I've soaked up the last couple of weeks of summer.
I've basked in the sun and did some New England getaways with my family.
It's been relaxing and good for my soul.
But school began and reality set in and on the same day the yellow school bus arrived I ventured into Mass General for my day of doctors. Plastic Surgery/ Reconstruction consult, Herceptin day and my routine Oncologist 9 week check in. It's sunny and warm out and my day was spent inside walls for sick people. Damned you cancer. You ruin everything.
I've mentioned before that you lose any kind of humility when you have cancer.
Vanity? - scratch that too.
You better not be afraid to show your breasts to physicians, nurses, technologists, residents and students in training because that's their job. To look, touch, examine and tug.
And you really better not be afraid to show your breasts to the plastic surgeon doing your reconstruction if he is the one you attended summer camp with back in the 80's.
Since this is second time around for a new boob I'm not really feeling any kind of embarrassment when I see Dr W and also don't feel weird this time around calling him J. Because when you know someone before they even entered a college you get grandfathered in to call them by their first name.
However when the medical assistant asks you to stand against the blue wall, drop the gown and pose every which way for the camera you do feel a bit like an embarrassed porn star. One, of course, who stars in cancer films.
DH comes with me because I know the upcoming surgery is going to be a big one and I want another ear there to listen to what J has to say. All I hear is him telling me I have enough fat in my stomach to make a boob. Gee, thanks ol' friend. It's actually a good dose of reality because I've been calling my need to lose 20 lbs my pregnancy weight. My baby just turned 12 so it's time to get real. It's now my cancer weight and I figure I'm good with this title for at least another 5 years. I do beg J to take it from other parts of my bottom half but the stomach it is. We agree on October 30th as a date. I forgot to discuss how many drains I will have and for how long (drains are almost the worst part of surgery. Think little plastic grenade looking bottles attached to you with blood coming out of them and in need of changing twice a day). But I do know that pain meds and a few nights in the hospital will be part of the game plan. If they just put little chocolate mints on my pillow at bed time and had Lifetime Movie Network it would almost be called a mini vacation. Except for the drains of course.
After J we ventured to the other building where the cancer center is. Nurse N accesses my port and draws my blood as I then learn oncologist is running at least 45 minutes behind which means my herceptin will be delayed which means one cranky cancer girl.
Thanks to DH for getting me a turkey sandwich and my caffeine fix and a special shout out to the massage therapist who comes to the infusion center and gives foot massages.
Rested feet make a happier patient.
Thoughts this week go out to new cancer mates of lovely older man, cowboy hat dude and a friend from my town who's husband had treatment today who I got to give a quick hug to.
#cancersucks
I've basked in the sun and did some New England getaways with my family.
It's been relaxing and good for my soul.
But school began and reality set in and on the same day the yellow school bus arrived I ventured into Mass General for my day of doctors. Plastic Surgery/ Reconstruction consult, Herceptin day and my routine Oncologist 9 week check in. It's sunny and warm out and my day was spent inside walls for sick people. Damned you cancer. You ruin everything.
I've mentioned before that you lose any kind of humility when you have cancer.
Vanity? - scratch that too.
You better not be afraid to show your breasts to physicians, nurses, technologists, residents and students in training because that's their job. To look, touch, examine and tug.
And you really better not be afraid to show your breasts to the plastic surgeon doing your reconstruction if he is the one you attended summer camp with back in the 80's.
Since this is second time around for a new boob I'm not really feeling any kind of embarrassment when I see Dr W and also don't feel weird this time around calling him J. Because when you know someone before they even entered a college you get grandfathered in to call them by their first name.
However when the medical assistant asks you to stand against the blue wall, drop the gown and pose every which way for the camera you do feel a bit like an embarrassed porn star. One, of course, who stars in cancer films.
DH comes with me because I know the upcoming surgery is going to be a big one and I want another ear there to listen to what J has to say. All I hear is him telling me I have enough fat in my stomach to make a boob. Gee, thanks ol' friend. It's actually a good dose of reality because I've been calling my need to lose 20 lbs my pregnancy weight. My baby just turned 12 so it's time to get real. It's now my cancer weight and I figure I'm good with this title for at least another 5 years. I do beg J to take it from other parts of my bottom half but the stomach it is. We agree on October 30th as a date. I forgot to discuss how many drains I will have and for how long (drains are almost the worst part of surgery. Think little plastic grenade looking bottles attached to you with blood coming out of them and in need of changing twice a day). But I do know that pain meds and a few nights in the hospital will be part of the game plan. If they just put little chocolate mints on my pillow at bed time and had Lifetime Movie Network it would almost be called a mini vacation. Except for the drains of course.
After J we ventured to the other building where the cancer center is. Nurse N accesses my port and draws my blood as I then learn oncologist is running at least 45 minutes behind which means my herceptin will be delayed which means one cranky cancer girl.
Thanks to DH for getting me a turkey sandwich and my caffeine fix and a special shout out to the massage therapist who comes to the infusion center and gives foot massages.
Rested feet make a happier patient.
Thoughts this week go out to new cancer mates of lovely older man, cowboy hat dude and a friend from my town who's husband had treatment today who I got to give a quick hug to.
#cancersucks
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