Besides my C-section with lil mama, I’ve never had major surgery before. It’s bad enough I am put out of control with all of the chemo drugs and now they want to put me to sleep to operate on me. This is not boding well to my Type A mind.

Then, the idea of the surgery itself brings me to a state of panic. I can and will rank it up there with being amputated.

And how in the world am I supposed to explain the scars, size difference, texture to a potential future mate or even husband? “I had breast cancer so many years ago and to get rid of it, I was forced to go through menopause, take poison and have parts hacked off. So I can’t have your kid and my breasts look weird but at least I have hair now”?

Hell, at least my hair is going to grow back.

1. I’m too tired!
2. I don’t want to hear other people’s sad stories. Sad, but true.
3. I want the focus to be on me. I’m not in a very compassionate mood right now.

Tell me, if you have gone through a challenge: did you utilize a support group? Was it useful?

Thankfully, my auntie was with me during the last session. I fell asleep for about 4 hours (Benadryl, baby) and I wouldn’t have eaten if it wasn’t for her. It was an 8 hour session. Yeah, try sitting in a chair hooked up to tubes for 8 hours. Can we say my butt still hurts?

But lo and behold, when I wake up from my stupor, I see a professional woman next to me. There is something about her and another lady asks her, “Are you Donna Sytek?” She replies that she is. For those familiar with New Hampshire politics, you know who she is. For everyone else, she is New Hampshire’s first female Speaker of the House. Cancer truly knows no boundaries. The other lady asked a lot of questions which I thought were very intrusive. The Lady Speaker was very gracious. The lady tried asking me questions and my auntie gave her a look that would melt cheese. True, I write a blog but it’s still up to me in what I want you (my readers) to know. The irony is the Lady Speaker has written a book on etiquette! LOL

I also started wearing wigs again. Looking like the Coneheads’ sister is ok for a while but it does get old. And I’d much rather turn heads with some hair than without! I just couldn’t take the looks of pity anymore.

I really wasn’t dating anyone steady when I was diagnosed. (I haven’t dated anyone steady for a few years). But I really thought the knuckleheads who said they would be there would, well, be THERE. Wrong.

One, who’s mom passed from breast cancer a few months ago, has literally disappeared off the face of the earth spending his inheritance. Thank goodness I wasn’t dumb enough to fall for the “whatever you need, I’ll get for you” line of crap.

Another, who gave his phone number to my son for emergencies, calls when he wants to use the truck. His strategy is to take me to chemo so he has my truck for a few hours. I get my rides from the volunteers of the American Cancer Society, thank you.

So, I’ve been left here to handle this on my own. And that’s what I’m doing.

Today was a whole different story.

I put deodorant on and lots of underarm hairs ended on the deodorant. I haven’t shaved in a while because I knew it was going to fall out and I didn’t want to irritate the skin.

I went though my normal routine of putting a touch of Hair Milk on my hair on my head to keep it moisturized and somewhat healthy until it fell out. I then got a wide tooth comb and started gently combing. It didn’t take much. With one comb from top of ear to the nape, my comb was covered. I ended up with quite a bit in the sink and even more on the floor.

I really thought I was ready for this day but I wasn’t. My mom sent me 10 scarves just in time. Some of them she bought but some she made. I wore my favorite today.

I also want to say THANK YOU to my Twitter peeps who have been keeping up with me. I have received so many prayers, well wishes and encouragement! I am truly humbled and honored that so many take a minute out of their day to think of me and my family! Thank you again!

Earlier this fall, I had a friend who was told he had a very limited amount of time to live. Well, he decided to take this news lying down and turned into a total wuss. This was a man who served in Kosovo and Iraq. He has faced death on many occasions and faced it defiantly. So, for him to have this defeatist attitude was new and shocking to me. Initially, I was the only one he told of his condition so I couldn’t commiserate with mutual friends and family members. This friend of mine decided to drink and give up. He didn’t spend time with his children and he let his civilian job go. He curled up and waited to die. He decided to treat me like crap. I got fed up and told him I would help him with he will, estate and other practical matters. But even though he was waiting to die, he didn’t want to face those issues. After a couple of weeks of intense emotional

(Drugs are already in – may finish later.)

fights with him (yes, physical fights) I walked away. I couldn’t understand how he couldn’t fight. I mean, hell he was a US soldier! Fight! I didn’t completely walk away. I prayed and fasted for his imminent salvation. A couple of weeks later, he did accept Jesus as his savior. I couldn’t ask for more than that. Once he accepted Christ, his attitude changed. He was more concerned with helping others. He chose to help homeless veterans. It was great to see him with such a serving heart.

Over Christmas, he had a heart attack. He is still with us but not for long.

I truly learned from my friend. Call it vanity or whatever, I didn’t want to go out like a wuss. I am a Type A personality and I’m dying that way too! I also made the decision to post and tweet my adventures in kicking breast cancer’s ass. Getting information after the fact is not the same as getting it in real time. I have already encouraged other women to get their mammograms and I suppose this is my way of serving.

I have always realized I am not a beautiful woman. I was always too nice, and great to hang around but never good enough to be serious with. I attributed this to my friendly, Californian personality (so I was always easy to walk on) and not being pretty. The pretty girls always had the boyfriends and now they have the husbands. I was just seriously getting used to the way I looked and my character. I was content with my bigger than should be hips, my nappy hair, my little pudge, my vivacious laugh and the uncanny ability to embarass my son at the drop of a dime!

