San Fran Adventures

Sometimes the glass is half full, sometimes it is half empty, so when the glass is half empty, we like to try and fill it.  Our preferred method is by travelling.

Don't you love the anticipation of going somewhere you have never been? Planning trips is like taking a step into another world, so many opportunities and adventures.  Our most recent trip was to San Francisco where Nick had a training for work.  This meant I had 2 days to explore the city and do all the things Nick didn't want to do.  Number one was to take a bike tour from Ghirardelli Square across the Golden Gate Bridge, down to Sausalito then continue to Tiburon where I would take the ferry back to San Fran.  That sounded dreamy to me, but when I mentioned it to Nick he about hurled.  He had a bad biking experience, on our honeymoon actually.  We rented a tandem bike and rode around town, romantic right? Wrong.  To all you bike lovers out there, don't take a first timer on an uphill ride in the rain.  It didn't go well. Long story short, he was more than willing to let me go on this San Fran adventure by myself.

This was the longest ride I had ever been on and I was a little nervous for the 22 miles, but mostly excited.  In the words of my nieces, I was "nervoucited."  I had planned everything out, all I needed to do was pick up the bike and be on my way.  There were a lot of people on the path in the beginning, especially crossing the Golden Gate Bridge. So crowded that if my bike didn't have a bell, there may have been some casualties.  Just sayin'.  However, most everyone immediately turned around at the end of the bridge, but not me, I was on a mission to Tiburon.  Besides locals, there were only about 5 other cyclists who continued past Sausalito to Tiburon during the time I was on the trail.  And by golly, after some of those hills I understood why.

At one point, I had been winding along the coastline on a slight incline.  My body was fatigued but was ok as long as nothing changed.  Much to my demise I turned a corner and, voila, the hill of death.  Could I make it to the top?  Would my lungs burst?  I tried standing up as I peddled, but my legs gave out.  Just a little further, I kept telling myself.  If I could just keep peddling for another 3 minutes I would be at the top.  There was someone halfway up the hill walking her bike, she couldn't make it. I couldn't make it either.  I accepted defeat and walked the rest of the hill.  The hill of death won.  Giving up is not something I take pride in.  I don't like admitting I am wrong or that I can't do something.  This was a humbling experience because I probably could have made it to the top, but because I had doubt in my mind, I took the easy way out.

The next hill I encountered I envisioned myself biking to the top without giving up. I didn't picture the girl walking her bike, I pictured myself at the top of the hill holding my bike over my head. But let's be honest, I was never going to hold my bike over my head.  Because I was determined, I made it to the top. Although I was out of breath and my legs were barely moving, I made it.

Now I could go into some spiel about how you can be motivated and make it too, but I won't.  I would rather post some pictures of our trip.

Lombard Street

On the cable car

View from the Pier

View from off the Golden Gate Bridge

Pretty sure we went to Ghirardelli square every day for the free sample...

These cookies are no joke!

Biggest box of Nerds!

Hard Rock Cafe. Best. Macaroni. And. Cheese. Ever.

We at at Boudins 3 times, it was a tasty refuge from the rain

Radiation Post Mastectomy

During my post mastectomy follow-up visit, my surgeon said we had really good margins, meaning big mamma was 1-2 millimeters from my skin (apparently that was a good margin).  Although the surgery was successful, radiation therapy was still recommended.  She proceeded to tell me that no mastectomy is perfect and that there could be cancer cells left behind.  The solution, and best way to be sure any remaining cancer cells were eradicated, would be through radiation therapy.

The thought of radiation made me want to vomit.  I had done it a few years earlier on my spine and rib (see posts from 2011 Radiation and Pictures...finally) and it was not a pleasant experience.  However, I didn't want to deal with another tumor, so I bit the bullet. (little did I know I would do it again in Oct 2017 for another mass)

The preparation plan goes like this: mapping, tattoo's, radiation.

