Thirty-Five

I'm not the kind of person to freak out over an age.

(Usually. I did freak out a bit about 25... gah, what did I even have to worry about back then? Anyway.)

But with my birthday coming up, I'm thinking: What have I done with my 35 years on this earth?

My first thought is this beautiful family I share with the best husband God could have given me.

There's probably other notable stuff I've done. Made my parents' lives either so complete, or so chaotic, that they decided to be done having kids. I'm going to assume the former, despite Rissa and Allen trying to convince me it's the latter! Hopefully I've impacted your life in a way, made it better somehow. I've had jobs, and done some well and some I've been terrible at.

But these beautiful boys are far and away my proudest accomplishment.

Photos by the oh-so-patient Randi at

Sweet Clicks Photography

They're handsome, sure, but they're also SO special.

Jay is kind, and smart, and funny, and so thoughtful that it slays me some days. He's sensitive to a fault and driven to do well in whatever he does, and crushed when he fails. I see my own flaws in him, and that slays me too, if I'm honest.

And Luke... well, he's our mischievous one. I cannot count the number of people who comment on the twinkle in his eyes that lets you know he's up to something! But he's also sweet and snuggly, and tries his best to crack jokes just like his "brudder." In fact, he tries his best to do everything just like his brother. They might fight sometimes, but don't you mess with Jay, because Luke is coming after you if you do!

And so, on my birthday, it's not all about me - it's about this beautiful life that God's given me, and my impact on those around me, but especially on these boys.

What a weighty calling. 

A New Hair Do, and a Few Hair Don'ts

One thing I've learned on this journey is:

It's just hair.

We put a whole lot of time, effort, and money into keeping up with our hairstyles, and the reality is, It's just hair. It doesn't define you, and if it does, you're placing your value in something that could be gone tomorrow.

But... it sure is nice when you've been to visit your favorite stylist (I'm talking to you, Kasey!) and you feel all freshened up.

 Big shout-out to Kasey Willis at Aisling Salon.

In honor of my new 'do, here's a look back at how far it's come!

I woke up like this. Jan '20

A good hair day for both of us - Nov '19 

Curls today, gone tomorrow - Sept '19

 Mowhawks with Jay - June '19

 Sometimes I could tame it, sometimes, notsomuch. Summer '19

June '19 - I don't even know how this crazy curl happened.

More Mowhawk Action - May '19

 Crazy waves - May '19

 March '19

 March '19

Jan '19

Hair!! - Dec '18

No Hair - Summer '18

Blue Hair - May '18

(also courtesy of Kasey)

If y'all share some of these, I'm not gonna be your friend anymore. Ha!

The Path Of Life

You will show me the path of life,

In your presence is fullness of joy;

At your right hand there are pleasures forevermore.

Psalm 16:11 AMP

This is one of those verses that I cling to, especially that first part in times of uncertainty.

I realized the other day that I never shared the story of how I came to have the treatment team that I have, and it's a really good story - a God story, if you will. Definitely a time when God showed me the path of life.

It was January 2018, and I'd found a breast lump. At my friend Holly's urging, I made an appointment with my OBGYN, Dr. Hall, in February. We were all relatively sure it was just a clogged milk duct, as I'd just finished nursing Luke, but she said it'd be best to go have a diagnostic mammogram and ultrasound just to be sure.

In early March, I had an appointment with the Breast Center at Houston Methodist San Jacinto, aka the hospital in Baytown. It's a small hospital, but it's close, so that's where I went. I showed up after a MOPS event with Luke in tow, and they wouldn't see me because he couldn't go in the back due to the radiation risk. That had never crossed my mind when scheduling the appointment. I hadn't thought I was worried about it, but I left the office in tears because, as it turns out, I was worried deep down, and I just wanted to get it over with and have them tell me it was nothing.

So I went back the following week at a time when James was off work to watch the boys. That was March 9, and that day's events are a story for another day. But when they told me it was probably cancer and that I needed a biopsy, I scheduled it there, but then decided that if they were saying the c-word, I needed to be at MD Anderson.

I had my biopsy at MDA on Monday, March 19, and got the dreaded phone call on Wednesday. They told me the news, and we scheduled an appointment for an afternoon two weeks later, on April 2. The plan was that I'd meet an oncologist, surgeon, plastic surgeon, and radiation oncologist all back to back on the same day and figure out exactly how to move forward.

This is where it gets good, so stick with me.

