Happy Birthday to me. My boobless birthday.

Happy. Birthday to me. 31 years young. I spent my 30th receiving chemotherapy for my breast cancer. Today my 31st birthday I am laying in my brand new bed in my brand new to me home my husband bought me for Valentine’s Day this year with my recovering accident prone dog, recovering from yet another breast surgery filled with complications. My plastic surgeon was one of the firsts to wish me a “happy” birthday right after she told me the “cultures” they took from my breast cavity last week were positive for staph infection. First gift of the day, an oral antibiotic for the next 10 days.

The last year has been the most humbling, exhausting, joyful, stressful, peace filled moments I could ever imagine a human experiencing. I have endured chemotherapy, a double mastectomy, radiation therapy, 5 other surgeries, hormone therapy, 45 days of IV and oral antibiotics, 2 hospital stays, and a shit ton of naps. I have also made a million memories, experienced true gratitude, been blessed beyond measure, and survived cancer. It's been hard for me to write most recently and I know the blog has been quiet. In all honesty this is for two major reasons. Reason one being life got hard. So hard. And second, I think there will be people who may not agree with what I have to say, and sometimes that scares me. But today being the start of my next loop around the moon, that I am SO thankful to be here on earth for, I figure its time to stop being scared and buck up. I got shit to say and a story to share.

Let's jump back and do a mini cancer update for those of you who have not been following along. Welcome to the shit show. I was diagnosed with breast cancer in February of 2021. I was 29 years old with a husband, three daughters (10, 6, and 2 at the time of diagnosis), a full time job, volunteer gigs, and an ongoing breast cancer advocate. At the time I had raised just over $20,000 for Susan G Komen in the 5 years I had been fundraising for them. I was a poster child for breast cancer awareness. And I loved my pink bubble friends. I was diagnosed from a biopsy of a 9 cm tumor and a cluster of swollen lymph nodes with stage 3a invasive ductal carcinoma with confirmed metastasis to the lymphondes. I did 16 rounds of chemotherapy, a double mastectomy, and 33 radiation therapies. I traveled through cancer treatments with minor physical set backs and a horrible case of cancer depression. I finally met the finish line on December 23rd winning my battle with breast cancer. And then the shit show started, I am officially giving this phase of my life the “Boobless Show”.

“The boobless show” is the phase I am currently still in, post cancer, and the hardest shit I’ve ever done in my life. It’s been a roller coaster ride of doctors appointments, bad news, a little bit of healing, and a shit ton of medication (and money). It began on January 10th when I was at an oncology follow up with Dr T. I requested that he do a chest wall exam, my first since my mastectomy, because I obviously didn’t know what to look for the first time around so I wanted to be sure I was in the clear. While examining my left side (cancer side) he showed concern with the color and warmth of my skin. He stepped out and gathered a couple of my familiar radiation nurses to check me out. They agreed there was an infection so I was given an oral antibiotic to start. 6 days later Ianded myself in the hospital for 6 days being treated for a mysterious infection in my left breast. For six days I lay in a bed getting four doses of strong antibiotics at four different points during the day. I saw my care team every morning to decide whether that was the day they would remove my left breast expander or that I was making enough progress to continue on. I ended up going home and being on IV antibiotics, which I administered through a PiccLine myself for 13 more days. I was cleared of an infection on February 1. Nine days later all of my symptoms return with great revenge. I had my left breast spacer removed by emergency surgery on a late Thursday night. It was the week of my daughter‘s 12th birthday. 13 years before that on a Thursday night I laid in a hospital bed just scared as I was then. Scared of the new life I was bringing into the world, compared to this time being so afraid that something was going to take me out of this world.