During the mapping you are lying on a table (gown open) as the team takes images and makes markings all over your skin in preparation for the tattoos.  The reason they use tattoos is for accuracy. They want to line you up exactly so they can radiate the same spot each time, and since most radiation treatments are over several weeks, they need a marking that is durable. For those of you who have tattoos, you know how painful it can be, and even though mine were little pin pricks I wouldn't recommend a tattoo to anyone! However, I wasn't nervous about the tattoos, I was anxious about was the 25 treatments over 1.5 months, the nausea, fatigue and burned skin.  The treatment itself was quick and painless, usually less than 5 minutes, it was the side effects that got me down.

Radiation works, or at least it has for me, but it has been the most miserable treatment.  No matter where on my body I am being treated, all of my insides feel like they are being microwaved. In fact, I feel a little nauseated just thinking about it.  Once during treatment, I met with my radiation oncologist and mentioned my stomach had been bothering me.  His first question was, "Do you have the flu?"  They didn't believe that my stomach would be upset from radiation in the breast, er, where the breast used to be.  Anti nausea didn't work, or at least for more than an hour or so.  I always had to have something in my stomach, but if I really wasn't feeling well, I had to make sure I was eating food that wouldn't be so bad coming up. On top of the flu like symptoms, my skin burned severely.  They gave me ointment that is only given to burn victims and some semi adhesive foam pads to put over the burned areas to keep it from rubbing against anything.  Can you believe I agreed to this? Sometimes I question myself, but in the long run I have to remind myself that radiation works, at least for me.

Any time doctors give you a prescription or treatment plan, they explain the possible side effects.  I had all of the most common side effects for radiation, and they hit me hard.  Apparently being a young female increases the chances of side effects of most of the treatments I have had. So I have to remind myself that I am young and have a strong body.  I have been able to endure many treatments that an older woman wouldn't have tolerated, and I am still here to tell the story.  In fact, I had my one year follow up from radiation this week and everything looks good. I have healed well and I don't need anymore follow ups.

I have a lot to be grateful for, it is just remembering those blessings when I feel discouraged.  Yes, just like everyone reading this, I get discouraged at times.  But it does no good to dwell on those feelings.  We can ask God "Why me?!" all day long, but that is not going to change our circumstances or give us comfort (trust me, I have tried).  Radiation therapy was a rocky road all 3 times, but it took away my pain and allowed me to continue to live and breathe in a world full of laughter, love, beauty and light.  There are so many sweet things in life but sometimes to appreciate it, we need to experience some of the bitter.  Cancer is my "bitter," but I am grateful for it because without it, I wouldn't appreciate all the little sweet things. I appreciate all the conversations I had in the waiting room with all the other women doing radiation.  I appreciate the fact that I don't always feel like I am on the verge of throwing up and have more empathy for people who do. I appreciate that my body was healed from being severely burned and that I don't wince every time something rubs on my skin. I appreciate that my energy level has been restored enough for me to work full time again.  I could keep going, but you get the idea.

I would love to hear from you, what is your "bitter" and how and why are you grateful for it?

MASTECTOMY...AT AGE 28?

Before I had cancer I didn't know the difference between a mastectomy and a vasectomy...and neither did the girl in the bra shop when she offered her condolences for my vasectomy.  So for those who don't know what a mastectomy is, Miriam Webster defines it as a surgical removal of all or part of the breast and sometimes associated lymph nodes and muscles. And for your reading pleasure a vastectomy, affectionately known as "the snip", is male sterilization.

So onto the mastectomy.

Doctors try to prepare you for the physical and emotional trauma of a major surgery, and they do a pretty good job.  However, even though you know logically what will happen, nothing can really prepare you for what actually happens.  I was nervous before my mastectomy, my first major surgery.  The team of surgeons and anesthesiologists all meet with you.  They make markings on your skin to make sure they lob off the right, or should I say correct, breast. They hook you up to an IV and go over all the medications they will pump into your body while you lie helplessly on the operating table. Then they go over the list of medications that will help with the side effects of the former. There is no privacy in the pre-op visits and you aren't even wearing your own underwear.  All that shields you from everyone is a thin pin stripe gown.  I will say though that the surgical gowns are much better than the typical hospital gowns that tie on the side.  Surgical gowns have snaps on the sleeves so there is no flashing the nurses if there is a breeze when you walk down the hall ;)

Just before they wheeled me into surgery they gave me a shot of valium.  About 1 minute after the injection I had to try my hardest not to laugh at the surgeon/nurse/whoever was talking to me. (Nick has video footage...) This was a true feat that I didn't burst out.  Valium saved me from breaking out in tears before going into surgery, I am grateful for that.

