Long, long ago ... in what seems a lifetime away, I got a bit of bad news and my life began to change. Over nine months ago, I was reeling from a diagnosis of breast cancer and living the surreal life that comes with it. And when I found out the date of my surgery, I posted And Here's the Wind-up because, hey, what better analogy for cancer treatment than baseball, right?
Both seem to take for frick'n ever and include long periods of boredom only slightly mollified by food and drink along with a series of side-shows attempting to entertain you as you wait for each pitch, waiting for something inspiring to occur. Or, as the player, you try to keep your eye on the ball, some seem to fly high and wide, others nearly take your head off, so you dig yourself in deeper, take a deep breath, and wait, hoping to crack that little m******f***** out of the park.
My personal trip around the bases included a dash towards first with my lumpectomy, then a frantic dash back to first as an infection required a second surgery. I scrambled next towards second base - mired in chemotherapy - and took some nasty hits that continue to bother me today. Someone should really knock that second baseman on his ass, maybe fine him for unprofessional conduct. I limped toward third base - radiation - and started to see the end in sight. A horde of third-base coaches stood waving me on home.
And here I am, straining to make it to home base, that initial ball o' triple negative breast cancer still (hopefully) flying out into the blue to be hopelessly lost forever. Pretty sure I broke the bat on that one. My long, soon-to-be 11 month rounding of those cancer-ball bases will continue this November 11, 2016, when I go into surgery again.
This is the "matching set" surgery I was so excited about in the wind-up post. After the lumpectomy and the "revisioning" surgeries last January and February, Frankenboob continues to recover. Now it is time to re-create some symmetry between the girls.
No, I won't suddenly be needing to don DD-sized brassieres. Let's leave Frankenboob alone, shall we? She's literally just gone through the fires of radiation for goodness' sake. Her game is over - send her to the showers. In fact, let's send in another runner for her, okay?
After some tussles early on in the game that included multiple mammograms, ultra-sounds, and a particularly nasty MRI-guided series of biopsies, Righty has been sitting the bench, resting.
Now it is up to her to finish this game. She'll start for home November 11th and she won't emerge unchanged.
Recovery will take roughly three weeks according to Dr. Livingston (I can't make up ALL these names). Dr. Andrew Livingston will handle this last surgery for me. As I reminded him that it only took me two weeks to recover from the creation of Frankenboob (and another 1 1/2 weeks following the "revisioning" surgery), he wisely directed my attention to the months of chemotherapy and radiation in-between and suggested that it just might take a bit more for me to bounce back this time around.
Right. True. Players feel a tad different at the end of a game than at the beginning.
I'm nearly three months out from chemotherapy and one month out from radiation. Already, I find myself looking back on those months and wondering how on earth I made it through it. We are SO much stronger than we believe. I don't believe anyone truly knows their own strength until it is tested. My hair is back - full and thick ... and gray - and grew as if it had been struggling wildly against a barrier that has suddenly been removed. The persistent cough that plagued my end of chemo ended in early August. My nails are slowly (agonizingly slowly) healing and growing.
Treatment has certainly left me weakened, with scars and continued pain, but the important part is that it left. Treatment is over. Each day, I look for new ways to hasten recovery. Currently, that means trying to figure out what I can do for the continuing pain of neuropathy that will not involve medication. As you can imagine, I'm kind of tired of medications, of putting anything in my body that includes some long list of possible side effects that invariably ends with ... "oh, and death." The pain and my fatigue should continue to improve over the next weeks and months.
If I were to ask one more thing from all of you who have been so incredibly supportive during this year, it would be for prayers, good thoughts, and hope that by next July (or sooner .... so much sooner), I will be free from the pain of neuropathy. I am told that if I continue to have pain a year after chemo has ended, it will likely be lasting pain.
And, yeah, that would suck.
But first, it will soon be time for a transformation - the creation of Bride of Frankenboob.
[Yes, I know I'm silly. I prefer that to whiney.]
I know I've said it before, and I'll continue to say it: Thank you. Thank you for your support. For your prayers. For your notes of encouragement. You overwhelmed me with support when I needed it the most.
If only every person who faced this deadly ... game had such fans. Such teammates and coaches.
[See how I steer this back to an American pastime? My least favorite American pastime.]
I'm going to cross home-plate even if I have to dive for it. And then I'm going to rest, ice down some joints and muscles, and head to the after-party.
