Two Weeks and Two Days

I had every intention to write on this blog through the worst part of my surgery and recuperation.  I also had every intention of reading all the books that I have wanted to read, you know, that stack of novels by the bed, while recuperating.  I have done neither.

My surgery was 16 days ago.  My husband, the girls and I drove to Prentice on Monday the 11th.  We got to spend some time together in a pre-op room where I was poked and prodded by the nicest people.  We met my anesthesiologist and I was given two shots of radioactive material by a tech from nuclear medicine that would help my first surgeon map where the cancer may have gone into the lymph nodes. 

Both of my surgeons came into my room and "mapped" what they planned on doing.  They told my family that they would be informing them of everything in two hour windows.  I felt a touch of sadness for my family when we were told that the surgery was probably going to last a couple hours longer than we had initially thought.  The first surgeon would be operating approximately three hours and then the other would be working on me for another 9-10 hours.

The anesthesiologist told me that my part was easy.  He was going to give me some meds that would cause me to probably not even remember leaving the very room I was in.  He could not have been more right.  I don't even recall them putting anything into my drip.  I closed my eyes and the next thing I knew I was in a dark room with my family and they were to the right of me.  I recall Greg saying it was late, that they were going to leave and then I remember hearing and seeing Ali give me a thumbs up, I got the TRAM flap procedure that I wanted.  All had gone well.

What I didn't know was that it was so much later.  I was told by Greg and the girls that when my surgery was finally over at approximately 7:30 the evening of the 11th, they were able to be with me for two hours in recovery.  Since I needed to be watched by the Plastics team, my family went with me as I was wheeled down to the basement of Prentice and underground, under the parking structure and into the Feinberg building two blocks away. It was about 10:30 in the evening.

I recall later being in the ICU and the main goal of the three nurses was to get me up and sitting.  My bed was electric and it was made into a chair, the foot position becoming a chair seat.  I heard apology after apology and was assured that the first move was the worst.  God, they were right!  Getting me to stand had me crying out in pain.  When I finally got to the chair and looked at the position of the bed, it looked like some kind of torture chamber.

I spent the day in ICU, with family all around.  They were going to take me to another room later on the 12th but there was a concern for a hematoma in my chest and the resident assigned to me felt it better that I stay in the ICU where the nurses were right there with me.

After two days of the ICU, I was placed on the 12th floor and recuperated there for several more days. I was told that I would probably go home on Saturday morning.  Sadly, the Plastic Resident came in, Dr. E, took one look at me and said no.  I was extremely nauseous and not feeling well.  The good thing; they decided to change my blood thinner.  I was getting a shot every six hours and it was excruciating and burned so much.  It was given in the thigh and by now, with so many days, my thighs were all beaten and bruised.  I would get anxious just thinking about the shot.

On Sunday morning, Dr. E came in again and said I could go home.  I texted my husband, who was in church for Fathers Day with the girls, that they could come and get me after mass.  By 1:30 I was at home and recuperating with my family. 

Preparation

It's a blur since they told me about it
How the darkness had taken its toll
And they cut into my skin and they cut into my body
But they will never get a piece of my soul.

I have yet to make it through the song, singing in the car of course.  When I hit these words in the song the reality of the situation blinds me.  It Melissa Etheridge's song, I Run For Life.  It is the verse when she sings of herself and what she is going, or gone, through.

I awoke this morning at 4 after a few hours of actual sleep.  I have washed my hair, taken my two pills with the smallest amount of water possible.  I assured my daughters last night that I would not bother putting make-up on [who needs to be vain when I will be exposed in so many ways] and my bags are packed. I have one for the ICU; a book, notepad and reading glasses, a photo of the girls and a beautiful silver rosary that my high school friend Cheryl made me.  My other includes my own pj's and matching robe, of course.  I also have a few toiletries I am allowed to bring and some flip flops along with a pink blanket that Ali gave me for Mothers Day.

Like Melissa Etheridge, a breast cancer survivor herself, I have lived in a blur; work and activities with family and friends over the last month and a half have kept me busy and it is now my turn for the doctors to take the darkness away.  I have the strength of a wonderful family behind me, Greg, Amanda and Ali, they are my rocks and the reason I start this fight.  My parents are here and I have received so many well wishes from family and friends so I know the support out there is amazing and I am grateful for all of it and every last one of you.

As I prepare to drive downtown to Northwestern, I want to thank you for all you have done for me and my family.  Your words of encouragement, your thoughts and your prayers, have helped me to this point and will carry me through the rest. 

XXX

Wise Words of an Indian Hotel Owner

"Everything will be alright in the end.  If it is not alright, it is not the end."  Sonny Kopoor, the determined young hotel owner, says this to a disgruntled guest in the lovely movie The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel.  My daughters and I went to see it yesterday afternoon.  I am not sure if this is a real Indian saying, as claimed, but what a wonderful thought to have in ones mind when there are challenges to be faced.

I was stopped in my tracks earlier this week.  I have since realized it was a blessing in disguise.  When one has surgery scheduled and there is time to stop, think, rethink, and think again, one starts to doubt.  It is natural.  It happens to all of us in our daily lives and regarding so many decisions.  Do we or don't we?  Should we or shouldn't we?  All the what if's come out from under the bed and around the corners and you doubt yourself and the path you are taking.

