This is Alexa who came from Tactile Medical for my demonstration recently.
Yes, it looks like something out of Lost in Space. It’s an at home machine to help with lymphedema. I meant to post this during breast cancer awareness month but honestly? I have a dog going through cancer treatment and it has been almost a full-time thing between surgery and her chemo.
I have lymphedema after 14 years in my left arm where the sentinel node was removed. My case is mild compared to what I have literally seen with my own eyes in others, but as was the case with the lymphedema in my lower left leg, I am treating it early.
In my arm the lymphedema is more tricky and a little worse. My leg is obviously easier to massage to get everything moving. One armed massage is hard.
Yes this is my arm inside the sleeve for the lymphedema machine.
I go to lymphedema physical therapy which is in fact lymphatic massage. It helps with circulation within my lymphatic system which was damaged during breast cancer and knee surgery.
There are not enough lymphedema certified physical therapy practitioners out there in the U.S. which is why I was curious to try this home machine.
The machine is from Tactile Medical. They came to my Penn Medicine Physical Therapy Clinic to give me a demonstration.
I had many giggles being fitted for what is essentially a lymphadema jacket. It is as close to a space suit as I will ever get! So I got fitted and they hooked me up to the machine and off we went!
Guess what? It works! It actually worked really well. It is the weirdest feeling at first as the air pumps through the “jacket” mimicking the actual human hands version of lymphedema physical therapy. It’s oddly relaxing even if you slightly feel like you are inside a water bed for lack of a better description. It is gentle waves and a very slight sensation of pumping.
What’s the catch you ask? Simple. Freaking health insurance. They make it cost prohibitive. For me, not on Medicare with good (and expensive) health insurance, my out of pocket costs would be over $6000! And that is up front money. If I was on Medicare, my cost would be literally a fraction of that amount which seems grossly unfair.
Why is it in 2025 the cost of healthcare things related to breast cancer is still so out of reach? It’s ridiculous. Look how long it took women to get access to Mammogram tomography machines, also known as 3D mammography? And I have first hand experience with that as given the nature of my tumor until tomography was approved in the US, for the first few years post breast cancer I had to pay the co-pays of $250 each time for MRIs with contrasting dye. And we all know as survivors how many mammograms etc. there are the first few years post breast cancer.
I can’t justify the cost of the lymphadema jacket for myself mostly because I know I really don’t need it at this time. But what if I did?
It’s time for politicians and insurance companies to collectively get their heads out of their asses. It’s bad enough that we all have to worry about what will be covered by health insurance in this country come 2026.
It has taken 14 years for me to realize the problem is not the fact that it’s October and it’s about breast cancer awareness, it’s still about all the pink crap that manufacturers shove it us saying it’ll do good.
Year after year, I check into the minuscule proportions of profit that manufacturers who try to sell you pink crap during Pinktober donate.
Year after year, I can’t believe people haven’t seen through the various marketing schemes.
Breast cancer is neither pink nor fluffy. I’m sure the pink color as identifier is because more often than not. It’s not just women who get breast cancer, men also get breast cancer.
If you want to support breast cancer awareness, it’s not being done with a cheap pink bracelet. It’s being done with the brave men and women, many of whom you never know existed who are just trying to live their best lives during an after breast cancer. It’s being done by the caring medical professionals and legitimately good nonprofits trying to help people.
If you wish to support a nonprofit look for the local ones or the smaller ones in your community that actually really help. One I think in particular is wonderful in the Philadelphia area is Unite for Her. I was introduced to them a few years ago by a woman who believes in what they do. They offer programming and they get women together in fellowship. They offer practical information and they offer support. I’m not necessarily talking about financial support, I’m talking about that friendly ear or programs that help, or even someone to babysit so you can go to a doctors appointment.
This nonprofit was founded right in the county where I call home in Pennsylvania. They have wonderful programs and zoom calls that you can participate in and more.
And of course, another nonprofit that I will always and forever hold dear is breastcancer.org – this was founded by my radiation oncologist, Dr. Marisa Weiss.
The need for positive education on the topic of breast cancer or cancer at all never wanes. I realized that the other day when I was updating my friends about the state of my dog going through cancer treatment. It was like when I got my diagnosis you had the people that were normal and then you had the people that were negative to the point that one person said that they were sorry they knew it was hard to lose a pet. I was thinking what are you talking about? My dog is very much alive!
