Who's the Dummy Now?

Have you ever had a movie line pop into your head at the most random time? I have. It happens often, especially since 2 of my kiddos love to watch movies and memorize lines.

The day before yesterday, after a very uncomfortable situation, I had a line from the hilarious comedy, "Major Payne," pop into my head - "Who's the dummy now?" And that line was absolutely appropriate for what happened.

It was hot and when I say hot, think inferno, then add some major humidity top of it. My husband and I had been out working in the yard and had both come in red faced and drenched with sweat. I had the bright idea to cool down using a frozen gel pack. They don't really freeze all the way because of something they put in them (I'm not sure if it's alcohol or what, but it allows them to remain pliable.)

I unbuttoned my shirt and placed the ice pack on my upper chest, just above my stomach. Right after doing it, I wondered why I couldn't feel the coolness from the ice pack. Normally, they're extremely cold and I have to use a thin towel to protect my skin from the icy temps. "Oh, well," I thought as I leaned back in my recliner to enjoy a cold drink.

I started reading a book and forgot all about having the ice pack on. About thirty minutes later, I remembered and took it off.

When it was time for bed, I noticed a big red blob on my chest as I was changing into my pjs. Yikes! That's when I realized what I'd done.

When I had surgery for breast cancer, they sliced me clear across my chest cutting through muscles and nerves. The doc told me I'd probably be numb in that area for years and years, possible for the rest of my life, and to be careful.

Still feeling no pain, I went to bed but was awakened in the wee hours of the morning hurting. Walking into the bathroom, I lifted my shirt and looked. Huge, ugly blisters had formed on my chest. I had freezer burned my skin!

Who's the dummy now? It was definitely me! I should have thought to put a thin cloth between my skin and the ice pack. I didn't understand how I could be hurting now though. If I hadn't felt the cold from the pack, how was I feeling pain from the burn?

My youngest daughter helped me figure it out. She said, "Mom, the nerves in your chest muscles were severed, but your skin (the epidermal layer) was still in tack. That's why you can feel the pain now." Great!!

Digging through some beach stuff, I found a bottle of Aloe Vera and slathered in on my chest. Now I not only had a hideous scar but on top of that a red blobby burn with blisters and now, green tinted Aloe Vera gel. What a mess...

Google says a dummy is a stupid or foolish person, a person lacking intelligence and I'd have to agree. How could I be so dumb?

It's been 10 years since I had surgery. I guess I'd all but forgotten about my chest trauma. I won't be doing that again! I can't fathom forgetting something like that, but I guess it's a good thing?!? Breast cancer has taken up so much of my life for the past decade. Finally, I've come to terms with all of it and have been living my life as normally as possible.

Dummy, dummy, dummy! Yep that's me. And I'm the one who'll be suffering for it until this burn heals up.

Note to self: Do not, I repeat, do not ever put an ice pack on your skin again without using a layer of protection.

Sometimes I just want to pull my hair out

Sometimes I just want to pull my hair out, especially when I read a friend's blog post and I just can't wrap my head around it. This morning, I was reading a post from a fellow breast cancer survivor. She said her cancer has returned and is growing in her spine. As soon as I read the words, I burst into tears. I just didn't understand! We'd been diagnosed with the same type of cancer in the same year. How could it be that her cancer had returned and mine had not? And what made it even more difficult to understand and accept was the fact that she'd chosen to go the traditional treatment route. I'd opted not to do that. She'd endured chemotherapy, radiation, and the anti-hormone therapy afterward. I'd refused chemo, had done 28 rounds of radiation, and had only taken the anti-hormone drugs for a couple of months. It just didn't compute and it certainly didn't seem fair. But that's what sucks about cancer. It doesn't follow the rules.

Cancer the gift that keeps on giving - the high cost of cancer

There's a basket of bills sitting in the corner of my bedroom. I try not to look at it as I enter the room but I know it's there. Its contents spill out onto the floor whenever my husband stuffs another bill into the basket. Usually, when the mail comes, he gets it first so he can filter what I see and what I don't see. Since he's the only one working, he takes care of our financial responsibilities and while I'm thankful for that, I'm not ignorant about our mounting bills. Cancer is expensive. Even if you've reached maintenance phase, it's costly. There are always tests to be run, blood to be taken, doctors to see. It never ends. Just knowing this will be a continual process for the rest of my life frustrates me and the alternative, death, will be my only way out. It would be nice to know that cancer could be a once and done kind of thing but that's only wishful thinking. Everyone knows cancer is a long and very involved illness. I had no id

Incoming!

When I was a kid, I remember listening to my Daddy occasionally talk about being in the service. Those occasions were very rare so whenever he'd talk, I'd really listen. Once he told about being outside a bunker in Japan. He said planes were flying overhead and he heard a guy yell, "Incoming!" They knew that meant it was imperative to take cover and they did, but some of the soldiers weren't fast enough. They lost their lives in a split second. That one word was a very serious warning and one I never forgot. I think my eyes bugged out of my head when he first said it although he didn't say it in a frightening way. I imagined the sounds of aircraft overhead as the warning went out. And imagined how I'd have felt if I'd been right there with him. I'd have been petrified, probably unable to move. No wonder so many soldiers came back from war with post traumatic stress syndrome (PTSD). And when they were freshly home, it didn't take much to set t

Journey Out of Pink

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