percocet and a bath

This thing is hard enough without denying myself some comfort. I decided that going without pain meds is nothing to be proud of, you know? If it hurts, it hurts, and I deserve not to feel it. There will be a day when it doesn't, but until then...

Last night I took 1/2 a percocet then had a bath with candles and music (thanks Corey), then another 1/2. Much better. I am obviously not my mother's child, who did this without pain killers.

Sitting in bed working. Much better than the office. Things will get better in their own time. Nothing I can do to speed it up, as hard as it is to slow down.

new attitude

Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference
- Winston Churchill

Since I can't help the way I feel, it's time for a new attitude. Everyone, especially myself, is tired of the complaining. It's almost been 3 weeks. I keep the mental countdown to the magical 4 weeks. Then I can use my arms, be worthwhile around the house and lift my daughter (right?)

The pain is not so bad, just a weird prickly feeling. Trying to stay off the narcotics, may use one the night after my next fill. I've only had one fill so far and it was small, so the next may be more difficult to deal with.

My daughter slept with me last night which was blissful. She fell asleep holding my hand and we held hands on and off throughout the night. This morning she said "Daddy, thanks for letting me sleep all night in your bed." Corey had fallen asleep on the couch and decided to stay there. I slept with just one pillow instead of 2-3 and actually slept on my side a little for the first time since the surgery. It's not so bad.

I may make it out to Target today and make Dylan push the cart. Just need to get out now and then and want to give Corey some football time. Poor guy has done nothing but give and give and give. I'm ready for my job back (housekeeper) and he promises he's not trying to take it from me. The house looks great and I think for the first time he actually realizes how hard it is to keep up. We've turned the tables and the things that come out of his mouth are what I'd say "What happened to my clean kitchen?" while I've taken over the "Hey, let's help daddy clean up." It makes me giggle.

I go back to the office job tomorrow. Looking forward to having some routine tomorrow and am lucky enough to work for someone who understands and doesn't care if I need to leave early. He thought my email about having to leave Thursday to get my boobs filled was funny.

I've decided not to go to the PS tomorrow. The seroma (if that's what it is) is not bothering me and isn't any worse. It can wait until Thursday. I'm actually excited about my fill. Not the pressure, but the look. I'm thinking 2, maybe 3 more fills will do it? Honestly, I don't think my skin can take much more given how much they had to remove and re-stretch. I've been boob shopping. Trying to look at short, small people. I really think a smallish B is good.

That's it for now. Keeping my head and attitude above water.

Hey! Wait! I've got a new complaint.

As if I haven't complained enough. This seroma nonsense is really pissing me off. I am ready to feel better, to turn the corner. I felt so fortunate to feel great one week post surgery. As I sit here, I can feel my camisole getting tighter. Time for pj's, at 5pm. I have decided to stop helping at all around the house, just in case that has anything to do with it. Corey is doing a bang up job and has really stepped it up. He has even decided that going forward, he'll be in charge on laundry. Whoo Hoo! Well, at least up until the putting away part, but I can handle that. Surprisingly, he is a much better folder than I.

As long as this seroma doesn't get huge or painful, as long as it doesn't turn into lymphedema, I'll be ok. Whiny, but ok. I wonder how Corey has the mental strength to put up with this bullshit. I know I wasn't nearly this nice to him when he broke his knee (sorry!)

I ate 2 cookies and many brownies. Helped a little. I want to take percocet, not cause of the pain, cause it will make me not care about this stupid swelling. But I will not. I do not want to go to bed at 7pm. I want to see my family tonight. I need to just suck it up, this may be around awhile.

On the thankful side, I am thankful for my husband and his endless positive attitude no matter what I throw at him be it physical grossness, constant complaining, crazy crying fits, etc. Thankful for the love of my children and their understanding of what is going on. Thankful for my incredible friends and neighbors. The generosity is overwhelming. Thankful for my Plastic Surgeon who answers his cell phone on a holiday. Thankful for all the little happy things I have in life. I have nothing to complain about... really.

