eatthefrostingfirst

Last years Hanukkah gift was kind of a crappy one and it didn't come with a gift receipt. It came on the first night. My amazing Dr. called me in between her surgeries to tell me that my fears were confirmed. Happy Holidays.  You have cancer. Well there goes the festivities. It's my cancerversary. (Yes, it's a thing) Although I cannot decide which date should actually be the true cancerversary. Falalalalala I'm not celebrating with a cake and balloons. There will be no "make a wish" thing while blowing out any candles because I'm done wishing. I haven't won the lottery yet and I got cancer again and I didn't miraculously lose 20 lbs overnight so that wish thing is kind of a crock. And oh, hooray. A new warning that birth control may have a link to breast cancer. To be clear...  If we got rid of all parabens, didnt smoke or drink, breastfed our babies, remained at a healthy weight for our entire life,  ate everything that w

I'm going to let you in on a secret. I will be facing 14 months of cancer and it is comparable to a giant case of PMS. Not to make light of cancer (because there is no lightness or silver lining or whatever analogy there may be ) but yea; similar. ** We cry a lot. And curl up in fetal positions with blankets and warm socks. We watch mindless TV while we feel sorry for ourselves. Don't call or text because we dont feel like talking. But we want to talk sometimes.  Dont ask how we are because we aren't good. And we dont feel like talking about it. But why havent you called to check in? Arent you wondering how we are ? We dont want to talk but we do like to know youre thinking of us. We need to vent. Or not. Just listen. Listen to us scream and cry and tell you how much cancer sucks and how our scars are so big and red and raw and how we are so tired of DR appointments and scans and chemo and radiation. And how we are so freaking tired. Tired of it all. Tired physically

When I decided to go to Home Goods at 5PM on a Sunday in December to look for throw pillows I did not expect the line at the register to wrap around; twice.  For a second I thought the store was giving away the 1000 gift baskets that lined the front of the store but no, people are just insane getting ready for the holidays. With no decent pillows in site I ran next door to Wegmans for the 3 items that were forgotten at the earlier morning shop. Shopping carts were crashing into other shopping carts. People were making scowly faces. Toddlers were crying. Women on cancer meds were having hot flashes while waiting in the express line. Certain that I was going to pass out, I took off my winter jacket all the while the woman at the register giving me the evil eye. She was dressed in Minnie Mouse xmas ears and I really was not feeling the holiday spirit. Maybe she was eyeing me because she pitied my wavy short crop hair that screams "you had chemo" all the while I was holdin

I dont sleep through the night. Ever. I blame it on my bladder being the size of a marble and the fact that I had children. To add into the not sleeping through the night I've had insomnia as of late. This I blame on cancer. And the fact that I worry about everything known to man kind. December 18th will mark 365 days since I found the pea sized lump (Which turned into 3 pea sized lumps and a bit of DCIS- Stage 0- thrown in just to keep things interesting) Since then my nights have consisted of cancer worries, cancer tears, cancer fatigue...you get the gist. I'm at a new stage now of nights consisting of worry about the following: What will I eat for lunch tomorrow now that I'm trying to lose 20lbs? Do we have eggs that I can hard boil? What was that noise? Is my 12 year old being excluded from things that he cares about? No he doesn't care about it only his obsessive neurotic mother cares about it. If I keep caring I will turn my son into an obsessive

In 2009 I was at an event with a group of breast cancer women and they were all talking about losing their hair and side effects from chemo.  Lumpectomy vs mastectomy  Radiation, fatigue, nerve pain, fake breasts vs no breast. Then they turned to me to ask how I managed with it all? And me.  I felt like I fraud.  "Oh- I only needed a mastectomy" ( as if losing your breast wasn’t a warranted way to work myself into the sisterhood)  I know I had dodged a bullet and felt like these women deserved to be recognized way more than I did. They went through hell. And I believed it. I absolutely undoubtedly felt that losing my breast was just part of the cancer deal and my life went on. I always felt that if I got it again it would be caught early because  I was being monitored so closely and yup- I would just lose the other one- end of story. But never did I expect if I got it again it would happen in the already gone breast and never did I think that I would now have a v

