Race Day

This past weekend, I ran 13.1 freaking miles on my one year cancer-versary.  It was simply AMAZING.  It's an accomplishment I worked very hard for.  Something that no one can take away from me.  It was the end of a chapter (cancer) and the start of a new one (as a runner).  Believe it or not, I've never considered myself a runner... Until I crossed the finish line and decided I want to do another run.  I feel like I've finally earned the title of runner.

I wanted to share a bit about my race day.  

I set my alarm for 4:30am and hoped to sleep well the night before the race.  Of course, I didn't sleep well... I was wide awake at 3:30.  After trying to go back to sleep, I finally got up around 4am to start my OCD carefully planned out routine.  It wasn't the 13.1 miles that had me stressing out.  {TMI ALERT!!} My finely tuned routine had one goal in mind: a pre-race poo.  For any of you that run, you know how important this can be.  For weeks, I took mental notes about my routines and which activities would increased the chances of reaching my goal.  My routine was on point and 85% of the time, I could predict success.  All I needed was a cup of coffee, a half mile warm up, and indoor plumbing and BOOM! I was in business. 

Here's what my morning looked like Believe it or not, I actually took notes on my phone so I would remember the details of the day:

Pre-Race

4:00 - Up and at 'em.  Make coffee.  Shower and brush my teeth.  Goodness it's early. But, it's going to be a great day! I've trained so hard and it's finally here!

4:20 - Get dressed, eat banana.

4:30 - Write prayer list on my arm.

4:40 - Time to get the shit show on the road!  I decide to run The Link, the indoor tunnel that connects our hotel to the Crown Center.  I run for about a mile and a half, praying my colon body starts to wake-up. 

5:24 - I take coffee back to the room for Richard and go hang out on the toilet a bit.  As a psych major, I know the effects our environment can have on our behavior.  So, I figure it can't hurt to just go sit for awhile.  Still nothing.  

5:30 - It's got to happen soon, right?  I go down to my friend Carrie's room, where we talk about the race.  And poop.  I'm getting worried this isn't going to happen.  1.57 miles in.  Still not happening.  

6:15 - We meet our friend Whitney and Whitney's mom in the lobby.  We are going to do a quick jog to the WWI Memorial (I'd say it was maybe a half mile away).  It was cool and crisp.  Union Station was lit up blue for the Royals and Whitney is telling us about her Grandpa, who has a bench named after him at the memorial.  We get to the bench, say a prayer, and decide it's time to get back down to the start line.  

6:40 - Our hotel is close to the start line, so I run back up to the room to try to go one more time.  At this point I'm panicked!  The race hadn't even started yet and I've logged 3 miles already and still no dice.  

6:45 - I kiss Mase and Richard as they are in bed.  Mase is up and we do our family 'handshake' where we put our hands on top of each others and yell 1...2...3...Moss.  It puts me in a good headspace to hit the course.  

6:50 - Carrie, myself, and 11,000 other runners get in the chute (sort of like a corral for runners).  I feel the urge to pee, but don't have time to go because the race is going to start soon.  I'm nervous, I've worked so hard to poo, I'm positive it's going to hit me sometime during the race.   

The Race

7:10ish - The race starts.  The energy and excitement can be felt in the air.  Holy cow, this is happening.  And I haven't pooped.  Just go with it, Julie.  It's too late to worry about that now.  Enjoy it! You've got this!

Mile 3 - I'm praying for my marriage, per my prayer list.  Richard sends me a quick text of encouragement that I can read on my watch.  Rascal Flatts's song Won't Let Go starts to play on my Beats.  Richard would play this song for me when we were traveling to our doctor appointments.  Tears start to flow.  Dammit.  Stop crying Julie.  Suck it up.  Crying takes energy.  And you need the hydration.  Stop it!   