Oh, and also, that 6 pounds, turned out to be less than 1. Go figure. I know I'm much softer, but that's ok, just didn't want to turn into a fatty because of cancer. Cancer and the mastectomy are punishment enough.

seroma

Well, it looks like I have a seroma, fluid build up from the drain removal. I'm uncomfortable. My arms kind of stick to my ribs up near the pits. Kind of sucks. Not painful, just not comfortable.

I noticed yesterday at my parent's cabin for Thanksgiving, that I just wasn't feeling well. Just bleh. Then I could feel the swelling and of course I started freaking out. I broke down and called my PS on his cell phone. I really hated to bother him, but I suppose it's his job.

So, looks like an uncomfortable weekend for me. I'm going in Monday to see how bad it is and maybe get some drained. I googled seroma and looks like in most cases, the fluid will be re-absorbed on its own. So, I guess not a big deal. Don't know how a fill will feel on top of this. I am so ready to be better.

ok, this sucks

This sucks in a new way today. Feeling ok, not great, but ok. I am sooo over my "limitations" and my husband is too I think. We were out of coffee this morning and Corey says "we'll just do without today". And I'm thinking, "yeah, says the guy who can leave the house!" I am so tired of asking people to do things and get things for me. I had to call a neighbor to open the damn bottle of tylenol yesterday.

The dishwasher needs to be unloaded. 2 days now. But I can't (or shouldn't) and Corey works a lot and his back hurts. We started to get Christmas out 2 days ago too. It's halfway done and the rest is sitting around in boxes. I have to ask for a ride everywhere. Books are overdue at the library, and there are so many things were out of at the store, but I can't go. This is driving me crazy!

Planning on having Corey take us to the grocery store and library Friday. I'm staying in bed today with my laptop and will attempt to work a little, read a little and maybe unload the dishwasher. :) I'm also gettting ready to make my 8 year old run the vacuum.

bleh.

new boobies, day 2, part 2

OK, things are not so sunny 7 hours later. This was obviously too early for me to be back in charge of a 3 year old. I was thankful to have help with her this morning, but she's worn me out this afternoon. My ribs are sore. I can't open the stupid Tylenol bottle (don't want anything stronger while in charge of kids). She's frustrated with me cause I can't do much. She goes to school tomorrow, then Thanksgiving and the day after I'll have family. Hoping next week is better when I'm in charge. Ready for pj's.

Also, day 1 calorie counting not good. Will try again tomorrow.

new boobies, day 2

I started calling them my new boobies when the drains came out and the bandages off. Shower was great. Well, minus these new foreign body parts. I guess when it comes to my fucked up boobs, I do care, depending on the day. Corey took off my bandages, just from the drains, last night and we both stood there looking at them. I was crying and he was examining them as if it was a science experiment. He was really intrigued and asking questions like "why is it dented there?" and "ooh, look at where they sliced you here." Oh well. I'll get used to it.

Did I mention the PA yesterday said to me "Your boobs will never look cute." But after seeing the look on my face, she re-phrased to add "while they're under construction." The new ones should look cute. As I get bigger (she only put in 60 cc's yesterday) the shape of the expander with the port will begin to show, a kind of cubicle shape she says. Oh joy.

Day one, calorie counting. I reluctantly pulled up my calorie counter. Only one cookie so far today. Corey was supposed to hide them. And he did, but then got them back out. He'll be mad if I eat them all, as if it's my fault.

I've gained 6 pounds. Now you may wonder how it's humanly possible to gain 6 pounds in less than 2 weeks. I'm really good at it (hence the calorie counting as part of my daily life). Here's some hints.
Never pass a plate of cookies without taking 1-3
Eat Halloween candy because it's sitting there, even if it's not your favorite kind
Pay no attention to mealtimes
Sit on your ass non-stop in bed, or if you prefer, the couch works well too

Oh boy, I can't wait to eat ice cream and watch Biggest Loser tonight.