In the meantime, I went back to Dr. Hall, my sweet OBGYN, on Friday the 23rd to have my Mirena (IUD with hormones) removed. She had been out on vacation that week, but when she saw the report from my mammogram and heard what was going on, she agreed to come in early on Friday to see me - she normally doesn't see patients until 9:00, but she saw me at 8:30 and stayed with me for quite a while, talking through the whole process, and discussing surgery and treatment and doctors and such.

She said, I know you already have your appointment set up with MDA. But I've got a friend who is a breast oncologist at Houston Methodist, and I really think that you would like her. Here, let me call her.

Ring, ring, Hi Tejal, this is Hailey, and I've got a patient here with me......

They talked technical stuff on speakerphone for a few minutes, and then Dr. Patel (aka Tejal, my obgyn's friend) said her office would call me back in half an hour or so to get me an appointment. So before I knew it, I was scheduled for a second opinion for the following Tuesday morning, which was technically before my first opinion at MDA. I was amazed at how fast they were able to get me an appointment!

I felt really optimistic by all of this, but I didn't do such a great job of explaining it all to James, because he was quite confused at why we were even having a second opinion, especially because I'd been adamant that I wanted treatment at MDA, and also there was the fact that we hadn't even had our MDA consult... I remember his exact words in Dr. Patel's waiting room: "Tell me again why we're having a second opinion before we even have the first opinion...?" But he's a good sport and went along with this new plan.

So Tuesday morning rolls around and we have our appointment with Dr. Patel. She explained SO much about my diagnosis, what each aspect and unknown word meant, what the treatment plan looked like, what if this happened, and what if that happened. She answered every question I had, and a hundred questions that I didn't know I had. She took notes as she talked, writing down the statistics and the big words that she was throwing out, and drew pictures to explain... And then handed me 3 pages of notes at the end. When we were finished, James looked at me and said, I can see now why we came here!

Cool, right? I'm not done.

When I'd seen Dr. Hall the previous week, she had recommended a couple of plastic surgeons that are leaders in their field, including one Dr. Aldona Spiegel. Dr. Patel encouraged me to make an appointment with her, just for a consult, even though I wasn't sure which team I wanted to use. Her office helped make an appointment for the following Monday morning, which was the same day as my initial MDA consult.

Dr. Spiegel is a woman to be reckoned with. She's confident but kind, matter-of-fact but compassionate. She drew pictures on the paper that covers the exam table to explain the DIEP procedure, which is the current leading edge reconstructive technique. Many doctors around the world do this procedure, but she is a pioneer in reinnervation, where they attempt to reconnect the severed nerves from the chest wall to the new tissue to provide some sensation. At one point in the consult, she asked who my breast surgeon was. (It takes a breast surgeon to remove the old tissue, and a plastic surgeon to rebuild things.)

I replied that I hadn't met with anyone, but that Dr. Patel had recommended Dr. So-and-So or Dr. Lim.

Dr. Spiegel pursed her lips into a sort-of smile, and said with a nod, "I work with Dr. Lim, mmhmm."

There are some parts of this journey that I'll forget - some I've already forgotten - but the sound of her "mmhmm" and the purse of her lips and her single nod is etched in my memory.

Since it didn't seem like much of a choice, and Dr. Lim was already highly recommended to me, I said that sounded fine to me. Dr. Spiegel said I'd need to meet with her, and her staff would coordinate that appointment. A staff member came back into my exam room a couple minutes later and said, "Get dressed, Dr. Lim can see you right now, and if you have more questions that come up, just call!"

So minutes later, I was walking into another waiting room in the same building, and was called back almost immediately. Dr. Lim gave me the rundown of surgery (in which I fully broke down into uncontrollable sobs when she left the room).

I learned later that Dr. Lim hadn't even been scheduled to be in the office that day, but had popped in for a particularly difficult consult, and agreed to see me right then before she left again. If I'd been 15 minutes earlier or later, it wouldn't have happened.

Now, remember, we still haven't had our "first" opinion, with MDA - that was scheduled for later that same day. So we grabbed some lunch and headed down the road to MDA. The four doctors that were selected for me (oncologist, breast surgeon, plastic surgeon, and radiation oncologist) came into the room together to meet me and a nurse rattled off my diagnosis, then they all left the room. One by one they shuffled back into the room and out of the room, showing a few pictures and telling me the treatment plan - the same treatment plan that Dr. Patel had walked me through, but with MUCH less detail. While I am sure that they're all quality doctors, I hated that I had no choice in who my doctors were, especially the plastic surgeon. I have always viewed reconstruction as the end of this journey, and I didn't fully understand all the stuff in the middle, so that's where I was focusing. And to just have a doctor assigned to me... well, it wasn't very comforting.