--------------
Reminder: if you've stumbled across this through a search for breast cancer, chemotherapy, radiation, neuropathy, or any other such word because you're looking for answers, for hope that you can do this or that a loved one can make it through treatment, please feel free to contact me via comments or email. There is immense hope. You CAN do this. Your loved one CAN handle it.
As a dear friend said long ago: Life is Good.
If your search was for baseball, well, there is hope for you as well.
It's called basketball.
Showing posts with label surgery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label surgery. Show all posts
Saturday, October 15, 2016
Friday, January 29, 2016
Alive, Drugged, and WITHOUT Armpit Drain!
Welcome to my hallucination.
One month ago, I didn't have breast cancer. Well, I didn't KNOW I have breast cancer. Ignorance truly is bliss, isn't it? But ignorance can be deadly as well. Had I NOT went to my mammogram, had I put it off even several more months, I'd likely be facing a much different future.
My surgery was this morning. My day began at 5 a.m. when Taylor Swift began yelling at me from my stepmom's phone to "shake it off." Indeed. By 6:30, I was entering the Spectrum's Lake Drive Surgical Center, signing in, signing off, and donning another medical wristband. Soon, I was in Room 23, trading my clothes for a Bair Paws gown, hair cap, and purple Bair Paws socks. The gown had holes in it and the nurse hooked a hose into one of those holes and gave me a small controller to adjust the temperature OF THE INSIDE OF MY GOWN. How cool is THAT!?
Hell, even the IV went smoothly this time.
Dr. App [God bless this tiny marvel of a woman] arrived, met some of my family, then kicked them out so she could draw on me. Literally. It's an odd feeling to have someone draw on you, saying things like, "And here's where we're going to put your nipple." [Understatement.] The anesthesiologist stopped by, other members of the surgical team said hello, and I was soon wheeled into the actual surgery room. The last thing I remember is Dr. App talking to the team about who I am and what they'd be doing today. The next thing I remember is coming to with the song, "I Want To Write You A Song," going through my head.
I felt some pain and some nausea. I immediately directed my attention to my left arm, and realized I did NOT have tubing coming from it as I'd expected. Then *cue CELEBRATION* the BEST NEWS EVER:
LITERALLY, the best possible outcome [outside of the Dr. determining that the pathology report was incorrect and there's no cancer ANYWHERE.]
I didn't stay too long in recovery. I'm probably too proud of the fact that the unseen patients on either side of me were groaning and moaning and asking for more pain medication while my nurse latched onto a sigh, "You sighed - do you need more medication?" Once back in my Room 23, they brought me a small banana muffin and water (and medication). Maybe an hour later, I was headed home.
My surgery went wonderfully. For me. *cue CLIFFHANGER*
Did I mention the evacuation and firetruck?
One month ago, I didn't have breast cancer. Well, I didn't KNOW I have breast cancer. Ignorance truly is bliss, isn't it? But ignorance can be deadly as well. Had I NOT went to my mammogram, had I put it off even several more months, I'd likely be facing a much different future.
My surgery was this morning. My day began at 5 a.m. when Taylor Swift began yelling at me from my stepmom's phone to "shake it off." Indeed. By 6:30, I was entering the Spectrum's Lake Drive Surgical Center, signing in, signing off, and donning another medical wristband. Soon, I was in Room 23, trading my clothes for a Bair Paws gown, hair cap, and purple Bair Paws socks. The gown had holes in it and the nurse hooked a hose into one of those holes and gave me a small controller to adjust the temperature OF THE INSIDE OF MY GOWN. How cool is THAT!?
Hell, even the IV went smoothly this time.
Dr. App [God bless this tiny marvel of a woman] arrived, met some of my family, then kicked them out so she could draw on me. Literally. It's an odd feeling to have someone draw on you, saying things like, "And here's where we're going to put your nipple." [Understatement.] The anesthesiologist stopped by, other members of the surgical team said hello, and I was soon wheeled into the actual surgery room. The last thing I remember is Dr. App talking to the team about who I am and what they'd be doing today. The next thing I remember is coming to with the song, "I Want To Write You A Song," going through my head.
I felt some pain and some nausea. I immediately directed my attention to my left arm, and realized I did NOT have tubing coming from it as I'd expected. Then *cue CELEBRATION* the BEST NEWS EVER:
My sentinel lymph nodes showed no sign of cancer and a drain had not been necessary for the four they removed! The surgery was a complete success!
LITERALLY, the best possible outcome [outside of the Dr. determining that the pathology report was incorrect and there's no cancer ANYWHERE.]
