These Boots Are Made for Walking.

(I’m laughing!  Scrolling through the search terms people use to find this blog, I came across Oldest Woman with Breast Implants.  I don’t know who you are, or how you found this blog with that search, but I am interested in the results. Sorta.)

Since I now have the ok to be ALL TRAINING, ALL THE TIME I went to buy some walking shoes.  Can’t walk without shoes. I perused the athletic shoes, and thought, well, these are ok. Kinda Blah-Ha. And then I saw these!

I bought them.  How many miles do you think I can do in these?  I’ll test it out tomorrow night.

p.s. JOB OPENING:  I have to live & sleep in an underwire bra.   This is not comfortable in the best of circumstances, and really not comfortable in the middle of a Phoenix summer.  I would like to hire a gaggle of teen girls to come over and freeze my bras.  I am taking applications.

We’re Famous!

Check out Barbi Walker’s blog entry!  Great shout-out!

Barbi, writer extraordinaire, currently writes for Green Living AZ Magazine.

Flipped for Flipped Bird

 

 

Flipped Bird Enjoying a little Waikiki (click the pic to buy):

 

 

 

Walking Ready!

Got the “OK” to start my walking training today!  I am totally excited!   (Then I exited my doctor appointment into a balmy 115 degree day. Hmmmm, when will this walking be taking place?  2am?)  I need to get going because I just read that the 3-Day Walk charges for ambulance rides.

I made my stoically serious doctor laugh today.  Chalk one up for the sassy patient.

He seems quite pleased with the result.  Well, good, I’m glad he’s happy.  I think I’ve lost objectivity at this point, but will say I am WAY happier than I was when those bandages came off.  Yikes, is what I had to say that day.  Next step – tattooing. Needles. Ehhhhhh.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

D-BACKS RAFFLE

Teammate Susan’s lovely husband donated 4 fantastic tickets to a Diamondbacks game!

Saturday, JULY 16, 5:10pm

D-Backs v. Dodgers

Parking Pass included!

4 tickets (value $66 each – they’re good seats)

Raffle Tickets – $2/each -or- 7 tickets for $10

We’ll announce the winner on the Team Hope Chest page.

I already bought my raffle tickets.  And if I win, I don’t care about impropriety, I am going!

Cash, checks or Paypal will get you some raffle tickets.  Paypal to TeamHopeChest@gmail.com

*All the money goes to our 3-Day Walk fundraising. Do you know we each committed to raising $2300 to walk?**

Nip Truk.

Bandages Off.  YAY! That’s the good news.  Bad news is I have to wear a bra my grandmother would have been proud to call her own at all times, with the brief exception of showering, for 3 months.  I see a lot of showers in my future.

I liked Dr. Brother. I pulled into the parking lot and my husband’s monster truck was already there, taking up 7 parking spots. And next to him was another monster truck – bigger, if that’s possible – and with this license plate:

I feel like my stomach should have dropped at the sight of this, but it didn’t.  I think it’s pretty funny.  (Note – very UNLIKE the lawyer out there who drives around with “shark” on his license plate.  My stomach does, in fact, churn at this.)  While smiling at the license plate, I was still a little annoyed that the surgery patient had to park 14 spots away due to the testosterone overload taking the front & center spots.  John – let’s trade the Blue Beast for a Mini Cooper.  Maybe?

Summary:

1) Dr. Brother is cute.

2) He laughed several times, something that surgeons tend to struggle with (imho).

3) He didn’t pretend I looked good.  I do not.  I should not have looked (maybe that’s why Dr. Brother was blocking the mirror most of the time??).  But he did say it gets better.  Good for him.

Random Aside – I would like to give a shout-out to Xia’s speech therapy clinic for making me feel awful about canceling the dude’s appointment on Monday. I chose to attend my post-op appointment that had been bumped up instead.  Thank you, Girl Who Answered Phone, for adopting that frustrated tone, the drawn-out sigh, and the sarcastic “feel better soon.”  (Honey, I own sarcasm. Bring it.) While a last-minute cancellation is admittedly lousy and frustrating, the time to chastise someone is NOT when they are bleeding through their bandages, itching like they rolled naked in a bed of poison oak, 4 days unshowered, and generally feeling awful.  Oh, and who just underwent breast reconstruction #2.  You know, now that I’m thinking about it, you don’t chastise people that way at all, Girl Who Answered Phone.  This customer service tip is free. Speech therapy is very not free…thus making me the client. Hence, the no chastise rule.