There was a tragic accident in our community this past week. As a small town and parents; we are all grieving along with the families. I say families because the driver who hit the victims is also grieving. This was a tragic accident and I'm sure our hearts are aching along with hers. Lives have been changed forever in a blink of an eye. I, along with so many in my town, hugged my children a bit tighter last night as I wished them goodnight. Thinking how lucky I was that I had them next to me. Somehow the messy room, the homework that needed nagging to get done, the put away the phone-none seemed to matter last night. Time stood still and all I wanted was for them to be in my house, in my eyesight, close enough to be able to reach out and brush their hair out of their eyes. Thanksgiving is a tough time of year. We are supposed to be feeling grateful; thankful. It's tough to do that this year. In spite of our local tragedy, each story in the news the past few months ha

Things I argue with my children about on a daily/weekly/monthly basis wearing jackets collared shirts for "special occasions" shirts that have tags wearing shirts that don't have a logo wearing shoes that aren't sneakers or flip flops inside out socks underwear attached to the pants that are in the laundry brushing hair brushing teeth loading a dishwasher cleaning out a sink eating something that's not a carb eating something with color Me trying to be all zen? Yea, not so easy

Someone told me I was strong the other day. I am hardly strong and I'm certainly no stronger than you. We all have this inner strength in us that comes out when we need it to. I didn't want to have to find this inner strength. Sometimes we can't fight any longer. And that's when the love of those around us kicks in and carries the load. I received a note today from a friend. Her dear friend was recently diagnosed with breast cancer and would I be willing to talk with her.  After I cried on the couch, I said, of course. I don't know this woman but it was just all too much for me to bare today. Or any day for that matter. It has become an epidemic it seems. The past 11 months have really sucked. I have run the gamut of emotions. A new one is guilt. Guilt that I am recovering while others are not. (A name they so brilliantly call; survivors guilt) Depression that recovering from surgery sucks but I should be grateful that I'm doing okay.  Fear of a ne

I'm pretty sure I've spent my entire life comparing. That girl is prettier skinnier getting more dates better car better grades Than I became a Mom and if I thought I was comparing as a teenager I didn't know the half of it. That kid is walking, talking, eating, running, smarter, potty trained, more behaved and taller than mine. That Mother must be a better Mom than me. She is at the gym, makes organic food, eats better, multi tasks, shops only at Whole Foods and dresses to the nines. Her life must be perfect. What I've learned however is "everyone we meet has a battle we know nothing about." That's right. Behind closed doors could be a whole different story. Or maybe it's not. Maybe she is as perfect as she appears and so are her precious cherubs. But so what? You aren't her. Sure your kid maybe didn't wear underwear til a week before Kindergarten started  (you know, hypothetically) and maybe you aren't a perfect s

I've gone from Law and Order reruns to ER. This is what my week has looked like. DH has been a total mensch. He makes my meals, tracks my meds, empties my drains and takes care of all the house and kid stuff while I lie in bed and sleep. This may sound heavenly  but because I like things my way and because I don't do well with people taking care of me, it's not actually that glamorous. Nothing about any of this is glamorous. My flat stomach is more tight than flat. It pulls. I have more scars, stitches and bruising than I care to have. My new breast; the same. I sleep a lot which may also sound amazing but I'm just irritable because I'm so tired. I cry out of the blue. You're almost done, I'm reminded. This is the last big step. Which only makes me cry more. If this is the last step, why do I feel like it's just the beginning? Remember. Glass half empty girl here. With the 'final' surgery, I see needing some minor touch ups in