I didn't stay too long in recovery. I'm probably too proud of the fact that the unseen patients on either side of me were groaning and moaning and asking for more pain medication while my nurse latched onto a sigh, "You sighed - do you need more medication?" Once back in my Room 23, they brought me a small banana muffin and water (and medication). Maybe an hour later, I was headed home.
My surgery went wonderfully. For me. *cue CLIFFHANGER*
Did I mention the evacuation and firetruck?
Friday, January 22, 2016
And Here's the Wind-up ...
I met with my surgeon today. Colleen App - she's fabulous.
I donned a floral cape (SO not a gown) and pretended to be an organic super-hero as she did an in-office ultrasound, comparing my various images with her own taken today, and clarified our plan for surgery. What, when, where, how, expected outcome for the bosom.
*slightly reddened cheeks*
I'm having surgery next week Friday, January 29th.
What kind of surgery? Good question.
That depends on the outcome of my two MRI-guided biopsies on Monday. Beyond my tumor - located at 11 o'clock in my left breast - my breast MRI identified two other questionable areas, one in the lower outside quadrant of my left breast ... and one in the lower outside quadrant of my right.
You can imagine the concern, right? One area of one breast vs the whole breast vs oh-crap-it's-in-BOTH-breasts. The biopsies I'll have on Monday will answer that question.
So, come next Friday, early in the morning, I'll be headed into surgery.
If the biopsies are negative, I'll be getting a lumpectomy of my left breast with the surgical removal of several sentinel lymph nodes (to double check that they are clear for cancer). It will take about 4 hours.
If the biopsies are positive for cancer, then Friday, I will be having surgery specifically to check my lymph nodes. Are the sentinel lymph nodes - those nodes to first encounter fucked up breast cancer cells - clear? If so, yay. If not, if there is evidence of cancer in my sentinel lymph nodes, then they'll take all of them. Then, a week or two later, I'll have a mastectomy, single or double depending on what's needed.
Oh, and there's a drain. DRAIN. Once they start taking lymph nodes, they'll need to insert a tube into ... well ... my underarm so that fluid that would normally drain out the lymph system can drain out the tube into, I swear to God, a clear grenade that I then empty as needed. This continues over 5-7 days while, I guess, the area heals from the surgery. It helps to prevent infection.
Yada yada yada.
I heard ... GRENADE filled with fluid from my body that I have to empty. And depending on whether cancer is found in my lymph nodes, I get to have this drain for 5-7 days or more AND learn all about what I would need to do to avoid .... conditions I hope to never need to explain to you without the benefit of wine.
But wait! There's more! Dr. App explained to me what she would do during a lumpectomy to make my left breast whole again. She explained where the incisions would be made and how, once the tumor is removed, she would lift the breast, make it round and whole, and sit the nipple oh-so-perfectly on top. A round breast with the nipple perfectly placed.
I'm 45 years old people. What do you think my first thought was?
[Let me get this straight. BEST case scenario is my left breast is cleansed of the cancer and basically reconstructed into round perfection then I undergo chemotherapy and radiation and, all that while, I have a perky left breast and my normal 45-year-old droopy ass right? So, I'm short, bald from chemo, with a perky left breast and droopy right. Gotcha. Proceed.]
Would I forever has mismatched tits?
[Because that's the important question when fighting cancer but ... whatever.]
The answer, surprisingly, is no. No, I will not. Because the law, believe it or not, guarantees me a matching set. At some point after all my treatment is done - after the chemo and after the radiation - a plastic surgeon will lift my right breast so that it matches the left! How AWESOME is that!?
Random, unexpected, and awesome.
So, that's it. Surgery on Friday - one way or another. Hope with me, if you will, that my biopsies are negative. I'd really love to have my lumpectomy Friday and move on to the next step.
[I'm a bit skittish these days about hoping - it seems whatever I hope ends up a bit skewed.]
________
I had one last happy hour with some coworkers tonight. Well, last for a few weeks anyway. Obviously, next week, I'll be hopped up on painkillers post surgery. The week after, who knows. It was nice to sit and talk and listen to the odd cases. To get a "cheers" to the surgery.
In the midst, my little brother called me - not a usual thing - to apparently tell me about some depositions in a current case. I took this to be code for ... "I want to call her, I'm not sure what to say about her boobs, so I'll talk work to really say I love her" ... see how I interpret? It was sweet.
