I've Got This

This word has two meanings for me right now. The first is strictly cosmetic, and I'll let you use your imagination.  The second is much more profound, and my personal understanding of the word deepens each day. I have described the support I have received from my family and friends as an avalanche, but that doesn't come close to being accurate.  I have felt propelled upwards, like I am being bubbled up and supported from underneath, much more like riding a wave.  Close friends, not so close friends, acquaintances, and even strangers have given of themselves without a second thought.  I have been crushed (literally) by hugs, and I have been blessed with tears. I have heard from so many people who have offered their thoughts and prayers.  That may not sound like much to some, but I find it comforting to know that I occupy the strings of consciousness of those that have drifted into or out of my life.  This experience has connected us again, on some leve...

I am walking around with tissue expanders.  They are, by far, the most unpleasant aspect of this entire process. I never imagined that something this hard could be inside someone's body.  The thing about the hard brown coconuts?  Yeah, that's about right.  I feel so sorry for my little boy sometimes, when he accidentally backs his head up into my chest.  I can't feel it on a cutaneous level, but I feel the force transmitted through the chest wall, and I'm amazed that he hasn't complained that I hurt his head. I chose to have the expanders.  I could have immediately gotten implants, but they would have had to be small.  I didn't have the skin or muscle stock required to become my ideal size.  I knew that they would be uncomfortable, but I really never imagined that they would be so intrusive. First of all, they feel weird.  They have valves to enable the expansion.  Every week or so, I would go to the plastic surgeon's office, and t...

If you have been reading this blog, you may have noticed that I keep mentioning this strange feeling of thoracic tightness.  Seriously, several times each day, I try to pull away the bra that is four sizes too small, to stretch it out or loosen it, only to find that THERE IS NOTHING THERE! The feeling of tightness is present one hundred percent of the time.  It never goes away.  The occasional stabbing pain is there. The deep zing is in my armpit, but just sometimes.  The skin and fascia at the inferior angles of my ribs are extremely sensitive, like hot spots.  The cutaneous nerves on my thorax are hypersensitive.  I can't sneeze without whimpering. Four weeks after my surgery, we went out of town and stayed at a lovely golf/beach resort.  I was looking forward to seeing two of my oldest girlfriends, and I noticed that there was a spa on the premisis.  Naturally, I booked a massage. Well, most of you know that I am a massage therapist. ...

I made it.  I went home and slept/watched Netflix for a week.  Or three.  Loved ones visited, brought lunch, sent flowers, and called.   Thank you notes were written and mailed.  (That's another thing to make sure you have before you go to the hospital... lots and lots of thank you notes and stamps.) I sleep on my back.  Still.  That sucks. Mornings are the most difficult time of the day.  I wake up and lie still, assessing what it is that I am feeling.   Tightness, yes.  Pain, perhaps.  Aching, always.  Once I figure out how in the world I'm going to sit up, I execute the supine-to-sit transfer, and I wait.  This is when my muscles figure out that it wasn't just a bad dream, and they contract.  Hard. I was in Publix, in the produce section, and I stopped in front of the hard, brown, hairy coconuts.  That's what I feel like is under my skin.  Almost constantly. My drains came out in week two.  T...

We wake up.  I shower with Dial and wash my hair.  We let the boy wear pj's to the hospital.  We're there so early, and I really just wanted a cup of coffee. My surgery was scheduled for 8 a.m.  I remember being warm and soft.  My family was with me until they had to kiss me goodbye, and then it all goes blank.  I remember my guys walking out of my room, and then it's curtains. I woke up around 3:30.  My lymph nodes were clear, and Dr. Rimmer only had to remove three. I got my morphine PCA (patient controlled analgesia) pump, and my nurse was a sweetheart.  She had to divide her time between me and a man next to me whom I would have smothered with a pillow if I had been able to get up.  I did not wake up in pain.  I was uncomfortable, yes.  I was unable to take deep breaths.  My lips were incredibly dry, and I was so thirsty. Dr. Rimmer had performed a complete bilateral mastectomy, with right sentinel node biopsy. ...

