Please, poop at Walmart.

So I didn't post last night. I can't really remember why, I think I was just tired. I also was told that my neighbor Helen was being moved into hospice yesterday afternoon, and that made me sad. More on this later. Today, off we went to Phx for my f/u appt for my surgery last week. The drains were taken out, thank God, and it didn't really hurt that much at all. Then the unveiling of the new, temporary looking Dina. Wow. The first thing I said was 'what is that?' pointing to the middle of my chest as it looked like something raised and protruding. 'That's your sternum Dina, your breast bone'. Oh. Wow. I hadn't realized how much space the expanders had taken up, how much shape they actually had given me, until there was nothing. On one hand, I am the most comfortable I've been in months; on the other hand, I look so deformed, it's almost surreal. I was in awe actually there in the examination room. Looking, inspecting, asking questions "ew - what is that? why does this look like that? will this go away? what happened on this side?" Then, once the doctor had left, I just stood there in the mirror, taking it all in. I was prepared for this, but it still took me by surprise. I stay on the antibiotics one more week, and go back on thurs of next week. When we got in the car to leave, I called my mom, Nancy, Jennifer. Each time I told them, I cried. It was like it was actually registering with me the more I had to verbally explain the experience. I hate that I was crying about this, I mean, I thought I had already crossed this 'tits don't define you' bullshit. I thought I had this handled. In between phone calls my husband tells me to put the phone down and listen to him. He tells me that he loves me no matter what. That he sees me, and me alone. He doesn't see the surgery, he sees me. He continues to say the most amazing things to me - and I think to myself, how blessed am I to have this man by my side. There is no way I could, or would have, made it through this without him. And everything I was fearing, from an intimate standpoint, from an insecurity standpoint, he addressed to me, without falter, without me having to say a word. He knew how I felt, and reassured me before I had a chance to fully grasp it myself. Amazing. I was home for a bit, got the kids settled and headed out again. I wanted to go and visit Helen in hospice. It was such a wonderful yet draining experience. When I saw her, I was a bit taken back. Even though I had just seen her on Sat, she looked so much worse than that - I was amazed how quickly we can change when this disease has taken hold. Got over that rather quickly and gave her a picture of my girls. She smiled real big and called them precious. I put the picture on the table right in front of her bed so she could see it. She seemed to really enjoy it. We talked, she faded in and out. It took her time to form sentences to me, but we talked about silly things, like their hot water heater flooding their house. We held hands, and I told her that I loved her and was so proud to know her. I told her how proud I was of her for being so strong and fighting this thing. I asked her if I could pray with her, and she said yes. We held our hands together, bowed our heads and I thanked God for her - I thanked him for my wonderful friend and to fill her with peace, and light, and joy, and happiness. She and I had spoken about this disease. I know she did not want to die, I know she felt she had so much living to do. It broke my heart knowing she couldn't do the things she wanted to do. That in just a couple months time she went from bringing me chicken fried rice to lying in a hospice facility clinging to life. It happened so fast. But as I sat with her today, I was filled with such joy. That I had the opportunity to spend this time with her, knowing that her time is near, I was able to say the things to her that I think she needed to hear, and I definitely wanted to make sure I said to her. How many people get that chance? How many people get to KNOW they are dying and pretty much the moment it is going to happen. I felt blessed to be able to make her smile, bring her joy, peace and laughter today. I wish it could be this way for everyone. I'm going back on thurs to see if, hoping she makes it that long. So I've decided to do something a bit daring. In Oct after my surgery, PJ had asked me if I wanted to post any pictures of what I looked like and was adamant about not doing this. I felt that it was way too personal. I understood the temptation to document this, but I just couldn't. I'm not sure what has changed my mind about this now, but I just can't find the words to describe what this looks like. This seems like the only way. I also feel compelled to show everyone of what we are capable of a handling when we are called to do so. Amazing. I don't want anyone to see something they are uncomfortable with, therefore this has been put into a video format. This way, you can click on it if you want to see it, wait like 1 minute, then the photo will appear. If you don't think you can handle it, then don't click on the link. Simple as that. It is graphic, so please, think about it before you decide to look. I don't want this forced onto anyone, which is why I put it in this format. I just felt compelled to share this. I've shared everything else here in this blog, the good, the bad, now this. My doc says for me to remember that this is just the beginning, not the end. I think I need to write that down on my bathroom mirror so I'm sure to remember it each morning. I'm gonna be like this till the beginning of April, so I think I'll need lots of reminders. But, I am cancer free - which makes all of this worth it. I need to remember that too. Off to Sedona tomorrow for my monthly calcium infusion. God Bless -