Jumping the Gun: More Fipple problems

It's almost six o'clock on a Saturday and I've just been able to peel myself off the couch...kinda. I was so excited to finally see my new fipples, which look like they will be great once all these stitches dissolve. This was exactly one week after my surgery. My surgeon removed all of the bandages and instructed me to lubricate all of my wounds.

With bandages...don't they look perky? Relax they'll drop some later, but they are smaller

He used skin from underneath my foob to create the fipple

Here I am all oiled up. Can you imagine wearing a bra over this?

He forewarned me that it would be tricky finding the right bra for now, and for some reason, I didn't quite absorb that until I tried to actually wear one. On one hand I was told not to wear anything that could flatten out my new nipples, like the sports bras and  tanks with built- in bras I've grown to love. Then with my lovely  stitches in the uncomfortable spot underneath my breast, no underwires, or hell, any kind of bra. With my green light to go back to work I surely couldn't show up with my headlights beaming. So day one I wore a cupped Victoria's  Secret bra to allow room for my fipples. Unfortunately my day was filled with anguish. Firstly, I was back to driving and turns and backing out hurt all over. Secondly, that expensive ass bra sucked! It cut right into my sore spots, and it wasn't as supportive as my surgical tube top, so every time I bent down...ouch.
 After work I did what he had suggested in the first place, I got some nipples protector cups; the same ones for breast feeding mothers. i wore those with my go to sports bra and it was a better. However, by the end of the day, I was sore from the nipples protectors. Those things are not meant to be worn for 9 hours! So here I am exhausted from only 3 days of work, and uncomfortable unless I'm laying with pillows propped under my arms. It's surprising and disappointing to me
because week one went so well with the bandages and the tube top. No bra= no support, bra= support but flat nipples, or support but pain to my stitches. So I'm laying here for this reason and because  I'm tired. It I may even be slightly depressed; not at my fipples, because they are awesome, but because I'm not 100% and everyone that knows me, know I hate to slow down. I just have to remember that this is temporary, and by summer I'll be more back to normal. Damn Patience!

After the Storm:Foobs & Fipples

I’m beginning to feel like a pro. Wash all the clothes, clean the house, take out button up and zip up clothes (because I won’t be able to reach over my head), pick up my toddler all day (because I won’t be able to do that again for a few weeks) and prep him for mommy recovery again (he is not happy about it and threatened to punch the doctor’s for giving me boo-boos). Before I take my shower tonight I’ll take one last picture of my foobs before I get my fipples. The way my oncology gyno explained it is that he will pretty much do origami with my scar tissue and create semi erect fipples. In order for them to be even, my surgeon will do a freast lift, which means now I will be EXTRA perky.

I know it seems painful, But I have no sensation in my freasts

 Still it will be a couple of more months before Toya the Remix is complete and I finally get my areolas tattooed.  As prepared as I feel, because of course I’ve done the research, I still get nervous about going under. And while I know the pain will be minimal compared to last time, I hate pain and pain meds and being limited physically.  I know it’s temporary. I know it’s worth it, but I still get nervous. Who wouldn’t? And I’m still looking forward to spring when I will be healed much more internally so that I really get back in to my fitness. I mean what do I look like with a flat stomach, perky foobs, but jiggly arms and a flat ass??? And no, this is not me putting myself down. I  have loved my body through all its stages, but since I found out I need more stomach fat in order to have these nice breasts, I had to go through some major changes. Prior to all of this I was killing it at boot camp. I felt strong, powerful, I had some cut in my arms and my backside was getting good and round from thousands of squats. I tried it few weeks ago and I was filled with adrenaline as I pounded the medicine ball to the floor, and did jump squats and planks (I used to do 1 minute, now it’s like 15 seconds). But two days later I was almost incapacitated at work, abs were sore, the muscles underneath my boobs were sore, okay no sore, straight hurting. I had to quit. Okay, not quit, but postpone until 2016.

 I know I’m powerful, I’m still here. But I cannot wait to get back to being the weight lifting beast I was becoming last year around this time!

Storm- a friend gave me a little statue  of her to help me weather "The Storm"

 But wait is exactly what I have to do.  Tomorrow I check in at 6:00 am signing off. Later folks

From FREASTS to FOOBS: Part III: Recovery

WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS GRAPHIC MEDICAL IMAGES and  one sexy image!

As my aunt wheeled me down the hospital corridor, I was mixed with emotions. Happy to be out the hospital… away from the substandard food, the constant interruptions from folks trying to get vitals, and from the inconsistency of great nurses and awful nurses. I would get to be in my house,  around my children, and the fact that I was being discharged meant that I was well on my way to recovery. But I was apprehensive, what if something went wrong? I had learned how to navigate my way from my hospital bed to the bathroom,  but  once again all of the research I had done indicated that I would have a hard time at home. It was recommended I get a shower chair, a raised toilet seat, and that I sleep in a recliner since I couldn’t fully stretch out.  (The recliner was and still is my best friend).