Feeling fine physically but I know I walk funny. Not sure if it's cause I was so used to the drains or what, but I really must re-learn to stand up straight.

No one has seen my boobs but my husband and daughter. My son took a pass. I felt compelled to show my sister the other day, but then I'd have to show her again when they look better and not sure she's up for all that.

Took a vicadin and a valium last night - just cause I can. Well, and cause my back hurt just a little. It was nice.

Off to attempt reading Twilight. One of these days it's gonna stick.

drains gone, but no shower

Just a quick blog today. I'm sitting in bed (not cause I have to, cause I want to) with my laptop-my new favorite possession- listening to my ipod and catching up on some stuff. Kids are at school and Corey is coming back to work from home. What a heavenly day. Sun is shining and I've even got the window open for some freshness.

Drains came out today! I told my husband they'd have to commit me if they didn't. 10 days. Not bad. When he pulled them out, it was the weirdest sensation, like they had them tied around my ribs and under my heart, between my lungs... just weird. No shower until tomorrow which was an unexpected bummer. Still feeling good.

Unfortunately, as I sit here eating my 5th oatmeal chocolate chip cookie, I realize that the calorie counting must resume. This was such a part of my daily ritual and although it's been nice, the eat whatever/whenever has to stop. I was kinda hoping that having been through this, I'd have this renewed, undeniable desire to eat healthy, like really healthy. I had visions of making spinach smoothies, having fresh cut vegetables ready to eat in the fridge, taking my vitamins, setting a good example for my kids. You know, instead of the "why do youget to have ice cream before dinner?". This healthy me has not shown up. She's been replaced by Cocoa Krispie eating, barely drinking water, Halloween candy just because Beth. She's always been there but has somehow taken over, like she feels entitled. Geez, doesn't having major surgery allow such gluttony? No. It doesn't. I will have to give the better lifestyle a healthy kick and get going. Tomorrow.

By the way, my breasts look really f'd up. And you know what? I don't care :)

emotional...

Yesterday started out as another close to pain free day. My sister came over with 2 of her kids and they played with my youngest for hours. I chatted with my sister like nothing was different, it was nice. I'd tease her about having to make me lunch or get me stuff. She brought her 2 tiny dogs and I was in heaven, for a little bit. My sister is older than me, but you wouldn't know it. For some reason, she has escaped any trace of wrinkles even though she was so much more the sun worshipper. I tease her about being a cougar even though she's happily married, only in the sense that she always has a cute outfit on with jewelry to match, hair and make-up done. She is one of the few people who actually looks better as they get older... seriously.

During this visit, my husband texts and asks if I'm up for going to dinner. I smile at the thought. Of something back to normal and at the reality of actually getting out of the house because I do, actually, feel good.

Then it started to fall apart. I feel ugly. Really ugly. My stupid half washed hair. My shirt with drains constantly pulling at them. My posture from leaning slightly forward (I swear the new boob skin is too tight) and not feeling like I can stand straight. I'm not a vain person, anyone who knows me, knows that. But I do enjoy being clean and halfway put together. I miss my running body. I feel the blobbiness already.

This ended with me sitting in bed, calling my husband and asking when he's coming home. "I can't go to dinner" I sob. He says, "yea, I guessed that". I love him. I cried and ignored my kids until his arrival (they still have the Nana here thank God). It was like waiting for my knight in shining armor. I knew that he, and he alone could help me feel better and I knew that he was the only one I wanted contact with at that moment.