The OR was a very bright, white and chilly room with lots of people scurrying about.  That's all I remember before they put the mask on my face.

The most important part of all this was that I had the strongest supporter holding my hand.  Nick was always steady.  I tell him all the time that he is my rock, and I couldn't be more right.  I can't imagine what he went through during the hours I was in surgery.  I would be a nervous wreck if the love of my life was diagnosed with cancer and had several surgeries.  I would crumble, but not Nick.  He is my rock.

So to relieve some of the stress while I was under, he came up with a list of things to ask me before I was completely out of anesthesia.  He got me to confess how many guys I kissed, in front of my mom, among other things.  Cruel maybe, but it made for fond memories...for him.  I stayed one night in the hospital but was extremely nauseous, something they were able to prevent for the following surgery (surgeries actually, little did I know that one year later I would get my appendix out).

Just out of surgery

It was nice to be home, but at the same time, challenging.  Since I chose to have breast reconstruction post mastectomy, they placed a tissue expander where my breast used to be (see pic below). Because of the trauma of removing the breast and placing the expander, there was so much pressure that I had difficulty breathing.  This was normal.  For weeks I couldn't lie on my back without feeling like I was suffocating.  So it's a good thing we had a billion throw pillows on our couch, which provided me the comfort of being propped up enough that I could breathe and sleep at the same time.  Another struggle was not being able to lift anything over 10 lbs for a couple months.  I felt helpless, but I knew it was just a means to an end. On the up side, I got to snuggle with my puppy and catch up on all those Netflix shows I had been meaning to watch. Anyone else mad they took Everybody Loves Raymond off Netflix?




A lot of people have wondered about the expander, so here is a diagram Mr. Google helped me find that is simple and correct for my case. The expander was placed under the pectoral muscle and then filled weekly with saline.  They did this by sticking a needle through my skin into the port.  Because they had cut the nerve endings, this needle stick never hurt, silver linings. I had about 5 weeks of this before it was full.  Once the expander was full, I opted to do radiation just to be sure everything was zapped before the final reconstruction and silicone implant. Then I had to wait 3 months before they could do the surgery to give my body time to heal.



This was what the expander looked like before any saline was injected.

So the weekend before this all went down, I threw a Bye Bye Boobie party because, why not:

I have had so much support through every step of this journey, and not just from my bra.  You know the saying it takes a village to raise a child? Well it takes a village to carry a cancer patient and y'all got the memo.  Thank you for holding my hand and lifting my spirits with boob cakes, care bears, flowers, meals, books, knitting needles, socks, notes of encouragement and the list could go on.  Being the recipient of service has given me a fresh perspective of why we are all here.  We all need someone to lean on at some point in our lives, we just need to have the courage to step up and make a move.  Move to the person who isn't smiling.  Move to the person who just lost a spouse or child or grandmother.  Move to the person who just lost his job.  Move to the single mother.  Move to the person who is new to the neighborhood.  Move to the person who just had a baby.  Whatever the circumstance, Just Move!

Puppy Love

You know that time in your life when you are looking for someone special, but you just keep finding duds?  Yeah, try being in that phase only you are bald, jobless, graduated from college and living at home.  Certainly I was a catch, but I guess the misters didn't agree.  I went on a lot of first dates that went something like this.  A friend lines me up with some guy who also thinks he's a catch.  We smile and make small talk and I beat around the bush trying to avoid the big C word. When he asks me what I do for work I say something to the effect of, "I'm dealing with some health issues so I'm not working right now." What a turn on.  My personal favorite was mentioning on a first date that I had stage 4 breast cancer spread to my bones and that my hair was so short because I lost it from chemotherapy.  When life gives you a bad date...make lemonade.


As fun as first dates were, I needed something more in my life.  So, what better way to fill a void than a puppy?  Charlie was my first dog. He was the best first dog.

