Nine Days Post Surgery - Time for Follow-Ups

The past two days have been crazy busy, so this is probably going to be a crazy long entry. You've been warned. So go pee now, grab a drink and get comfortable.

I had my second follow-up appointment with the plastic surgeon to check my healing yesterday, I had my first follow-up appointment with the breast surgeon today to get the results of all my pathology tests and the final surgical outcome and recommendations and I spent a good chunk of the day in the hospital at my grandmother's bedside as we feared she was having another heart attack. I also got to drive myself somewhere for the first time in almost two weeks! The newfound freedom was nice, but still rather painful... amusingly, I only drove myself a few miles to the hospital to see her.

So from all of this, there is both good news and bad news.

First, the good news about Grammy - they have determined that she has not had another heart attack (she had a quintuple bypass about a dozen years ago and a severe stroke almost a year ago), but they are keeping her overnight to monitor the pains in her legs and make sure she has not passed any blood clots or the like. She is lucid, but in pain and she will hopefully be home tomorrow.

And now for my own medical updates - I know you're all waiting with baited breath...

Dr. Jacobsen is my plastic surgeon in the fancy schmancy Biltmore office. He checked out my recovery at 10 days post-surgery and said I was doing absolutely great. Then he yanked the drains out of my sides. It was quite a relief to have them out, and it only REALLY hurt for a few seconds on each side, but I did almost vomit on him for the second one. Luckily, he was prepared with a cool washcloth and a bottle of water, so I didn't actually puke. Always a bonus.

He said with my fitness level before surgery, my "amazing skin" (uh huh, his words) and the progress I've already shown with my mobility and range of motion and flexibility, he expects me to continue healing quickly and without issue. And he assures me my new boobs are going to look great. He'll start the expansion process next week and says I should see some cleavage in about a month or less. This will be a first for me...

Granted, I am still in quite a bit of pain as my body heals internally and gets used to the foreign objects that are now a part of me, but he says everything I'm experiencing is normal and will fade over time. This is good news because I often still feel like there's an ice pick in my left lung and like my right shoulder blade has completely dislocated. Apparently, those feelings are to be expected after having one's boobs recently cut off.

So, leaving the plastic surgeon's office with only four bandaids to show for a recent mastectomy was a pretty cool feeling - one on each side where the drains had been and the steristrips that are still over the healing former breasts. But having the drains gone was the best part of that experience. And the pre-visit codeine I'd taken in preparation for the drain removal wasn't too bad, either. Surprisingly, he did tell me that at this point I can pretty much be off all my medications and return to my life as normal and just know that my body will tell me when I have done too much and need to rest.

Hmmm - this somehow makes me feel like I shouldn't still be so tired and exhausted and in pain all the time, but then I remember what a crazy surgery I just had and try to cut myself some slack. I'm working on it and am occasionally successful.

Today, after making sure my grandmother was resting as comfortably as possible, I made my way to visit Dr. O'Neill for the results of my surgery and pathology tests.

The best possible news is that the largest of the three tumors was only about 1.1cm and the permanent lymph node stain confirmed that there was no lymph node involvement or spread in the cancer, so we caught this stupid thing at Stage 1! WoooHooo!

I just stopped typing to get my copy of the entire pathological report and read over the relevant information to share. As I held these papers in my hands with their medical terminology and graphic descriptions of tissue samples, exact dimensions and appearance of these tissues that were once a very integral part of my life, I am emotionally conflicted. Mostly, I am happy that the news in these reports is good - my cancer was small, we caught it early and we got it out of me. My genetic testing does not indicate an increased risk for my mother, my sister or my children to share this illness with me. But a tiny part of me is sad that even my formerly healthy right breast - the bad booby by association - spent it's final observation as only "specimen with a long single suture designating lateral and a short double suture designating superior...at the center of the specimen is an ellipse of pink-tan skin with a central nipple measuring 1.2cm x 1.2cm x 1.2cm and inked as follows... The nipple and skin from the right breast are unremarkable." (Personally, I think the symmetry of that nipple is pretty remarkable, but then I care about things like that.)

I know the bad boobies did their job before they went bad on me - we had a farewell party, they were enjoyed and appreciated (not saying by whom or how many ;P), they provided immeasurable comfort to both of my babies and then became specimens in a surgical pathology report. Kind of weird and a little sad, but mostly a relief that the news is good and this part of the cancer journey is done. Yay!

But the rest of the conversation with Dr. O'Neill was focused on everything else ahead of me. I will meet with the oncologist in two days, but Dr. O'Neill had been hopeful that with the small size of my tumors, we might be able to avoid chemotherapy entirely. She spoke with Dr. Obenchain before my visit who said that with my age and family background, she was still strongly in favor of me undergoing chemotherapy. We will obviously talk more about the pros and cons of any treatments ahead of me, but it sounds like I will soon be pouring poison into my body and going bald as expected. And with the aggressiveness of the tumors I had, it will be unlikely that I will be able to have the chemo treatment without having a chemo port put in, so that's one more procedure that I will likely be having in the next week or so.

Interestingly, despite my genetic tests coming back negative for the breast-and-ovarian-cancer gene, the fact that my tumors were 100% positive for estrogen receptors means that the most effective course of long-term treatment to prevent future cancers include permanent menopause, as opposed to the temporary menopause sometimes caused by chemo and hormone therapy. So what this means is that at some point after I've finished my chemo, I will likely be having my ovaries removed as well.

