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Welcome to the DebiLyn Smith blog site. If you like what you read here, check out her website at

Tuesday, September 24, 2013

Pooped and Off On Tour

I've blogged about everything else happening to me since the cancer comedy fell on top of me and threatened to squish me like the mouthy bug that I was, so a little more squeaking.
I am totally EXhausted. For two months at my computer phoning and e-mailing media for the upcoming book tour to Vancouver and back.
What a slippery bunch they are- and your very career depends on these people! "But who are you?" You wrote what? You sent a press package and a book?"
Some day I will not have to go through all this and I can return to do what I do best. And that's not wait for a call back that is never coming. It would be trying to finish editing the second that I can go through all this again. And again- ha.
No real complaints- just need a few more hours in the day.
I'm living the dream, but it was a little less hectic than this as I recall. And where the hell is the manservant??

Monday, September 16, 2013

Level Once Again

Ahhhh, the days of leaning further left from more weight has ended. I am walking taller and straighter than ever before. Well, since I was twenty anyways. The breast reconstructive surgery from my partial mastectomy was a success. And they are a work-of-art. The post-surgery gauze bandages have fallen away and lo-and-behold two bobbing mounds of joy. Two! Count them. Not one and a bit. Not beauty and ugly. I have mirrored twins! I can't stop looking down or raising my hand to make sure it is still there and not deflated again like the past few weeks. It's not moving?
Aw, come on you say. There must be a downside, right? Nope. Really- they're sore, but nothing, and I repeat nothing like any of the previous surgeries. A few days of pain killers and now I'm on straight chocolate with no codeine involved.
I tried walking the 10 km Terry Fox Run on Sunday but after 2.5 km found I was handling myself and was getting strange looks so we turned around and completed only 5 km this year. We made up for it at the silent auction shopping. Okay, it needs to "set." I knew that would happen. No jumping for joy, no post-cocoa work-out. Two weeks. I can do that. If I can do a year of cancer treatment, you KNOW I can handle a week of anything.

For anyone considering having a breast reconstructed, please take this as a massive endorsement for the positive. I have myself back. I am whole once again! And , courtesy of the BC Medical Plan, I had the other one raised to be in the same area code. No more pencil or beer can  holders- I have a set of boobs that can float. I could be a stripper- call myself the Joker with a brown lunch bag with a big question mark on it pulled over my head! Look out Mexican wet t-shirt contest- I'm JOKING, people.

No, I am able to get these gals all the appreciation they need right here at home. Starting from myself. Now I have way more appreciation of what I own. What I will protect a lot better this time. Don't ask me if I want a glass of wine anymore. I've traded in the bottles fora perfect set of  boobs. For free- well, almost. There's the cost of the years off my life from the treatments and the stress, but it's a nice trade off all the same.

Would I go through it all again- yes, if it was just the one-time I probably would! I think it's important that I came out of this cancer journey ready and eager to help others in avoiding it.That wouldn't have been the same if I had avoided the chemo and the reconstruction.

I have found my path and my gift to the world. I went through the full cancer gambit with as little horror as one could have and still be considered a survivor. Now to tell everyone about it!
BEFORE....and you'll just have to imagine the fully rounded, plump after.

Sunday, September 8, 2013

Fourth Breast Scar Coming Up

Prepping and the countdown have begun for the hopefully last breast surgery in my lifetime. One can wish, right? This time for both breasts. A silicone implant will replace the expander in the right and the left will be made to look more like the new right (as in higher and perkier. Oh absolute joy!)
I have got "the call" from the PG hospital with the 100 questions on what diseases I might have, what surgeries I've been through, what drugs I'm on, what neck size (excuse me?), had any of this, ever had that? It's like they want to find an excuse not to go through with it? Surely you've been in contact with a large group of people lately? No.Do you snore? Not that I've heard?
To be this close to surgery one is tempted to lie- if my answer stands between me and getting this surgery done, then perjury it will be. As it is, I still have to hold my breath to make sure the surgeon makes it and isn't called away for an emergency somewhere, that the operating room isn't bumped by someone else, that I don't get a cold or get sick or yes, get hit by a bus between now and then. A lot of maybes before I get slid onto that hard slab with the big light standing guard over top of me. Before I'm injected with about my tenth round of anesthesia and float away to where? I remember visiting with mom once. I'm looking forward to the possibility of seeing her again. They say if the last thing you tell yourself is to remember your dreams before you fall asleep, you have a good chance of getting some recall.
So until Wednesday I am washing daily with a pre-surgical antiseptic soap to help ensure no infections. No herbal supplements and no aspirin. Day of, water only. In and out same day.
Another week on the couch with a struggle to make a daily pilgrimage to the post box and back (40 minute return) then 2-3 weeks of no swimming or chlorine until the scars heal and then another two weeks of no bouncing, running until the "pudding" sets and the implant is firmly embedded in the flesh.(unless I want a permanent shoulder pad.)
And then...the new and improved Debi Smith. Getting back what cancer took away.
Soon cancer will be nothing but faded scars in my breasts and my memories.
 I've learned a lot since July 2010 when I was told I would be headed on a different adventure.
A mere three years later and I'm back a wiser, better prepared cancer fighter...and an author to boot.
Maybe not a good enough trade-off but I'll take it.