Ignore Me Like You Mean It

Tonight The Boy cuddled with me while watching Coco. After sleeping from 7pm to 7am with Daddy. I got tons of cuddles, kisses and fist bumps, and Boy and Daddy get to cuddle at night. Sweet guys. And yes. Because this is a public blog The Boy’s face will not be published.  That’s sad for y’all because this child is the most gorgeous boy in the world. Smart, kind, funny, thoughtful, and sweet. So sad. Anywho.  Today I have an itch on my left side under my arm, where I have no feeling. But when I scratch there, I can’t feel it. Because it’s numb. But it itches. And I can feel it. Wut? So... that makes no sense. Surgical compression bras SUCK. Let me repeat. They SUCK. My psoriasis itches under them, everything is compressed and I really want to rip this Saran Wrap and tape OFF my flat flat man chest. Currently my expanders feel like bricks. Not because they are heavy, but because I am pretty sure they’re actually plastic inside me and I can feel them when I scratch my ch...

August 23 came and went.  I had my stuffing taken out around 7am and tissue expanders put in. I’m super sore. My drain sites are painful. But I’m home. The Boy turned 20 months old and is staying with Mawmaw and Grandpa (he chose the names). I woke up with a surgical bra on, a ton of padding underneath and two drains. Because all pain meds either break me out or make me itch, I’m on Tylenol and a muscle relaxer. It’s not painful- it’s super sore. Almost like someone got done beating each side of my chest with a bag of boulders.  I get to shower tomorrow and I LOVE Dr. Beckenstein for that.  More later. I need a nap. I was going to share my boobs here- but if you’re a woman going through this- you can PM me and I’ll show you the progression. I’ve decided not to share. I’m a Previvor!!! No cancer in these boobs!!! #unBRCAble #previvor

Today has been a super rough day for me. First, aside from Thursday turning out to be Monday's ridiculously ugly sister in terms of all the random crazy that happened,  I lost someone who has been a dear friend of mine for 20 years on Sunday. He died from cancer. Kind of funny in a "haha life is giving us the middle finger" kind of way, isn't it? He started out as a pen pal and became one of my closest and dearest loved ones. On top of my super emotional week (please forgive my excessive use of the word "super". It's apparently made it's way without fail into my vocabulary lately.) I am now plagued with doubts about my 12 year in the making decision to have my prophylactic mastectomy. My doctors all agree that it's the best course. Even the doctors who aren't making money off of me agree. So all in all, being the logical "separate your emotions from your brain" person that I am, I should be fine. But I'm not. You see, no one...