Bench pressing after breast cancer and my first frittata

It’s been quite a journey with our personal trainer. We’ve had about six sessions with her and the improvements I see in myself are overwhelming.

The first time I tried a pull up, if you remember, I just kind of hung there, not able to use any part of myself to pull myself up. And last time I was able to not only use my abs to pull my legs up and in, but could twist them from side to side without touching the chair under me. Not the whole time, but for one or two reps it was all me.

And the bench pressing. Oh, the bench pressing. I never bench pressed before breast cancer, but I sure as hell am doing it now. It may not be a lot of weight, but that isn’t the point. The point is I’m doing things I never imagined doing after my surgeries literally ripped apart my chest again and again and again. Expanders in and out. Skin torn. Skin replaced. Implants in and out. Again and again.

And now I can bench press. Now I can do a pull up.

Just like there is running after breast cancer, there is bench pressing after breast cancer.

Just like there is running after breast cancer, there is yoga after breast cancer.

Just like there is running after breast cancer, there is cycling after breast cancer.

A 213 mile bike ride. A 10 mile run.

The body is a beautiful thing. The mind is a beautiful thing.

Oh, that half-marathon doesn’t seem so overwhelming anymore.

So the trainer has been great. Both myself and Sean have upped our strength and endurance. We both work hard each session; we push ourselves to the max and never hold anything back. And we cheer each other on.

For me, the trainer has me using muscles I never even knew existed and has me doing exercises and activities I couldn’t have dreamed of. It’s empowering to see my strength grow after each session. It’s empowering to watch myself gradually improve and get even stronger. Just like it was empowering to ride my bike from Philadelphia to Washington, D.C. Just like it was empowering to run 10 miles.

But regaining strength in my body is only one small part of healing from the breast cancer. It’s a significant part. But it’s only one part of the puzzle. The other parts I’m still trying to figure out as I struggle with sleep, struggle with anxiety, struggle with anger, struggle with sadness, struggle with making plans far in advance (I do them but it makes me nervous to do so).

Emily, Tara and Christine

My table!

Kim and Melissa brought their special little ones!

Ah yes, I love a good setup

This past weekend I hosted a champagne brunch for my girlfriends. I LOVE planning and hosting and throwing parties. I planned every detail, right down to the gumdrops in the martini glasses. And I also made frittata for the first time, which to most people, would be no big deal. (Just eggs and veggies, right?!) But to me, to sauté vegetables over the stove just correctly and then cover them with eggs and then bake them for just the right amount so it’s not burnt but the eggs are cooked fully – WHEW, for me, that is an accomplishment! I made three frittatas, two of which were eaten almost entirely. One small one, without cheese, wasn’t even touched so I’ll freeze it. The other two – one with cheese and one without – people actually ate!  

My frittata

So much yummy fruit!

I also served champagne (of course), orange juice to make mimosas, raspberries and blackberries to put in the champagne, and I had little candies, vanilla meringues (thank you, Trader Joe’s), dried dates and nuts. Some girls brought fruit salad and veggies, and Christine made a phenomenal strawberry oat cake. So all in all it was a success! I am so blessed to have such great friends who indulge me and let me play Martha Stewart, and an amazing husband, who also lets me play Martha Stewart, and take Cam out of the house for a few hours. 

We also had a bunch of other stuff this weekend; it was a busy one, and nothing is slowing down anytime soon!

Winter SEEMS to be over so I am happy about that.

My first blood work for the NIH study was successfully submitted and came back normal (thank goodness!). I also see my dermatologist this week, followed by my oncologist in a few weeks. So doctors, doctors. Always doctors. But it keeps everything in check and for now, at least I believe so, it keeps me sane. 

Brunch games!

Thanks, Kim, for the Korbel!

And referring to the post I recently wrote, addressing the things that make me sad, and then accepting them. Per Dr. Kelly last week I’m going to take that even further and just let those things, that list, stand alone. The right arm, the breast implants. Those four things on the list are alone. They don’t need to hold hands with the happy part of them.

The happy part of them, if you remember, was me loving my implants. The sad part was why I had them. And feeling them slosh around when I run.

No holding hands. I can be happy and I can be sad about the exact same thing at the exact same time.

I don’t need to twist and turn the sad into the happy, or the happy into the sad.

1.       I am sad about why I have breast implants. Because I had breast cancer.

2.       I am happy with the way my implants look and I am actually really confident with my body because of them.

Nos 1 and 2 don’t need to touch. They don’t need to mold into one another. They can remain separate.

I don’t have to try anymore. In that post I was on my way to getting it. I got part of the way there. But now I’m all the way there.

The things that make me sad make me sad. THE END.

I’m allowed to have that list, all of that list, without its happy versions or exceptions or rules.

I am sad about the breast cancer but happy with my implants.

NO.

I am sad about the breast cancer. Period.

I am happy with my implants. Period.

Two.separate.things. Two.separate.feelings.

I understand now, where all of the effort was coming from. The fighting to make one thing into another thing.

I am sad about why we’re adopting.

I am happy with the choice to adopt.

Two.separate.things.

From now on I promise to try not to compromise the bad and good, the happy and sad. They each deserve their own space.

I won’t touch them anymore. I’ll leave them alone. I’ll let them be exactly as they are.

When I try on bathing suits for Lauri’s bachelorette weekend, I am going to feel sad. I am going to look in the mirror and see my scars. I am going to be reminded of what I went through, of what the breast cancer took from me. I am probably going to think other women my age who are also trying on bathing suits probably aren’t looking in the mirror and remembering breast cancer, or seeing the scars I see. And I will feel sad. And I will let myself cry. I won’t dismiss those feelings to focus on how I love the color of the bathing suit or that it (hopefully) looks awesome on me. No. Instead I'm going to let myself FEEL all that washes over me. If I have to cry I will.

And when that part is over I will let myself feel happy about my implants, happy I am healthy, happy I get to go for Lauri’s bachelorette.

But the sad doesn’t get interrupted anymore. I get that now.

I can be two things without those two things holding hands.

And I need that.

It’s so easy to say and even to BE, someone who is strong and happy yet someone who has sadness in her heart. It’s so easy to quickly dismiss the sadness because the happy and the blessings easily overrule it. I am sad BUT IT’S OK BECAUSE....(this or that).

Not anymore.

I AM SAD I HAD BREAST CANCER.

I AM SAD I WALK AROUND WITH THAT, EVERY SINGLE DAY.

EVERYTIME BREASTFEEDING IS MENTIONED. EVERYTIME I SEE A BRA COMMERCIAL.

EVERYTIME I MENTION THE ADOPTION.

I CARRY IT. WITH ME. ALL THE TIME. IT’S ALWAYS THERE AND IT’S A SADNESS.

(Deep breath)

I get it now. And the proof that I get it, is in my tears writing this. I get it now.

 

Unconditional love <3