When the first doctor left the room, James looked at me and said, I see now why we went to Dr. Patel. Before the consult was even over, we both knew in our knower that we'd be using the Houston Methodist treatment team.

And that, my friends, is the God-story of how I came to have the treatment team I have!

If You Can't Say Something Nice...

I'm breaking Mom's rule, here... shhh, don't tell her.

I'm going to let you in on a little secret right now. In the days leading up to Phase 2, I was ANGRY.

I was BITTER.

I was FURIOUS.

I felt HATRED and RESENTMENT and, gasp, I said ugly words. Not TO anyone, but still, I said them, out loud, and I fantasized about saying them TO someone.

Do you believe all of that? If you've been watching me, you probably don't believe a word of it. And that's because somehow I've managed to walk this walk with a smile and grace that is unnatural, or should I say supernatural? But that's because that's the side I choose to show. I've talked a lot about how important words are, and your attitude in whatever battle you're facing, and THOSE are the reasons why I work really hard to maintain this rosy attitude I've been accused of keeping - not because I care what anyone thinks about me. This smile isn't really for you, friend, it's for me.

Because when I let go of the smile, there's ugly lurking in there, and sometimes, it squeezes its way out.

Like the week before surgery. There was some ugly peeking out that week. If you still don't believe me, just ask James.

Why? I was coming up on the last, final surgery - a surgery that marks the nearly-finished line in my battle against this disease. Isn't that cause for celebration, even if there are some nerves about having another procedure?

Well, sure. I was excited about that aspect. But at my consult about a month before, I was informed that part of the lipo for the symmetry portion wouldn't be covered by insurance. A $3,500 part of it. Remember, my surgery was December 18... one week before Christmas... on top of the fact that I'd already met my insurance's out of pocket maximum for the year on everything else I've done.

Someone at the doctor's office had alluded to this a long time before, but I thought that surely in my case, that wouldn't be so - it couldn't be so. See, they did some lipo on my love handles (they refer to them as flanks, but that sounds like a horse) as well as inner and outer thighs. So, insurance has decided that flank fat is acceptable to use for new boobs, but thigh fat is "cosmetic." Which translates to, "not covered by insurance and payable in full before the procedure will be done." Even though my doctor told me - ahead of time - that I did not have enough fat in my sides alone so she'd have to use my thighs to get the results I "wanted," which was just boobs that look pretty similar to each other.

Y'all.

I was MAD. I felt cheated, betrayed by my doctor's office and my insurance company both. LIVID that someone, somewhere had the audacity to decide that any teeny tiny portion of reconstructing breasts that were removed due to cancer, could be considered "cosmetic."

I was even more frustrated because if I'd chosen implants, then they'd be covered at 100%, even if I chose to have 36EE boobs. (Remember, this surgery only added 100cc's - I'm still in the A/B range, here. That doesn't seem very "cosmetic" to me.) And down the line, if those implants needed replacing, which they generally do, that'd be covered, too. Never mind that they've discovered that some implants ALSO CAUSE cancer. Never mind that many women are reporting enough adverse symptoms that they've named a disorder "Breast Implant Illness" and these women are having their implants removed. Insurance would cover those. But my own tissue? That isn't even as perky as an implant? Yeah, that's "cosmetic." Cue the ugly words, *here* because even now, I can feel them burning inside.

But ya know what?

I did the surgery anyway. My sweet, sweet husband was the voice of reason for me. He held me and let me ugly-cry, and spew the anger I was feeling, and then he put the brakes on it. See, I'm the person who generally handles our finances, but he very sweetly reminded me that we could manage this, that it didn't change anything about our Christmas plans, and most importantly, that I was worth it.

If I think on it, I can still feel those ugly feelings. But, I'm not going to keep thinking on it. Writing all this out brought it back for me, more than I care to admit. And so, I'm moving on. I wanted to be real with you for a minute, to let you know that even though I always look rosy and cheerful, I'm not.


In the book of Philippians, Paul writes these words from prison:

For I have learned how to be content with whatever I have. I know how to live on almost nothing, or with everything. I have learned the secret of living in every situation, whether it is with a full stomach or empty, with plenty or with little. For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength.