Recovering from that surgery went well but the mental game having only one boob played on my head was strong. I was able to get a prosthetic breast through my insurance company which brought relief for about a week. I felt like a real woman and no one stared as they had been for the last few weeks. Unfortunately upon wearing my prosthetic I developed fluid in my left chest cavity. It now looked like a preteen mini boob as opposed to a deflated one. Then one night during sleep that pocket of fluid bursted re-opening the door to more infections. I had also done some research and discovered information on “breast implant illness”. It was delivered to me in a magazine I do not remember signing up for. A gift from the universe leading me in the direction of healing. So four weeks after my emergency surgery to remove my left spacer and not having any relief from the symptoms I had been feeling for the past four months I had my breast surgeon remove my right expander. At the end of April I had this my most recent surgery which included cleaning out and relaying the skin on my left side and removing the expander and laying skin flat on my right side. Now when I say laying skin flat I mean the doctors goal is to get the skin on the outside to touch the skin on the inside which is practically my chest wall at this point. I have two concave craters in my chest with hills and valleys of skin that I am saving for my reconstructive surgery next winter. So here I am with two almost healed holes in my chest and staph infection. (To be clear I do not look like the women you see showing themselves flat after a mastectomy. I applaud those women to be brave enough to show their scars! I am not there. There are very few people which include my doctor my mother and my best friend who have seen me naked in the last four months. I’m so scared and broken I refuse to let my own husband see me without clothes on. No one deserves to carry that burden.)

I went to make a sidenote here that I very much appreciate and believe my doctors have done everything in their power to give me the best care possible. We are humans and we can only be in control of so much. But my story is true and I can’t paint it differently because I might hurt someone’s feelings. I trust and love each of my doctors but know that our relationship is professional and I can choose to move on at any point in time as can they.

So back to breast implant illness. I have been complaining to my oncologist since the completion of chemo of four main symptoms. Diarrhea, daily headaches, fatigue, and flu like bodyaches on an irregular basis. We looked into each of them both of side effects of my current medication list and based off of the trauma that was currently happening to my body. I had follow up scans tests bloodwork, colonoscopies, you name it! But everything was coming back clear. This is great news except for it left me in the dark with what could be wrong with myself. And then this magazine showed up. It listed all of the symptoms I was currently experiencing. Why had no one said anything about this to me? Why was it not brought to my attention as a possible diagnosis to my problem. I was so angry that had the universe not dropped that magazine in my mailbox I could still be in the dark. I worked up the courage to ask my doctor for the removal of my other implant. He obliged telling me that there wasn’t much research on breast implant illness and not a clear way to give a diagnosis. Desperate for relief I asked him to remove my spacer and capsules, all of the things that lead to breast implant illness and hopes that it would be cure my symptoms. Today I am four weeks post explant and I am happy to report a small amount of progress. My fatigue has improved an immense amount! I have had several skin infections and problems with wound care so I can’t report on the headaches and GI front. The current infection clearing up should improve several other side effects and I am hopeful there is 100% healing for me and my future.

But for now I live the life of a flat woman. This is not the way I wanted to be. This is not the journey I thought I was signing up for! This is not what I knew breast cancer to be. But here we are fighting the good fight. The fight to get my life back after being given a cancer diagnosis did I did nothing to deserve. I have three babies to care for, a husband to love, a career to get back to, and so many adventures left to take. Part of where I am now is taking me somewhere I didn’t know my journey would lead. I originally thought I would share the hard parts of a cancer diagnosis and treatment journey and then continue my blog by sharing experiences over the next few years. Quickly the universe changed that course and led me down a winding and dark road I never saw coming. I contemplated what exactly I was supposed to do with all this pain consuming my life. So I decided it’s time for me to stop hiding my hardships. Time to tell these truths to you raw as they are and as unpleasant as some of it sounds. It just is what it is and unfortunately it’s happening to women silently all over the world! I have endured so much pain and hardship because of my choice to have reconstructive surgery. My breasts were taken away from me because of cancer. Cancer I didn’t ask for, I didn’t determine how bad it was, cancer I fought hard to get rid of! So what now? Spread the word. Share my story! Tell my hardships. Refuse to be silent until the war is won. The fight is still not over. The cure for breast cancer is not found. So regardless of good or bad it’s time for me to get a little bit more honest! I won’t be silent! Xoxo