 The trip home left me depleted. With the help of my fiancé I got myself adjusted on the recliner sofa in the living room. That night both he and my toddler slept on the couch next to me. Every four hours my fiancé woke me up to take my meds so I wouldn’t have to be completely exposed to the pain. The next day, turned into two weeks of the monotony. Sleeping and awake at odd hours of the day and night; visits from my aunt angels, cousins, and good friends; meals being cooked and delivered; drains being emptied.

Oh the dreaded drains. The absolute worst part of this whole experience. Two hanging from each side of my upper rib to collect fluid from my Freasts (fake breasts) or what I now call FOOBS(fake boobs) and two hanging from either side of my hip to collect fluid from my abs. They had to be emptied and the disgusting fluid from them measured and documented.  Because of this, I wouldn’t need a shower chair, because I only took sponge baths. And I got to wear cotton old lady button up robes. Thankfully I had my aunt, and a very good friend who stepped in when the visiting nurse couldn’t.

courtesy of breastcancer.org

With all that was going on, there were some amazing facets of my recovery. First of all, I didn’t need that raised toilet seat. Turns out all those years of Pilates helped me build an awesomely strong core underneath that once thick layer of belly fat. It was much easier than anticipated. Secondly, I wasn’t totally freaked out by what I saw when I looked in the mirror. I mean, my foobies had no nipples, but still it wasn’t nearly as traumatic as I thought it would be. I think other people were more uncomfortable than me.

It was during this recovery I got to see who my real friends were. I was surprised by the number of people who reached out to me in some way, and disheartened by those who I expected would but didn’t. Still with so much love and support around me, I couldn’t dwell on it for more than moments at a time.

Each day I was more and more amazed at what my body could do, how it healed itself, regenerating cells and nerves and FOOBS!   

Perhaps the best part of recovery was 19 days after surgery when with the doctor’s clearance I was able to get dolled up and receive my 100 women of Color award for my work.  Not only did I receive an award alongside 99 other phenomenal women, I also  got my own holiday in my hometown! Sure I had to tiptoe around, sit while everyone else was socializing and I was exhausted after the 4 hour event, but  when they called my name, I strutted across that stage like my foobs weren’t still swollen, and my abs weren’t sore. Because that’s what you do once you dub yourself the Queen of Self-Esteem!

19 days post op... pretty sexy considering all that was going on underneath

The Journey doesn’t end here. Stay tuned as I continue on to the next stage of reconstruction on December 28^th. I'll get my Fipples 

 (fake nipples)

Bittersweet Choices

   

     Even though I’m consumed with
 my dissertation, I am also

 preparing for the biggest, most complex surgery of my life; my mind and spirit are all over the place.  First off, I am beyond grateful that because of technology I am able to take steps to prevent the breast cancer that took my mother away at such a young age. But when I look at my toddler, I’m sad because my sister and I were so close to his age when she passed away. My baby is 3 ½ and he comes looking for me in the middle of the night. I couldn’t imagine not being there for him, and knowing that I was dying and wouldn’t get to see him grow up. My oldest son just graduated high school, and last week I took him to get his college ID. My mom missed that. My grandmother missed that. And so many other things in between. So lately I’m extra attached to both of them (even though the teen is totally not feeling mom). 

    Then I feel blessed again because it was my choice to wear 

my fabulous wigs, and to chop all my hair off, and it wasn’t the case for my grandmother. I remember coming home from school one day and she was sitting on the couch with a pile of hair in her lap. She explained to me that it was an effect of her chemo. Looking back, her wigs were in no way as beautiful as her once long dark hair.  And when it grew back, it looked a lot like mine does now, just gray. I have options, and it’s amazing, and it’s still scary and bittersweet.

      Then there's my mortality, something I struggled with so

much as a young person, so much that I refused to wear bandanna scarves because I remember my mother wearing them while she was in treatment. 

Now that older, and I’ve outlived my mother, it’s coming into a play again.  I’m going under the knife for 10 to 12 hours. YIKES!!! I’ll be in ICU;  in the hospital away from my baby for 5 days. I’ll have to look at my breasts without nipples or areolas for about 6 months. I will have a huge horizontal scar across my abdomen; I’ll try best to look at that with gratitude because I have a choice. That choice doesn’t involve radiation, chemo, or not being here to see my sons grow and evolve. I have a choice, but it doesn't mean I'm still not apprehensive.

Get out of the Clouds

So I totally had tears swell up in my eyes when I heard Kelly Rowland’s “Dirty Laundry” because it touched on sooo many topics. Specifically for me was the friendship aspect. It’s so hard to be happy for your friend (or family) when you’re going through some sh*t. It’s not so much jealousy as it what I call cloudy. You want to be happy, but you are so unhappy it’s ridiculous, and you can’t see past anything else. I remember going through that when one of my friends went away to college, met her a husband, got married, bought a house, and did it all in the right order. Here I was, going to a local college, a single mom, and living in an apartment. But, and I write about this in my memoir, it wasn’t my time. I couldn’t find the one for me until I was ready mentally and emotionally. I thought I was healed but I wasn’t. I had to struggle as a single mother so my testimony could touch others like me.  I had to be the one to show and prove that all is possible despite obstacles.  Now I know this. So when I hear Kelly I can relate, and  now that after several attempts,  she’s finally making her mark, it is no surprise. When your spirit and mind is right things will fall into place. Until then you can’t be jealous, or become cloudy and distant because things aren’t how you want right now. Instead reach out; look for resources and people who can help you get to where you need to be. This may be a spiritual leader, a good friend, a mentor, or sometimes just our inner self when you listen. This is what I try to instill in those around me who feel I have it all and have become distant,shoot...'cause I 've been there, done that!