It’s funny it really annoyed the crap out of me just like when I was newly diagnosed and there were people that had me 1 foot in the grave 14 years ago or were trying to sell me iodine cures, or other quack based treatment for breast cancer.
It’s that ignorance out there that makes me say every breast cancer awareness month hey it’s not pink. It’s not fluffy. It’s not about pink plastic crap, or some stupid bracelet that has the majority of profits going into the coffers of the manufacturer.
I think it is just as important for people without breast cancer to be educated on what it’s like to have it. I think it’s important for people to be educated on what actually helps.
And I think it’s important for the public in general to be educated about the pink plastic crap and dumb stuff that manufacturers put out during the month of October to say they support breast cancer awareness.
I sign off stating once again I am one of the lucky ones.
So my lymphedema is back and now it’s in my arm. The lymphedema is in my left arm where the lymph nodes were removed 14 years ago June 1. I had previously had lymphedema in my lower left leg, and it’s still flares up sometimes but it’s much easier to massage your leg than massage your arm with one hand.
I have been fighting with this often on for about a year I think. I thought wearing a sleeve more often, etc. would help. And by sleeve I mean compression sleeve, but it’s not doing the trick, and I discussed it with my oncologist at our now annual visit and he agreed that physical therapy was the right choice.
And I need to inject here that a lot of women do not know after they have had breast cancer surgery that physical therapy for lymphedema is available to them. It should automatically be included with your breast benefits, so to speak, but a lot of women myself included don’t know at first. 
And I had an excellent care team, but I did not show any signs of lymphedema after surgery consistently or when I was doing treatment and seeing my oncologist more frequently than today 14 years later. The lymphedema in my left leg was the lower left leg and it surfaced after I had meniscus surgery on my knee and it goes back to the you’re not supposed to do anything on your left side much if you can avoid it after you’ve had lymph nodes removed. I never have blood pressure on my left arm. I don’t have blood drawn on my left arm or IVs, and I’ve noticed things like simple bug bites take longer to heal on my left side now versus my right and that all has to do with the lymphatic system.
So now I’m back for physical therapy, which in 2025 is significantly more expensive than it would’ve been if I had needed it 14 years ago.
My lymphedema in my left arm is not extreme, so I am hopeful that once again, I will have a good result.
That’s all! Although this is new in this arm, it falls under maintenance Post breast cancer. 
Because of the bizarro world of when insurance allows you to schedule your mammogram and when your hospital system has availability, I didn’t get my annual screening until July 3rd.
It was the same old irritating apprehension a few days leading up to my appointment and a sleepless night. It just happens. Once you have had a diagnosis you are always going to be a little antsy.
Sometimes when you go you are the only one in the dressing room/waiting area. This time it was a few women all different ages. It’s a weird kind of camaraderie.
I was taken in and had my mammogram and the tech as always was so nice. When I came back into the dressing room/waiting area there was a woman younger than all of us who was just beginning the journey of she didn’t know what her diagnosis was yet. Up until that point I think I had been the only actual breast cancer/cancer survivor/patient.
My heart went out to this woman because she was having a hard time getting things scheduled and getting the doctors she needed because of all the overcrowding in the area and shortage of doctors and technicians.
Southeastern Pennsylvania has seen many hospital closures. So every area of healthcare is affected. And government officials talk a good game yet somehow magically no new hospitals open. And healthcare costs are skyrocketing again. People should be able to get access to the healthcare that they need. I periodically think what if I couldn’t wait for my appointment? 
This country just seems to make everything harder these days. And I’m saying that as someone who pays for my healthcare who has always paid for my healthcare. I’m not looking for handouts. I’m looking for reasonable costs and to be able to meet reasonable expectations.
As women we learned far too quickly that we have to be our own best advocates. After my appointment, I went upstairs to my gynecologist’s office suite to make an appointment. I realized I had never a regular gyno annual in 2024 because I couldn’t get an appointment. I’m in menopause and I’ve had a full hysterectomy so I’m not a child bearing years or having babies , which means that I will stand back and wait because there are so many women that need to be seen more immediately.
Well I will still be waiting for an appointment because it’s that busy. I’m not complaining because I know I will be seen, but again what if I was someone that needed to be seen more immediately? 
