiction!  I wonder if there's room for me with Lindsey in the Betty Ford clinic.    

Go Ahead, Feel em'

One of my very favorite episodes from one of my very favorite shows!!!

Jolene, Jolene

The two questions I've gotten most from people after reading this blog are:
1)  What can I do to help?
2)  How big are you going?

As to the first question, my first reaction is usually to say, "Nothing, but thanks for asking."  I started thinking about it, and there are several things that I could use.  Since I'm in the mood for lists tonight, here they are, in no particular order.

1)  Book and Movie Recommendations.  I will be home for a very long time, and would like to hear from you regarding books or movies that you love.  Keep in mind that I will be reading/watching in a drug-induced haze, so keep the reading material light and the movies non-psychedelic as I will be adding the hallucinations and swirling colors on my own thanks to some strong pain meds.  I love Southern Lit and English period pieces, so generally you can't go wrong 
with any of those suggestions.  Please do not suggest that I read "The Secret" or "The Promise."  If you insist on me reading a book of this nature, please drop off a book by L. Ron Hubbard as I've always wondered just what exactly Tom Cruise thinks is going to happen when the aliens return.


2)  Take my Mom out to lunch.  If you are related to me and live in Fayetteville, yes, I'm talking to you, Russell, Liz, Sarah, Eric and Paige, please rescue my mother for at least an hour every now and then and take her to lunch or a movie.  I'm sure that she will never complain about taking care of me, but that she will probably need to escape the house, especially if I'm giving her newly-learned facts about Scientology and/or watching "The Wizard of Oz" on repeat.


3)  Pray for me, please.  And my family.  I need these most of all.  I have the most ferocious prayer warrior in Heaven right now, my great-grandma Grace, who is probably following Jesus around right now reminding Him that I'm her granddaughter and her granddaughter is special and needs special looking after down here.  However, I'm sure she would appreciate some help from all of you in the prayer department.  (She was also the self-proclaimed "prettiest woman in the county" but that's a story for another day.)  My friend Renee, a newly minted Catholic, told me that she would throw a Hail Mary out there for me with her new Catholic powers.  So, whether you be Baptist, Methodist, Catholic, Pentecostal, or simply spiritual, whether you are a silent prayer, a shouter, or a snake-handler, please send up a prayer for me.  (And if any of you really are snake-handlers, let's talk.)




Ok, as to the second question about sizes...I'll just leave you with the following image:

I think this picture speaks for itself.  :)

You Light Up My Life

"Your breasts light up.”

Having chosen a career in the legal profession, and never having danced as a Vegas showgirl, I never thought to hear those words in reference to my girls.  Unfortunately, those words from my radiologist didn’t mean that I was headed straight for an interview with Oprah or for a stint on “America’s Got Talent.”  (C’mon, you know light-up breasts could totally beat a nine-year-old opera prodigy!)  No, my light-up breasts meant something completely different, something not nearly as exciting or fun.  My light-up breasts meant that it was finally time for me to make a difficult decision regarding cancer treatment.  While dealing with this issue for a year now, my light-up breasts were the smack in the face, if you will, that I needed to have in order to make a life-changing decision.  The decision to have a double mastectomy and reconstruction.

I know many of you already know the history, but if you don’t, here it is in a shortened version:

In the fall of 2009, I found a lump, had a biopsy, and received results that indicated the presence of atypical cells.  On the advice of my doctor, I had the remaining lump tissue removed, and a few days later was the (un)proud new owner of a cancer diagnosis.  DCIS, or Ductal Carcinoma In Situ, to be exact.  Around a month later, I had another surgery to remove two lumps from the other breast, a re-excision of the intial removal site, and a sentinel node biopsy (basically just a removal of a lymph node from under my left arm).  Thankfully, all those tests came back negative for cancerous cells.  Since then, I’ve been going through test after test and meeting with doctor after doctor to determine what I should do, and what plan to follow.

 I’m 30 years old with no history of breast cancer in my family.  I tested negative for the breast cancer gene.  I’m in pretty good shape and except for all of the chips and guacamole I eat, I don’t put bad things in my body.  However, my tests keep showing lots of “white spots,” which I’ve learned means bad things on a MRI film.  So, I have several options: one includes a drug with serious side effects (more on that in a later post); another includes not doing anything and just hoping I don’t get it again, despite the warning signs in my MRI films; and another is major surgery to remove all my breast tissue so my chances of getting cancer again are very small.  I was going with the “let’s just wait it out” option for a while, and hoping that all that gym time and all those vegetables and vitamins would conquer any bad cells floating around in there, but the phrase, “Your breasts light up” changed my outlook.  My glowing knockers knocked me in the head and made me realize that I cannot sit around and hope that I don’t get it again.  I need to do something!  So, with the support of my wonderful family and friends, and on the advice of some amazing doctors, and a whole lot of prayers, I’ve made the decision to have this surgery on November 30, 2010.  

So now, after November 30, the only way my breasts will light up is if Victoria’s Secret comes out with a glow-in-the-dark bra.