                                            

No more guilt!

So it was much to my disappointment last night that I was amped up for about an hour to go somewhere. Then reality set in. I was exhausted and dozing off on a Saturday night at 10:30. I couldn’t even finish the lifetime movie I had started. Reluctantly, I surrendered. But even I as lay in bed I had to reason with and remind myself that I needed to listen to my body, which was screaming it was tired. Tired from working out strenuously for 4 days in the week; from being on my feet ( even if they are mostly flats) pacing back and forth as a teacher, tired from running after a 1 1/2-year-old, tired from traveling to rehearse for an upcoming play, tired of typing! Not only was my body drained, but my mind also needed to rest. During the week I’m up at 5:45am and I’m in bed by 11 or 12 at night. The only time I truly relaxing during those hours is when I sit on the couch with my baby while he dozes off on the arm of the chair. So I had to once again remind myself to keep my eyes on the prize. I kick ass during the week to make my dreams come true, to be the best teacher I can be, to keep myself healthy, and take care of my family. I have to rely on QUALITY time instead of quantity when it comes to the household. Therefore when the WEEKENDS…. So does my running around and being outside of my home. My Saturday and Sunday ( unless of course, I have an event) are dedicated to my the home front.  So if you don’t see much, this is why, and I am okay with it ( Most times ;)   EVERY NOW AND THEN I HAVE TO REMIND MYSELF THAT IF I WANT MY LIFE TO BE DIFFERENT I HAVE TO DO THINGS DIFFERENTLY.

Uptight Alright

This weekend I realized how up tight I can be!!!!! I totally have a hard time relaxing. Now, when I am home and I plan my couch potato day, it works, but more than one day...not so much. I was so excited about going to New York for the Harlem book fair, then for once in I don't even remember how long, I was going to go to the club.  I would not have to get up in the middle of the night or at 6am for my baby because he was with a sitter.   I was FREE, but I didn't feel like it. I had a brief moment where I realized that my mind was always thinking, and I wasn't in the moment because I was preoccupied with what was next. How uncool of me! I was thinking about the highway ride home and laundry the the mess I left when I rushed off to leave that morning. I couldn't turn my mind off of all the things I had to do when I got back. I was reaching for my purse when I heard my inner voice said STOP IT. BE IN THE NOW. And I listened. And I'm glad I did because I really did have a much needed good time. I needed to turn off the to do's in my head and let things be. I am glad that I am able to hear that voice when it speaks. Sometimes we can't hear it over all of the chaos, but apparently my inner voice is just as loud and assertive as my actual voice because I wasn't even in meditation and I heard it.

Now when I woke up the next morning, I went back into go mode and found myself pensive, and somewhat guilty  over brunch with getting back to my 9 month old, and cleaning up, and the phone calls I had to make. So while I'm a work in progress, I'm grateful I received the message even if I only followed for  24 hours. It reminded me to listen more intently and more often. I will be in go mode for the next two days as I prepare for my vacation, but I made a solemn promise to myself to let loose and remain in the moment from the time my vacation starts until the time it ends!

"The Only Thing Constant in the World is Change."

This is an interlude I listen to regularly from India Aire's sophomore album. It's something  I have to remind myself when I  find I'm resisting what God had planned for me. It's easy to accept change when it's something you have planned and wanted. Okay, easier I should say because I have definitely been guilty of hesitation and procrastination when I've gotten close to have something I've always wanted. Self-sabotage, fear, feelings of inadequacy ( Do I really deserve this?) Of course me being, The Queen of Self-Esteem, after a few minutes of reflection and meditation and I can say, Hell yeah I deserve it! or I'm going for mine, if I fail, so be it, I'll just keep going!  
But what about the change you're not ready for? Like when I was 13 and I had to move in with Aunt because my grandmother's illness and my bad attitude was too much for the household to handle? ( When she died, this situation would become permanent.) Or when I got pregnant my freshman year at UMASS and I had to transfer to a more local college after I had my son?  Or when I realized after 7 years together, and five months before our wedding that I could not live a fruitful life if I married my first love and father of my son.  All things unexpected, all things they made my life wonderful in the end.
With the unexpected changes that have taken place lately in my life, (both physically and career-wise)  I initially went into panic mode. Fear, anxiety, frustration, and a bit of depression. All along in the back of my mind, I know surrendering to the bigger plan is what I must do, but it still doesn't stop my juvenile-like personal response. I have to have my private temper tantrum, give myself a timeout, and then SURRENDER. Who I am not to trust the divine plan? Yes, I have free will, but I'm just a small part of an elaborate design. So I lace up my big girl boots and I get ready to take on the next big challenge, that in the end, will make me a better, stronger person.  And then I say, THANK YOU.