...You think you're lost.  But you're not lost on your own.  You aren't alone.  I will stand by you.  I will help you through.  When you've done all you can do, you can call.  I will dry your eyes.  I will dry your eyes, I will fight your fight.  I will hold you tight and I won't let go.  It hurts my heart to see you cry.  I know it's dark, this part of life.  It finds us all when we're too small to stop the rain, oh, but when it rains, I will stand by you.  I will help you through...  (Rascal Flatts, Won't Let Go)

Mile 5 - I'm praying for my Gillispie family and I quickly text my sister (thank you Apple watch for enabling me to text while I'm in the middle of a race.  Apple: Feel free to send me a free one for this endorsement).  Jill starts sending me texts of encouragement.  She has been following me the entire time using a tracking app.  She's encouraging me and telling me about water stations coming up.  Even though she was in Florida, it feels like she's running with me.  Another boost.
Mile 8 - I'm getting tired.  I've done a few hills.  The excitement of the start line has worn off.  Still a long way to go.  I round a corner and hear this familiar voice yelling "Go Julie! Go Julie!"  I look around and it is my friend Alicia, who lives about an hour away from KC.  We logged a lot of miles about 3 years ago, navigating motherhood.  Alicia ran a half marathon (I started training with her, but quit).  She knew exactly what I was feeling.  I stopped very briefly to give her a hug and a kiss and she told me to keep running and that she was proud of me.  She's got tears in her eyes and I'm choking back tears again.  She spent a precious morning traveling and fighting the crowds to come cheer me on for all of 3 seconds.  It's just the boost I needed to get over that 8 mile slump.  As I run away, I look back and can see her cheering me on.
Mile 9 - Richard sends me a quick text letting me know that he will be at Mile 11 (with him are my in-laws and Mason).  Another boost... Plus the Sport Beans I ate at mile 5 are starting to hit.  I kick it up a notch.  The motivation that my family is just a mile ahead keeps me going strong.
Mile 10 - I'm praying for all Survivors, especially those I've come to know in a Surviving Together Facebook group.  Praying for those who fought the battle and lost.  Praying for those who signed up for clinical trials so that I could get the best treatment possible.  Again, another boost to keep me going.
Mile 10.5 - I am running hard, okay as hard as you can after running 10 miles, and I'm looking for my crew.  I do this for about 15 minutes, expecting to see them any minute.
Mile 12 - I finally see Richard, Mase on his shoulders and my in-laws.  I quickly stop and give them high fives.  Mase thinks I'm like a super star athlete.  I can hear him ask "Daddy, is mommy winning?" Richard says "Yep, she's winning!"  Talk about a major boost!  I know I'm close to the end.  I've got about 10 minutes of the race left.
Mile 12.5 - I round the home stretch (although a half a mile is still a long ways after you've ran 12) and again, I see Alicia.  She's yelling that she's proud of me and tells me to finish strong.  I'm humbled.
Mile 13 - I see the finish line.  I'm soaking it in.  I'm a bit sad the race is coming to an end.  I feel so strong in that moment.  I'm proud of myself and cannot believe I've done it.  Cannot believe all that has transpired over the past year.  I quietly whisper "I WIN."  And, I'm thankful I didn't have to poop during the race.
After the race, I meet up with Alicia and my family.  Mason is so excited about my medal and decides  he wants to wear it.  Of course, I let him.  I know this was a team effort.  This entire year has been a team effort.

My cheering section!
My friend Alicia who was there to cheer me on in the very moment I needed a cheerleader.
Carrie, Whitney and I celebrating the finish.
My prayer list.
1...2...3...Moss cheer.
My race swag.

Oh, and my story was mentioned on the front page of sports in the KC Star!  You can read the article here: http://www.kansascity.com/sports/other-sports/article39351111.html

You're Welcome

Dressing up... Just because we can.

In case you've wondered where I've been the last week, my crew and I have been busy saving the world.  You're welcome.

Chemo #6 - Chemo is tough, but I am tougher.