Charlie, my cavalier king charles spaniel, and I did everything together.  Whenever I had a bad day, he was there to snuggle with me.  When I had a good day, he was there to go on a walk with me.  I told him my deepest darkest secrets and he listened and never talked back. I guess I would be lying if I said I don't do that anymore.  Charlie definitely filled a void.

And then love came along when I was least expecting it.

I first saw my husband in the Relief Society room, at our church, before a singles ward activity.  His cousin, and my long time friend, planned an activity to go to Nightmare on 13th.  You know, get a bunch of single Mormons trapped in a scary house and see how many marriages come from it.  Anyhow, she invited him to come because she wanted to set him up with someone in our ward.  So when I first saw him, he was talking to that someone.  My thoughts at first sight were, "He's pretty cute and tall (not to mention pale as a ghost) and he should be talking to me not her!" I smiled as I glanced in his direction in attempt to draw his attention.  Then on our way out of the building to get into our cars, we literally bumped into each other.  To this day I remember his huge smile and squinty eyes.  His countenance shone brightly and I just couldn't get him off my mind.  I was drawn to him.

Once we arrived at the haunted house, there was a lot of waiting in line, which gave me time to come up with a plan.  I was in the small group with his cousin, which meant he would be with us as well.  All I needed to do was make a good impression on him so he would notice me and not the other girls trying to flirt with him. Yes, I had competition, but I was sure about this one. There were a lot of people there that night, so we were packed like sardines once we entered the house. I didn't mind though, in fact I saw it as an opportunity. I linked my arm with his and didn't let go until the exit.  He claims I left him with bruises, I beg to differ.

Well, that was that.  I didn't hear from him for a month.  A MONTH! However, the night of the haunted house, we independently asked his cousin about each other.  She, being the blunt person she is, responded respectively,  "Her name is Kelly and she has cancer" and, "His name is Nick and he is divorced."   There was no hiding it at this point, I was prepared to never hear from him again, which makes this next part so special to me. His reaction to this news was, "Ok, what is she like?  What does she like to do?"  The fact that I had cancer had no impact on whether he wanted to pursue me or not.  That was when I knew there was something different about him.

So the month passed and he saw a picture of me and his cousin on Facebook and realized I was the girl from the haunted house (he later told me he just had a laundry list of girls he needed to take out before he could commit to me).  The next couple of days went something like this: he added me on Facebook and we chatted for a while, then we texted, then he called to ask me out. Listen to that, chivalry is not lost!  I had just about had it with guys asking me out over text message.  I mean, grow a pair and call me for goodness sake. I deserve that much, right?!  So again, there was something different about him.

And the rest is history.  We have seen each other every single day since our first date.  That is our love story. Life has not been a breeze, but every bump in the road, every disappointment has brought us closer as a couple.  I am forever grateful I decided to go to that haunted house because now I get to link arms for eternity with the most amazing man I have ever met!  Thanks for putting up with me babe, love you lots ❤




PC: Kirstin Roper Photography

Anyone There?

Hey folks!  Sorry to leave you hanging for, well, 4 years.  Most of that time there wasn't much going on and you know what they say, no news is good news.  Call me a procrastinator, but there has been news over the past couple of years.  Where to begin...

1. I found the love of my life and got married!

2. Big mamma started growing so we decided we'd had enough of her. We sent her an eviction notice, but she was stubborn and wouldn't budge.  She bulged but didn't budge.  So we set a play date with a scalpel and evicted her for good.  I'll tell you what, a mastectomy with reconstruction is no walk in the park, but we will get to that later.

3. Following the first surgery was radiation to the right breast, or rather the expander where the breast used to be.

4. Then a lot of waiting followed by breast reconstruction and a latissimus flap.  I'll explain what that means in a later post.

5. We thought we were out of the woods when a little grape-sized cousin of big mamma made a visit to my ilium (pelvis).  She crashed with me for a few months until I got tired of her and radiated her to China. Her citizenship papers must have gotten lost because we haven't heard from her.  However, she was obviously upset and sent two more cousins to visit my skull and rib.  They aren't as bothersome and pretty much keep to themselves.  So they can stay, for now.

