Two Days and Counting

It's hard for me to believe a year has gone by since Gabriella was born. I remember it as if it were just seconds ago. It was a big day. I wasn't expecting her to come so early. I guess I should have since I had experienced preterm contractions a couple of times. My chemotherapy started some contractions at 30 weeks. I spent 5 days in the hospital. The contractions didn't cause any progression. They were just consistent. I had them every 2 to 3 minutes. I was so out of it on the magnesium drip I lost track of time. They Life Flighted me from one hospital to another. I was upset I was sharing a room with someone. She was complaining of feeling sick and here I was on chemo and pregnant. I thought it was risky for me to be around her. They never did get me the private room they said they would. It was a horrible long week. I was connected to a baby heart monitor the whole time and catheterized as well. I never got out of bed and my baby's heart beat was constant in my ears. It felt weird when I left, because I couldn't hear that heart beat anymore!

At 32 weeks I had my last chemo. I had more contractions but we were ready this time. The hospital was able to stop them in one night. I had the steroids injected for her lungs the first time I went. I was very hopeful things would be OK.

At 36 weeks I was getting anxious. They wanted to induce at 37 weeks so I would have time for my body to heal before I started radiation. I would end up having about a week or so for recovery then radiation was every day other than weekends and holidays for 17 days. I didn't make it that far. I awoke in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. This wasn't unusual. I decided to lie back down on the couch to sleep instead of walking back upstairs. When rolling over I heard a pop. I was half asleep and so wasn't sure exactly what I heard. I kind of waited and nothing happened. I felt nothing. So decided to just go back to sleep. I rolled over again a few minutes later. This time, I felt a gush of fluid. I opened my eyes slowly and kind of thought my water might have broken. I have heard so many stories though about women who thought their water broke but it was pee. haha So I decided to get up, go to the bathroom and see what happened. I dried up and I was fine until I took 2 steps. Then the real water came. My water had broken. I got my hubby and he was out of bed before I even batted an eyelid. The baby was coming, four weeks early. It was a combination of such fear....and yet hope and faith. I just knew she'd be ok. I had finished chemo on the 23rd of October. It was now the 17th of November. I was feeling ok. I knew I could do it. It was up to Gabriella now. Tune in tomorrow for the rest! :)

Scars and Reminders

Last night as I was getting ready for bed, I looked in the mirror. I saw my scars staring back at me. I used to have a fairly nice chest, I hear myself thinking. At the same time I only think this based on what I know others are thinking when they see my scars. Truly they are such a part of my body now that I rarely think twice.

This occasion I was looking in the mirror and studying them. I realize they are my "war wounds" and I should be "proud". It's just a constant reminder of how hard it was. I look at that scar and see how it sinks into my chest where they had to actually shave bone. I didn't even know they were going to do that until it had healed a bit and I saw that the inner tip of the scar was sunken in. To top off that beauty I have a nice little radiation tattoo in the tip of it. My port scar is on the other side of my chest. It was not supposed to be a big scar, but for some reason that one did the keloid thing. It's gotten fat and red and puffy. I can't figure out why that one did and the biopsy scar did not. I think I am thankful though. If the biopsy scar which is much bigger and longer did the keloid thing it would be gigantic.

I have looked up information on Keloids online and have come to the conclusion it might not be Keloid but rather hypertrophic. The only thing that makes me wonder Keloid is that it itches a lot and I get sudden sharp stabbing pains in this scar on occasion, but it doesn't appear to be wider or grow outside the original wound area. Here are the definitions of both kids of scars:

The hypertrophic scar
The morphological characteristic of a hypertrophic scar is the excessive formation of the scar, due to an increased number of collagenous fibres. Bulgy, connective tissue raises above the surrounding skin level, however limited to the original wound area. Immature hypertrophic scars show a reddish colouring and tend to be itchy.

The keloid
Keloids often develop long after the wound healing has been concluded. Surplus production of connective tissue fibres is so excessive that it causes the scar to spread widely beyond the original wound area onto healthy skin. Keloids have a reddish colouring and they itch, burn, prickle and can often be painful. Treatment of keloids is rather difficult since surgical removal is often followed by relapse. The disposition towards scar keloids is often genetic and increasing numbers of young women are being affected.

It's not so much that I am bothered by my scars appearance. I just get lost in thought when I see them. I realize I have this constant reminder. When I wear shirts that reveal them I see others staring wondering. I sometimes just want to say "I got in a knife fight." I'm a mere 5'2", 102 pound girl. So that saying is honestly even more hilarious in person. I guess I do dislike how the scars look. I can't even really remember what my chest used to look like. That's OK though. They are a part of me now and though I wouldn't choose to have them I think I can live with having them.