As we made the drive to the Hulston Cancer Center, Richard and I were reflecting on the first time we made that drive just over 4 months ago.  We were in disbelief that we were reporting for chemotherapy.  And today, we were in disbelief that we were reporting for our last chemotherapy.  We made it; The fight isn't officially over (I'll have infusions through November and another reconstruction surgery and at some point they will need to remove my port), but we finished the toughest rounds.  I do have a sick week ahead of me, but knowing it will be my last sick week makes me giddy.  I can handle anything just one more time.  

All smiles on his last day of chemo!  

 Around 10:00 this morning, while we are checking in for chemo, my phone starts to blow up with emails and text messages.  Richard (along with my friends Shavonne, Brian, Maria and my Mom) had arranged for people to send messages of encouragement all at once.  It was amazing.  And it made me cry.  I've said it before, but I'll say it again: I am surrounded by some amazing friends and family.  

Richard's excited about it being our last day of chemo, probably because he thinks he'll get out of taking pictures with me.

Mason was excited too...  This kid has made a lot of sacrifices during this time.  He probably isn't even aware of the sacrifices he's made.  But Richard and I are and we could not be prouder.  Team Moss: One team, one dream! 

Bummer that most of my important counts were on the low end of the scale.  But, not low enough to keep me from finishing this final round.  My body is tired.  It's struggling to put up with the stress we've put it through the past 4 months.  It definitely fights back after my treatment in a barrage of side effects.  Chemo is tough, but I am tougher.

Our final waiting room selfie before we start round #6.  Can't you tell how excited Richard is? 

Me as they are disconnecting me from the infusion machine.  I was choking back the tears.  Can't believe this chapter is nearing an end.  I'm so excited.  And proud.  And honestly, a little scared.  But overall, they were very happy tears!

I did it!  6 rounds with poison getting pumped through my body.  

A family picture right before I ring the bell.  It meant so much to me that Mase was there.  

Me ringing the bell.  Ringing the bell signals the end of chemo and is a tradition at most cancer centers.  

What meant the absolute most to me was that my family showed up to ring the bell and cheer me on! The support we have gotten from my family and Richard's family has been amazing.  We are so blessed. 

Getting cheered on by my family meant the world to me.  Jill wasn't able to make it up from Florida, but that's okay because I booked Mason and I a little celebratory trip down there.  I cannot wait to get a big hug from my sister and feel that Florida sun on my head!  

Sorry, Not Sorry

Oh my!  I just re-read my last blog entry.  I'm not sure I've ever been that angry at something in my life.  For the one person that came close: all I wanted for that girl was that she has bad teeth and bad acne, and frankly I don't even wish that on her anymore.  I'm not sure I've ever hated anything in my life.  Sorry... Not sorry.

I hope no one found my last post offensive.  I considered taking it down once I read it in a more relaxed head space.  I used some strong words.  But, the truth is I was feeling some very strong feelings.  I've decided to leave it up, because it was what I was feeling at the time.  Those feelings are part of my cancer journey, and the entire purpose of this blog is to document that journey ~ the good, the bad and the ugly.  Feelings can't hurt us (unless perhaps we keep them bottled up inside).

It's such a fine line to walk, this journey.  I certainly don't want to portray myself as being a victim.  I'm incredibly blessed.  Cancer is bad, but it's not the worst thing in the world.  I try to be positive, because that's who I usually am.  Let's be honest, it's happened and my having a bad attitude isn't going to change that.  Might as well be positive and make it as bearable on myself and others as possible.  But, I don't ever want to give others the wrong idea that it is just an 'inconvenience'.  It's much, much more than that.  It's totally okay to be angry.  And it's okay to laugh.  There are no rules. Just moments.  Some moments are just harder to get through than others.

Happy to report I am in a much better place today.  I feel better physically.  I feel better mentally.  I feel better spiritually.  Thanks for the prayers and words of encouragement, everyone!