There are a few things I find as exhausting as the healthcare system. I get tired of making appointments and going to appointments and I will be going back to physical therapy because the lymphedema is manageable in my left leg but now it has appeared a bit in my left arm. I made the appointment more than a month ago at this point and I’m still not getting in until August to start again. Again, at this stage of my life right now, I can wait. But what if I couldn’t?
I feel like unless you’re in like the top 1% or 2% economic percentile, you are a second class citizen in this country. it shouldn’t be so goddamn hard to have access to care, especially if you’re dealing with something like breast cancer or even if you just want to see your doctor. 
I don’t pretend to have solutions, because I think this country needs among other things a complete political overhaul so things like healthcare and women’s health aren’t constantly politicized and WEAPONIZED.
And the fact that Social Security sent out something so Pravda on July 4 about the big shitty bill passing was something I never thought I would see in this country. That bill is going cause people to lose benefits, and the politicians in this country obviously don’t give a shit because otherwise it would not have passed. I don’t know about you. I am tired of politicians playing politics with our lives, while we pay for their healthcare as elected officials.
But I don’t think I have much fight left in me right now. So we’re keeping our heads down and trying to survive. I will leave you with the news that my 14 years being breast cancer free is official with the report coming back from my mammogram.
June 1 it is an amazing 14 years since my breast cancer surgery. I am one of the lucky ones, and I have always known that. I have lost friends over the years to breast and other cancers.
Today was oncology as in my oncology appointment. Because of the musical chairs and circus that is health insurance, I can’t have my mammogram for the official all clear for a few more weeks.
I still find the health insurance circus maddening. You are paying for service yet somehow it always seems to be made as difficult as humanly possible.
I still have the same oncologist and I’m still as fond of him as always. And remarkably, it’s still nerve-racking going to the appointment.
Minus the actual mammogram, I’m still all clear. I do however, have to go back to physical therapy because now I have lymphedema in my left arm officially. I’ve been dancing with it for months but now it’s official so I will do physical therapy again because it really is helpful. It’s just expensive. Everything with breast cancer is expensive.
Everything with health insurance and healthcare today is expensive. But at least I have health insurance and good doctors. I am well aware that not everybody has that. It’s almost a luxury.
I am now 61. I was 47 when this all began.
Today is a happy almost anniversary to me.
Anyway, here I am, still standing. Please get your mammograms. 
I unfriended someone on Facebook the other day, an older man as a matter of fact, for his obnoxious commentary about the former president’s prostate cancer diagnosis.
My late father eventually died of prostate cancer that metastasized elsewhere after initially only being some cells, and I want to think that people should be able to be better humans about anyone’s cancer diagnosis.
Leave your goddamn politics at the door because cancer doesn’t recognize gender, politics, socioeconomic level, or anything much other than it ravages your body.
One of the comments I saw about Joe Biden was something along the lines of well they guess if they could’ve hidden the diagnosis they would have. It’s cancer and cancer is very personal. It has a public face as a disease but when it’s happening to you, trust me because I know personally that you don’t know how it feels and you should not tell anyone how they are supposed to handle it or go through it.
If as human beings, we can’t show respect and compassion then that is pretty freaking pathetic.
I had stage two invasive lobular breast cancer almost at stage three given size of tumor. It was 14 years ago in March 2011, that the tumor was formally diagnosed and discovered, and because the US back the was dragging their heels on newer mammography machines as far as approving them because mammogram with tomography, also known as 3D mammography or digital breast tomosynthesis (DBT) was NOT yet approved in US at that time. My cancer was discovered using a bilateral MRI.
I had felt something before that, but the regular mammogram then didn’t show the invasive lobular tumor. Neither did an ultrasound. I had Aetna then and they initially didn’t want to pay for an MRI. But my endocrinologist and gynecologist at the time was also a breast cancer survivor and basically said to me back then that I was going in for these tests and stuff because she wouldn’t forgive herself if something was missed. So somehow the billing wizards at Penn Medicine got Aetna to approve it and then to subsequently approve a needle biopsy.
And this was after having first thought I felt then imagined something in my left breast that previous October, but was told by the Securities and Exchange Commission that I couldn’t put off meeting with them as a the compliance officer as part of their then burgeoning war with my old boss by ONE DAY. And yes, that really did happen. The firm lawyers asked if we could put off my interview by one day and they refused so by the time I was able to go back and get that mammogram it was March in the then NEXT year.