Done with that rant. I feel better already.

Luckily for me, I overcame my annoyance with Girl Who Answered Phone with some delicious food and drink at Chelsea’s Kitchen with the Busy Bees.  (Who are they, you might ask? See Brightest Star in the Sky Event. Then LIKE.)  Yay Busy Bees. xoxo, Busy Bees.

Out. I’m going to take another shower.

Becca

p.s. Thanks Amy L. for telling me about this t-shirt.  Love.  (Amy and the t-shirt.)

Buy at www.SoMuchMoreOnline.com

Slightly Concerned.

Well, hmm. I continue to unwrap, then rewrap to alleviate the itching.  I reworked the noose part around my neck, which helps a lot. At least I don’t look at it anymore, and think, hmmm, a noose.

Concern #1 – I think I could balance teacups on my implants. While not the desired result, perhaps I can turn this into a sideshow.

Concern #2 – The doctor I am seeing today for my post-op appointment is not my surgeon, but my surgeon’s brother.  Am I supposed to assume that this man knows my file completely due to his blood relation to my surgeon?

Concern #3 – Thanks to the culinary skills of Team Hope Chest, I have been eating about 6 meals a day, complete with dessert.

Concern #4 – I have not showered since Thursday.  Enough said.

Concern #5 – My husband needs to sleep.  Easier said than done with a wife who can’t lift her arms and a 6 year old whose typical level of activity is set to “tornado.”

Concern #6 – Um, something in the back of my mind is saying 3 days….60 miles…walk walk walk….

Doctor Brother at 3:40 today.  Nothing says fun like stripping for a man you’ve never met.  Oh wait…they’re blood relatives so it’s fine. (Insert eye roll here.)

Becca

p.s. I made the mistake of googling the word “itch,” hoping for a funny sign.  I am thoroughly ill now.

ITCH.

I started writing last night, but all I could think about was how much I itched. Woke up this morning, and all I can think about is how much I itch. I guess I found my theme.

I am going to lose my mind with this itching.

Teammate Holly came over last night to watch the little dude for a few hours so John and I could sit on the couch and do nothing. I started pummeling my bandages with my fists to stop this bloody itching, and Holly advised me this might not be the best course of action for a post-op patient. While Holly did make a valid point, I did not care. Pummel, pummel, pummel.

(small pause)

I had to take a small break as I just unwrapped myself. Devil may care attitude, I have. John is not pleased, and I realize that unwrapping is medically ill-advised, but the itching, people, the itching is making me crazy. Sweet Fancy Moses, we should consider using this tactic on terrorists.

I do believe we discovered that I might be allergic to the Ace bandage. My torso, my face, my arms, my neck are all hivey. I look like a leper who chose implants over skincare. The silver lining is that the pain is a distant second to the itching.

In other news…

Happy Father’s Day, John! Teammate Shannon dropped off another meal to feed 16 yesterday, and included some art stuff for Xia. Nice thinking, Shannon! Xia whipped up a little tow truck on canvas and we wrapped it up. We also made a little coupon book for Juan (stole that from Shannon, too) to use around the casa. And Xia made John a “music card.” When you open it, Xia sings “Baby, Baby, ohhhhh.” A little Beiber fever.

Happy day to all the Dads! I believe my dad might be irritated that I chose surgery over a church duet, but I have to assume this will pass. In the meantime, my brother can take advantage of the one day he is not in the doghouse. Happy Father’s Day, Dad. And today, we remember John’s dad, Tom, and wish he was here. He sure would have loved his grandson.

Time to go inhale benadryl.

Becca

I Feel Good. Da-na-na-na-na-na-na.

Well.  Considering I am now lounging on my couch with my snuggie, eating goldfish crackers and watching Pride & Prejudice, this isn’t all that bad of a day.  I am not allowed to lift my arms over my head and am not supposed to lift anything heavier than a pen. A pen!!  The remote control weighs more than a pen.

The fabulous Susan Karber, of Team Hope Chest fame, brought me over some serious food. My house smells cozy and yummy. Friends are the best.

Vicodin makes me less loopy and more groggy.  Too bad because loopy is more fun.

