musings, losings and recreational boozings

Another beautiful opportunity for you to learn a lesson from my life that I am genuinely trying my best at (most of the time)..

If you were to rewind back to May of 2014, you would have found me starting my first go at Tamoxifen, a hormone therapy drug that I was supposed to take for up to 10 years, in hopes of keep my estrogen levels low and the chance of cancer returning even lower. I could not wait to start. As it turns out though, combining starting survivorship, reentering normal life and screwing with your hormones isn't the most fun a girl can have. It started out really challenging, reached a somewhat manageable point, and then all came crashing down on me. I suffered as silently as I could through the fall but by December, after weeks where I would sometimes go up to 3 days without sleeping a wink, crying for 4 days straight over NOTHING (one time it was about the Bering Strait. No JK.), hot flashes and a hoo-haw damaged so badly that things like sitting and walking were very painful, I finally asked for help. "Help" came in the form of an antidepressant that was all wrong for me, and I became the farthest thing from Kayla. While trying to give it the full 3 week adjustment period try, I made some very poor life choices, hid from friends and family, and even went as far as trying to convince medical professionals that I should be admitted into a mental hospital in fear of just how far I'd feel myself slip away (turns out I didn't fit any of the criteria to be admitted, yet because it was Christmas time I also would have to wait until the new year to receive any attention).

So I made the decision that if the usual help wasn't available for me, I'd have to just help myself. That was the first time in my life where I think I truly decided that I wanted to live. For me, there has always been a difference between doing things to stay alive and deciding to live. This was a decision-to-live moment and that was the day I went cold turkey off the anti-depressant and the hormone therapy. (Note: This is not advisable for the majority and not the lesson I am offering here.) What followed was beautiful. I eventually got off the couch,  my laughter grew more genuine, my thoughts became clearer, I found real enjoyment, I slept without medication, an interest in sex returned, "normal" seemed nearby... And for the first time since May 2013, I started to find myself again.

With a returned joy for life, I was able to think long-term once again. For months I think that I would have been fine with cancer returning. That's really fudged up. But I think it's pretty true. It's not like I wanted to suffer again but I didn't care to live either. Those days were somehow behind me though and everything felt lighter and better and my life was a real gift once again. And not just a gift for those around me but for myself too. I fell madly in love with my friends and my family and a wonderful man (Jeff) and an incredible woman (me) and I wanted to do everything in my power to be around for all of them. I wanted to be around for my family, to see my friends continue to make me proud, to have adventures with the babe-a-rama I'm lucky to call my boyfriend, to raise a family and to grow old, saggy and gross.
The best way I knew how to do that was to make certain dietary and lifestyle choices and return to Tamoxifen.

My previous medical team was nothing short of amazing and I am forever grateful. But here's a lesson for y'all... When someone tells you you have to do something, even if it greatly alters your quality of life in a negative way, YOU DON'T HAVE TO DO IT. Desperate for someone to tell me that being off of Tamoxifen was ok, I finally came clean to my cousin who is a top-dog oncologist at Dana Farber in Boston. Her response was not what I wanted, and without much coaxing, we decided to switch my care out to Dana Farber, placing me in the hands of the doctor you'd consider the "expert" for YA with breast cancer. Hence my recent Boston visit. We won't be moving to Boston, but from now on we will be commuting there for care.

Sometimes "good" care isn't good enough. When you're a unique case, you need the best. My new medical team is GREAT. Love them, felt very empowered, informed and confident that I was in the best of hands. I especially liked the way my doctor sat right next to me and affectionately rubbed my arm or called me "a baby".. it was very maternal and I noticed how much she really cared. Our final plan though included trying Tamoxifen again, this time we only had to give it "the college try" (3 weeks) before deciding to continue or not. Since last December, another option has come out for younger women with the kind of breast cancer I had, so she said if Tamoxifen didn't work again we'd try something else. And suddenly I couldn't wait to give it another go. Couldn't wait to do everything I could to get more of this whole wonderful life thing!

3 weeks later...