Off to enjoy the day with my sweet kiddo.  Reminds me of a tear filled conversation Richard and I had last night:  Cancer is a family disease.  My family (Richard, Mase, The Gillispie's and the Snyder's) has battled cancer, not just me.  They've had to pick up the pieces.  They've had to watch someone they love hurt.  They have made tremendous sacrifices.  They have cried themselves to sleep.  They have worried themselves sick.  We know our family is capable of handling this, although we certainly wish they didn't have to.  Our heart especially break for our sweet Mason.  He's watched far too much tv and played way too many hours on the iPad because mom just didn't have the energy to get down and play with him.  He's had to miss out on sports opportunities because we just couldn't commit to attending practices and games.  We've been distracted, and much of that distraction has been at his expense.  We decided a family date, complete with a trip to Toys R Us is in order once this last chemo cycle is over.  Cannot wait to celebrate as a family!

Love is in the air!

So, today was Valentine's Day. Since I knew I would be in 'recovery week' to say my expectations were low would have been a massive understatement.  I was going to consider the day a success if I could brush my teeth, shower and not shart myself.

Surprisingly, today ended up being the best Valentine's Day of my life.  Of. My. Life.  I'd love to tell you that my husband planned something extremely romantic and elaborate (which he has absolutely done in the past) - but he didn't.  Which is exactly what I wanted.  Low-key was what my heart desired.  

Last night we watched a Redbox and had cheesecake at midnight.  This morning, we had bagels and coffee for breakfast and watched Mase open a small Valentine's box we made him. It's insane how excited a boy can get over a couple of chocolates, balloons and Lego figurines.  Then the three of us sat around the table for nearly an hour just playing around, laughing and watching Mase put together his Lego people.  

Next, Richard and Mason worked out in the basement, while I put in my Beats and de-cluttered a few spots of the house (de-clutter = throwing away crap toys behind Mason's back).  Oh, the sweet feeling of productivity after being sick as a dog the past few days (yes, I was happy that I felt well enough to clean!).  

After a bit, we decided to load up in the Jeep and go for a drive.  We ended up at Chic-fil-a in Jeff City for a late lunch, where Mase played for nearly an hour in their playland.  Then, we took the scenic route home (like miles and miles of dirt road) where Mase 'drove' for a couple of miles (don't judge!).  He felt like such a big kid and you could see the confidence beaming off of him.  As I'm listening to Mason giggles and Richard coach Mason on driving, I see the most breath taking pink and purple sunset.  All is right in the world: My little family and I enjoying time together on a quiet dirt road, admiring God's amazing work in a beautiful sunset.  

The memory reminded me of being a kid, piling in my Dad's brown Jeep with the top down and going for a drive with the top down.  Oh, and we would always stop to get the biggest bag of peanut M&Ms to pass around.  Typically, those family Jeep rides usually ended in tears because someone either ate too many M&Ms or banged their head on the metal side bars of the Jeep.  Almost on cue, today's Jeep ride also ended in tears because we wouldn't let Mase have a puppy that he saw barking at us from the side of the road.  It was a full circle moment and it was perfect. 

Today wasn't about flowers, candy or any of the other commercial Valentine's Day hoopla, it was about pure and simple family LOVE.  

Redbox: $2

Cheesecake: $4

Bagels: $4

Chik-Fil-A: $16.78

Gas: $14

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Simplicity, gratitude, full-circle moments and total contentment: PRICELESS

Reflections on 2014

2014 has not exactly been easy.  In fact, it's been one of the most physically and emotionally draining years of my life... And on my entire family.

• We were bee-bopping along until July when my twin sister, Jill, found out she tested positive for the rare BRCA gene mutation.  I was tested in late-July and in the middle of August found out that I, too, had the mutation.  
• In September, my family and I made the decision that it was time to take care of business: I had a complete hysterectomy.  It was the easiest difficult decision I've had to make.  Sometimes I still get sad that Mason won't have a sibling, but I also remind myself that the reason why I did the surgery was so I can be around a long time to serve my family.  
• A month after my hysterectomy (mid-October), I completed my preventative surgeries by having what was supposed to be a prophylactic bilateral mastectomy.  The surgery was extremely painful... Even more painful was the phone call I received on Friday, Oct. 17th telling me that they had found cancer.  I endured countless sleepless nights and tears wondering if I was doing the right thing...  I endured painful surgeries and decisions in order to prevent cancer ~ yet it got me anyway.  I was devastated.  My family was devastated.  

