Every once in a while, when I cant sleep (which is often) I stay awake reliving July 28th. D-day. Surgery Day. One boob day.
I'm on Day 5 of a Migraine. Stress? Hormones? Or stupidly reliving a time in my life that's over?
Just when you think you have a handle on things. Nightmares occur.
I was so pumped up on Morphine post surgery I only remember things like nausea, my husband sitting next to me in a chair and my Mother telling me I have clean lymph nodes.
Flashes of earlier appointments are the ones that keep me awake at 2AM. My first apt was with Dr. G. A well known breast surgeon. I waited for over an hour to see her. Across from me; a woman, a bit older then me, surrounded by her husband and her mother. A colorful kerchief covered her head but her buttoned down shirt couldn't cover the port in her chest from where chemo goes in to her. My destiny was unknown at the time and I tried not to tear up. I tried not to stare at the woman who was carrying on a normal conversation about the weather outside. I saw them looking at me and my Mom; wondering if they were assuming the appointment was for my Mother, not me. I sat filling out a 10 page questionnaire on my history, was there Cancer in my family, was I a DES daughter, did I have diabetes or high blood pressure?
Other than migraines, a laparoscopy and a several IVF cycles, I was the picture of perfect health. I hesitated as I went to the next box. Breast Cancer. Check.
I looked up at the kerchief woman. It was her turn to be seen. Her husband rolled along the suitcase they brought with them; enough to hold a day's worth of clothes. I pictured her living in New Hampshire or Western Mass. Somewhere far enough away from Dana Farber that she couldn't just come for a routine apt in one day. How lucky, I thought I was, to live so close to one of the finest hospitals in the country.
It was my turn to be seen by Dr. G.
She drew diagrams on a white board like I was in science class explaining to me where the Cancer was and how it, hopefully, did not spread.
She explained my two options matter of factly. No sugar coating. I thought how easy this seemed to her. How she must do this so frequently that of course it appeared to be routine. She wasn't cold. On the contrary. She explained to me the facts. The reality.
She knew I would need a mastectomy in the end but gave the "let's wait and see" story. She scheduled me for an MRI later that week.
I felt okay after the appointment. I felt confident in the surgeon. Yet there was no hiding that I was scared I would be the woman sitting in the chair with the colorful kerchief some day.
Without the suitcase.
Sometimes I relive July 28th
yet I'm thankful I dont revisit Dana Farber again except for a check up.
Addendum: Hours after I posted this I got a letter in the mail informing me of my 6 month follow up MRI. Jan 24th, 2010.
I read the letter. Twice.
And then I got a panic attack.
Thank goodness Puerto Rico is now only 2 1/2 weeks away!
I'm on Day 5 of a Migraine. Stress? Hormones? Or stupidly reliving a time in my life that's over?
Just when you think you have a handle on things. Nightmares occur.
I was so pumped up on Morphine post surgery I only remember things like nausea, my husband sitting next to me in a chair and my Mother telling me I have clean lymph nodes.
Flashes of earlier appointments are the ones that keep me awake at 2AM. My first apt was with Dr. G. A well known breast surgeon. I waited for over an hour to see her. Across from me; a woman, a bit older then me, surrounded by her husband and her mother. A colorful kerchief covered her head but her buttoned down shirt couldn't cover the port in her chest from where chemo goes in to her. My destiny was unknown at the time and I tried not to tear up. I tried not to stare at the woman who was carrying on a normal conversation about the weather outside. I saw them looking at me and my Mom; wondering if they were assuming the appointment was for my Mother, not me. I sat filling out a 10 page questionnaire on my history, was there Cancer in my family, was I a DES daughter, did I have diabetes or high blood pressure?
Other than migraines, a laparoscopy and a several IVF cycles, I was the picture of perfect health. I hesitated as I went to the next box. Breast Cancer. Check.
I looked up at the kerchief woman. It was her turn to be seen. Her husband rolled along the suitcase they brought with them; enough to hold a day's worth of clothes. I pictured her living in New Hampshire or Western Mass. Somewhere far enough away from Dana Farber that she couldn't just come for a routine apt in one day. How lucky, I thought I was, to live so close to one of the finest hospitals in the country.
It was my turn to be seen by Dr. G.
She drew diagrams on a white board like I was in science class explaining to me where the Cancer was and how it, hopefully, did not spread.
She explained my two options matter of factly. No sugar coating. I thought how easy this seemed to her. How she must do this so frequently that of course it appeared to be routine. She wasn't cold. On the contrary. She explained to me the facts. The reality.
She knew I would need a mastectomy in the end but gave the "let's wait and see" story. She scheduled me for an MRI later that week.
I felt okay after the appointment. I felt confident in the surgeon. Yet there was no hiding that I was scared I would be the woman sitting in the chair with the colorful kerchief some day.
Without the suitcase.
Sometimes I relive July 28th
yet I'm thankful I dont revisit Dana Farber again except for a check up.
Addendum: Hours after I posted this I got a letter in the mail informing me of my 6 month follow up MRI. Jan 24th, 2010.
I read the letter. Twice.
And then I got a panic attack.
Thank goodness Puerto Rico is now only 2 1/2 weeks away!
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