Day one was spent in bed. Day two was spent on the edge of a breakdown, quite nauseous with hot flashes. Day three began with tears that became sobs that threw all logical thoughts out the window. After a hysterical shower, I realized no one was home so I desperately tried calling anyone who would listen and just let me cry to them... My dad reminded me that it was probably the medication and that I needed to let my doctor know right away. I felt super guilty not being able to do this again. Like I had failed. Like I was letting people down. But my father's words reminded me that one pill wasn't going to be the deciding factor as to whether or not I would live a long and happy life.
"What good would this life be anyways if you spent it in tears all the time?"

I left my doctor a message relaying what was up, my boyfriend returned and after discussing it with him and my parents, we decided that it was gonna be OK if I stopped and they helped me not feel as thought it was a failure on my part. We all decided that consulting my doctor immediately was the best move. Jeff assured me that it would also be ok if I had to continue on it too. We'd figure it out.
Things are a lot less scary when you have someone else by your side.

Within minutes she responded to stop the meds immediately. If I could do a back-flip I would have. We'll go in for another visit soon and discuss another option, which included ovarian suppression and endocrine therapy.

I know nothing about this yet, no more details, so save your questions or google it? This is all the information I have. I was hesitant to share, like I have been recently, because the influence of outside opions sometimes really get into my head. Like the guilt I felt. I'm not going to feel guilty though about choosing quality of life over quantity of days. This will be much more enjoyable for everyone if Kayla is Kayla.

So I guess my lessons for everyone are to avoid settling for a life someone tells you you should be living, ignoring of how it feels to you. I've been way too guilty of this move in the past and that's just not a mistake you make when you realize what a lucky dog you are for getting a second chance. Seek alternative options and opinions, and make decisions with people who consider what you're saying while REALLY LISTENING TO YOU. Be an advocate for yourself. Seek those with your best interests at heart. And hell, if you're lucky enough to have a life, enjoy it. Whatever that means to you.

I feel a little rusty at this whole blogging thing. Guess it was more of an update than a lesson. Anyone want a free three months of Tamoxifen though?

Christmas is coming, have a beer. Cheers.

A letter to my little sister:

Grease tried to teach us that “the only man a girl can trust is her daddy.” But when you consider how real and common “daddy issues” are, I struggle to believe this is a universal truth. Others will argue that there are only two men a woman can depend on and their names are Ben and Jerry. The reality about those two though are while they might provide temporary comfort, those fuckers will leave you bloated with extreme dairy belly, feeling even worse about yourself.

Men are a different breed, they operate differently (and usually slower) than us, but there are good ones out there. They aren’t all bad, they’re just.. different. The point of this isn’t to bash men. The point of this is to help you through the unfortunate lesson you are in the middle of learning.

Every single person at some point in their life has found themselves in a relationship that left them feeling stupid. We gave too much. We were used. We ignored the obvious signals that something bad was happening. We silenced the voice inside telling us to get out. We’ve all done it. Somehow it’s so easy to let it happen. We’ll spend hours calling out our friends on the stupid choices they make while we make our own. We know what we’re doing is wrong but we do it anyways. Why? Because some lessons we just have to learn firsthand and we have to learn them the hard way.

When the moment of collapse comes along, when the reality of how we compromised too much of ourselves for another slaps us in the face (and it always does), nothing feels worse. It hurts so much more than any other kind of break up because when you gave up a part of yourself, you lost it forever. Everything you poured into someone else will come rushing back to you in floods of memories and secret moments, but the person never does. And most of the time we knew this was going to happen. Maybe it was nothing in particular that they said or did, but there was an undeniable feeling for quite sometime that this was how it would all end. For all the good you felt, it’s scary to think you’ll never feel it again. But I don’t know that you should. Some highs are as high as they are because of how low you fell before it. You can tell yourself a million times that an angel with a smile like that couldn’t be the devil in disguise, pulling you into to something you shouldn’t be, but we all lose our balance sometimes. And at the end of it all, you usually find that the worst part of it isn’t losing them, it’s losing yourself.

So what do you do at the collapse? Collapse. There is no point in fighting it. Feelings demand to be felt, one way or another. Let yourself feel every way you need to. Maybe you put a time limit on it eventually, “I’ll only think of him at night,” and eventually you might stop thinking of him so frequently too. The trouble with real love though is you never really stop loving someone; one day you just stop needing them like you used to. And when that day comes, you do the single most important thing you can ever do for yourself. You make a promise. A promise to yourself that you will never again lose yourself to another.