So yes, my tumor would have possibly been discovered in 2010 had I been able to keep my appointment, so I was really lucky it was discovered confirmed and successfully excised in 2011 with clear margins.
Not everyone is so lucky. As a blogger I have had some of these types now saying garbage about Biden’s cancer who literally have written it’s a shame my breast cancer didn’t do me in back then so I really feel their nastiness again here.
I can’t believe this is the world we live in. It’s pathetic.
Then another person is a fairly well-known realtor who also had horrible things to say about Biden’s cancer diagnosis.
Compassion costs nothing. Kindness costs nothing.
Americans need to get their heads out of their asses.
A friend of mine writes on sub stack. She used to be an oncology nurse. She’s also an artist so she shared this post from a fellow artist and it so resonated with me.
About a month ago, I was approached by someone with extensive media connections. We had a nice conversation about my developing art series: Breast Cancer, Female and Young.
Would I want a coveted chance at media exposure for the series?
For those new to my Substack publication, I am a breast cancer survivor and artist, whose aforementioned series depicts tasteful, nude female figures oil painted on canvas. These figures represent women who have been diagnosed with breast cancer on the younger side. The methodology for how I came to create this series can be found here.
The nudes will hopefully resonate with women who’ve been diagnosed and treated for breast cancer, as well as their loved ones. And I hope that Breast Cancer, Female and Young will educate people about how emotionally and physically devastating breast cancer is.
My contact envisioned “selling” the paintings to the press in the following way: the series would start with sadness, but my painting Unfinished Business (shown later in this essay) should exude joyful positivity as a finale to my series.
Breast cancer all tidied up. And someone trying to control how viewers perceive my art.
I found both rather distasteful.
My art series is deliberately non-linear, offering various depictions of the breast cancer experience in no particular order. I do not envision a beginning and an end because cancer is not tidy. For those like me who have survived cancer thus far, there may be a beginning, but often there is no end.
While we are grateful to be alive, we are never quite the same physically and emotionally after experiencing cancer. Collateral damage from treatment wreaks havoc on our bodies and spirits. And PTSD and other types of psychological damage do not give survivors the honeyed lives that some in the press enjoy showcasing.
💄
This post continues. I just shared an excerpt. This is a great blog as a matter of fact, and I’m going to read it going forward because it’s real.
On my own blog here over the past 14 years, I have had a similar conversation over the years ever since my own diagnosis and treatment. People want to say oh it’s so great you survived and this and that, and yes it is and it gives you a lot of new appreciation on things in life and it frees you in a lot of ways, but you are forever changed. When I read this, I thought I have to share this on my own breast cancer blog because it’s just so true and so real.
The writer and artist goes on to comment about people with metastatic breast cancer, etc. It’s a fabulous piece of writing IMHO and I’ve now subscribed.
It’s reminds me of when I say during breast cancer awareness month that breast cancer is neither pink nor fluffy.
There’s no other way around it, breast cancer is just a lot.
There is the whole thing of getting through the treatment and the meds and then there’s the whole self body image, which once you have had breast cancer is irrevocably changed. Some women get tattoos, some women get new breasts. I’ve done neither and now I’m 60, and when you look at me straight on, the half of breast I have left on the left side that I said 14 years ago looked like a donut peach is now a shrunken donut peach because it was irradiated. It actually shrinks a little more every year. If you look at that just to look at that fact, it’s fascinating, but still sometimes it gives you pause looking in the mirror.
Sometimes I look and I say to myself look at that now, and I used to have pretty nice breasts. But you’re a long time dead, and I’d rather be alive with crooked lopsided breasts. I also chose not to get a replacement breast, etc. because that plastic surgery just wasn’t for me, although I did post- skin cancer reconstructive surgery on the back of my head. As I discussed on this blog before I decided at the time I could deal with half a breast, but I couldn’t deal with a giant bald patch on the back of my head after skin cancer.
So artist Beth Gainer’s post and her particular painting opening her post resonates with me. I look at that painting and I see myself or a part of myself. Now I still have half a breast on the left, which is more than you see in the painting, but that’s how you feel. And I’m not saying that because it’s good or it’s bad because it’s neither, it just is.