So, yeah, not an easy 2014 to say the least... But I feel more blessed than ever.  

• In early July, we took a vacation with the entire Moss/Snyder family.  It was a week filled with sunshine, sand and family.  Memories made that we will never forget! 
• My sister taking the BRCA test saved my life.  My positive BRCA status saved my life.  We would have never been able to afford the surgeries on our own, and I wouldn't have pursued them without being BRCA+.  My BRCA status meant that insurance would cover a good portion of my procedures.  It meant that despite having a clean mammogram, I was able to push through and have the mastectomy my gut told me I needed to do.  I've learned to trust in my instincts, at any cost.  
• I've learned that I have an amazing husband.  I always knew Richard was amazing, but this year he has been my rock.  My marriage has grown and strengthened.  My love for him cannot be explained.  We vowed through sickness and in health, but we never imagined we would be tested like this.  
• I've learned to enjoy normal.  During my months of treatment, normal days are often few and far between.  Normal days are a huge gift.  I pray I don't fall back into old habits of taking normal days for granted.  Each day truly is a gift.
• My 'village' of friends are the cream of the crop.  They anticipate needs before I am able to speak them.  They pray for me and with me.  They listen when I am crying and cursing this journey.  They don't judge.  They just sit beside me and accept me exactly where I am without one ounce of judgement.
• My family, both immediate and extended family, have my back no matter what.  All of them have dropped what they are doing to assist in anyway possible.  Especially my mom.  She's comes up during my chemo weeks to help with Mason and the house.  Truth be told, I don't really need her to help with those things too much, but I do need her presence.  I am so grateful for the quality time we have gotten to spend together.  
• Our faith has grown exponentially.  Honestly, my faith has been growing all year though out 2014, thanks to an amazing group of ladies group I am part of.  At the time, I had no idea that God was preparing me for this trial.  I've learned He always provides us with what we need.  He knew I would be facing a trial and He put me in a place to grow spiritually so I was prepared.  

New Year's Eve 2014

Feeling blessed and looking forward to 2015.  Life is still good, God is still great!  

Say Cheese!

I've avoided pictures...  Really, who wants a picture when you aren't looking your best?  And let's be honest bald isn't exactly the look I was going for, but it is exactly the look I have.  A few months ago I read this piece called The Mom Stays in the Picture.  The biggest thing I took from this post is that we all take different things from a picture.

Here's an example:

Mom and Mason making cinnamon ornaments.
December 2014

I'm the first to admit, this isn't a great photo... But I love it.  I showed it to my mom and she did the typical response a lot of us are probably guilty of: I look old or fat or fill-in-the-blank here.  When I look at it, I see none of that.  I remember beaming with joy as my mom did a project with Mason that she used to do with me when I was younger.  As I took this picture I soaked in Mason's enthusiasm and the pride he showed in his project.  I listened to my mom and Mason laugh together and create together.  Does it get any better than that?

So today Mason wanted to take a picture and send it to Richard while he was working...  We did that and I cringed at my big old bald head... And then I remembered the article about when kids look at pictures they don't see our imperfections, they see our hearts.  

I pray that one day Mason and I will look back at this and not cringe over my bald head... Instead I hope he sees a growing-up-too-fast four year old who wanted to cuddle with his mama.  

The JV Symptoms - Yikes!

So, I'm well on my way to having completed two chemo cycles.  Only four more to go!

Since I'm about a week out from my infusion the "JV symptoms" have started.  These symptoms aren't as severe as as the nausea and bone aches, but every bit as annoying as a freshman.  I'm talking abdominal cramps, random diarrhea and sporadic nose bleeds.  At the same time.  At 4:30 in the morning.