I am 49 1/2 years old. Although I do not feel like I'm  6 months from 50 ( because what does 50 feel like anyway?), I am thrilled beyond thrilled to be ridding this damned decade. Whoever said the 40's are the new 30's didn't live in my 40 year old body. And I'm really hoping that 50's aren't the new 40's because lord knows I do NOT want a repeat of this decade. In spite of the numerous surgeries and the obvious two time party of breast cancer:  my eyesight has worsened each year. I got more aches more pounds more medications more gray more wrinkles more headaches (ok; those I can blame on the tween boys living with me) But the crappy decade gave me some wisdom as well. Lots actually. I grew up. I learned to speak out more and shy away less. I learned that I liked who I was as a grown up and that I should surround myself with people I liked. I learned that even though there are times that I screamed bloody murder at my children

So here's the thing... Surgery and a new breast doesn't make you have an A-ha moment. It's not like- ok, I am whole again- check the box and move on. I've done a ton of blog and book reading the past 11 months and have learned that just because you're going through the treatment process, just because you complete the treatment process, just because I'm almost done....I'm just beginning to heal. This past year has just been going through the motions. Almost like a dream (a ve ry bad dream not one with unicorns and ice cream cones) but one that makes you wake up in a hospital room and think holy cannoli has it been almost a year? I'm looking forward to finding out how I will heal. How I will turn my every day worry into only the occasional worry. How my occasional tears will turn into seldom tears. When I get to give away the scarves and the prosthetic and the wig. When I get to look in the mirror with a new confidence again. In the meantime I

Countdown is on. T-7 to new breast day. To flatter abs. To days on a morphine pump To drugs to mask the pain and to sleeping off the surgery. Drugs, Flat Abs and Rest. Maybe it wont be so bad after all? And did I mention 3 -5 days in the hospital? Maybe I will have a view of the Charles and it will seem like a mini vacation. But probably not. What I am learning through all of this is that cancer...it's a process. A really long one. And I know that I wont forever be "Abby the cancer girl" but I will be "Abby, the girl who had cancer" Someone said to me the other day "You are here. You are alive. You should feel blessed". Blessed and cancer do not belong in the same breath. There is no blessing from having cancer. Not a one. Sure it's changed me. And maybe some for the better but I think I would've been for the better without the cancer so a blessing? Not so much. My blessings are my kids (when youngest isn't yell

Chatting with a friend the other day who asked:  "Why do bad things happen to good people? You should blog about that" I told her Harold S. Kushner beat me to it but here's my spin. When I have my weekly pity parties in the middle of the night I often contemplate the obvious; why me? I'm kinda done with having the other shoe that keeps dropping because after all; I only have two feet. DH and I have been happily married for 17 years. We are decent and good people (even though he is a Yankee Fan living in Red Sox nation and brainwashed my child at an old age to follow suit) (and I don't go to temple)  but you know; decent and good. Yet, the other shoe? It comes down in buckets. (If shoes could come down in buckets) I don't walk around feeling sorry for myself (I did reserve the right to do that however, through all of 2017) but I'm kind of done. And what I don't understand is when I watch the news about women killing their children in ovens and p

Hello 1:17AM We meet again. I'm starting to think you are stalking me as this is the third time this week we've seen each other. At the 10pm hour, DH and I said good night and before I could even think if I shut off the oven after making the Banana bread, he was snoring.  Oh to have the non worries of a male. Somehow the oven worry (which of course I went downstairs to check) turned into how yummy my banana bread really is. I need to lose weight. I hate feeling so overweight. Tomorrow I will go for a walk with the dog. I don't walk her enough. I don't walk myself enough. I wish I liked running. I would love to be able to run away my worries. I hate running because I have bad feet. Im not sure when I developed plantar fasciitis it was probably sometime in this effin decade that gave me every other ache and ailment. I dont remember having bad feet when I was younger. I wore heels at my wedding. And my prom. I cant believe I wore hot pink to my prom. What was the the