I still remember standing in the mirror almost 14 years ago before my breast cancer surgery, wondering what it would look like and feel like. It helped me come to terms with what was happening to me and my body but living it is a different thing …and I’m not saying it’s bad or horrible every day because it’s not.
And people are so obnoxious in general with middle-aged women that you add breast cancer to it and it really is an interesting study in life. I’m a blogger I have been since forever. As I have written here before I have had experiences where people took photographs related to my breast cancer journey, and used them for their own selfish means.
One of the first times it happened it was this kook of a woman who posted the photo I had posted on this blog almost 14 years ago now, when I was just beginning the journey, I posted a photo of me in a hospital gown standing in a mirror. The photo was posted like a most wanted poster in a post office. Who is this woman she asked? Not because she wanted to meet me because I was a breast cancer survivor. It was because I had somehow outraged her with something I had written. Oh, and she did it during breast cancer awareness month. And she used that particular photo as an attempt to shame or embarrass me. Only I wasn’t shamed or embarrassed, I was outraged that you could take a photo like that out of context and try to use it for your own unrelated bullshit.
Then in the fall of 2024, I had another woman do a similar thing. Oh, and the added bonus of she decided to fat shame me. And to tell me how I was supposed to be. Did I mention this is one of those women who claims to empower and lift up other women? Yup.
Back then I wrote that breast cancer is a club no one asks to join, a sorority you didn’t choose, but it does teach you that you are stronger than you think. And facing your own mortality frees you from all sorts of things, and teaches you much.
I continued that here I am and you don’t have to like me or agree with me. But you don’t get to just come after me continually because I do not share your views.
Sometimes I have to think that having had breast cancer taught me to stand up for myself more. After all, you learn early on you have to be your own advocate, while navigating so much that is quite literally out of your control, including your body.
Recently, I had this happen again and it wasn’t even breast cancer awareness month. It’s just this individual who fashions themselves as a public figure and an influencer. Oh and on the side they play at being some sort of a mental health professional and how’s that for rich? Even better? Can it be said that their wife is in the business of caring for other women as a medical professional?
Anyway, this one decided to take a photo from a publication that someone I know puts out. The writer who took the photo is an accomplished writer and journalist. She was actually with me the day I rang the bell after finishing treatment.
So a few years ago when I hit the 10 year mark, I invited friends to join me on a special garden tour to quietly celebrate that moment. It was literally the day of my surgery at the 10 year mark. So I was at year 10 post breast cancer and just starting my 10th year of Tamoxifen.
As I have written so many times before Tamoxifen is not for sissies. It’s also one of those drugs where you basically can go through it with no side effects, or you experience a combination of most of the side effects.
I had the full tour of side effects. The insane joint pain, cataracts, general bloating, occasional inexplicable depression, and terrible weight gain. Would I do it all over again? Yes I would because I’m alive, but it was not a fun drug and it was hard on my body. It was in fact, exhausting. And I live with the after effects of the side effects.
On this June 1 in the 10th year of my surgery when the photo was taken, I was at my heaviest that I have ever been in my entire life. And literally everything about me was bloated even my head, and I have a big head to begin with.
So it wasn’t an ideal photo of myself, but it was me in that moment, and it was honest. I appreciated the photo because I was there to have the photo taken.
Since I began this journey with breast cancer, I have lost quite a few people to breast cancer and other cancers. That weird survivors guilt is one of the things you live with, but it’s a little nagging pain inside your heart.
So this particular photo taken by a woman who was also with me on the day I rang the bell and then wrote about the garden tour, was used without permission by this other person. There’s that of course, and people don’t understand that if you’re going to use or borrow someone’s photo, you should give it proper attribution at a minimum. (I will ask you to note the screenshot above from the artists post that inspired this piece of writing in me.)
In addition to using the photo, this person completely gaslit me. Literally made up a fantastical story as it were and who does that? Well they do when you disagree with them. This whole fantasy was posted in their closed Facebook group. I am not a part of it. I was however, sent the screenshots.
The other thing that was so amazing is how other people became part of what can only be described as a pack mentality. Sociologically and psychologically as messed as it was, it was fascinating. It really was adult on adult bullying and to read hundreds of comments about yourself from people that for the most part didn’t know you, had never met or had a conversation with you, to people that actually did know you and other others that you had helped was really amazing.
