Not a Dude.

I, Kara Ford, was just called “sir”.  This morning I dropped my kids off a school and then went to run some errands.  I made absolutely no effort to primp and by my own admission, looked pretty terrible.  I have never looked good without makeup but I happen to think I clean up well.  Before cancer, I wouldn’t be caught dead in public without an hour’s worth of primping.  Now, I just don’t care.  I don’t feel sexy or pretty so why try?  I barely wear my wig and I can’t remember the last time I wore something without an elastic waistband.  Let me paint you a picture: I had no makeup, no hat, and I had my husband’s AC/DC sweatshirt on.  What the hell, here it is.

The woman working at Home Depot looked straight at me and said “Can I help you, sir?”.  Ugh, it hurt.  It hurt bad.  I could sense her embarrassment as soon as she heard my feminine voice decline her offer.  I stood there dumbfounded.  Oh my god, she thought I was a man.  Ouch.  I came home and ripped all my clothes off, climbed into bed and had a good cry.  I used my phones camera to stare at my face, trying to convince myself that it didn’t look like a man's.  Instead, I wound up just taking pictures of myself crying.  Which actually made me look more like a man.  Dammit.  Cancer is not a good look on me.

So I kinda look like a dude.  Oh, well.  I am not going to hide.  I am not going to cover it up.  Even if it means people call me “sir”.  I need to learn to own it.  All of this made me realize that I need to get back to spending an hour primping myself every morning.  But this time I am going to primp my soul.  That hour that I used to spend looking acceptable outwardly is now going to be spent being acceptable inwardly.  What a shame it would be to not use this opportunity as a way to build my character.  Thank you, Home Depot lady.

Driving the buss.

Between now and the 20th of November I have 15 doctors appointments, all of which will consume the majority of my day.  It's almost easier to list the days that I don't have appointments.  This has been my life, a never ending stream of appointments.  Because of this I had find to some form of childcare for my 3 year old.  It's simply not fair to expect my mom to drive an hour each way every time I have an appointment, even though she happily has and would.  I've had to enroll my Zoie girl into Preschool.  Not only am I adding another expense to our shrinking budget but I honestly am just not ready for her to be in school.  Things like this make me feel as though I've lost control over everything, that part still hasn't gotten any easier.  Insurance should cover childcare for cancer moms!

My last Red Devil infusion was supposed to be today.  Unfortunately, my white blood cell count is too low.  Very low actually.  My body is crying UNCLE after 6 months of nonstop poisoning.  Who can blame her?  It's having a domino effect on my treatment plan, pushing surgery dates into December, radiation into the new year, and reconstruction well into the summer of 2014.  The good news is, I feel great!  I get a whole 'nother week to feel fantastic.  This means I get to take my kids Trick or Treating, I get to go to my neighborhood trunk-or-treat party, and I'll have the energy to make goodies for Ayden's classroom.  Chemo isn't over but it's okay, I am getting to be a normal mom instead.  So worth it.

After weeks of pushing, fighting, and never giving up, my insurance finally agreed to cover my genetic testing!  I may be able to unveil the reason for my cancer.  Woo hoo!!!  Shoes used to make me happy, now it's genetic testing...my how the times have changed.  I keep reminding myself that "I am driving this bus!"  I have surrendered so much of my life over to fate that it is now vastly important for me to remain in control of anything I can.  Its easy for boundaries to be broken and control to be surrendered when you are in a place of desperation.  Keeping my life as "pre-cancer" as possible has been vital for my well being.  There are plenty of changes that cancer has make that I gladly welcome, just as long as I am the one choosing the changes.  And that's just it, I want it to be a choice.  I hate having to give over parts of my life that are so completely mine.  Thus, my need to drive the bus.

Next week I am having a little chemo party.  I am getting my last Red Devil on the 1st of November and I am sharing it with my mom, brother, and a bottle of Patron.  Red Devil is over but I will continue another type of chemo for 6 more months, this chemo is a much milder drug.  After my last Red Devil on the 1st my hair will begin to grow back and I will no longer have to take loads of bloating steroids.  It's still a long road ahead but the first hurdle is about to be jumped.