Because real love helps us to develop into who we are and who we are trying to be. Real love betters us, challenges us and encourages us. Are they helping me to be the best version of myself? If not, revisit your current feelings. Let yourself feel awful now so you can remember this misery and avoid feeling this way again. Sometimes it happens more than once, but when you truly experience the cost of losing yourself and decide to never let that happen again, it’s actually pretty difficult to let it happen again.

How do we learn what real love is, so we can avoid this happening again? Start in your safe relationships. Your family. Your good, pure friendships. I learned about real love from my girlfriends. My sisterhood out in California is the most precious thing in the world to me because it was build upon pure, selfless love. The most frequent theme in our house is, “How can I help ____ to be the best version of themselves?” There is no selfish motivation, just genuine support. Identify these relationships in your own life and cling tightly to these people. Strive to build new relationships that function in this way. If you can learn this lesson at 20, you’ll be lightyears ahead of the rest of us.

I hope I am one of those relationships to you. If not, don’t depend on it. If I am, use me to lift you up. Just because someone wants to say some terrible things about you, it doesn’t mean you have to believe them. Just because someone wants you to feel like you aren’t good enough, it doesn’t mean you have to believe them. And just because someone wants to pull the rug out from under you and take away everything you’ve worked hard to become, it doesn’t mean you have to let them.

Here for you always because you are wonderful to me, you are good enough for me, and I believe in the woman you are becoming.

Sisters are forever.

Love you.

Always.

K

for what it's worth..

"For what it’s worth… it’s never too late, or in my case too early, to be whoever you want to be. There’s no time limit. Start whenever you want. You can change or stay the same. There are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people who have a different point of view. I hope you live a life you’re proud of, and if you’re not, I hope you have the courage to start all over again." – F. Scott Fitzgerald

An important thing humans should do

Share. Share your happy moments and share your hard ones.
If you can start a conversation, it's worth it.
If you can lift another up, it's worth it.
If you can encourage others to share, it's worth it.
And if you can let someone out there know that they're not alone, it is so incredibly worth it.
http://www.elle.com/life-love/a27914/feeling-sexy-while-recovering-from-cancer/

a reminder to keep sharing

https://hackpackr.wordpress.com

it was all yellow

"Vincent Van Gogh used to eat yellow paint because he thought it would get the happiness inside him. Many people thought he was mad and stupid for doing so because the paint was toxic, never mind that it was obvious that eating paint couldn’t possibly have any direct correlation to one’s happiness, but I never saw that. If you were so unhappy that even the maddest ideas could possibly work, like painting the walls of your internal organs yellow, then you are going to do it. It’s really no different than falling in love or taking drugs. There is a great risk of getting your heart broken or overdosing, but people still do it every day because there is a chance it could make things better. Everyone has their yellow paint."

being human

"So I try to let myself cry when I need to. I've cried quite a few times over the past couple of months. I've cried because I worry my new body is going to feel unnatural. I've cried from the fear that I won't get married and have a baby before my ovaries have to be removed. I've cried when yet another ridiculous bill shows up in my mailbox. After my breakup, I stood in my living room and asked the universe why it was taking my breasts and my boyfriend away from me. I've come to terms with the fact that those moments don't negate my strength. They simply mean that I am human. This experience has also been a reminder to me that we can't always rigidly control our lives. "

sitting on a cactus

"Just because you’re given a cactus doesn’t mean you have to sit on it."

I feel like I’ve been doing a lot of sitting on the cacti I’ve been given. Sometimes it’s hard not to, especially when new ones keep popping up. I realized the only way to get rid of a cactus is to completely uproot it. I tried chopping them down at the surface but the stumps kept growing back.

I have great self-awareness and am very good at pinpointing what I need and what I don’t. I’ve been flailing hard since December, partial blame goes to what has been going on inside and growing in my body (I'm hypersensitive to when things are off inside) and finally processing things. So enjoy another lesson from my life before you have to experience it the hard way yourself: don’t put off dealing with things and taking care of yourself.