One of the people who had a lot to say and likes to tell tall tales to make every situation about them was actually another breast cancer survivor. I just marveled at that.
And of course, in all of these comments came the fat and appearance shaming. And then there was the one woman who actually contacted me to let me know on one hand what a terrible person I was, and on the other hand how she was contacting my friends to do a mental health intervention. (By the way, she never contacted anyone.)
All of that was again supposed to upset me, but the weird thing is after going through breast cancer, you look at people with their silly little nonsense like this and you simply marvel.
As women we have this whole idea of self that is almost societally put upon us. After you’ve had breast cancer, it becomes something and entirely different.
We are living with our bodies that in essence have turned against us. We go through treatment and we’re either called warriors or we’re pink gentle flowers. In fact we’re just women. And we are women who survived something that’s a pretty big deal. So when this other bullshit finds its way to your door, you look at that like another science project.
Another post from this artist’s sub stack that has resonated with me is excerpted below.
Anyway, that’s all I’ve got. I just figured I would share this because when you read someone else’s writing that makes you think, you share it so maybe other people will get it or in this case because she is also a breast cancer survivor, maybe my sharing what she writes will help someone else.
Ladies don’t let any of the bastards in this world get you down. Keep on keeping on. We all have good days. We all have bad days. The point is we’re still alive. Try to celebrate that fact every day. 
Some time ago, I wrote about how my vocal chords were adversely affected by more than 20 years of teaching. After I eventually retired from teaching, I went through physical therapy sessions for my voice, which helped. But I’ve come to accept that it is forever compromised.
I’ve been thinking about voicelessness lately. Time and time again, I’ve been silenced – either by having my voice ignored or receiving abuse for voicing my opinion. In either case, I paid a heavy price.
Then came a breast cancer diagnosis that placed me face to face with mortality, terror, and loss of control. I was scared out-of-my-mind shitless that I was going to die young. I luckily had doctors, nurses, and other medical professionals who nurtured me through radiation, chemotherapy, and whatever other nasty medical happenings were awaiting me.
These treatments might have saved my life, and for this I am always grateful.
But being a cancer patient made me feel like I was losing control over my autonomy and my voice.
Because I was.
Before the first chemotherapy session began, my oncology nurse gave me a calendar of when I’d be coming in for treatments and bloodwork, as well as when I’d be seeing my oncologist. When I tried to bargain for a date that would be more convenient for me, she made it clear that I had no choice. I went to radiation treatment at the same time each day, as dictated by my radiation oncologist.
I felt my control over my own life ebbing away.
Granted, these medical professionals were all motivated by the same goal: to save my life. To this day, I am awestruck by a kind miracle: medical staff became part of my family.
And another kind miracle: years after treatment and a preventive double mastectomy and reconstruction, I have found my voice through art. As many of my readers know, I am working on a new oil paint series titled Breast Cancer, Female and Young, which displays tasteful nudes that tell a story on coping with this disease. The collection lends voice to the breast cancer experience. And through this collection – and through art in general – I have found healing and comfort.
This week I’ve been working diligently on the newest addition to this collection, titled Unfinished Business. As always, I like viewers to interpret the artwork as they see fit.
Hello there all. Happy 2025. I am still alive and kicking.
I saw someone in a neighbor group on social media post about their mother’s friend having an upcoming breast cancer surgery and what should they do and so on.
So I figured this would make a good post.
As a breast cancer survivor I will find out what the person wants BEFORE you go, and don’t go if they are not ready for visitors yet – this is about them, not us.
I would not show up right after the surgery because although I only had a partial mastectomy, I can tell you that you are TIRED and SORE. And a bundle of emotions that change every hour the first couple of days.
The first couple of days all I wanted was quiet and sleep.
I had immediate family there on surgery day. They were the last people I saw before I went into surgery and the first I saw after the recovery room.
Every breast cancer patient faces this journey differently, which is why you have to ask THEM what they want, not us. Not trying to be mean, it is just the truth.
My best and closest friends sent books and things in at first, then visited as long as I felt like it.
I will tell you it was a time where I learned to be selfish because there were people who wanted to be all depressed because I had breast cancer and had surgery. Those people I let go of. This is about the patient.