As I knew he would, he came in and saved the day. He didn't think I was crazy for the breakdown, took care of dinner for the kids and planned for a movie night. He told me this was all normal and ok to be like this. I don't know exactly what happened. It wasn't the pain and I really don't feel like it was about the boobs either. I wasn't sobbing, wishing for them back. I guess I tried too hard and too fast to get back into life. I told Corey I just wanted more time alone, but couldn't pinpoint why. After a good cry, we decided that he and Dylan would watch Star Wars downstairs, and Casey would watch The Little Mermaid with me in bed. It was lovely. I can't think of a better word. Throughout the movie, I would look over at her and brush the hair from her face and feel her cheek with the back of my hand. I needed that.

It's ok to cry. It's ok to breakdown, even if you don't know why. Believe me, this is kind of the theme for my life, but I'm always able to pick myself back up. Thank God for family, for Corey.

clean

OK, at this point, all I really want is a shower! I looked in the mirror yesterday thinking that shower cap shampoo/conditioner no rinse thing from the hospital worked. WRONG! It was gross. Right then and there I washed my hair in the tiny bathroom sink. Not very thorough mind you, but better. Now my hair is a curly, Carrot Top mess, but at least it's partially clean.

I've been doing the sponge baths, but my skin is really dry and mad at me. Just really want a shower and a shave. Damn. I have an opportunity to go see some girlfriends on Saturday. Extremely low key, just at her apartment, but since a shower will not happen before that, I'll probably have to pass. That and the fact that my drains will have to tag along. My first meal comes from my boss' wife. Very sweet, but why oh why couldn't it be after my shower! I guess my countdown has turned to drain removal/shower time. I'm even embarassed to see my plastic surgeon to get the drains out. Silly I guess, seeing as he's a Doctor and all but this whole process just makes me uncomfortable, on every front.

On a weird note, I was walking to the mailbox (dr's orders) and an acquaintance runs by. I see her about the neighborhood and we chat about running and racing a lot. She notices my speed (well, lack of) and careful steps and slows to ask if I'm ok. I smile and say "Yea, I just had a mastectomy". She smiles and says "Oh, so no more kids, huh?" I didn't have the strength to explain mastectomy to her. Then I start wondering what she thought I could have said. Hystorectomy? Still nothing to smile about and pretty drastic for birth control. Vastectomy? No, that's for the men. Huh. Oh well. I just said "No, 2 is plenty" and waited for her to commence running.

I've cleaned and decluttered probably too much but my family has the notion of getting Christmas decorations out. Fine by me, but the control freak in me is freaking out. First of all, I have a rule. House must be spotless before Christmas goes up. Just makes no sense to put things up when dust is present. Secondly, since I can't really help, not sure that what I dictate will actually happen, as far as where things go. Oh well. So, that's my cleaning story. My mother in law has been amazing and helped a lot this morning trying to get things ready room by room. I have a professional cleaner coming December 1st (thank you E!) to try and put back together whatever happened while I've been laid up. What a great way to start the putting back together of Beth's life.

Going to watch some TV with my little one. Gotta rest you know :)

one week out and much much better

Woke up today with my little girl in my bed holding my hand. Great way to start the day. Then, she and my husband pulled me up to sitting position and I got out of bed. I actually hurt much much less than yesterday. I almost felt good! I washed my hair in the shower cap thing again, brushed my teeth and took my meds. I helped get the kids out the door. This is the longest I've been out of bed! It feels great. Even made it to the bus stop. Everyone was like "You look so great". Well, that's sweet, but we all know I look like crap. Unimportant though.

Learned today why they say do not lift your arms above your shoulder level. I shaved my pits. Just couldn't take it any longer. Wow, it didn't hurt during, but after, I paid. I strongly suggest you don't try this at home :)

Today is a big day. I'm going to park my butt on the couch instead of my bed. I have the urge to de-clutter but know I shouldn't overdo. I don't want to mess with this gift of feeling better. Emotionally, I'm still ok. Flat chested with gauze bandages. I really don't give a hoot. They are numb, which is incredibly weird. I hope over time I'll get some feeling back.