The painful truth is breast cancer attacks a woman’s femininity. And not some of it but ALL of it. From her breasts, to her hair, to her teeth to her self-esteem, to her lack of energy and spunk, all aspects that makes a woman a woman is under fire from breast cancer. Not only that, but most women don’t feel like a woman unless they have a boyfriend (we’ll leave the homosexual digression to another time). As I stated before, being a bald, one-breasted woman is not going to attract the boys.

As such, this disease has forced me to face some inconvenient truths about myself:

1. I AM jealous of Barbie. (They are all around me!)
2. I AM being broken down, piece by piece.
3. I AM NOT completely happy with my life, accomplishments or the total person I am.

It’s also forcing me to accomplish inconvenient goals:

1. I HAVE to leave the house confident everyday or it’s just going to go downhill from there.
2. I HAVE to accept who I am. My weaknesses, failures, everything.
3. I HAVE to get others to accept me for who I am. I can no longer rely on my fleeting looks.

This morning, my ride, “Butch” arrives to bring me to chemo. He is an older man, retired and volunteers quite a bit with the American Cancer Society. He picks up me and LeShon and apologizes for the smell. It seems his dogs (white dogs – I’m wearing dark brown) like to eat the snow while he is using the snowblower. So we are coming into the clinic and I am smelling doggie. Now I love dogs and have even owned some but that’s why I have leather seats in my car. My main concern is I hope the smell doesn’t make me sick in this man’s van!

((Drugs are taking effect))

We get to the clinic and my port has to be accessed for the first time. It was installed last Friday so it’s still a little tender. The nurse (very nice but will remain nameless) has to insert a needle into my chest to the port. I held my breath and it felt like a quick bee sting. She said it was flushing back correctly but there was some resistance on the fluid going in. She tested it a few times and was satisfied. I then went to go meet with my doctor.

My doctor is a nice guy and wants to make sure I am comfortable with everything going on. He tells me my scans are good but they found 3 abscessed teeth. WTH? I don’t even know what an abscess tooth is! My teeth feel great, thank you. After being faced with the prospect of having my 3 lower front teeth pulled, the dentist said we are ok for today but to see him pronto!

So we come into the chemo room and I am in chair 12. The chair with the bird feeders and view. Yes!!! I also have plugs for laptop, cell and mp3 (which I need to organize LeShon’s). The nurse comes back and tells me there is some resistance in inserting the drug. The way to fix it is to take out the 3/4 inch needle and insert the 1 inch needle. Yeah,right. Please remember these pin pokes are in my chest! She make the change and feels much better due to the medicine they are giving me.

I can’t tell what i AM TYping anymore. Twitter is about all I can handle right now!

Yesterday was the straw on the camel’s back as far as scheduling for doctor’s appointments. I made my appointment for a chemo prep surgery for the 18th. The 18th worked for me, my job, kids, everything. A lady from the oncology clinic decided to reschedule my appointment to Monday. If you follow me on Twitter, you know Monday’s are PAYROLL! Needless to say, even though she was trying to help, I was aggrevated. I can make my own appointments, thank you.

I have on average 6 appointments a week. Each appoinment can run anywhere from an hour to 2 hours. My calendar is deceiving because it looks like I have a life!

The kids are just driving me nuts. I don’t know if I am overly tired and stressed and over reacting but someone is going to get hurt and it’s not going to be me.

My neighbors are inconsiderate, rude, trashy, obnoxious and nasty. They are the parents of the lovely 19 year old who decided to assault my son. They literally run when they see me coming. Thank goodness that mofo is still in jail! When they moved into the building, there was only supposed to be 5 people; 2 adults, 3 children. Well, it’s more like 12 1/2 people. The regular adults and children and the son, his gf and their child, another grandson, the grand parents, a grown foster child and the baby that the 15 year old is having in April. To make matters worse, they smoke and that ish is all in my house. My landlord (finally!) gave them an eviction notice. Took her too long as far as I’m concerned.

The people at my job are a trip. My boss is not having an issue with my appointments and all but the controller? That’s another story. He actually thinks I will be able to go to chemo and them come in to work for the rest of the day. Can we say he has no clue? Along with that, my work is piling up because I’m never at work to get it finished. Auditors will be here the first week of January. I’m not going to be ready but the Controller doesn’t want to hear that. We are a small company and I could literally lose my job because of this f***ing cancer!

To top it all off, I am going through the ish by myself and that is the hardest part of all. So my emotions are all jacked up. I am not normally an emotional person. Having been divorced at an early age and having to provide for one, now 2, children, completely on my own, emotions are seen as a waste of my time. I now cry at every little thing. I even cried today when I couldn’t reconcile an account. What the frig? I. DON’T. HAVE. TIME. FOR. THIS. I have no idea if this is even normal! I just know I am tired of everyone telling me I’m strong. Have someone tell you YOU have cancer and tell me how strong you are! I know I am a contradiction in terms but just because I am strong doesn’t mean this isn’t bothering me.

I feel a little better after writing this out but punching someone in the face would be much nicer.