Honestly, the most frightening part of today was going through the drive thru at Taco Bell tonight - which I do not typically do - and getting to the window with my exact change ready only to have the worker say my food was FREE because of the wait.
Huh. Taco Bell. Free?
What fucked up hell is THIS?
I'm not ready to die, dammit, it's just fucking breast cancer!!
________
And ... here's the pitch!
I donned a floral cape (SO not a gown) and pretended to be an organic super-hero as she did an in-office ultrasound, comparing my various images with her own taken today, and clarified our plan for surgery. What, when, where, how, expected outcome for the bosom.
*slightly reddened cheeks*
I'm having surgery next week Friday, January 29th.
What kind of surgery? Good question.
That depends on the outcome of my two MRI-guided biopsies on Monday. Beyond my tumor - located at 11 o'clock in my left breast - my breast MRI identified two other questionable areas, one in the lower outside quadrant of my left breast ... and one in the lower outside quadrant of my right.
You can imagine the concern, right? One area of one breast vs the whole breast vs oh-crap-it's-in-BOTH-breasts. The biopsies I'll have on Monday will answer that question.
So, come next Friday, early in the morning, I'll be headed into surgery.
If the biopsies are negative, I'll be getting a lumpectomy of my left breast with the surgical removal of several sentinel lymph nodes (to double check that they are clear for cancer). It will take about 4 hours.
If the biopsies are positive for cancer, then Friday, I will be having surgery specifically to check my lymph nodes. Are the sentinel lymph nodes - those nodes to first encounter fucked up breast cancer cells - clear? If so, yay. If not, if there is evidence of cancer in my sentinel lymph nodes, then they'll take all of them. Then, a week or two later, I'll have a mastectomy, single or double depending on what's needed.
Oh, and there's a drain. DRAIN. Once they start taking lymph nodes, they'll need to insert a tube into ... well ... my underarm so that fluid that would normally drain out the lymph system can drain out the tube into, I swear to God, a clear grenade that I then empty as needed. This continues over 5-7 days while, I guess, the area heals from the surgery. It helps to prevent infection.
Yada yada yada.
I heard ... GRENADE filled with fluid from my body that I have to empty. And depending on whether cancer is found in my lymph nodes, I get to have this drain for 5-7 days or more AND learn all about what I would need to do to avoid .... conditions I hope to never need to explain to you without the benefit of wine.
But wait! There's more! Dr. App explained to me what she would do during a lumpectomy to make my left breast whole again. She explained where the incisions would be made and how, once the tumor is removed, she would lift the breast, make it round and whole, and sit the nipple oh-so-perfectly on top. A round breast with the nipple perfectly placed.
I'm 45 years old people. What do you think my first thought was?
[Let me get this straight. BEST case scenario is my left breast is cleansed of the cancer and basically reconstructed into round perfection then I undergo chemotherapy and radiation and, all that while, I have a perky left breast and my normal 45-year-old droopy ass right? So, I'm short, bald from chemo, with a perky left breast and droopy right. Gotcha. Proceed.]
Would I forever has mismatched tits?
[Because that's the important question when fighting cancer but ... whatever.]
The answer, surprisingly, is no. No, I will not. Because the law, believe it or not, guarantees me a matching set. At some point after all my treatment is done - after the chemo and after the radiation - a plastic surgeon will lift my right breast so that it matches the left! How AWESOME is that!?
Random, unexpected, and awesome.
So, that's it. Surgery on Friday - one way or another. Hope with me, if you will, that my biopsies are negative. I'd really love to have my lumpectomy Friday and move on to the next step.
[I'm a bit skittish these days about hoping - it seems whatever I hope ends up a bit skewed.]
________
I had one last happy hour with some coworkers tonight. Well, last for a few weeks anyway. Obviously, next week, I'll be hopped up on painkillers post surgery. The week after, who knows. It was nice to sit and talk and listen to the odd cases. To get a "cheers" to the surgery.
In the midst, my little brother called me - not a usual thing - to apparently tell me about some depositions in a current case. I took this to be code for ... "I want to call her, I'm not sure what to say about her boobs, so I'll talk work to really say I love her" ... see how I interpret? It was sweet.
Honestly, the most frightening part of today was going through the drive thru at Taco Bell tonight - which I do not typically do - and getting to the window with my exact change ready only to have the worker say my food was FREE because of the wait.
Huh. Taco Bell. Free?
What fucked up hell is THIS?
I'm not ready to die, dammit, it's just fucking breast cancer!!
________
And ... here's the pitch!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)