Philippians 4:11-13

If he can be content with whatever his station, whether it's freedom or prison, poor and hungry or full and satisfied, then I can, too. I have the same source of contentment in my life that he did: the grace of Jesus. That is the secret of living in every situation. But, it's a choice - a minute by minute choice for how you want to respond to every situation.

Post-Op Complications, Or, A One-Night All-Inclusive Stay in the Fabulous Houston Methodist Guest Suite!

After surgery, I woke up in Recovery crying out in pain, tears running, and begging for more pain medicine to make it stop. So they gave me some. And I begged some more because holy moly it still hurt, and so they gave me some more. 'Lucid' is not a word you could use to describe me at that moment, but I think they gave me 4 doses of possibly 2 different meds. I'm not sure it helped.

I can remember that they let James come and see me for about 5 minutes, and seeing him and holding his hand gave me some strength, and then he had to leave and I was crushed and just kept thinking "I can't do this by myself, it's too hard and hurts too much, please don't make him leave, it hasn't been five minutes yet!" But I'm pretty sure I didn't say anything nearly so cohesive. I did cry some more, though, and probably managed something like "don't go yet!" but of course he had to go.

So then they took me to a post-op recovery room. The idea was that I needed to be able to walk on my own and go pee, and I'd get to go home.

Ha, haha.

If I laid super still, then the pain in my legs was about a 6-7. When I moved my legs, it rocketed up to 9-10, and felt like my muscles were being peeled off the bones. When it was time for me to get up and use the restroom, it was, shall we say, less than pleasant. But then, about the time I sat down to use the restroom, the nausea hit, and it hit hard. I didn't vomit, but I sure felt like I was going to - which would be a pretty bad thing, given the condition of my abdomen! I finished my business and thought I'd be going home, but it took everything I had to make it back to bed, and I just kept thinking, there is no way they can let me leave like this, I am NOT OKAY RIGHT NOW.

When I got back to bed, I asked the nurse for a cold pack.

Did you know that putting an ice pack on the back of your neck does wonders for nausea? I'm not kidding, it's amazing, and I've never thrown up when I've used this trick. And I had some serious morning sickness with both boys!

Anyway. Nurse was very nice, but she had other concerns, like giving me nausea. I kept demanding the ice pack (nicely, I am sure I said please), and she kept saying things that were not related to ice packs, so my brain wasn't processing them. When you feel that bad, you get focused on what you think will work for you and nothing else matters. If I could just have that ice pack, I'd survive, and she just didn't understand how vital it was for me to get the ice pack! Finally, after either 3 hours or 5 minutes, someone brought me the ice pack. Aahhh, sweet relief. Also about that time, the nausea meds hit bottom, and I was soooo sleepy. Nurse said that was best, to just go ahead and sleep it off. I'm not sure if it was all the pain medicine in Recovery, or the anesthesia, or the actual pain that caused the nausea, but sleeping helped. I have no idea how long I slept, but it was definitely dark when I woke up.

All through this nausea episode, I noticed but didn't notice the staff's concern with my blood pressure. It was concerning to me, too, but not as concerning as the nausea, because when you feel that bad, nothing else really matters. Except ice packs, of course. Normal blood pressure is 120/80. Mine tends to run a little low, around 110/70. This is normally a good sign, as it means your body isn't having to work too hard to get blood everywhere. But after surgery and with this many pain meds plus the anesthesia in my system, my blood pressure tanked. I'm pretty sure it was hovering around 80/50, and I definitely saw both of those numbers go even lower.

After my medication-induced nap, I woke up feeling much less nauseated, but my BP was still in the toilet. So, they made the decision to keep me overnight. That meant I had to change rooms, because the room I was in wasn't staffed overnight. So, we gathered up our things and they wheeled my bed to a different floor, and I had to get up out of that bed and crawl into the new bed. That was super fun, because remember, being statue-still was the least painful position!

All night, my BP stayed pretty low, and honestly, I think it was only like 88/58 when they released me the next day, but I guess they decided it was stable enough and figured I'd be fine on my own at home.

And I have been fine, but not on my own - Mom kept the boys for me, and stayed for a couple of weeks to help out when James was at work. The first week was the worst, but after that, I noticed an improvement every day. I am 8 weeks out now. I've been released to exercise and lift my boys, but I still have to take it easy sometimes because my body has taken a beating, and certain movements/activities like to remind me of that. So I'm just getting really good at listening to my body, and when a part says NOPE, I stop.