The best thing that ever happened to me.

As I look at my life at the ripe age of 29, it's easy to spot the things that make me a very fortunate girl.  I was born into a great family, unique and quirky, yet loving and loyal.  I grew up feeling adored, with enough to eat and my mom always made sure I had the latest pair of designer jeans.  I was raised in a small town where I formed lasting friendships, some of which have lasted over 20 years.  I married my best friend and we are still making each other laugh 12 years later.  8 years ago I started a small salon business and have loyal clients that have stuck with me for a decade.  I have 2 beautiful, smart, healthy children and I happily relish the blessings and trials of motherhood.  My husband and I work hard but we are able to pay our bills, and I could still afford the latest pair of designer jeans.  And finally, after years of saving, were able to buy the most perfect little house for our family.  All of these things happened to me, formed me into the person that I am.  But none of them is the best thing.  The best thing that ever happened to me was, cancer.

Hands down.  No contest.  Cancer is the single best thing that ever happened to me.  I'm not trying to be offensive, I know cancer has destroyed lives and for most people cancer is a terrible thing.  For me it's not, it's been a gift.  The reasons why are still unfolding, cancer keeps smaking me with more to be thankful for.  This weekend during a late night talk, my mom helped me see things differently.  I was complaining about losing a year, about how this entire year has been consumed with cancer.  How I let my 10 year old spend almost every single hour of the summer playing video games.  That would have NEVER happened before I got sick.  I felt like I had let him down, this was the first summer he didn't have an activity and since he's quiet and doesn't demand a lot of attention, he didn't get much.  Now don't misunderstand me, Ayden loved every minute of this summer.  His perfect summer probably consists of playing nonstop Minecraft.  If you ask him, it was the best summer of his life.  But video games don't build the kind of character I demand out of my children and I pride myself on being very involved.  The summer didn't go the way I wanted it to, they way I had planned.  Cancer forced it's way in and shook things up, which is exactly what I needed.

 I can't afford the latest pair of designer jeans anymore and even if I could I wouldn't want them.  I've lost my ability to work and instead of panicking, I'm figuring it out.  The cream is rising to the top.  Things aren't hard to prioritize anymore.  I'm getting real with life and I'm not sorry for it.  It just happened.  Instantly.  Life takes precedence over everything.  Over vanity, over money, over houses and definitely over designer jeans.  Life wins.  Every time.  Arguments with my husband, medical bills, messy rooms, shrinking bank accounts, other peoples perception of me, and losing my breasts...are just a few of the things that would have thrown me into a complete tizzy.  Now they don't, at least not they way they used to.  I'm learning where to put my energy and my life is becoming so much more radiant.  I'm not saying it isn't ugly sometimes, it's uncomfortable, and my emotions still get away from me.  And that's okay.  It's actually beautiful.  I stopped being what I thought I had to be and started letting my energy ebb and flow.  My body knows when to cry, it knows when to release the build up of stress, even if that means breaking down in the middle of an eye exam (which totally happened).  So, we lost a summer, but what I gained will be so much more valuable.  When you know better, you do better.  Because of cancer, I know better.      

And to be honest, I'm not really a jean's girl anyway.

This takes guts!

Look, this is not easy for me.  Who wants a bad picture put out there for everyone to see?  Not me!  But the truth is, I am not in my wigs with loads of makeup on most of the time.  5 months of chemo has robbed me of my beauty.  I'm bloated on steroids and have 3 eyelashes to my name.  It's a small price to pay.  Actually, scratch that.  It's a massive price to pay, it's shitty and I couldn't hate it more.  But it is what is.  This is what I look like.  This is who I am today.  It the same person, the packaging just isn't as shiny.