Dear Rude Panera Man, I was walking into Panera the other day. I was behind you and thought for sure you would hold the door open for me. Not because I'm a woman or playing the cancer card but because, you know, common decency and all. But you didnt. I gave you the benefit of the doubt. Clearly maybe you didn't see that there was a person entering behind you (even though my tween boys know to look and hold the door but whatever. Benefit of the doubt) But when you went in the second door and saw me, you didn't even attempt to hold it while I followed behind you. You actually let it close. In my face. Why you gotta be so rude song popped into my head but because I'm Miss Zen now I thought maybe you were deep in thought about some sick person or a really really crappy thing happened to you earlier and you just weren't being yourself. But then THEN The nice Panera man called out your name and handed you your meal. "Have a nice day  and I hope you enjo

I've had people reach out to me over the past year asking various questions so here it is. Me laying it on the line. Because I have always been open but because I am hoping I will help one person.  Or two. You won't say the wrong thing because saying nothing is the wrong thing. Anything is better than nothing. Sure there are days that I hate the "how are you" question but that's ME. Not you. That's me hating to be a burden and being cancer cancer cancer girl.  It's me hating the question because really the answer is "I have cancer so I'm not really good but some days are better than others" Please don't feel that saying anything is wrong because caring for someone's well being- that can  just never be wrong. "My friend is going through chemo. I don't think she knows what she is in for" Of course she doesn't know! A few days before chemo I was talking to someone saying  I was ready. I felt strong.  I HAD THIS

So I claim that my new lifestyle is going to be zen. Breathing. Counting to 10 before exploding. Healthy eating. Smelling flowers and all that. And I really mean it. In the moment. And then my kids do something irritating like leaving the notebook on the kitchen table after I've asked at least 5 times to move it and I lose my zen. Because I'm only human. I cant be breathing and inhaling fresh roses 24/7 after all. Being all zen- after cancer or not- doesn't mean you can't blow up from time to time. It doesn't mean that the little things that irritated you pre-zen are all of a sudden going to be less irritating. This is clearly a work in progress. But the difference that I see in myself is there. For better or for worse. Read an article today from Shannen Doherty and how surviving breast cancer has caused her a rollercoaster of emotions. I've mentioned that on any given day I could be feeling great, angry, rejuvenated or sad. Cancer is definitely a g

It's a Sunday Fall morning in New England. Youngest is playing football in the yard with his camp friends. Correction: Youngest is being the referee while two of them play in their bare socks (on the wet grass)  and the others are laughing at my son who isn't doing a good job keeping score. It is music to my ears because this is what life is. What life should be. Laughter.  And not caring that you're ruining your socks. It has been a tough week for me at times. Trying to figure out why I'm not feeling myself. The "hard part" is over. Shouldn't I be done with all this "cancer cancer cancer mind"? This has been hard for me to wrap my head around but a dear friend just reminded me, there is no deadline.  I don't need to be following a time line of when I SHOULD be feeling better. When I SHOULD be accepting my new self, when I SHOULD be back to my old self.  This pressure we put on ourselves as cancer survivors is just one added

I mention quite often that the 12 summers I spent at MY camp were/are some of my most favorite memories. I learned how to do a square stitch with gimp, capsize a canoe (and get back in it) and how to serve a volleyball. I developed a love for Boston Cream Pie (BCP) and to this day there will be nothing that can compare to the shabbos bread served at Saturday morning breakfasts.  My non campy friends always laugh saying I know everyone from camp but, it's the truth. Wherever we go there is a camp connection.  It ALL circles back to camp. There are thousands of reasons why going to overnight camp is so wonderful but I realized activities that I did as a kid, impacted me as an adult. Here me out: After breakfas t we were sent back to bunks for clean up. Make your beds and straighten out your area.  40 years later; no lie, this is how I start my day. With hospital corners. Buddy up. A term yelled during free swim so they could count to make sure no children were lost in the l