I Have Realized I Have a Pet Peeve

Isn't that what they call it? A pet peeve....or something that annoys you. It really gets you upset. Well I have always considered myself to be very mild mannered with a very long fuse. There are few things that really get me mad. If they do get me mad it's a slow build up. I have a pretty long fuse. Eventually that fuse will burn down and then just watch out. I can't even promise to make sense at that point.

Here is what bothers me. If I go to a fast food restaurant why is it so incredibly hard to get the order right? I know most of these places hire teens who perhaps aren't super concerned with getting some one's cheeseburger right. I get that. I am patient with it really. When I was young I worked at a fast food place. I know I got in pretty big trouble if the cash register was even a penny off. I knew how furious customers could get so I did my job with care. That was before I had any kids. It seems ages ago.

It's not so much getting something wrong on a specific order. I ask for no tomatos for my hubby and it has tomatoes. That's irritating but not the end of the world. There is one specific place I have in mind. I won't disclose what restaurant because that's really not my style. It's a well known fast food chain. It gets my order wrong every single time I have ever been there. I order a chicken taco, I get a steak burrito. I ordered a chicken taco the other day and got some strange beef taco with some tortilla chips in it. I am usually in a rush so I'll start counting things in the bag, trying to see if it's right. One time I actually thought hey, they got it all. Then I realized that with a yummy side dish I had been craving and was ready to dig into came with no forks I was less than thrilled. I was a good 30 minutes from home. What's worse is when you get no straws and you live that far from home. It's pretty much ice water by the time you get home. I have considered contacting the restaurant owner/manager or something. It's so bad that it's now a running joke that the order will be wrong whenever we go there. I wouldn't go if there were another restaurant nearby of the same type...but there isn't so I am stuck hoping whenever I get a craving, that they'll get it right.

Down With Procrastination

I am so bad at it. I do procrastinate. What is odd is I procrastinate the things I want to do. I get the laundry done, cook supper, clean the house. Then I sit and relax. I am working on a drawing but haven't picked it up in probably 2 months. I had my last drawing sitting on a shelf for more than a year. Obviously I was sick for a year and that had much to do with it but still. I procrastinate. I am crocheting a baby blanket. I love doing it, yet it sits. Why do we do these things? I am not really sure. I think with the drawing anyway I have to really concentrate. I have to work hard, think hard and get into the whole mood. It's hard to have 5 seconds to really focus on anything without any outside distractions. Regardless, I am going to get that drawing out tomorrow. I'd like it to be a Christmas gift for a special friend. I am also being asked to do a drawing for someone else as a Christmas gift. This one I will be paid for. It's a commission so I can't exactly put that one off. I am glad though. I need a good kick in the pants on occasion. Here are a couple examples of my work.






This was my first drawing after reading a book called How to Draw Like like Pictures from Photographs". I think that's the title. It's by Lee Hammond. If you have any basic drawing skills you can get better reading this book. You must work hard and really apply what you learn.

I've Got it Pretty Good

I definitely had a bad year in 2007. I could say I felt sorry for myself and throw a pity party. There were several times throughout my illness I wanted to do just that. I was never in the right place to cry. I remember choking back the tears so many times. I want to let loose but there were several reason I didn't.

1. My kids. I didn't want them to think I was going to die.
2. My husband. He was being strong for me, but I also didn't want to scare him thinking I'd lost hope. He needed to know I was tough enough to beat it.
3. I was always in front of a doctor or around the family.

So I never really just broke down. Oh I have cried. Just not ever like that. I didn't cry like I imagined I would. I get emotional during Kleenex commercials so honestly, you'd think I would have that moment. Then I come across a blog of a man who lost his wife to cancer, then his dad. Other terrible things happened to him as well. I also read another ladies blog who lost 5 people to cancer in a short time. I may have had a hard time, but you know there is always someone out there who had it harder. I am thankful for my happy ending. I am thankful I am here with my children and that I made it through something so difficult with a beauty baby too! Thanksgiving is upon us and boy do I have a lot to put on my list.

While I was going through my illness and the few times I did allow myself a few tears it was when hearing a certain song. It wasn't sitting around feeling sorry for myself either...though I think still I'd have been perfectly justified in doing so. I never really thought there was anything wrong with it. It may have been good for me even. But with my children, I just didn't want them to see that. So I listened to this song, by Lindsey Haun. The song is to a great CMT movie, Broken Bridges with Toby Keith. The song however, I relate to something completely different. Listen to the words. This song strengthened me. The words encouraged me and helped me to see a stronger, brighter, better day. I wanted to share it because honestly this song applies to anyone going through a hard time.

*video was slowing down my blog. So I removed it. Find "Broken" by Lindsey Haun on Youtube. It's a wonderful song.