I hope you don't find this blog too wordy...  I am chronically verbose.  If I can dispel fear or panic by any degree for even one person, then I will consider myself successful. Unfortunately, I have several friends who have had similar surgeries.  Some less major, some much more complex.  I picked their brains so thoroughly before my surgery, I swear it fortified my strength and confidence. Should you or someone you know find themselves in a similar boat, I can tell you that I was prepared.  Feel free to extract any amount of information from my list.  I'm here to share. This is what you will need for the hospital : Cute and comfortable pajamas that button up the front. A few more big button up shirts TWO fanny packs.  These are for your drains.  One to use, and a spare for when it gets wet/dirty/washed. Lip Moisturizer (Vasaline Lip Therapy is the best.)  You will want this as soon as you wake up. Phone/ipad charger (Extra long...

Here's what I had to do: 1) See the surgeon, twice. 2) See the plastic surgeon, twice. 3) Have an MRI 4) See the oncologist, once. I got in to see the surgeon, Dr. John Rimmer, M.D. , the following Monday morning.  Once again, a doctor worked me into their free time.  Word on the street is that it takes about three weeks to get in with him.  The world has never known a kinder, more thorough physician. I met my plastic/reconstructive surgeon, Dr. David Lickstein, M.D.  that week as well.  I have seen his work professionally, and I already knew I was in the right hands.  Dude's an artist, for real. I met my oncologist, Dr. Marilyn Raymond, M.D.  and we submitted a blood sample for BRCA testing.  Get this:  Cigna requires genetic counselling before they will approve the test (which is a $4k test, by the way).   Cigna provides the phone number to call to schedule the phone counselling appointment.  Cigna then DENIES the cla...

Saturday night, still have the zing in the right breast, still have the little clip in place.  What the hell, let's have friends over for dinner! My phone was on silent, but I happened to see the screen light up.  Why was my radiologist calling me at home at 8:36 p.m. on a Saturday night?  Oh yes!!  To tell me that my biopsy was malignant, that's why! I had DCIS, which is ductal carcinoma in situ (means "in its original place).  It was extensive, and it was considered high grade, which is fast growing.  It was estrogen positive, progesterone positive, but HER-2 negative.  Whatever. For someone under forty who finds herself with this, there are two basic choices: 1) lumpectomy with radiation and tamoxifen 2) mastectomy Here's the rub:  for someone my age with high grade DCIS, there is a very high percentage (something like 40%) that it could come back, either in the same breast or in the contralateral (opposite) side.  It will also b...

Okay, so I have to have a stereotactic biopsy.  What in the world is that?  And where do I go for that?  And I have to bring my films with me?  Do I just pick up a CD?  How does this all work? The first thing I had to do was GET ORGANIZED.  I urge anyone who is every given this kind of news to go to Staples or Office Depot or wherever, and buy a large three ring binder.  And some paper, a whole bunch of dividers with tabby things, and clear plastic protector sleeves.   If you are organized, you know where you are going, why you're going there, what you will need for your visit, and more importantly, WHAT COMES NEXT. I was instructed by a friend who had a similar experience to write down the name of every person you talk to, their phone number (in case you are transferred), what you discussed, and what you (or they) need to do next.  The phone conversations are numerous and detailed, and you need to know at the end of the day exactly who i...

In September of 2013, I called to make an appointment with my gynecologist for the dreaded yearly exam.  I have the most fabulous gynecologist.  No, I won't give you her name, because it's already ridiculously hard enough to make an appointment with her, and I don't need any more patient competition.  I was on hold for what seemed like FOREVER, and I was able to finally make an appointment for JANUARY 10 of the following year.  Really?  (And yes, she's that awesome that I'm willing to get in line months and months in advance just to see her.) While I was on hold, the same recording played over and over.  The recorded lady's silky smooth voice offers a variety of other add-on services:  digital mammography, laser hair removal, botox and fillers.  She sounds more Saks Fifth Avenue than OBGYN Specialists, and she just makes everything sounds so damn appealing. I decided to tack on a mammogram to my visit.  I know I'm only 39, and I haven't r...