The sunburn like rash that I developed stopped the world from spinning.  I was told I might have to begin chemo right away;  surgeries canceled until further notice and radiation still a question.  For several days I sat stunned, scared, and in limbo while the tests were done on a tiny piece of tissue.  I was told that I  should hear on Thursday.  The day went on as usual and by late afternoon I was emailing my doctors assistant.  There was no answer and it would be tomorrow before the results would come.  I was working late Thursday night and driving home, I checked my phone.  I had felt the familiar vibration earlier from my jacket pocket but was in a meeting and did not answer.  A call had come in at 8:30 p.m.. I know, I know, not supposed to touch the phone while driving, but in two beeps I heard an already familiar voice.  I pulled over to hear Dr. B tell me that the pathology report came back negative.

WHEW!!!!  I deleted the call, turned the car back on and drove home more determined than ever.  It is not alright  now, but it will be.  Monday, I will begin the long process to be alright, in the end.

P.S.  I highly recommend the movie.  It takes place in India and the scenery makes you want to travel there at once, and stay at this unique hotel with such lovely people as Tom Wilkinson, Judy Dench, Maggie Smith and Bill Nighly. What a fantastic place it would be!

Speed Bumps are Little Moments

You hit speed bumps in your life; little moments that make you step back, take a deep breath as you gain an extra bit of strength and determination that you didn't know was within you; you lean forward in an act of determination and you step out and go again.  I believe we all  have this within us. Most of us have this moment occur in many small ways each day and we may not even realize that it occurs, we are so used to "jumping in" and taking life on that it is second nature to us.  Some instances make us inhale deeper to stop the world from spinning for a moment.  Our breather is longer and deeper and we seem to be suspended in time as that first step moves us forward, in a way that causes our legs to carry us forward while our brain plays catch up.

I was called in to see Dr. B, my breast surgeon, yesterday.  His assistant asked me to come in on his behalf so that he could take a look at the redness that I was describing.  Amanda and Ali came with me and stayed with me.  Dr. B was honest, he didn't like what he saw but wasn't sure if it just happened to be an infection that happened to occur above the mass in my breast or something worse.

He decided to do a punch biopsy on the spot.  I will tell you first that Amanda, my college nursing student, said afterward that it was amazing.  From my vantage point, I would disagree.  I was given a shot of lidocaine and after a minute he performed the procedure.  Amanda will tell you it looked like he used a screw-type device.  I will tell you it felt, and looks, like I have a paper hole punch on the top of my breast.  He is rushing the lab for results and we should know by Thursday.

His concern... that the cancer has gone into my skin.  He said it is unlikely but there is a possibility that I have developed inflammatory breast cancer.  If this test comes back positive, all surgeries will be stopped and I will begin chemotherapy immediately.  It will be about six months until we could then look at the surgery again.  He has started me on a strong antibiotic and we now will wait and see.  In the meantime, Ali was able to do her first art project of the summer.  Dr. B gave us a special marker and Ali traced the redness with a purple marking pen.  If the redness goes past the lines drawn I am to come in immediately, in other words, it is not good.

The fact that the girls were with me was great.  I told them when we got to the elevator that I was glad that were standing there, holding my hands or I would have absolutely lost it.  Greg, my rock, was calm and he quietly listened when we called to tell him and he said it didn't matter.  The end result is to get the cancer out.  This is just a new and different way that it might have to happen.

So, in this world when we hit a speed bump and have our breathe taken away, when we need to step forward and move again, we can either do it alone, or, have the strength of ones family to take the deep breath and holding hands, step forward together.

Waiting to Exhale

The anxiety has been steadily growing.  I still have not had a good night of sleep.  Whether it is the anxiety or the fact that the darn birds start chirping right outside our window about 4:30 every morning, I am not sure.  Maybe, it's a bit of both.

I can say for sure that it started almost immediately after dropping my parents and aunt off at O'Hare on Memorial Day.  They came in to see Ali graduate on the 25th.  I dropped them off at JetBlue in Terminal 3. Before I made it to Mannheim, the main road outside the airport, the anxiety crept up on me. 

I have been going non-stop since the diagnosis.  Work was busy.  Home life was busy.  We were looking forward to many wonderful activities.  The Senior Mother Daughter Luncheon, family coming in, the Honors Convocation, Ali's graduation, her commencement address, and the family reunion party.  And now, with the extended family gone, it is time for me to concentrate on me, something I have never done well.

I cannot breathe.

I have been trying to keep myself busy and not think about next Monday. I need to get allot of things done before the surgery.  Weeding, laundry, organizing at work and at home.  It was a blessing when a friend came into my office and reminded me that our offices get cleaned in the summer.  She told me that someone else would clear my office but I don't want to burden someone else so I am happily adding one more thing on my to do list. The work keeps me focused on something else.

To top it off, I woke up this morning to find that the mass has changed.  When I feel it, it is hard when it was not that way before.  The tissue on top of the mass is red, like I have a sunburn.  It feels heavier if that is possible.  My armpit area is numb and tingles from time to time.  I am trying, with difficulty, not to lose it.

I have an email in to both my surgeon and his assistant but today is their day to do surgeries so I have not received a response back yet.

So, I wait.