How do you deal with cancer when you feel so far from being yourself? You google "feeling ugly after breast cancer". Then you sit and say to yourself Self, look at that. 1,820,000  results. At least 1,815,000 of the results will of course tell you that cancer should not define you. That your  (lack of ) hair and breasts is not what makes you- you. Of course I know this. But 10 months into this crap disease I feel so far from myself that it's often hard to reach deep with in to know that I'm still there. The mirror is my total enemy. I didn't ever think I was a vain person. Then you lose your hair and gain weight and lose a boob and my god- it's all about your looks. Vanity at its finest. I've treated myself to massages and pedicures. Facials and retail therapy. I take walks and hug my dog and watch HGTV to dream about beach bargain homes. The foot long scar and the lack of hair though- it's still there making me feel not me. The k

Julia Louis- Dreyfus came out publicly to announce she was just diagnosed with breast cancer. I love that during her time of, what I can assume is anxiety, turmoil and fear that she brought awareness that one in eight women get diagnosed. (Not to mention the insurance thing but I'm trying not to get political on the blog) One in eight. Next time you're out on a girls night out think about that. Look around. One of you may be the one in eight. (Or if you want, bring me on your girls night out because I may be able to count for two and that lowers your odds) I don't say this to frighten you; but to bring awareness. I'm not sure why Breast Cancer has become such an epidemic. Or why kids aren't growing up on Peanut Butter and Fluff anymore because of this insane amount of peanut allergies. Or why Sharon Osbourne still stays married to Ozzy but the point is... it's happening. As we enter Pinktober I ask you.. do a selfie. #selfiessavelives Do it ag

It's Herceptin day which means an hour ride into the cancer center. This morning though I was greeted by one of the cutest little 8 month old baby's fascinated by a wallet on the floor. I then decided every cancer center should be filled with healthy babies because nothing brings a smile to a sick persons face than a chubby cheek kid filled with a sweet potatoes face grin. B and I were buddies as I attempted to get her to crawl chatting with; who I assumed was Mom. As I learned it was girlfriend and mom was in getting infusion and couldn't bring adorable baby in with her. Brilliant girlfriend facetines with mom during her infusion helping her pass the time while getting to watch adorable B performing for strangers. After a while I looked quietly at a magazine while girlfriend read to her partner from a book. I didn't want to appear to nosy, as I stretched my ear to listen, but the book was full of inspirational thoughts and relaxation techniques. I teared up while brows

I was 4 years old and I came home and asked my Mom "Am I Hanukkah or Christmas?" A valid question for a jewish girl from Newton MA who was in a catholic preschool being taught by the amazing Sister Phyllis. Turns out I am Hanukkah which means we, as Jews, are entering a new year. Can we get a big AMEN!? Being one who cannot WAIT to rid this god awful year I am thrilled to be able to have two opportunities to rid the year- my Hanukkah self wishes a hearty goodbye to the Jewish 5777 and I will be equally doing the good riddance thing in December wishing adieu to 2017. So, being the good jew that I am I have resolutions. These will not include my annual lose 20 lbs because sadly, that one has been on my list for the last 15-20 years and I'm starting to see a problem with repeat resolutions. NEW Resolutions. 1) Live in the now. This one is going to be the most difficult for me but I've been working on it. I'm a worrier by nature and when I can't fall asle

So this is the thing... I'm tired of talking about cancer. And maybe you're tired of me talking about cancer. And lord knows I wish I wasn't talking about cancer. But I have to talk about cancer. I find it therapeutic. I find it on my mind a lot (DUH. The short hair and 50 ft long scar and lack of breast is kind of a tough reminder to ignore) I'm sure there will be a time when I wont think about it all the time but it's now a part of me. It was a part of me 8 years ago too but more so now. Because when you get the damn disease twice you're kind of thinking that, you know, it's a part of your story. Is it going to define me? I doubt it. I like to think I have other things that will define me. Mother of the year I'm sure is one of them because DH and both boys were gone all weekend. Yes, did you hear me? BOTH BOYS! AND DH! I had the house to myself (along with wonderful golden doodle). And what did I do when they left? No lie, I danced around