If someone is having a full mastectomy or not, it’s a lot for any woman. Breast cancer is just a lot.
The best thing any human can do is to be there for them, listen to them.
Soft clothing is one of those things you need after this surgery, Non restrictive. Natural fibers, soft cotton everything was my favorite.
And post surgery, when there is treatment? My friends drove me to treatment, it was called the Driving Miss Daisy list. To be honest, it was those days which meant the most. They made sure as I went through treatment I was not alone. More than presents or pillows or soft clothes or books, that was the greatest most meaningful thing: the gift of their presence.
Like clockwork, if you are a woman with a voice who happens to be a breast cancer survivor, and who also brushed past ovarian cancer barely (thank you full hysterectomy in 2014 to remove septating cysts and more that initially was postponed due to a major ice storm), and who has had enough Mohs surgeries for skin cancer to feel like Frankenstein’s pincushion, by all means fat shame someone who also spent a decade on Tamoxifen.
This is not the first time this has happened, however. It also happened in 2021…during October. Why am I posting this again on my breast cancer blog? Because it’s still #PinkTober (which I honestly dislike as mentioned before) and now someone not so new and of a similar mindset is targeting me and I am a 13 year breast cancer survivor and I have a right to my opinions, including a woman’s right to choose, which is front and center once again this Presidential election.
A woman’s right to choose what to do with her body can and will reach into breast cancer. Why? Because it’s not like women haven’t found they were pregnant while undergoing breast cancer treatment, or about to. Changing a woman’s right to choose affects breast cancer decisions too. What if you were placed in the position of viable pregnancy or life saving breast cancer treatment? That is a struggle that is very real without adding the added pressure of literally facing the possibility that legally you might have the ability to make decisions removed from you. Look, I don’t know about you but it was hard enough facing I might end up with a complete mastectomy instead of a partial before my breast cancer surgery years ago.
So yeah, this election matters including to breast cancer survivors, which means during #PINKTOBER and #BREASTCACERAWARENESSMONTH I am pointing all of this out and encouraging women from all political persuasions to vote for Kamala Harris. Preserving a woman’s right to choose at it’s most basic is quite simple: it’s preserving YOUR right to choose however is best for YOU. Having your legal right to choose is paramount. I mean it begs the question of if these types of political aberrations even think women should vote?
Anyway, this group I refer to as Twatwaffles for Trump are actually Moms for Liberty and Moms for America is just another (earlier and older including age-wise) version. Stepford Wives for Totalitarianism, the worst kind of group think, essentially a loud obnoxious cult. Where I live, they don’t like me. Why is one woman (me) such a threat? I don’t even think about their ridiculousness unless they shove it in my face and once again blame me for the end of humanity. And for what? Simply because I think they are absurd people?
But they do like to target me, and I do not know why they seem to come unglued during October but they always do. So once again they called a jihad out on me. It started in September, but I forgot about it until October.
So she basically is also saying I am fat without saying I am fat as well in her little passive aggressive rant about me just being wrong, bad, etc. Yeah ok, next. I mean what do we expect of women like this? Actual normal behavior? Nope. Just narcissistic nasty hypocrisy. If you aren’t like them, you are against them etc. etc.
They don’t live rent free in my head because most of the time I forget women like this exist because I do not have these types as friends. They also aren’t actual conservatives, they aren’t real Republicans, they are just and assortment of coast to coast nutters under the umbrella of a woman who likes threesomes in Florida, but hey they are all Good Christians, right?
But yeah, body shaming a breast cancer survivor? What’s next a comment about the fact that on my left side I barely have half a breast and that makes me a defective woman?
This one in particular doesn’t like it when you call her out. She projects her behavior on others. I am a predictable and inevitable blogger, like an elementary school playground script, yet she barely gives me a glance? Yet she gave it an @everyone post on social media to get literally everyone in their miserable collective to pay attention?
The bottom line is I still chose not to know these people, and I am good with that. They can live in their echo chambers of hate projecting who and what they are on everyone else….that is what is truly predictable. If you aren’t like them and belong to their psycho Stepford world, (again) you’re bad.