In all of the chaos after my initial diagnosis, I was somehow able to know that I needed to capture what I looked like before the medicine ravished my body.  The day before my first chemo, Brittany blessed me with a photo shoot.  She encouraged me to be sexy and made me feel beautiful.  I had no idea then how valuable those pictures would be.  I've surrounded myself with them.  Not only for me but my husband too.  I want him to see the pretty girl on the wall, not the sick girl below her. (click here for Brittany's page and more pictures from our session)

I am going to share some of them with you, followed by the pictures my mother and husband took of me this past week.  Amazing what a few months can do....

The shrine above my bed, don't judge me.

And after...

People do treat me different.  Men don't flirt or look twice.  There is lots of pity, which isn't my favorite.  It's taking some getting used to.  But the people who matter, the people who really love me...could care freaking less.  It's my hang up.  Shocking, yes.  But my kids don't bat an eye and my husband still grabs my butt when I walk out of the room.  :). It's a process.

Being Alive.

Today is my 3^rd Red Devil treatment.  It’s on a Thursday because I am meeting with my surgeon beforehand and working around her schedule.  I have felt so good for the past week.  My brain is firing on all cylinders for the first time in at least 4 months.  It was a relief to know that I was still in there, that my ability to process thoughts hasn’t been drugged out of me.  My personality came back, I was carefree and fun.  I took every opportunity to giggle with my daughter and bond with my son.  We functioned like a family, a normal family.  My house is spotless, my kids are happy, and my husband and I found our way back to the playful way we love each other.  I don’t want to be back here, but I am. I am making a choice to not be angry with my treatment and instead be happy that I am able to receive it. This morning I set my alarm for 4 am (even though my appointment wasn't until 8am) just so that I could soak up every last minute of being me.  Soon after waking up, a little blonde tousled head came bobbing out of her room, curled up into my arms, and went right back to sleep.  Almost like she knew.  It felt so good to have her warm little body pressed against mine, I could have stayed there forever.  And for the first time in a long time, I cried because I was happy.

The best part about feeling so alive this past week was my ability to fight to stay alive.  I had a fire lit underneath me, focusing my attention on getting one question answered.  What caused my cancer?  God, I wish I knew.  Environmental?  Probably not.  Due to the aggressiveness of my tumor and my age my doctors doubt it.  Hereditary?   Maybe... But there just isn’t that much cancer in my family history for that to be a certain answer.  I want to know, I so very desperately want to know.  What is responsible for this?  It is so rare for women in their 20s to develop breast cancer, why did it happen to me?  Maybe I just need something to hate.  The worst part?  Finding the answer is so simple.  It’s done through a series of comprehensive gene testing.  Of which my insurance has no interest in paying.  If it were just my curiosity in jeopardy here then I could see brushing it off.   But it is so much more!  There are several different syndromes that may be the culprit.  Having one of those syndromes would mean possibly that I don’t need to lose both breasts.  Having another syndrome would mean that radiation is the cause of my cancer and therefor halt my plans for radiation and also make me aware of future exposure.  There may be cancer causing genes that I have passed to my children.  Am I wrong to fight so hard for these tests?  I just don’t think so.

Through this blog I have shown every step of my journey except one.  Probably the biggest part.  80% of my time (at times more) I have spent in bed feeling like I was knocking on deaths door.  I haven’t shown that part.  I haven’t shown the darkest side of this, the part that's the most real.  So, this week I have given my husband and mother permission to document EVERYTHING.   Even I am curious how bad it looks from their angle.  Next week, I am going to share it with you.  Because I think it is important for me to not gloss over the ugly.  But I must warn you folks, Kara without makeup, eyebrows and eyelashes covered in sweat and drool is undoubtedly pretty damn ugly. 

Just one more thing…In honor of breast cancer awareness month I wanted to show how a just few of my special people have rocked their pink for me.

My Father and sister-in-law made it perfectly clear that they have my back forever.

The Lawrence girls used their team to send me some love.

Lindsey did her nails

And Amy did rocked a pink streak.

 This is just a small example of how much love and support I have received.  To the rest of you-and you know exactly who you are.  Thank you.