Let me tell you, I must have been quite a site as call out to Richard over the bathroom fan to come help me because too many of my body parts are leaking at one time.  Try it: holding your head back, to keep blood from dripping on the pillow you are doubled over on, all while you are sitting on the toilet.  Now, with your third hand and your eyes closed (because you can't see because your head is tilted back) go ahead and reach for some toilet paper so you can tend to your nose and your bum.  Oh... then for good measure swallow some of that blood that is dripping down your throat and start to gag once you finally make it over the bathroom sink.  Mercy!  My bathroom looked like a scene from Dexter.

I was so frustrated over that whole incident that I couldn't get back to sleep.  Small victory: I did resist the urge to get up and eat a piece of the chocolate cake that was in the fridge :).  So, while I couldn't sleep, I spent some time talking with God, another victory.  I didn't try to rush through my prayers like I often do, I spent some real quality time with Him.  Thanking him for the many blessings in my life.  Thanking him that it is me and not Mase.  Thanking and praying for Richard.  Praying that the doctors would discover that they had made a mistake and that it wasn't necessary for me to continue on with the next four chemo cycles.  Thinking of the wonderful families that raised Richard and me... And how because of their example we are equipped to raise Mason.

Still blessed.  And thankful for some quiet time with God.  And a husband that tells me he loves me and asks how he can help over the bathroom fan, a bloody mess at 4:30 in the morning.

The Big Dance

My hysterectomy was yesterday morning, here's how the big dance went down... At least the parts that I can remember:

Tuesday afternoon we drove to Joplin and stayed with my in-laws.  My mother in law hosted a small birthday party for Mase which was a great distraction!  Surprisingly, I felt relatively calm all day.  Some nerves, but it was all very manageable.  I even managed to sleep really well from 10pm to around 2:30am.  I wasn't expecting to sleep much at all, so I'll count that as a win.

Wednesday

4:00 am - I 'wake up' get up and take a quick shower, as who knows when I will get to shower next.  Poor Richard is exhausted because little Mase suckered him into sleeping on the futon so they could have a father-son sleep over.  I get dressed and quietly go in to kiss Mase on the cheek.  I'm sad.  I know this hysterectomy decision affects my entire family.  On one hand, Mase won't ever get a sibling, on the other hand, I am doing this FOR my family.  

My mom was 8 years old when she lost her mom to ovarian cancer. Her mom wasn't there to teach her all the things little girls (and grown up girls) learn from their mom.  Admittedly, I still need my mom, which I'm sure will become all too evident after surgery.  Up to this point, I've always felt sorry for my mom, but now that I am a mom myself, I cannot imagine the array of pain my maternal grandmother, Mildred, must have gone through, too.  Obviously, physically cancer is rough.  But the emotional pain of knowing your kids aren't going to have you when they need you ~ I cannot even put it into words.  The hurt, sadness and worry she must have experienced...  I literally cannot imagine.  Grandma Mildred would have given anything to have the warning.  My mom, had a full on abdominal hysterectomy complete with a big scar to prove it purely out of fear that we would end up without our mother.  She knew that pain and she wanted to protect us from experiencing what she went through.  I'm doing the same for Mason.  He NEEDS me.  And that is why this BRCA warning is such a blessing.  This surgery protects me, it protects him and it protects our entire family.  

5:00 am - Richard and I leave for the hospital.  I'm nervous and my mouth is so dry, but they've told me absolutely no food or drink since midnight, so I quickly take a few sips of water when R isn't looking.  

Pre-Op
5:30 am - Richard and I are called back into the prep room where I am told to get completely undressed and to wipe down with these towelettes and use this mouthwash that made my mouth a bit sticky.  I put on my fancy gown, hairnet, and booties and we wait...  I'm so nervous my body is literally shaking.  Or maybe the room was cold.  Probably a combination of both.  

5:45 am - A nurse comes in to start my IV.  Shit's getting real and I continue to shake.  