As of right now, I am doing well.  Hormone therapy is keeping everything at bay, so cross your fingers and toes that it stays this way for a loooong time. Stay tuned for more details.

Life Goes On

Isn’t that the truth?!  Some days you just chug along in hopes that night will come and morning will bring new light.  For a reason or reasons unknown to me, I feel to share the reality of my situation on a personal level. 

Every day is difficult.  I try to be positive and uplifting and convey hope to those around me, but that does not diminish the physical and emotional turmoil beneath the surface. With that said, I do not write this in a moment of distress in an attempt to gain pity; for those who are acquainted with me know how I despise “pity eyes.”  So, from a logical and emotionally stable standpoint, I explain some of the trials I face branched from the invasive onset of cancer.

I would find anyone naïve who assumes I am constantly happy and radiate hope.  I do not, even if that is what you believe.  What an easy and simple concept to understand yet so difficult to practice, especially when faced with a situation that dims and mystifies personal, long-term plans.  My pillow has been wetted with many tears in pondering my future, or rather absence of.  I have an incurable disease.  My life span is 1.5-6 years.  The hopeful perspective declares loudly in my mind that the number of years I am alive is insignificant because Gods promises will reach beyond the grave.  Yes I understand and believe this truth, however knowledge does not obliterate sorrow and suffering.  I have tools to be happy and overcome whatever depression dares approach, but that requires spiritual and emotional strength, which I do not always possess.  I am somewhat ashamed to admit that I have let despair get the best of me on more than one occasion. 

Despair is not a pleasant destination, yet a real consequence from decisions.  Aside from those suffering from mental illnesses, I am a firm believer that our state of mind is what we choose it to be.  Yes, I have chosen to entertain thoughts of despair when I felt I did not have the strength to maintain equilibrium.  I would not wish those feelings upon anyone; however, in those moments, I was taught the virtue of charity by those who so lovingly and angelically carried me.  Family and friends, and on occasion strangers, unknowingly reeled me back to reality.  On most occasions a note, a visit, a phone call or small token was received in answer to a pleading prayer for hope.  I want to thank all the angels who have been there for me when only God knew I needed uplifting.  I could not, cannot and have not faced this challenge alone.

 Elder Jeffrey R. Holland speaks more eloquently than myself when regarding angels among us, “When we speak of those who are instruments in the hand of God we are reminded that not all angels are from the other side of the veil…Heaven never seems closer than when we see the love of God manifested in the kindness and devotion of people so good and so pure that angelic is the only word that comes to mind.”

Thank you to my angels.

On a medical note, everything is going well.  Big momma may lose the privilege of having the word "big" in her title if we continue on the same path.  I will meet with the doctor again in 2 months for a checkup and scans.

Big Momma Took a Hint!

She got the hint and shrunk a little, wahooooo!  She is still very much there, but at least we are seeing progress. As I met with my doctor this week I was curious as to how much she had grown/shrunk, here are the data:

August  4cm x 4cm
September 6cm x 5cm...what?!?!
October 4cm x 5.5cm

There you have it; looks like the lupron is working, however we are still waiting for my estrogen levels to drop. The last time they checked it was 440, and we want it down to 30. Wowza!  It's a good thing I am friends with several post-menopausal women who can give me pointers.  That's a big drop but we are hopeful it will happen within the next few weeks.  The side effects still haven't been too bad, but will get worse as they dry up my estrogen production and my ovaries are shut down.  When I am to that point I will start another hormonal therapy in supplement to the lupron, in the form of a pill.  This drug is only effective in post-menopausal women, which is why I have not started it yet.  Keep your fingers crossed that this drug will work, at least for a while.  It is typically effective for about one to two years before your body stops responding.  At that point I have other options, but we'll cross that bridge when it comes.

Thank you for your prayers, thoughts, phone calls and visits.  It is nice to know that people care and that I have such an amazing support system.  I feel peace in my life right now regarding my health.  I don't know how things are going to turn out, but I have faith that God will take care of me.  Like I have said before, my life is in God's hands; the best place to be.