Off to watch trashy TV.

chocolate

going downstairs for some chocolate, a hug from my daughter, and a nap. It's the little things.

yuck

So, I woke up today feeling a bit worse than other mornings. My husband came up to check on me and I was lying sideways, one foot on the stepstool and the rest of me lying on my pillow. I tried to get up and couldn't. He asks "Are you stuck?" With tears in my eyes I nod yes. I swear mornings are the worst. You haven't been on pain pills for many hours, you've been in the same position and you wake up once again to the realization of what has transpired.

My percocet has kicked in and I'm feeling better but didn't make it downstairs today, yet. I have high hopes. I took a quick sponge bath, Corey emptied my drains and I brushed my teeth. These pain pills really leave a carpet residue in your mouth. Now my back is so tight I can't twist. Valium ought to help with that. I'm sick of this. With all of this laying around, I'd rather be productive and read, or write a novel, or organize photos or something. But no, I watch trash tv and spend way too much time on facebook.

Just found out my husbands car needs MORE work. I don't fucking need this. I need a money tree. At least my procedure was only $205 minus the meds because of my out of pocket limit.

Trying to find the good today. I'd cry, but it hurts.

trudging right along

Not much new, but I guess I'm feeling better, a bit. The mornings are the worst. You wake up, lie there, and think about the pain you're going to feel, just to sit up. The first thing I want to do is brush my teeth and wash my face. Then coffee and back in bed and wait for my nurse (aka husband) to count out my meds. I'm even able to drain my drains by myself. Anxiously waiting for the day those damn things come out. I highly recommend buying a camisole with the pockets for the drains. I think mine came from Nordstrom online made by Amoena. My pain pump is empty and has been for days. It was supposed to last for 4-5 days. This is different than the one in the hospital with the button. I called my Dr. to see if I can come by today to have it removed. One less "thing" hanging out of me. I'm supposed to be able to take it out myself, but there's such a mess of tubes and gauze and I don't know what's what. I'll also beg to take me out of this mean little bra.

Emotionally, still staying strong. I guess for now the pain and maintenance of me has overshadowed any feelings. Part of me also thinks that I went through so much before the procedure, that there will be less now, let's hope. Caught a glimpse of my boobs. They weren't able to put any saline in the expanders yet cause there just wasn't enough skin to work with. They had to remove my biopsy scar along with the skin. Although they're bruised and look like they've been in a bar brawl, they look nice, the shape. They're not gruesome.

I'm able to do more with my arms than expected. Moving my arms doesn't hurt. Hugging my baby girl doesn't hurt. She can sit carefully in my lap and went to bed with me the other nigtht. Yes, I go to bed at 8pm these days. Making it day by day. Just heard from the Dr. that I can go in and have them pull out my pain pump, and possibly my drains (although not likely) and hopefully this torture device they call a compression bra.

Good stuff

In the midst of all this crap, I feel the need to point out the good, there is so much of it.

1- nurses. Angels if you ask me. It's like many "moms" taking care of you. Nothing phases them, nothing is too much to ask, and they call me honey all the time. Some people don't like being called honey, but in this situation, I do.

2- My husband. He has taken this whole thing head on. I can tell it's a lot for him but he's a trooper. The laundry, the kids, my medication chart, getting me water, etc. I love him. And after him having to take me to pee at the hospital, I promised I wouldn't always do that.

3- My sister for keeping my daughter and little dog during this whole thing.

4- My kids who want to be with me, in this bed, all the time. Even though I'd rather be alone a lot of the time, it means so much that they just want to be near. They're being so careful around me. When I first got home, my son sent me an email right then and there about how much he loves me and changed my wallpaper on my new laptop to a big heart that says I love you.

5- My parents, stepping in to help with the kids and to visit and love me.

6- All of the amazing support from friends and neighbors. I'm over whelmed and words will never express the gratitude I feel.

7- My dogs who won't leave my side.

8-homemade cookies from my sister

9-fruit bouquet and so many, so many incredible flower arrangements. I love flowers.

