Full speed ahead to Grouchville

Wednesday I had an appointment with my surgeon. I didn't think I needed to take anyone with me because I was sure there would be good news. Wrong! The path report from my second surgery came in and they found a new spot, ductal carcinoma in situ. It was not good news. Oh well, at least the third surgery is done. They had a cancellation on Friday and fit me in. I'm recovering faster this time and Lady and I walked to the library today with no problems.

Thursday I had my appointment with both the oncologist and the radiation oncologist. My husband was by my side for both appointments. I am at stage IIb I found. The oncologist wants to start me on chemo as soon as my breast heals. I hope my new path report shows clear margins so that my breast can actually heal. He is going to treat my cancer aggressively if my body can take it. I get a heart scan next week to find out. This Wednesday they are going to install a chest port so that they don't have to poke around for veins so much in the 20 weeks of chemo. My appointment with radiation oncology was basically a get-acquainted time. The six weeks of radiation won't take place until after chemo. I was totally wiped out after those appointments. They told me all the side effects I can expect. Oh, joy!

I feel like I'm being sucked into the cancer vortex. When first diagnosed I hoped that the path to recovery would be a "bump in the road". I would have my mastectomy or lumpectomy and my radiation and I would get on with my life post haste. I couldn't have a nice little tame tumor. I had to have one that spread to the lymph nodes. I haven't gotten clear margins (cancer free tissue) on my path sample yet. I hate surgery. It hurts. I like my hair. I like my health. I don't want to go to the doctor all the time. Grump!

One of my daughters suggested a book for me. I bought it immediately for my Kindle.

It's called

Bright-Sided: How Positive Thinking Is Undermining America by Barbara Ehrenreich. I love the first chapter, "Smile or Die: The Bright Side of Cancer". Everyone tells us that we have to remain positive in order to fight our cancer. Ms. Ehrenreich writes that cancer is not positive. It has not been proven that a positive attitude leads to better outcomes. Grouchville here I come!

Reading for distraction

I'm getting stronger. Lady and I were able to walk to the library downhill and back from it uphill. The Seattle weather is beautiful today, blue skies and warm temperatures.
I've been reading as many books as I did when I worked in a bookstore. They help distract me from heavy moods. Right now I am reading The Full Cupboard of Life.

It's the fifth in the Number 1 Ladies Detective Agency series. It's a great escape to Botswana to follow the adventures of the "traditionally built" lady detective Mma. Precious Ramotswe.
I am also reading a more serious book of short stories called Say You're One of Them
by a Nigerian Jesuit priest, Uwem Akpan.


The stories are written from children's points of view to some pretty horrible but real situations. Jesuits try to "find God in all things". I have to strain very hard to see the hand of God in these stories but it is there. I can only absorb one story at a time and then need to go back to The Full Cupboard of Life.
If there's one thing to be said about breast cancer, it gives you time for reading. Thank goodness for libraries, bookstores, and Amazon.

Two days post-surgery

I'm two days post-surgery and I just took off the dressing and took a shower. That was a lot of work. Now I'm resting on the couch. I'm more tired this Saturday than I was after last week's surgery. Evidently twice isn't the charm. I have been taking little walks to the mail box and up to the neighbors with Lady.
My medical center will soon be my home away from home. I have an appointment with my surgeon on Wednesday as a follow up. Thursday morning I have my first visit with my oncologist and Thursday afternoon I see the radiation oncology people for a consult. I'm bringing my daughter with me as an extra pair of ears per their suggestion.
I am not used to this. I've often worried about my health thinking that this sign or that sign is cancer. The tests come back and I'm fine. This time I am most definitely not fine.

More surgery tomorrow

My margins weren't totally clear so they need to remove some more breast tissue tomorrow. I was supposed to have my checkback appointment today but I got a call this morning while I was walking with Lady. The nurse called and said that I needed more surgery. Okay, that's bad news but then she said it had to be tomorrow. There just happened to be an opening in the schedule and they want to get this done sooner rather than later so that I can get my radiation and chemo started. But tomorrow! I just was able to walk two miles on the flat today. I'm taking only Aleve for pain but I'll have to go back on the Vicodin after the surgery. I feel like I'm on a board game, I just rolled the dice, and they sent me back 10 spaces.
The path report is back obviously and three lymph nodes have evidence of cancer so it's spread past the breast meaning lucky me gets chemo. One good thing about the tumor, they said it was slow growing so at least that's good news.
Now I know why my dog pulls the other way when we get to the vet's office. Still, I want to fight this cancer and I know that God is sustaining me in all of this. I can feel his presence. He is definitely giving me strength among the tears.

Nice things about my surgical adventure

I've been recovering for a few days and I realize there are some nice things about my surgery day.