“If you don’t have time to do it right the first time you better have time to do it again.”

I recently just had a lot of tough things happen in the same week and got forced into a decision to fix or fold. When bad times happen, it usually causes other garbage to resurface too. There are some issues that have lingered and I've seen how they interfere with me having a consistent sense of “normal”. What I haven’t been so in tune with is the source of these problems. I love fixing things, but I gotta know what actually needs fixing to be able to do it. Of course, I also have to have time and energy to heal. Scratch that.. I have to MAKE time. 

I’ve taken the last few weeks to do just that. I’ve had some health decisions to make before anything else, which is something I have been putting aside. So I eliminated my everyday distractions and sat in a space to make these decisions. For example, it was encouraged by my doctors to have a total hysterectomy right away. It’s a surgery that would have bring some tough side effects. So the decision I have made for now is to wait. I don’t know how long I’m going to wait but I’m not in a hurry at the moment. From my last surgery, my ovaries are free of cancer and anything else I wouldn’t want in there, so I see that as having bought me some time. I will haven more frequent surveillance than before, to keep a close watch and allow for early detection.

I appreciate all of the feedback I’ve been given on this decision, and I realize my choice is against what 99% of you have suggested, but ultimately this is what feels right. In the past few weeks I have felt the happiest and healthiest I have in a very long time. I’ve been able to exercise and go for ocean swims. I feel like the weight of constantly worrying about my health has been lifted and I would really just like to continue to enjoy this feeling. Knowing I have some time to just feel good (and my age!) is really exciting to me. I also am enjoying alternative treatments and preventative routes and will continue to until I no longer feel confident in them. What would be the point of all of this living if I wasn’t enjoying it?

With some changes that have recently happened in my life, it felt like now would be the best time to have another surgery. I have the time for it and there is a lack of major responsibilities that need me. At first, it really seemed like the time is now. After some thought I’ve decided that now is the time to FEEL GOOD. I have time to make time to be healthy and active and happy. So much of living is mental for me. When the fears of more cancer gets back into my head, then I will take action. But I’m not feeling afraid right now and I’m going to take a break from the hospital scene. 

I’ve really done a great job of staying present focused like I had intended before my surgery. My father was 100% correct. I can handle today’s problems. I can’t handle today and tomorrow’s problems today though. One day at a time. 2015 has been surprisingly tough, but ultimately a good lesson in faith. 

I understand that many of you are concerned that putting off surgery means I’m not taking my long term health into consideration and “just want me to be here” more than anything else. But I feel like that is exactly what I’m doing. It’s so much harder to find joy and purpose in life when you’re spending all your time recovering in bed. While I have had plenty of ups in the past two years, I have also had moments I wouldn’t even wish on a Red Wings fan. Those times are what contributed to me losing some of that “zest for life" or whatever you want to call it. I want to want to be around too! I don’t want a life to be defined by illness and I don’t want it to be the driving force of all my actions. I feel myself getting physically stronger every day and my heart and head are great. Enjoying those feelings for a little is the right thing to do right now. Being in a good headspace is making it easier to take care of myself too. 

I just feel peachy keen right now.

While I still have the option to choose, I will. One decision down. So this is me, getting off the cactus and giving you all permission to push me off of it if you see me headed that way again.

cheers, yew and happy sunshine days!

*apologies to anyone who has experienced any worry over my quiet time

how long is your long term?

"How long is your long term? A simple question with an answer that's difficult to embrace.

What are you willing to give up today in exchange for something better tomorrow? Next week? In ten years?

Your long term is not the sum of your short terms."