I could go on and on, but thought I'd start there before I fall asleep again.

It is all going to be ok.

I'm back.... and on drugs

I made it. It hurts. The pain is so immense and nothing anyone can prepare you for. Here's a quick breakdown of my journey.

The morning of the surgery I was incredibly pissy, crabby, grumpy, depressed. I would have wished for sad. Sad I get. Sad has a tangibility to it, depression does not. The radioactive junk they put into my breast to check my lymphnodes did not hurt. Thought that may be an indication of how well I handle pain. Not so much. Many many talks from nurses, doctors, anesthesiologists etc. They each make you say out loud what you're having done. By the last guy, it was like password and he'd say "and today we're doing..." and wait for me to answer "and on the left side she's going to..."

Then into the operating room My gown was on backward so I had to switch to a new one "a bit on the naked side" says my PS. That's the last thing I remember. Woke up in recovery crying. The pain, oh my God, the pain. It felt like someone parked at semi truck on my ribs. Couldn't get a deep breath. Then I was told us use my pain pump. Ahh, a little better. Slept well and used my pain pump about every 1-2 hours although they said I could use it every 10 minutes. The next day they took away my pump and started the percocet. I have never taken more than 1 at a time before but quickly learned 1 was not enough. I am now on 2 every 4 hours along with valium as allowed. Much much better. I have a stupid incredibly tight bra on which will remain on for a week. They had to remove extra skin and so there is no saline in my expanders yet. No biggie, just a longer pump up time. I sleep a lot. A lot. I've been in tears over the pain a few times but have learned to stay on the percocet. My wonderful husband has it all planned out. With all these meds, you have to have a plan. I have 6 bouquets of flowers. So beautiful and reminds me I'm loved. I love love love nurses. I can't say enough. What a selfless job.

Falling asleep now... Hope I didn't scare you Kelly, http://kellyinmotion.blogspot.com.

Looking Forward

Two more days. The anticipation is killing me. Not sure if I can use that word, since it's not anticipation like, "Oh goody, Christmas will be here soon!" but it feels like anticipation nonetheless. I've begun planning to get my life back. It's what I do. Things may change or not go according to plan, but if I have no plan, I have nothing. I took my big dog for a walk. Usually it's a run, but today it was a walk. I told him December 11th, I'll start walking him again. January 1st, we'll start running again, slowly. January 1st I'll start planning my races for the year, hoping a 10 mile in June is not too much to hope for. Hoping I can run with those damn plastic balloons in my chest.

December 1st we'll get a visit from the Elf on a Shelf. After Thanksgiving, we'll decorate for Christmas although I'll be not much more than a spectator. Early December, I'll wrap presents. I've almost finished my shopping.

I'm thinking December 11th is the magic number. Just get through these 4 weeks after surgery and enjoy not getting up early to run in the cold. Enjoy the quiet time I'll have after I'm feeling a bit better, but still unable to do much. Catch up on my reading. Get psyched for getting in shape again. Get psyched for perky boobs that may actually match in size. OK, that one I'm still having a tough time with, but trying to remain on the positive side.

Get through the first few days of undeniable pain. Get through the first 2 weeks with the damn drains in. Anticipate my shower in 2 weeks. Then slowly, slowly rebuild.

Pre Op Appointment

Had my pre-op appointment with the plastic surgeon Thursday. A lot of information to take in. Tears collected in my eyes as she explained in detail how my surgeon would start on one side, then move to the other, while my plastic surgeon began on the first side. A 4 hour process. I pictured me lying there, with someone removing the part of me that is my breasts, leaving only skin.

