Stupid comments ....

Raider, Lurker here-------------totally love your sense of humor  and irony. Girl you are the cat's MEoooOOw.

LOL Raider, The era depends on the moment. Timelessness allows great latitude in all things. You have a great thread and a great bunch of gals here. I was drawn here by Hopeful. You humor is edgy. Like Rosannadanadana----BCO needs that------"Go Raider and Raiders Gals"

Raider, you're awesome

Here's a stupid comment - from myself.

Telling people I have breast cancer is stupid. It doesn't do any good. It doesn't make me feel any better, and there's nothing they can do or say that can help, or change anything.

It gives them the opportunity to potentially make a stupid comment, or worse, not say anything at all (I've told two people via email and gotten no response.)

In reality, the best responses I've gotten were from my ex-husband, who lives in another country so we talk via private message on Facebook. I told him right before surgery. He said, "Here's hoping it goes well. Not a lot more I can do. Feels like you have had a rough run. Not sure what else to say other than heal fast!"

Hoping it's low, low, low, tjh.

Cheesequake, I wish I hadn't told anybody either, other than close family. Too late now.

RG, you're cracking me up!

Well .. I love it!!

They must really care about you, tjh. I know they do. It shows.

RG - nothing wrong with snark - it makes the point and makes it well.

Morwenna, that is BRILLIANT. I'm trying that next time

Morwenna, I stumbled across that tactic too. I was surprised by how many people responded to "I'm fine...but how are you?" with information about their spine MRI, knee surgery, recent bronchitis. And that's OK!

As far as telling people...LOL...my whole journey was in the NEWSPAPER. A Scripps-Howard publication, and the story was picked up by other distributers. When I had my DIEP, there was a full-color, huge photo of me stretched out on the operating table, gaping surgical holes where my breasts used to live, and giant slabs being harvested from my abdominal fat, like a landed whale with hungry Eskimos cutting blubber. Holy moley.

But I was committed to sharing the whole darn thing, from biopsy to recovery, and not pink-washing it. I wanted my breast cancer experience pulled out of the pink wigs, pink tutus, pink oreos, and runs/walks/events that felt more like a party to celebrate breast cancer. And other women approached me, in public, to tell me they were thankful for the reality and heightened knowledge of what breast cancer really means.

WOW, sbelizabeth. I'm in awe. Really.

Stupid comments, and uneducated as well. But when I ran into a very casual acquaintance that asked me "How are You", I smiled and I asked her if she was feeling better she looked pale. Well that was the end of that conversation! I must have looked better than she thought she looked and suddenly felt. Mean on my part maybe, but I needed the laugh and I get tired of empty comments when they have no clue since they haven't talked to me in over 6 months. I am fine thanks!

Well, I guess I didn't mind people asking when I was on treatment (if they really were interested), but now I'm 4 months post DIEP, I really don't feel like going into "well I have lymphedema (for ever, and I'm pissed about that), and I still have trouble raising my left arm, I have a bit of tennis elbow pain on that side and a stiff neck, my tummy is still tender and hurts to wear a tight waistband, but if I don't, my pants keep falling down! I am still somewhat short of breath due to widespread lung clots post op, and have to stay on Warfarin for life now, which means I currently have to get weekly blood draws, except my veins are wrecked and I can only use my right arm, and even that is starting to show signs of lymphatic congestion, so I'm anxious about developing lymphedema in that arm too, and then they'd have to draw blood from my feet!, and my ankles are swollen as a result of developing deep vein thrombosis on chemo, and I can hardly string two coherent thoughts together some days, because my brain is spaghetti since being on chemo, and my arm is hot in this bloody sleeve and glove, and I am supposed to wear those fulltime, but have to remove my glove to work with patients, and I'm constantly tired because I seem to only be able to sleep for 3-4 hours a night, and now I'm trying to work through a backlog of PT referrals that amassed while I was off for three months with my last surgery, and frankly I am trying to put the whole last 2 1/2 year's behind me now .......... Deep breath."

It just seems easier to say, "I'm fine!"

LOL, I know, it sounds like a catalogue of woes, but despite all that I really do feel ok, if not actually fine, most of the time!

You kinda have to stop dwelling on stuff and get on with life. I've managed to negotiate my hours to 0.8 rather than fulltime, to get some breathing space, and I sing in a Sweet Adelines Chorus, and paddle with a survivors' dragon boat team. I have a loving husband, and two wonderful sons, and we live in a beautiful part of the world. My LE is what it is. I sometimes get stroppy and don't wear my compression for the odd day, but I actually feel better with it on.

No, don't feel sorry for me - there are others far worse off than I!

And as for chemo, as triple negative, it is the only weapon available so suck it up, I tell myself!