Boob Ink

I'm planning my mastectomy tattoo. Some of you might be surprised by this. Here's how it happened. 

I met a lovely friend, a fellow breast cancer survivor who came to look at some shoes I was selling. She didn't buy the shoes, but we found we have some common ground in life. Different shoes but similar path. She recently had her mastectomy tattoo done by a P.ink artist in San Francisco. P.ink stands for Personal Ink and provides tattoo ideas and artist info to breast cancer survivors. https://www.pinterest.com/personalink/

My new friend inspired me to start thinking about a new phase of my healing process. I've gone through surgeries, treatments and they've left their marks on my body. I've had reconstruction of my left breast (although it doesn't feel like a breast anymore to me), and I've sat with it the way it is for over a year. I really don't want to do a nipple construction (see above comment about not feeling like this is a breast), and haven't thought much about body art. Until now. 

I am just starting out in my process. First I looked at bunches of mastectomy tattoos and could easily point out what I don't want. No offense at all to other women's choices. It's so personal. But some of the art and placement just doesn't appeal to me. 

Slowly, images starting coming to me. Things that have special meaning to my particular transformation, ignited by a breast cancer diagnosis. I'm collecting inspirations on my Pinterest board here: http://pinterest.com/karencroos/body-art/

Do you have a tattoo? What inspired you to do body art? 

Inspire me.

How can I inspire you? I'm not that woman wearing pink. I'm not that woman walking a 5k. I'm not that woman with a survivor t shirt. I'm not always positive and full of hope. I'm not always grateful for every day I'm alive. I'm not living in fear of death. Sometimes I'm defiant. Sometimes I'm angry. Really pissed. Sometimes I feel like shit. Sometimes I'm not willing to take any more chemicals into my body. Sometimes I'm not willing to do whatever it takes at any cost. At any cost. Sometimes I'm reaching out for help. Help to stay whole. Help to raise money in hopes I can continue alternative treatment. Sometimes I'm just a regular human. How does that inspire you?

Just a Routine Mammogram

This isn't a routine mammogram. It'll never be a routine mammogram again

Actually, I've never had a routine mammogram. The first time I ever had one was after finding a lump in my left breast a year ago. That's when I found out I had stage three breast cancer. 

So you see, I had a reason to be bawling in the waiting room. 

When the technician came out after the mammogram and told me, "We'd like you to have an ultrasound. You can just wait here; we're going to squeeze you in.", my carefully guarded and fragile togetherness fell apart. 

I knew this place, I had been here before. This is the place where they told me I had a tumor and it was most likely cancerous. A biopsy later confirmed that. How could I be in this story again? Did I deserve this? Did I not work hard enough on myself? Did I not do the inner work that was needed? Did I forget something? What lesson did I still need to learn? All of this going through my head and my heart as I sat for 30 minutes waiting for the ultrasound. I felt closer to my fear of death than I've ever been before. 

It took me days to recover from the shock of that morning. My friend told me it was like PTSD. I get that now. I learned that never again will I be visiting the screening lab alone. No matter how many Lion's Breaths. No matter how much meditation, prayers and feelings of calm assuredness. 

It turned out I had two tiny cysts in my right breast. Completely normal and very common, cysts come and go in women's breast tissue. The reality of those results never hit me; I was in such a state of shock that I couldn't feel relief. I just wiped off the gel, put my shirt on, texted my family and drove home to my babies. 

Feathered Friends

It could be chemo brain. Or just one of those things that, once a routine, you no longer recall how it all began. Suffice it to say that about four months ago I started picking up feathers on my walks. 

When I began chemo, it became especially important to me to move my body every day. At first it was walks up and down our little road in the woods. Later, I adopted Quail Hollow Ranch as my refuge and hiking place. I also began a ritual of walking by the ocean on chemo Thursdays. 

Somewhere along the way, in those early days of chemo, I began to pick up feathers in my path while on my daily walks. As the days and walks added up, I realized that I was making an important and amazing connection with our feathered friends. I began to find feathers every time I walked. Sometimes one or two, sometimes a dozen. Once, when faced with a difficult decision (whether or not to continue with chemo), I found an amazing array of feathers all in one spot along my path, guiding me to the right answer. 

