Garmin Piece of Junk

The last time I ran was the Disney Princess Half Marathon in February. That would also be the last time I wore my Garmin Forerunner 230, the "trusty" running watch I got for myself shortly after I decided to take up heart rate training in 2015.

Man, has the watch been a disappointment this year. The day before the Princess 10k, I put my watch on and the little band that holds the excess watch strap broke. Luckily, I was able to improvise using a Disney Annual Passholder 2014 band decoration for the race.

But then I quit running after that race. I'm not really sure if I'll ever be able to take it up again because I'm just so freaking uncomfortable right now. I have tissue expanders in the place where my left breast used to be. My plastic surgeon and breast surgeon operated on me the same day back in July - the whole procedure, which I refer to as "demolition" and "reconstruction," took about six hours. Apparently, I had to be intubated and was given a catheter. Anesthesia is a wonderful, wonderful thing.

So since July, I've had the tissue expanders in place, and have had to go for a few "fillings." This will create space for the plastic surgeon to give me an implant after I'm finished with chemotherapy. You can imagine this is not a very "comfortable" process.

I don't know if running will ever be a part of my life again. The TE is extremely awkward, and I just generally don't feel good most days while on chemotherapy, so running is right out. I also need to avoid gyms and other places that are germ breeding grounds since my immune system is compromised.

While I'll be able to go back to the gym after chemotherapy is over, I doubt I'm going to feel any more comfortable and excited about running after having an implant.

Meanwhile, I can't just sit around and be inactive, even during this trying experience that is going through chemotherapy. So I've been trying to get at least a walk in daily, and I was reminded yesterday that my Garmin could keep track of my step count. I thought it might be best for me to try to get 10k steps in every day.

So I charged up my watch, put it on, and then this happened:

Cheap watch strap snapped right in half. You can also see the Disney Passholder charm I was using to hold it together before this happened. 

I just can't catch a break. Going to see if I can buy a replacement watch strap now.

Rant of the day: Hurricanes (Again)

See, this is exactly what I'm afraid of. That - even with everything I've been through - the worst isn't over. Things aren't going to get any better.

I'm stepping away from telling my cancer story today to rant about hurricanes again. Lord knows I've earned the right to rant.

My family and I are fine, btw. We live further down the Gulf Coast, and while there were storm surge warnings in our area, there really was very little impact down here. But my God. My heart goes out to everyone in the panhandle.

So let's all give a big "F* You" to hurricanes and do the following, in order:

1. Give all you can to help the victims of hurricanes. There's plenty of organizations out there that can use the help, but if you need a suggestion, I like the Red Cross and Team Rubicon. 
2. Support organizations that are working to protect the planet and combat climate change, like The Sierra Club. Then monitor your own consumption - remember, we should all "Reduce, Reuse, Recycle" in that exact order. 
3. VOTE. For the love of Pete, vote as hard as you can in November. We can't let things continue this way.

Plan of attack

The days following my cancer diagnosis were some of the longest, hardest days I had to endure (and that includes the days I've experienced chemotherapy). I felt lost and overwhelmed, torn between the three miserable choices I had for treatment, knowing that making the wrong decision would have an impact on the long and fulfilling life I've envisioned for myself. I tried to read as much as I could about triple negative breast cancer on the internet to help guide me in the right direction, but it was tough reading. The outlook is not nearly as good compared to other types of cancers.

I thought I would wait for the results of my genetic test to come back before making a decision on surgery and treatment, as a positive result would encourage me to think more strongly about having a double mastectomy, but my insurance company denied the testing procedure. Something about my having Jewish ancestry makes the procedure unnecessary because I'm already at high risk of developing breast cancer (well, obviously, because I already have cancer). I'd just like to say that whoever made the decision that genetic testing is unnecessary obviously hasn't been faced with having to make a choice between keeping one or both of their boobs. Although the genetic testing company would do the test eventually anyway at no expense to me (they want the data, of course), it just resulted in additional delays, and it really felt like every second I waited to make a decision on treatment was acting against me.

Meanwhile, I had to start making phone calls to friends and family about my diagnosis. The first was to my mother, of course. Having been through this herself when she was just 32 years old, she's been my best supporter and ally. Of course, she's also been very adamant that I should follow in her exact footsteps as she's about to turn 60 this year and has had no recurrence. Mastectomy, chemo, radiation, two years of a crazy vitamin regimen... on the one hand, I wanted to believe that there's been better breakthroughs in cancer research in 28 years that I wouldn't have to do exactly what she did, but on the other hand I was grateful that I have a role model that has lived through this to give me hope that I'm going to be just fine.

But every call after that was much harder. It's just a depressing conversation... I felt like I was ruining everybody's day, even though I tried to sound as optimistic as possible by reminding people that I've got both my mother and grandmother to look up to as cancer survivors all these years later.

There was one call I almost didn't make - the one to my father. He lost his second wife, my stepmother, to cancer in 2016, right after I ran the Dark Side Challenge which was the race that prompted me to start this blog. She was only 60 years old, it all felt very sudden and unexpected, and it has left my father in a bad place ever since. He wakes up every day wondering what bad news will befall our family, and I knew his thoughts would immediately jump to the death of my stepmother instead of the long, healthy life my own mother has had after cancer. But I knew I needed the support of my entire family behind me. Maybe it was selfish to tell him. I know he worries every day about me. But if he didn't know... he wouldn't understand why I wasn't feeling well most days, or why I wasn't traveling anywhere, or why maybe I wouldn't be up for having him down for a visit, or why I'd be bald. I can't keep all of that a secret, right?

One week after my diagnosis, I did receive some good news. Remember that enlarged lymph node my surgeon did a biopsy on? It came back clear. It didn't necessarily rule out that cancer had spread, but was still somewhat comforting. It became clear to me that I could eliminate one of my choices from surgery - double mastectomy. There was no reason at that time to remove a healthy breast and have a more complex surgery that could possibly delay chemotherapy. I can always opt to have that surgery down the road if I want to.

So that left me with either pursuing what I've read as the best option according to the internet (neoadjuvant chemotherapy followed by lumpectomy) or following in the footsteps of living proof of something that worked in my own family (mastectomy followed by chemotherapy).

And on July 17th, I said goodbye forever to my left breast and what will hopefully be goodbye forever to cancer.

My mother took this photo as they were wheeling me away to surgery. I thought it was fairly ridiculous that she wanted to capture that moment, but I have to say I like that I don't look too bent out of shape, all things considering.