But this was not the end of it. Because I did not cower in the corner this additional magnum opus arrived on social media the other day:
What is one of the things any breast cancer patient and survivor has the most difficult time with? Self-body image. When we look in the mirror, regardless if we have had plastic surgery to give us new breasts, etc we see into our core what breast cancer can do. We have sacrificed pieces of ourselves to just stay alive and be healthy. And that includes the side effects of radiation, chemotherapy, and breast cancer drugs. And I did suffer a lot of side effects and I stuck it out because I wanted to live. I see that as an accomplishment.
I didn’t have chemo, but a post skin cancer reconstruction surgery on the back of my head last year gave me a very good idea what it is like to lose hair. I had the back of my head shaved out for surgery. (This was last October close to this time.) I still remember being not so long out of post-op and I had just woken up out of anesthesia and they wanted me to try to get up and use the bathroom, etc. That part was ok, but then I decided to wash my hands and pat cold water on my face. I did not have my glasses on, and as I was looking in the mirror, I started to see clumps of hair falling the ground.
I literally swayed.
I had forgotten about that part of the surgery as I was waking up. I literally thought in my post anesthesia brain “Wow, this is what it is like for women who have chemo.” It was surreal. I also must have paused longer than I thought because the nurses started knocking on the door, afraid I had passed out or something.
I still very much remember that feeling a year later. I have very good hair, thick hair, so I am lucky it has mostly grown back, although it is still shorter underneath. But as a breast cancer survivor it gave me added perspective into other feelings I had never really explored because until now I had been spared them.
My eyes have suffered because of a decade on Tamoxifen as well as my waistline. I have always been honest about that. I am growing cataracts that make it unable for me to drive at night. My weight has been a struggle. It was just an average nuisance before breast cancer, even though I grew up with an appearance obsessed mother. A couple of years off of Tamoxifen, the drug-caused puffiness and swelling has gone, some weight has been lost, and time will tell if I will ever get back to where I was before. But I have made my peace with it and actually don’t inject myself with Ozempic. I am not pre-diabetic and I experienced so many side effects on Tamoxifen that I don’t think that is a choice for me.
Yet this woman who fat shames and body shames also Ozempic shames so is she judging those who do use this drug and drugs like it? I am not a doormat and I am not putting up with some random obnoxious woman I don’t want to play Barbies with body shaming me, let alone telling me how I am supposed to think. Her little group has spent years at this point harassing me on some level, but if I defend myself or anyone else I am then doubly bad? F*ck that, and no thank you.
I understand that part of this woman’s problem and the problems of her particular camp followers and these extremist groups in general is I actually do have peace and know who I am. I chose not to know them or interact with them directly. And that is the way it actually is most of the time.
However, that being said, they choose to try to infiltrate my world occasionally, and for what? Probably because I see them for what they are and know in my core how terrible they are and judgmental and hate filled. They might as well have a mantra of they support liberty and freedom, unless you’re queer, gay, trans, undocumented, Muslim, black, the wrong kind of anything else their pea brains can dream up, don’t look like them or dress like them, or think like them or anything else they think is bad for America. They think freedom of speech and thought and every other inalienable right that our forefathers fought, bled, and died for are subjective.
Our rights are NOT subjective, and neither should our rights be as women. We are as women being bombarded with the crazy Trump ads as well as everything about breast cancer awareness month. So to have someone who is a woman tell you how you are supposed to feel or you are wrong?
So yes, it’s October, and yet again as breast cancer survivor women and men who probably couldn’t emotionally survive it want to tell me how I am supposed to be? Have they met me?
Breast cancer is a club no one asks to join, but it does teach you that you are stronger than you think. And facing your own mortality frees you from all sorts of things, and teaches you much.
So here I am. You don’t have to like me or agree with me. But you don’t get to just come after me continually because I do not share your views.
And another thing: please vote in November like your life and rights depend on it, because they do.
But I am going to share something a company is doing that is really good and really helpful.
Thank you Ford Motor Company. It’s called a support belt.
Ever since my surgery, which while called a lumpectomy, it is actually a partial mastectomy and it hurts to wear a seatbelt. It has hurt all these years.
The seatbelt never fits. It shifts. It rubs. It actually does hurt. This is with a little more than half of a breast gone. I can’t imagine how it feels with a full breast gone. I have tried using a small towel. Doesn’t work.
So apparently someone at Ford or in conjunction with Ford has developed a pad accessory and it’s free to breast cancer patients and survivors, but you have to pay shipping.
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