Here lies Hot Cheeto Titty

Sometime last summer, my dear husband and I returned home from a visit with friends at our favorite brewery.  I may have been tipsy.  Maybe even drunk-ish.  Either way, as I walked into the dining room, I snatched a half-empty bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos from my 13-year-old boy and went to town.  My 11-year-old daughter proceeded to mess with her mama.  (she is not a hot cheeto eater).  We were talking trash, and she started laughing and pointing at my shirt where a Flaming Hot Cheeto had missed my mouth and landed on my left breast.  Being the smartass that she is, she decided that my new name would be "Hot Cheeto Titty".  She knows how I abhor the word "titty".  

Fast forward to a week later, I asked Siri a question on my iPhone, and he responded in his sexy Australian accent, "Sorry, Hot Cheeto Titty, I don't understand the question".  The name stuck.  (only within my family and friends closest enough to not openly freak out about my parenting style). 

Later on that summer, my mom was diagnosed with Acute Myelocytic Leukemia.  I left my family for ten days with sister number 5 to join our baby sister in Seattle to see my mom through her first bit of chemo.  It was an emotionally exhausting trip, and I was beyond ready to be home.  I literally ran out of the airport, only to find my bff and my 19-year-old daughter with poster-board signs that read "WELCOME HOME, HOT CHEETO TITTY!!!"  Of course, youngest daughter had followed suit.  I had signs on my fridge when I arrived to my house.  They are the best.  Ever.  

My husband and I celebrated 15 years of marriage this past April.  Being the sweet and thoughtful wife that I am, I booked us a room at a fancy hotel and told him to meet me there after his shift at the hospital.  I even scored a free upgrade to a jacuzzi suite.  As I was getting ready for our hot date, I noticed the nipple on my left breast (who shall now be called Hot Cheeto Titty or HCT) was kind of pulling in?  It would come out if touched, but it looked flat from the front view.  Odd.  Maybe I'm getting old lady boobs.  

A few weeks later as I was getting in the shower, HCT was back at it with that weird nipple thing.  I raised my arms in front of the mirror.  HCT moved up and the nipple really pulled in.  Right boob did nothing.  Just laid there, bored.  I did a self-breast exam and found 2 lumps in HCT.  One big and squishy, one small and hard.  Immediately called gynecologist.  Appointment made for a week later.  Finally told husband my concern.  He confirmed 2 lumps.  Wait and see what doctor says.  Doctor said nothing really.  Scheduled mammogram and ultrasound.  Mammogram was no big deal.  Ultrasound not so bad.  Until sonographer left the room and brought in radiologist.  That guy came over to me and held my hand.  BAD SIGN.  He said what I already knew.  Cancer.  Shit's gonna move really fast from here.  Get ready.

It's now the end of July.  I lost Hot Cheeto Titty (may she rest in peace) on July 6th.  I had a left mastectomy.  The tumor was 4.5 cm and five lymph nodes were positive.  Invasive Ductal Carcinoma stage IIIA.  I still have a fecking JP drain after 2 weeks. I will see my oncologist on Monday to discuss the plan for chemotherapy.  Getting a port placed next Wednesday.  I know that I will have several months of chemo, followed by six weeks of radiation.  When all is said and done, I will have both breasts reconstructed.  Blah.  I hate you, cancer. You are a dick.