Then, the recovery talk and I teared up again, all the while thinking that I didn't want to cry in the office. I know lots of people do, but I didn't want the attention from the nurse and just wanted to get on with it, so I fought them back. I was sad over the 4 week period where I can't move my arms much, or lift anything over 5 pounds. My daughter is over 5 pounds. The thought of not holding her the way I do for 4 weeks. And then to know that when I do, I won't feel it. What if she becomes used to me not holding her? What if she's over it by the time I recover? What if she doesn't understand and I have to look at her sad eyes? It will be hard not being able to do anything for myself. I thought about the day to day tasks I do and what I won't be able to do any more. Like get a cup of water, like heat up some lunch, pluck my eyebrows, shave my pits, put my dirty hair in a pony tail. I think of my husband having to put my hair up, and have memories of the times when my dad was in charge of pony tails if my mom wasn't around. Ouch. So tight, and cockeyed.

So, here's the scoop on surgery. Check in 2 hours before for a dye to be put into my body/lymph nodes. Surgery at noon. Out around 4pm, then 2 hour recovery. That's when I'll see my husband again. He'll be there for a short while, then go home to be with my son. Hopefully home the next day. 6 prescriptions. That's right 6. I had no idea. Plus a pain pump. The amount of pain pills is scary. I went thr0ugh 2 c-sections and a lumpectomy and excisional biopsy with a little percocet. Apparently, none of this compares. My mother had a mastectomy a few years back and didn't take so much as a Tylenol. I have decided she is not human. On top of the meds, there's the option for Dramamine the night before and that morning, and some anti-bruising remedies I can pick up at Whole Foods. Not quite sure what the Dramamine is for. She asked if I get car sick and if I do, then I should take them. Don't think it has anything to do with the car ride, maybe to help with nausea. I may take it just to sleep the night before.

I'll drop my boy off at the bus stop, like any other morning and say goodbye, knowing that when I see him again, everything will have changed.

I cry a lot now. My stress is manifesting itself in crazy irritable mood swings. I go from not standing anyone around me to being so present with my kids that I'm in tears. My husband must know something is up, because I'm not getting the usual "calm down" talks. I think he knows that this is all I can handle. Stress has also manifested itself in unstoppable binges. It's like I'm playing the "How much weight can I gain in a week" game. It sucks. I asked my husband to please do me a favor while I'm laid up, unable to exercise. I asked that he help monitor my sweets intake. Please, bring me a brownie, not the pan. He responded by saying he's going to take my scale away. Let's hope he forgets.

Another day to get through today. Doing last minute preparations. Cleaning, errands, friends over for football and a healthy dose of worrying. I'd like to drink heavily, but since I'm off the ibuprofen until surgery, I better not.

Chocolate

Can't stop eating chocolate. This is not unusual for me, but more pronounced today. I'm not going to even count how many little Hershey yummy nuggets I've had. I'll stop when I feel sick.

stopped running

So, I've stopped running. Not intentionally necessarily, but stopped nonetheless. I felt weeks ago that I wanted to stop because what's the point? I mean really, I have to stop for the next 2 months anyway, so what's a few more weeks. I have to start over again in January, no matter how fast I plow through a 3 miler, or if I run a 10. Mentally, it's one less thing on my plate. I ran last week, not a ton, but 3 days worth. Mostly for my calorie counts since we all know breaking any speed records is moot. This week turned out to be way too crazy and I can barely handle the chaos that has settled into my house. We have a lovely foster dog. I love love love her, but chaos prevails and can't figure out, or don't have the energy to figure out, how to run with one dog, while leaving the other home. Sure, sounds easy enough, but this week everything is harder. I seem so with it, so positive, but it's taking its toll in little ways. I cry at anything. I am more frustrated with things. I am so overly stressed about the littlest things and my list making is helping only a little as it grows and grows. So much to do before Wednesday. I know I'm in denial. I am scared for the moment I wake from surgery and say "What the FUCK!" Or for the moment weeks later when it hits. Oh God, I don't know if I can handle this. Please help me through.

Next week

I can now say "I'm having a mastectomy next week". Wow. Next week. Getting a little nervous. Still good though, still in control.