Awesome

http://melanietesta.com/2015/02/shirts-off-underwear-on-play-out-breast-cancer-and-gender-expectations-2/

hoppenings

i'll start you off with a little fun. before treatments/surgery i like to create a bucket list of fun things to do that will help me through the tough stuff. this time included puppies, the ocean, pizza, playing and time with those i love. prep fun
so this is gonna be one of those where i start talking and we'll find out where i go when i get there.

the day before surgery i was gifted a spa day at an Aveda salon called Lux in fullerton. this is the place that dreams are made of. the massage was not of this planet and my hair has fun teal and purple streaks in it. thank you thank you thank you jordan :)
the night before surgery i had a big group of friends over for a wig themed pizza thursday- lots of good eating, games and just time with the really, really good friends that my life is full of. at one point i was standing around in the kitchen with a friend and he just looked at me, looked around us, and said "this is a good life, kayla." those words went straight to my heart. i feel like i do a decent job of appreciating the people in my life and the time we share, but sometimes i need to be reminded of that magic. another person made a comment about what a motley crew we are- 20-30 of us, some young, some old, some quiet, some crazy, no one really having a tie to more than one person there, but still all these people coming together to love on me. and eat pizza. this is a good life.

my surgery had a wig theme so at 6 am, me, my father, my roomies, and my friends in wigs strolled into Hoag Hospital. i was pretty exhausted and looking forward to anesthesia so waiting for go time felt like forever. not to sound like too much of a downer- but 2015 has been tiring. not really bad i guess, but tiring. the thought of a couple of days unconscious has sounded pretty great ever since surgery was scheduled. i've needed a break from myself even.
my dad and i had some beautiful little moments in my room before the doctors came. he commented on the community i'm surrounded with here and how much he loves to see it. we talked about our new favorite question, "what would you do if you knew that everything was going to be ok?" and my father ended it with saying God is not in the business of "ok" but things much greater. ultimately he reminded me that, as always in my life, one day we will look on these moments and see that beautiful things grew from them. maybe i won't see them as soon as i'd like to, but i know that i will.

normally i get very emotional with my pre op goodbyes, but my surgeon/oncologist was wearing a pink wig and my anesthesiologist was dance-pushing me down the hall to the OR in a green wig. i fell asleep laughing on my way to surgery. this is a good life.

a friend commented on my doctors saying that i seem to connect with the most wonderful people. i don't know if it's a "you get what you give" kind of deal (which another friend told me is a real thing because "otherwise there wouldn't be a super cool 90s jam about it") or what, but boy is she right. these two doctors were particularly exceptional. i wasn't their first surgery of the day and i wasn't their last either. the procedure was routine and simple. nothing special in room 2. but there we were laughing with colorful hair while i got prepped for surgery. i wasn't procedure #2- to them i was kayla and someone worth caring about and worth playing along with. i've heard hospital horror stories and desensitized doctors. the medical care i've received since day one has been perfect for me and only seems to get better. they've always accepted Kayla- the big love, big smiles, and big crowds. so friday morning, to throwback to Honey Skinner, everyone got the message to "get with the joy."
i like hearing about nurses laughing and people smiling because of my entourage. i love that gifts of love and joy my friends share with dozens, by showing up to support me. a ripple effect. this is a good life.

they took out the bad and kept the good. post op brought some more shenanigans- my docs put a wig on me while i slept in the recovery room, occasionally talking about harry potter bugs and how sad i felt for my cold feet. a very classic kayla wake up from anesthesia.

pathology reports will come in sometime this week and i'll see my oncologist next week for a post op check up and to talk about what's next. my dad reminded me how much of my stress and worries come from thinking about "what's next" and all of these unknowns. he said today has ten pounds of problems and i was given the strength to carry those ten. the bigger struggles come when i start to take on tomorrow's ten in addition to today's. my post op goal was to make a conscious effort to practice present thinking and stay focused on today. what 3 things do i have to think about today? unless an emergency happens, a few things today are enough, the others can wait till tomorrow or the next day. it's only been a day or two, but i see the positive impact of staying present already. i think health crises (among other bumps in life) cause our minds to wander so far into the future. i think of all of the times cancer has pushed my head into places that are months, years ahead of me. it's a weird limbo- knowing we don't have all the time we think we have but trying to stay in the now. making decisions for a future i don't know i have feels so much heavier than "what's one goal i can accomplish today?" mention of my post op appt really took me on a tangent there, but i think what i'm trying to say is resting, a little time outside and writing some letters were enough for today. i know you all have a lot of questions and wonderings, so do i, but i hope you guys can help me stay focused on today-that's what feels good for now.