As I accumulated a larger and larger bowlful of feathers, I decided that when I was finished with chemo I would do an art project with them. Perhaps I will make myself a pair of wings, that will allow me to take off and soar from this place, taking everything I've learned and incorporating it all into who I am now. I'll share more on that process when the time comes. 

I am looking forward to being done with chemo, but it will be hard to ever stop looking for feathers in my path. 

Why I Chose to do Chemotherapy

So here's the deal. I'm not going to cite all the research. I'll only give you my statistics for a cure rate of my particular cancer. The thing is, decisions about treatment come down to feelings. After you've done all the research, spoken with multiple healing practitioners (conventional and alternative), read many books -- all those head-related things -- your decision comes down to your heart and what feels right for you. You meditate, pray, consult with the trees, the angels. You ask the universe for a sign (and get it). You sleep on it. Then you make a choice and move forward. Of course if you're like me, you revisit your decision and question again. And again. Especially when it feels like you're dying inside and everything feels all wrong about doing chemotherapy. 

"Big medicine." This is how I describe chemotherapy to my two-year-old son. 

After my mastectomy and axillary lymph node dissection, I was given a 50% chance of recurrence had I done no further conventional treatment. With hormone therapy and chemotherapy, that figure dropped to 20%. In other words, I now have an 80% chance of never having cancer again. 

Chemotherapy was one of my hugest fears related to having cancer. It is the one thing I wanted to avoid (probably why I needed to face it!). It goes so far against how I want to treat my body. It is the ugly thing that shows the world that I have cancer and am ill (Crazy! I am not sick!). But I chose to include chemotherapy in my healing treatment menagerie because I want to do everything I can to prevent recurrence. It is not the only treatment I am using, however, to create a healthy, whole me. It may have the biggest teeth, but I firmly believe that for my cancer, it is the combination of conventional and alternative traditional medicine that is the most powerful. 

How do you feel about chemotherapy? Did you know that Taxol (one of the three chemotherapy drugs I have taken) comes from the Pacific Northwest Yew tree bark?

Future Wings

I just have to think that -- along with everything in life -- there are multiple facets to this cancer thing. It isn't just a physical dis-ease. There are soul and spiritual elements which present an undeniable call for growth and transformation. Is breast cancer a spiritual journey? Is any dis-ease or illness a potential awakening? 

I discovered a lump and was diagnosed with Invasive Ductal Carcinoma on Good Friday, 2013. I had surgery on May 16, 2013. Left mastectomy. I began chemotherapy on July 5, 2013. Adriamycin, Cytoxan, Taxol. This is a blog about my experiences, treatments, thoughts, feelings, decisions... as I walk through the fire. 

Business as Usual

As part of our Business Math block, Arriana created a small business project. This project illustrates in a practical and real-world way many of the concepts we studied in this block: the usefulness of money, division of labor, percents, pricing, and more.

Since there's an annual Children's Craft Fair at our local Boys and Girls Club, and the timing was perfect, we decided to participate. All items are handmade completely by the children, who run their own table and transactions.

Arriana made most of the decisions about her business on her own. She knew right away, for example, that she wanted to make photo cards. She also wanted to make cookies, and we talked about how her customers could buy her cards as gifts for someone, and buy her cookies to enjoy during the Fair. It was a winning combination. Over Thanksgiving, Arriana learned how to make pom-poms, and then added some to her inventory. She also threw in at the last minute some bundles of dried sage.

Arriana determined her own pricing, including calculating her costs per item and considering her customers. She came up with $2.00 per card, and 3 cards for $5.00 (actually, I think her Dad came up with that last deal). Her pom-poms were a steal at $1.00. They are super labor intensive! Cookies were $0.50. Sage sticks were $1.00.

Handmade signs, twinkle lights, and a festive table cloth rounded out Arriana's table display. Sales were brisk on Fair day! Arriana did quite well, selling out of both pom-poms and sage sticks. She also fared well with her main product: the photo cards. They were a hit, and though she didn't sell out, she did make quite a good return. After all expenses were considered, Arriana earned over $40.00. She also had such a good time and wants to participate again next year!