Here’s hoping I don’t wake up looking like this. No offense to Vicki, it’s just not the look I’m going for.

Becca

Jodi & Ali.

Reconstruction #2 is tomorrow, and I feel a bit like a Thanksgiving turkey at this point.  I would like to cancel.  But I always want to cancel the day before.  True statement – if tomorrow doesn’t result in the end all, be all of reconstructed boobs, I am still done.  Done. Done. Done.  That’s what parkas are for.

Perspective is harder to come by the day before you go under the knife.  So I’ll share a little story with you to get me back on track.

My oldest sister, Jodi. Married with 2 kids, cats, dogs and a bunch of other critters, depending on the whims of my niece and nephew. Diagnosed at age 37 with inflammatory breast cancer in both breasts.

Stage 4.

My sister.  Not a face on a website or a commercial. MY SISTER.  The one who brought us the “Summer of Practical Jokes” involving numerous trips to the magic store. The one who understood why I became a lawyer, and really understood why I quit.  The one who met my very withdrawn son when we first brought him home, and said, “Becca, he is so smart. He is so beautiful.”  And meant it.  And hello, the one who started the Thanksgiving Karaoke Extravaganza.

I have a niece, Ali, who is now in college and growing into an amazing woman.  But when Jodi got breast cancer, Ali was 8.  Ali – our sensitive little soul, our saver of all things living, our bleeding heart – watched her mom fight this beast.  Sweet Ali would lay with Jodi in bed and hug her tight.  Jodi would comfort Ali, and Ali would comfort Jodi.  This is what the Alis of the world do.

One day in that bed, little china doll Ali was patting Jodi’s IV-bruised hand, and asked, “Mom, how will I find you if you die?”  Jodi did what you do as a sick mom, you say No No No, lovey, I am not going to die.  But our Ali can see into your soul.  She knew, she KNEW that the possibility that her mom might die was very, very real.

Ali wouldn’t let it go, she needed an answer.  Teary and distraught, she needed to know how to find her mama if she died. So Jodi and Ali made a plan.  Jodi would go as far as she could, past the white light and past the tunnel, she would keep going until she had to stop.  At the edge of the Universe, Jodi would be waiting for Ali.

This is how Ali lived at age 8 – with hope and fear, and knowing where to meet her mom if she died.

Happy ending. Jodi wrestled breast cancer to the ground and kicked its ass out of the ring.  Don’t ask me how because I am not sure there is a medical explanation.  Chemo, however, left its mark.  Jodi’s teeth are weirdly sensitive, she has what she termed “chemo brain,” and the oh-so-fun staph infections that land her in the hospital fairly routinely.

Tomorrow will be about me.  But today is for Jodi and Ali.  Today is for those who didn’t get a happy ending.  Today is for a Cure.

Becca

Thriller. That’s Right!

So the 3-Day Walk suggests a 24 week Training Schedule.  24 weeks was, ohhhhh, about 2.5 weeks ago.  Perhaps I will opt for the 16 week Training Schedule.  My team member, Susan, started training some time back in ’08, I think, and is currently walking about 1200 miles every morning on the canal.  But I can’t compete with Susan.  Literally, I can not.  That would be like me taking the bet that the world will end on May 21 on May 22.

Susan has twin boys, still always has energy, always looks great, my kid totally loves her, other parents totally love her – THAT girl. Susan will probably finish the 3 Day in 2 days, and come back and cheer the rest of us on while delivering perrier over ice.  Every team needs a Susan.

Sweet Fancy Moses, thank God I’m not the Susan.

I’m the girl that, instead of walking, learns how to do the THRILLER dance and solemnly requests that my team join me with a Thriller Show on Day 2.  SO FUN!  Right??  My team is on board because, frankly, they are the best.  But they requested a few more people.  I guess some people find dancing Thriller a little uncomfortable in a small group.

So who is in?  Thriller training!  Think Thriller flash mob – we’ll be famous.  I don’t know who is reading this, but if you are, I feel like you’re game for Thriller. Bring your friends, your kids (hella yeah, Xia will rock this), your grandparents – whoever you’ve got. Its an MJ Showdown.

Comment.  I want names.  And yes, I am open to wearing white gloves. But if you want to light your hair on fire, you’re on your own.