my other little stand out moment happened when my dad was about to fly back to chicago. he got in bed next to me and was just lying next to me, holding me and telling me how much he loves me. it was one of those rare, precious moments where you can actually feel someone's love leave their body and come into your own. hug your loved ones-always share your love. when love is tangible, ahh. i am loved. this is a good life.

i am appreciating the clarity that has come with my life coming to halt. simple living has simple needs and simple dreams. i'm not sure of the source of the refueling that always comes with times like these for me, but i know it's coming. i'm looking forward to welcome whatever comes from this experience (but not too much(staying present is hard)).

thank you for all of the love and support i've been showered with and the patience with the process too. i love the ways my roommates are caring for me and keeping me safe. i love the ways that my family shares love. i love the texts and calls. and i LOVE doctors in drag.

"this is a good life, kayla." the more i see it and say it the more i remember it and feel it. "a good life" is a fun place to rest my head while i heal. slowing down is nice. i'm also kinda hopped up on pain meds so my apologies for bouncing around or not really having much to share- feeling thankful for auto correct <3

start close in

START CLOSE IN by David Whyte

Start close in,
don't take the second step
or the third,

start with the first
thing
close in,
the step
you don't want to take.

Start with
the ground
you know,

the pale ground
beneath your feet,
your own
way of starting
the conversation.

Start with your own
question,

give up on other
people's questions,
don't let them
smother something
simple.

To find
another's voice,
follow
your own voice,
wait until
that voice
becomes a
private ear
listening
to another.

Start right now
take a small step
you can call your own

don't follow
someone else's
heroics, 

be humble
and focused,
start close in,

don't mistake
that other
for your own.

Start close in,
don't take
the second step
or the third,
start with the first
thing
close in,
the step
you don't want to take.

life

today i found myself out in our "garden" (read: little strip of dirt under mailbox)
i was looking for a productive release for my emotions (i've spent the past 4 days crying, getting pumped full of fluids in the hospital, and alone in bed). physical labor seemed appealing. i went out to water the sunflower seeds i planted a few weeks ago and was surprised to see little green leaves popping out of the soil. what did i do when i saw them? the same thing i've been doing all week... i cried.

this time for a different reason though. in a week filled with anything but a feeling of life, there life was. these little green leaves gave me a little feeling of something that has been missing this week-hope.

i've cried non stop since tuesday afternoon. i couldn't eat, i couldn't sleep, i couldn't drink. my heart has never been broken like this before. my chest feels a different kind of pain, this empty, hollow pain, and my bones ache. i haven't sucked it up and plowed through like i normally do and instead just let it all hit me and it's really, really sucked. i know i won't feel like this forever but man do i feel this right now.

but as usual, i'm never good at staying sad long. today i felt a little hope. today i got some pieces to the puzzle that will be creating a family and that made the hurt hurt a little less. that's let me give myself permission to focus on my health for now, this surgery and hopefully unsuccessful search for cancer. all of the next steps depend on the outcome of this step, so the surgery search is what's on my mind for now and what i should be discussing if anything.

again, what would be helpful when i'm ready is the ability to reach out to any ovarian cancer survivors or any women who have had their ovaries removed at a young age. AFTER surgery, i will have to start thinking about the next steps and that is something that would help me make the best decision possible for my long term health. if you know any, please let me know.

what would you do if you knew everything was going to be ok?

life has a way of always continuing and i'm thankful for that. thanks for all of the support and love. feeling more like kayla today and i'm hanging on to that.

Once again I turn to social media to share news to the masses. This is really just an easier route for me than individual contact, since I have so many special people in my life. And I am looking at doing what is easier/best for me at the moment.

Two weeks ago I had a PET scan done to investigate back pain I've been having. My back came back clear and the pain is just the result of extensive radiation damage. My ovaries showed suspicion and my doctor had me follow it up with an ultrasound. The ultrasound showed complex (and pretty large) cysts in both ovaries and unfortunately they cannot tell what they are made of, just that they aren't fluid like a normal cyst. I feel optimistic and realistically I always knew my BRCA2 mutation and cancer history put me at risk for ovarian cancer. I think this news felt a little out of nowhere and sudden but I know the cancer investigating routine this time at least. I teamed up with a gynecological oncologist and have surgery scheduled on February 27th to explore my ovaries and do biopsies. In the event that things appear unexpectedly bad in there, they would remove my ovaries immediately. This news led me to a fertility doctor.