I have known for years that I am done having children, but it's still odd to think that we will be removing yet another healthy body part in order to increase my chances of staying healthy longer. I don't particularly relish the idea of yet another surgery, but I'm okay with not having to worry about ovarian cancer in my future. It's one of the bad ones that is hard to find, hard to treat and rarely discovered with much chance of survival. So, let's get that one checked off the list of future possible cancers and just take those ovaries out now! Whew.

So, essentially in the last two days I have learned that my body is physically healing well and that I will someday have amazing breasts to show for all of the current trauma. (Dr. Jacobsen is very proud of his work and assures me my new boobs will be all the rage. I still think having nipples with feeling in them would be cool, but apparently that's never going to be part of the package again...)

The cancer that was in me was small and is now out and we have very good indicators that it did not spread. But to be sure, we will likely be injecting me with some poisons for good measure, removing my ovaries and putting me into instant menopause with continued hormone treatment for the next five years or so.

Dr. O'Neill was quite honest about how none of this is going to be much fun. With two kids in preschool while I'm going through chemo, she said there will probably be times when I have to be completely quarantined away from them. The aches and pains I'm currently feeling from surgery recovery will continue and eventually fade, but as we expand the temporary implants, I will have new pains and muscle spasms and ice-pick-in-the-lungs moments as my body adjusts to the new reality of being cancer free. And all she said about the menopause was, "It's not going to be a good time." Yeah.

Somehow I always thought 30 was going to be the big year of my life - I learned I was pregnant with Fin 3 days after my 30th birthday. I started, finished and defended my dissertation and became Dr. Parker. I got a job, bought a new house, moved, started the job and had a preemie baby with an extremely traumatic near-death birth experience for both of us. And that was all just between May and December of that year.

Now at 35 I have been diagnosed with cancer, had a bilateral mastectomy, am about to embark on an as yet unknown chemotherapy treatment (exhaustion, nausea, decreased immune system, hair loss, long term toxic exposure to my other body parts), which will be followed by a surgery to implant new "perfect" breasts and another surgery to remove my ovaries and then permanent menopause (dry skin, forgetfulness, loss of libido, hot flashes) and hormone treatment for years.

Assuming all goes well, I will be in remission for five years before they can call me truly cancer-free. By then I will be 40. If this is what my 30s have had in store for me, I'm really hoping my 40s involve more tropical vacations and massages.

But honestly, my 30s have been pretty incredible so far, too. I have found myself surrounded by the most amazing network of friends who love me like family and I am constantly amazed by the love and support and encouragement that surround me with each new challenge I somehow get to face.

A friend asked me today why life gets so hard sometimes and piles so much on us after I told her about spending the day with my grandmother in the hospital. All I could think to reply was, "Because we're strong as fuck and sometimes we have to do a whole lot of hard stuff all at once to be reminded."

But just so the universe knows, I'm reminded enough for now. I need my kids to stay safe and healthy, my mom and family to stay safe and healthy, my friends to stay safe and healthy and connected to me through the next few months of me just feeling like absolute crap. And then I think I should get a break from being reminded of how strong I really am.

My other grandmother, who is a self-proclaimed bible thumping holy roller, once told me she never prays for patience because she's sure God will just test her to show her she already has it. I talked to her for a long time today because I am unsure what I am supposed to be learning from this experience, if I am making the right decisions in my life and where I should be going from here as I move forward trying to raise my kids and make the world a better place for the people I love. She assured me that of course it's all in His hands and I'm handling it all as He wants and expects me to, so I should just trust that I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing with my life at this moment. (Which at this particular moment means blathering on and on because I'm getting tired and keep having stream-of-consciousness interruptions. As a writer, I apologize for the lack of coherent theme in this journal entry.)

So I suppose that's what I'm trying to do now. Get through this with the knowledge that I am loved and supported even when I feel like crap, that people want and expect me to lean on them from time to time, and that this is just part of the journey I'm supposed to be on. And I continue to pray that I am learning what I need to be learning and doing what I need to be doing along the way.

And as for the physical transformation, when I told my dad about the ovary removal today, he joked that I am becoming the bionic woman as they take more and more out of me. I said I was fine with that as long as people will make the "nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh" sound when I run.

But really, somehow this whole process is about making me LOOK more like what a woman is expected to look like in our society (go big or go home with the new fake boobs, right boys? And yes, ladies, I am totally kidding with that remark.) while actually removing most of the parts that make me female to keep me healthy. Luckily, I still know I'm going to be a hot bald chick. And honestly, as I removed the bandaids from the drains before my shower this morning (I'm down to only 2 steristrips to show for this adventure! And five new scars-in-healing...) I stood there and looked at my current boob-less body and thought, "Wow, I look strong and healthy and kind of hot."

Thinking I look hot is pretty much a rarity for me. Who knew it would come with the removal of my breasts?

Enough rambling for tonight. I'm so excited to get to see and reconnect with many friends tomorrow for a Valley Leadership event. I have gotten permission to remove my oh-so-fashionable compression vest for several hours (no looking like Star Command!) and have found an outfit that is both professional and comfortable. And I will NOT be wearing any prosthetics or padding because honestly, my actual body is way more comfortable right now, even with all the aches and pains.

<3
-B-