1. They have warm blankets that come from a blanket warmer.
2. They had a device in pre-op that blew warm air into my paper gown. The nurse said that in a hospital, "If you're not cold now, you will be."
3. I got slipper socks.
4. The breast center nurse stayed by my side and rubbed my arm to comfort me when I was going through a painful pre-op procedure. When I almost fainted after the mammogram she stayed with me until I got to nuclear medicine.
5. In Nuclear Medicine the tech said, "Hi, I'm Neal and I'll be doing your scanning." I felt like teasing him suggesting, "Hi, I'm Neal. I'll be your waiter," but I let the moment pass.
6. I need my glasses for seeing so the nurse anesthetist made sure that I had them in the OR before they knocked me out and available in the recovery room when I woke up.
7. The operating table was warm and I got more warm blankets.
8. My husband, my sister-in-law, my mother-in-law, and my daughter were brought into my room when I got settled. They had been waiting all day long and it was so good to see their faces.
9. The nurse not only brought me juice but she warmed up my muffin. Now that's service!
10. I got to go home.

Surgery is over

Thursday, July 8th was a long day. I had to check-in at 7 am for my lumpectomy which was scheduled for noon. The early check-in was due to some things that had to be done beforehand. First I had to go to the breast radiology people so that they could do two things. The first was to insert a wire into my breast to guide the surgeon to the tumor (how glad I am that I didn't realize they needed to do that earlier; I would have obsessed about it). The second was to inject nuclear material in my breast to map the sentinel nodes. I may not have known how many pain receptors there were in a breast but I sure found out quickly. The radiologist injected some Lidocaine beforehand but it wasn't enough. At least at the dentist I get nitrous oxide so that if I hurt, I don't care. The medical team was very supportive emotionally but I wish the procedure didn't hurt so darn much! Then I found out that they would need to do a mammogram (sandwich my breast between two panes of plastic and snap an x-ray) of my already painful breast. I had a grumpy mammographer who was made even grumpier by the fact that she would have to position me awkwardly for the picture. We got it done and she was going to do another view when I said I needed to sit down. Things started going black on me. They brought in a nurse and my husband. Thank goodness the one picture was so clear that they didn't need another. They gave me oxygen and sent me down to nuclear medicine on a gurney instead of a wheelchair.

Nuclear medicine didn't hurt at all. I just had to stay still for five minutes at a time while they scanned the nuclear material in my breast for the node mapping. Then it was back up to pre-op where my husband and I would wait for the anesthesiologist, the anesthetist, and the surgeon to talk to us.

The surgery itself was the easy part. I got onto this warm table with warm blankets, got strapped in, listened to the staff joking around, and the next thing I knew I was in the recovery room. My breast hurt and I was sleepy. They gave me drugs for the pain. They understood about breast nerve endings. After recovery I was re-united with my loving family while I rested up and ate a blueberry muffin and did all the other stuff one needs to do to get released from the hospital.

My daughter came home with us and made the family phone calls. Both Mr. D and I were too stressed to want to talk to anybody. It had been a long day!

July 8th is frightfully close. I call tomorrow to see what time I'm scheduled for. Why don't we just call this cancer thing off? I'll have vacation time on my books after July 16th; maybe instead of surgery I could fly out of the country and sit in an Irish pub drinking Jamison's or Guinness or Harp. That really sounds like a much better idea than having my tumor and some lymph nodes removed.

I can't run away from my cancer. I'm an adult. Adults don't put up a fuss when poked and prodded and stitched. Adults say, "I will do anything I need to do to fight this cancer." We understand why the procedures are being done unlike cats, dogs, or kids. When my cats have had surgeries they have no idea why they can't eat after midnight the day before the surgery. "Mom, you're up and we're hungry." This Thursday morning I'll have to watch everyone else eat.

Now that I'm finished complaining I want to talk about the spiritual side of all this. On Sunday I was a lector and proclaimed about Jerusalem, "Oh that you may suck fully of the milk of her comfort, that you may nurse with delight at her abundant breasts."(Isaiah 66:11 NAB). Does that seem ironic to anyone but me? I told Father Dunstan that I would be having surgery this Thursday and he laid his hands on me and prayed for me. Then it seemed like his homily was meant for me. In the Gospel, the sending of the 72 (Luke 10:1-12, 17-20), Jesus tells his disciples to eat what is put in front of them when staying at a house. Father Dunstan said we who give care need to be ready to receive care as well. We are not to refuse the food (love) they put before us. I don't think it's possible to survive cancer without accepting love.

I am spending my pre-surgery days getting housework done. Some times are filled with fear and others are filled with a quiet acceptance of whatever God wants to throw at me. I know that God and my friends and family are with me every step of the way.