The fertility doctor discussed all the ways that creating a family is possible. He did some tests which showed that because of the chemotherapy I had and the intensity of it, my ovaries are no longer producing eggs. Ovarian damage or failure can happen with some chemotherapy drugs depending on the type, dose, and length of treatment. To my understanding, this is unrelated to the cysts in my ovaries.

I am in shock. The news of my fertility has been devastating and I am heartbroken to find this out. Children have always been my life and motherhood my dream. To be honest, this has been more painful than the cancer diagnosis. At least I knew that was temporary. My body had shown so many signs that everything was functioning as it should down there. I understand that I have many options, lots of really great ones too, on how to create a family but I'm having a hard time giving them much thought at the moment. I need some time to grieve and process.

I felt like keeping much of this information to myself this time around but ultimately have decided to share some of it for a couple of reasons. I know that sharing my experiences can help others and will when I am ready to do that. I also know that I need time and this seemed like a better option to let my people know that instead of just ignoring all of you. Additionally, as much as I wished I was, I am not the tough cookie I appear to be without the love and support of my friends and family.

What I need most right now is to let the tears fall and the hurt hurt and to be okay with that. Keeping my chin up like I usually do doesn't feel right at the moment. I don't feel like talking much or to most people right now but I know that if I need to I have many wonderful ears ready for me. If you're curious about how chemo can cause infertility, the internet has plenty of answers. If you're curious about these complex cysts, my doctors will have answers soon and I will be sure to pass along the information when I can.

Like I said, I'm not ready to ponder other options of family creation yet but if you happen to know of anyone who has created a family in alternative ways from egg donors to adoption, I think I would like to hear from some of them when I'm feeling up to it. Also if there are any ovarian cancer survivors out there or women who have had their ovaries removed at a young age, I would eventually like to talk to them too. My email is kayla@reimagine.me and I think for now I would like to have things forwarded there and will read and respond when I'm ready to.

I know how I'm feeling is appropriate and I also know that it is temporary. I will definitely seek more support and conversations about all of this when I'm ready. I've become very good at expressing what I need and what I don't. If you could keep me and my family in your thoughts and prayers that would be greatly appreciated.

xox

Sexvember

I started the month of November with a clear mission. Cancer had taken a lot from me but I was determined to take some of it back. The loss that bothered me the most was the disconnect from my body. It’s hard to take care of something you don’t care for and I wanted to care again. I wanted to feel feminine again. I wanted to feel sexy again. So I assembled a team of my best gal-pal goddesses, the ones who embodied every aspect of being a strong, sexy and smart female, for missions and assignments to guide me on my journey. I reached out to the one man I felt like I could trust with my deepest struggles and darkest visions of myself, for his help and suggestions as well. And in no time at all, November became “Sexvember.”

If you’re thinking that my mission for the month was to reconnect with my body through connecting with another body, you’re wrong. Mostly wrong, anyways. To be honest, I thought that was going to be a cure all to thing disconnect. Sex and sexuality is a huge part of being human and I was so far removed from either. When my friends turned twenty-four, twenty-five and twenty-six, their lives continued to be filled with adventures (many of them horizontal) with the opposite sex. When I was twenty-four, I was diagnosed with cancer and spent my twenty-fifth year and what I’ve lived of my twenty-sixth year wrapped up in that diagnosis. Want to know what I’ve thought about most during this period of time? Survival. The first disconnects from my physical-self, sex and sexuality grew from that.

The American Cancer Society describes the difference between sex and sexuality in the following way: “Sex is thought of as an activity-something you do with a partner. Sexuality is more about the way you feel and is linked to your need for caring, closeness, and touch.” Some patients are lucky enough to have a trusted partner by their side through out, for a safe place to navigate cancer, sex, and sexuality. A lot of patients are like me though and did not. Having only lived one experience I cannot say which is easier. What I can say though is this disconnect from my body and my sexuality has affected my self-image and relationships. I have spent a year and a half feeling awkward and exposed. How do you begin to partner with another when you’re so uncomfortable alone?