Before I had cancer when I did the laundry and saw that every single one of youngests socks was inside out I would groan and leave them that way. When it became time to put them on they would be inside out and he would have to spend the entire 10 seconds putting them on the correct way. Lesson learned? Apparently not because when I went to do laundry this morning (which , by the way, as a family of only 4, I seem to do quite a bit of) the socks were still inside out. But since I'm not sweating the small stuff anymore I lovingly laundered them. Biting my tongue as I saw the underwear are still in his pants because, after all, why take off each item of clothing at a time? Nope. Not sweating because there are more important things than correct socks. Before I had cancer I would tell youngest that his room needed to be cleaned. I hated that his shirts were put away in the drawer like rolled up pieces of trash.  Come youngest, come and look at your mother's neatly folded drawe

To be truthful, I've never loved the color pink. But I would buy the occasional breast cancer shirt after my initial diagnoses because I wanted to support awareness. Now that I've been diagnosed again I truly detest the color pink. And yes, I'm jumping on the cancer sister train of hating pinktober. For the non cancer sisters let me tell you why. Firstly, pink makes me think girly. I was recently reminded from a new cancer girl cyber friend that not only women get breast cancer. Men get it too and to prove it, she had a male relative die from it. So yea, there's that. Secondly, the pink t's and cute hair ribbons and bracelets that you think you're buying because the money from the sale is going to breast cancer foundations- not so true. Okay, well it's true but it's not going to CURE breast cancer. Yes, some go to wonderful causes. Things like helping those who can't afford mammograms and promoting awareness but does awareness stop ca

I've soaked up the last couple of weeks of summer. I've basked in the sun and did some New England getaways with my family. It's been relaxing and good for my soul. But school began and reality set in and on the same day the yellow school bus arrived I ventured into Mass General for my day of doctors. Plastic Surgery/ Reconstruction consult, Herceptin day and my routine Oncologist 9 week check in. It's sunny and warm out and my day was spent inside walls for sick people. Damned you cancer. You ruin everything.  I've mentioned before that you lose any kind of humility when you have cancer. Vanity? - scratch that too. You better not be afraid to show your breasts to physicians, nurses, technologists, residents and students in training because that's their job. To look, touch, examine and tug. And you really better not be afraid to show your breasts to the plastic surgeon doing your reconstruction if he is the one you attended summer camp with back in the

DH and I are big fans of Billy Joel so when we knew he was playing in Fenway Park again this year it was no question we would go. As always, he is a fabulous entertainer but this year I think the entertainment surrounding my seats was worth the price of my tickets. Dear 20 somethings 2 rows in front of me. Please put your phones down. The 7 selfies you tried to take during "The Entertainer" because I'm guessing you didn't know the song was a bit tiresome to watch. I tried desperately to photo bomb but you only got the top of my new cropped do. And Blondie texting throughout the show- tell me why you bothered to attend? Kudos to the mom and teen daughter a few seats down. I loved that you attended a concert together and loved your daughter even more for knowing every word to Big Shot. I did have to chuckle as you told the couple in front of you to stop yapping. It's hard not to have to shout in a concert if you want to talk but I agree with you, a concert real

So a new sister turned me on to a new blog which turned me on to a challenge. A challenge that doesn't require me running a distance or trekking through mud- I'm in. Away we go...   1. Share anything you want about your cancer diagnosis (or your loved one’s). Share your age, cancer type, stage, when you were diagnosed, family history (if any), your reaction, how you learned the news, or whatever you’re comfortable sharing.  Round one was age 41. "JUST DCIS". I always felt the need to defend myself amongst fellow cancer pals. Because mine was "only" DCIS and I "only" needed a single mastectomy I felt like a fraud. Like I wasn't worthy of the cancer label. Which is just plain stupid because who the hell wants the label? Fast forward 7 years and woo hoo- I'm worthy. Not only am I worthy but I'm a fluke because I got invasive cancer on the side I had a mastectomy on. I'm talked about during tumor boards and amongst surgeons an