6:30 am - Several people come in and ask me the same set of questions.  Then, the anesthesiologist comes in to introduce himself.  I keep my composure, but now realize that was a mistake.  Pretty sure Gill got knocked out on their first meeting since she turned on the tears.  Bummer!  He's leaving and I'm still awake!  Ugh, I fear I missed my window of opportunity to get knocked out early.  

6:45 am - DHL, my OBGYN, comes in to say good morning.  He's his usual calm, confident, reassuring self.  He's the reason why we drove 3 hours to have this procedure.  It's not lost on Richard and I that DHL helped bring our precious Mason into the world, and now he would be doing this surgery so that we could preserve our little family.  On a normal day, the gravity of that would have been huge.  But, frankly I quickly push that thought out of my head because I'm at maximum crazy capacity.  Still shaking.

I couldn't figure out how to get my hair net on.  

Don't hate me because I'm beautiful!  

7:15 am - The nurse anesthetist comes in to introduce herself.  I like her.  She doesn't seem much older than me and appears confident and reassuring.  She offers me a little patch to put behind my ear that would cut down on nausea should I have any.  I hear someone in the hallway say it's time to roll.  Tears start flowing and Richard leans over to kiss me good bye.  I know it must have been so tough for him to leave me as I was crying.  I know if he could trade places with me, he would in a heartbeat.    One of my biggest fears was seeing him walk away.  I was hoping I wouldn't be awake for that moment.  But, it happened and I survived.

Surgery
My gurney gets pushed through several rooms and corridors.  We arrive in the operating room and my eyes are closed, because I am scared.  Occasionally I would open my eyes during the transport and it feels like people are lined up just watching me.  Come to think of it, they probably had to stop so that me and my big rolling bed wouldn't run them over.  They had warned me that before we get to the operating room I would feel a little breeze.  I felt the breeze, so I knew we were close.  Again, I occasionally peak at my surroundings, but I can't see much besides bright lights since I don't have my glasses on.  They ask me to scoot off my bed to the surgical gurney.  I don't remember much, but I remember the surgical gurney feels really small.  Someone tells me I'm skinny, so it's nice I fit.  Isn't that what everyone wants to hear right before they go under, that they are skinny?  The nurse anesthetist tells me she's going to give me something to relax and it can't come soon enough.  I remember her starting to put an oxygen mask close to my face and being able to smell the plastic.  That's the last thing I remember.  Not to self: Next time, I'm listening to Jill and turning on the water works in the surgery holding cell.

Post-Op
8:00 am - My surgery lasts about 45 minutes, so I'm told.  I don't remember much about the recovery area, but for some reason I am picturing a woman with long, big, blond hair.  Not sure if she's real or someone I made up.  

At some point, DHL talks to Richard and reports that all went well and that everything looked good and healthy.  What a relief this must have been on Richard.  He's a bit of a control freak, but in a good way.  He would give anything to protect me from being scared or hurt.  

I must have been in recovery for quite some time, but I don't remember much of it.  

10:30 am - I vaguely remember being wheeled to our room and R is in the hallway waiting for me.  Somehow I am transferred to the bed in my recovery suite.  Again, I don't remember much, but I do remember being in a significant amount of pain and writhing around.  Perhaps my pain meds from surgery had worn off or I was just coming to enough to realize the amount of pain I was in.  I was probably out of it where I wasn't even aware of my actions or what I was saying, but I was definitely awake enough to know I was hurting.  Richard tells me that they administer a pain med through my IV which must have been effective because again, I don't remember much past that.    

12:00 pm - We're in a double room, and they transfer me to a different bed, as the first bed I'm in seems to be having a few issues.  No biggie, I've got a morphine drip and I must be feeling pretty good at this point.  Again, I don't remember much, just bits and pieces of certain moments.  Did I mention I'm in the postpartum unit of the hospital.  Lucky for them I wasn't wearing my crazy pants just yet and even if I wanted to they wouldn't fit because I'm so bloated!, but putting a woman who just had a hysterectomy around babies seems like it has potential to be a disaster.  Lucky for me and everyone else around me, I wake up feeling good about my decision.  At least so far.  