So Sexvember began filled with tasks like buying pretty underwear and dressing up. I had to get flirty with strangers and make some purchases that my father would be uncomfortable reading about. About halfway through the month I found myself in a really great place. I had yet to see how I felt with a man, but on my own I was feeling quite confident and even a bit sexy again. Conscious practice paid off once again. With these feelings I also found hope and a new zest for life.

When I felt ready to see how this newfound strength lasted with the addition of another, I did. And how did this reborn sexy, cancer diva fare? She didn’t. And it wasn’t because of timing, it wasn’t because of setting, and it most certainly wasn’t because of the partner. It took a long month of reflecting and a lot of emotions to figure out what that was. Eventually the why behind my inability to feel any sort of confidence underneath my clothes and the privacy of quiet bedroom stemmed down to one thing: Shame.

I was ashamed. I am ashamed. I’m ashamed of my scars. I’m ashamed of the results that what I thought would be my only round of reconstructive therapy brought. I’m ashamed that I’ve had plastic surgery. I’m ashamed of my physical restrictions. I’m ashamed of the way my whole body has changed. I’m ashamed of the wimpy limbs that used to be full of muscles. I’m ashamed of this Tamoxifen “pooch” that sits on my stomach. I’m ashamed of this often-insane afro. I’m ashamed. And this shame combined with worry most definitely affects desire.

I wasn’t aware of this shame until recently. I powered through every change and never had to consider or feel the consequences of them deeply. Again, all that mattered was survival. Now that I’m surviving, a drive to reflect has surfaced. To say losing something like your breasts is distressing is an incredible understatement. Maybe it shouldn’t be, but it is. In a world wrapped up in beauty and breasts tied to womanhood, saying goodbye to these meant saying goodbye to some security as well. Insecurity has caused me to withdraw at times. And if the visible scars aren’t powerful enough, there are also the scars that cannot be seen but instead felt in my heart. With a changed view of myself and an uncertainty about my future, I am affected and others are too.

 This is a problem. But like any problem, a resolution cannot be found until the source is identified, and thankfully I have found the root, all wrapped up in shame.

So how does one solve a problem like this? When I do solve it, and I will, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, I am working towards a solution in various ways. An easy place to start for me was through exercise (combined with a lot of patience). If I’m missing my muscles, I’ll rebuild them. If I’m feeling the weight of my physical limitations, I’ll do what I can to shrink them. Making an effort to do what I need to to feel beautiful is in my control as well. Sweatpants are comfortable but they don’t make me feel good. Red lipstick and gold hoops on the other hand can do that. Another way is just spending time with my unclothed body. Great trauma and change happened in such a small amount of time and I haven’t given myself much of a chance to familiarize with it. What to my scars look like? What are my implants like? What parts of me were left untouched? What little bits of me do I still love?

The biggest task though is to improve my self-image. I may not care how others view me, for that is out of my control, but I do care deeply about how I view myself. For me, this has come in the form of finding a positive twist on a negative thought and as usual, celebrating any little bit of myself that I can. My feet didn’t change much from cancer; they are still the same feet that carried me through many miles of running and many days of teaching. My legs, though slightly altered, are still the same legs that powered me to finaling at two international swimming competitions. My stomach, different now than before cancer, survived chemo and surgery, and shows glimpses of the athletic core I used to own. My chest, completely changed, bears mark of my strength and truest courage and houses a heart that is still capable of loving a man and caring for others in extraordinary ways. My arms are limited with their range of motion and ability, but they can still carry a surfboard and offer hugs. And on my head sits hair that is shorter than before, but my face still lights up when I smile and my curious, chaotic mind is still in there.

The people I am loved by practice a much greater patience than I possess which allows me to be patient with myself and the timeline that my healing is happening on.

I don't know what I'm trying to offer you through this writing. Maybe just that if you're feeling anything like this, you're not alone. And you're not crazy- I mean, I'm not and if the feelings are mutual then you aren't either... Right?

I've found the best way to solve a problem is to acknowledge the source. I know the ending to this chapter that I want. And I like my chances of getting there.

Keep on trucking, everyone....