Reconstruction Phase 2: Complete!

Phase 2 is what we, in the world of breast reconstruction, call a second surgery that goes back in and tweaks things. This is a planned surgery, and at one of my consultation appointments, Dr. Spiegel explained that the big surgery is Phase 1, where she builds the foundation, and Phase 2 is where she puts the finishing touches on the project.

So, in Phase 1, she relocated the fat from my abdomen to my chest to create breast mounds. (Isn't that an awful word for them? Mounds? Ugh.) This is a highly skilled microsurgical procedure where they have to connect blood supply from the chest wall to the new tissue. Yes, it's breast-shaped, but it's a bit rough around the edges, you could say.

So, Phase 2 is where they shape things up, literally and figuratively. There are two aspects of Phase 2: Symmetry and Scar Revision.

Symmetry

They took fat from my sides and inner and outer thighs and added it up top to make things match a little better.  This is called fat grafting, and they were able to transfer about 100cc's to each side, plus do a little tweaking to help improve the appearance.

One side effect of the radiation I had in 2018 is that the skin and tissues kind of tighten up, so the right (radiated) side was positioned quite a bit differently from the left side. Adding some more fullness to both sides helped to offset this problem.

Spoiler alert: 100cc's isn't a whole lot. So, when I look in the mirror, I can't tell that my thighs and waist have been touched, other than the lingering darkness that's a reminder of the worst bruising I've ever seen. But, The Girls do look much better!

Scar Revision
During Phase 1, there were some areas, at the ends of the incisions, where the skin sort of puckered. It's sometimes called dog ears, because of how it looks, and it's a natural and expected result of removing a section of skin and tissue and closing things back up. In Phase 2, they reopened the outer thirds of my abdominal incision and sort of nipped and tucked to make things lay right. So, I still have an incision that goes from hip bone to hip bone, but it lays flat now. They also did a very small amount of lipo here and fat grafting there to make things look a little more normal and less like SpongeBob SquarePants.

Now, a word about the fat harvesting process, also known as liposuction. It $&(#ing hurts!!! I am not exaggerating in the least when I tell you that the lipo was far and away the most painful part of this whole reconstruction process. Possibly the most painful thing I've experienced. If they ever said I needed another round of it, I'd say "No thanks, have a nice day!" and walk myself right out of there.

All in all, the surgery was about 2 hours, and I was supposed to go home that night. Spoiler alert: I didn't, because I just don't like doing the expected thing, apparently! More on that, later.

The exciting thing is, This was my last surgery!!! I don't have to go check into the hospital any more, no more anesthesia, no more lifting restrictions.... I am FINISHED having surgery!

(I do have a few more tweaks to make before The Girls are all finished, but they're all going to be done in Dr. Spiegel's office, so that totally doesn't count, right??)

And because my pre-op scans were all clear, I have moved to the "Every 6 Months" category with my oncologist, instead of every 3! Both of those are huge milestones for me!

Too Much To Say

Well, hello there. It's been a minute since I've updated. I found myself with too much to say and not enough to say all at once, so I decided on nothing at all.

What did I have to say?

I had my final surgery!!

And in the process of preparing for my surgeries, my scans confirmed that all is well in my body!

You're probably thinking, Angie, that's huge, how is it that you didn't have anything to say about that?

When I was a little girl, my mama always said, If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all.

As I've grown up, I have learned that the reasoning behind that is because our words are powerful - they give life to the feelings behind them, like fertilizing a flower or watering a weed patch. Whatever feelings you  give voice to will invite their friends to settle alongside them in your heart, and raise you up or bring you further down. Your voiced feelings will affect those around you, too.

A lot of the words swimming around in my head and fighting their way out were not, as Mom would say, something nice. And so I didn't say them.

But, as time has passed, I'm in a better space, emotionally, so I think that all the things I have to say can find their way out of my head and into the world, and I can share with you in a way that will feed the flowers and not the weeds.

And, I want to be real with you. So many people I talk to think that I have maintained this happy, cheerful, rosy attitude all through my battle, and that's just not the case. I am real, and I have some real harsh, bitter, angry feelings. But, if you water the weeds, they'll take over the flowers, so I try my very hardest to recognize those feelings, feel them, and then shut them down and move forward.

So, stick around, and I'll update you on what I've been doing, and what I've been feeling.