At some point, I wake up and look up and my sister is walking in!  Again, I don't really remember much, but goodness, it meant a lot to me that she would come up and surprise me.  Like I've said, everyone deserves a Gill!  She brought me a grilled cheese and a peach mango tea.  I was so thirsty and hungry, but had a bit difficulty swallowing, probably because of the tube put down my throat during surgery.  

Jill, Richard and I hang out a bit, but I don't remember much of it.  I do remember taking a selfie :) for the blog.  Goodness, Gill is beautiful.  And I am pale and look a bit drunk.  Usually, Jill is the one that looks drunk in our selfies, because well...

Gill looks great.  I look like someone just ripped my insides out.  Oh wait, they did! 

I don't remember much of the remainder of the day.  I know I had trouble sleeping, but when I would go to sleep, it would be for 20-30 minutes, but it did feel like good sleep.  I also know I got up to walk a few time...  Perhaps the pain meds were working too good.  A few of the nurses were saying how great I looked for just having surgery since I was walking around.  I think those couple of walks will come back to bite me in my big o BRCA butt.  Oh, and I peed A LOT!  They make you pee in this top hat looking thing that measures your pee and I constantly was receiving fluids.

Around 3:30 the next morning, I called the nurses station to ask for another pill and they took my vitals and gave me a final dose of antibiotic.  R woke up with me and we ended up watching the Big Brother episode we missed.  Making memories at 3:30 in the morning.  Bonus, we were the only people in a double occupancy room, so R got to sleep in an actual bed.  Poor guy was flat out exhausted.  Yes, I had a big day, but let's be honest, so did he.  Sometimes I wonder if being the patient is the easy spot to be in.  He was dozing off, so I remember turning on some calming worship music to help us both get to sleep ~ it worked!  Either that or it was the morphine.  Let's just say it was the music though.

Me about 24 hours out from surgery.  I am so swollen  ~ everywhere!
Richard said it was a good look and wondered if we could take some of that fluid home.  Perhaps we show this swollen picture to Dr. Price before my mastectomy.  HAHA!  

My Pain
A few people have asked what current pain feels like.  Here's my best way of describing it... Imagine you have grossly over ate at Thanksgiving, and then you eat another plate (my mom calls this other plate a sampler, where she fixes herself one normal sized piece of every single dessert being served).  Then, you have one of those gas pains under your ribs that takes your breath away, paired with a giant, never-ending contraction.  And it feels like my bladder is constantly full.  It's uncomfortable, but it's not unbearable with the pain meds.  Pain meds mainly just take the edge off.  Admittedly the morphine drip I had in the hospital took the edge off quite a bit more than the hydrocodone they sent me home with.  Physically, I have three very small incisions.  One right under my belly button and two right above my pubic bone.  Surprisingly, there's been very little blood.  Although, BONUS!  I did manage to snag a few extra pair of those great, comfy mesh panties.  The nurse called them Fredrick's of Freemen (Hospital) undies.  Another interesting fact, my nurse actually has the BRCA gene too.  Her procedures will start in the next month.  

I'm Coming Home, Back Where I Belong (Richard and I used to cruise in the jeep, top down listening to this by Jay-Z and Skylar Gray)
We're home now, and my big goal for tomorrow is to pass some gas and take a shower.  That's right, I'm shooting for the stars!  Richard is currently laying next to me dropping bombs.  Pretty sure he's doing it to taunt me.  Every time he does it, and he's doing it a lot, he looks over at me, smiles, and then says he's sorry.  Richard: if you are sorry you will quit rubbing in the fact that you can fart and I can't.

Val, my sweet mother in law came up to help with Mase.  She's awesome!  She keeps wanting to do chores, but I'm hoping tomorrow she will just come lay in bed with me.

That's it for now... getting drowsy.  

Appreciate all the prayers, messages and texts.  God is good all the time.