You Just Pick Yourself Back Up and Brush Off the Dust

I was going to start off this entry with an apology for last night’s update being a bit depressing but I’m not going to because everyone is allowed to have good and bad days and yesterday was a bad day for me.   Last night I was not in my happy place and that is ok...I am allowed.

Yesterday, I was smacked right across the face with a lot of information.  We were not persistent in asking the oncologist and nurse to slow down and explain things clearly until we understood.  We should have resisted when we were told to put down the pencils and listen to what she had to say, because we were going to receive handouts.  They were at least 30 minutes behind schedule and it was over lunch time so likely both professionals were hungry.  Finally, because I felt that HER2 was not explained properly, I had to Google it which is never a good thing

Lesson learned and I won’t let it happen again

I understand they have lots of patients to see but the only one I care about right now is me and I need to express that each time.

From now on, I will also carry snacks for my health care team, in case they don’t have time to eat beforehand. 

 Today’s appointment went much smoother.  The nurse took the time to explain everything, we didn’t grasp yesterday and the Resident was equally as clear with his information.  My Radiation Oncologist (Rad Oc.) is a wonderful man with a thick Parisian accent, who reminds me a wee bit of Daniel Craig and I feel the need to bring cheese and wine to our next meeting.

 Everything I Googled last night was correct last night but stats show it has a 20% chance of recurring anywhere in the body, over the next 10 years and 80-85% rate of survival.  Now I also have chances of getting hit by a bus, shot or struck by lightning and I don’t lose sleep over that at nights.  All I need to know right now is that testing positive for the HER2 Receptor, determines the type of treatment I receive.

I feel confident in not moving forward with a second surgery to remove the lymph nodes.  Studies show there is no difference in the outcome; between surgery or the treatment I receive.

6 weeks of radiation treatment will follow chemotherapy and it will target breast, arm pit and collarbone area.

The other tidbit of information I just found out was that ;Yes, it may occur in 20-25% of all breast cancer patients but the HER2 + is  common for women my age…Not a high number of Pre-menopausal women get breast cancer in the first place. I going to guess that is part of the reason why it sits around 25%

My spidey senses tell me that treatments will start on the 21^st or 22^nd.  I will likely be another puddle at least one more time between now and then.  But I am ok, you can’t keep me down for long.

On a side note; I almost became one of those annoying people at the parking pay machine yesterday.  I left so bewildered that I left without stopping at the pay machine.  I am so hell bent at NOT being one of those people; I ran inside quickly.  As the two morons, in front of me took their step back, with their arms out looking for divine intervention as to where they insert payment; I quickly scanned the machine for “insert card, insert payment, press here for receipts” and got out in record time.

Curse of the Blondes

I learned an interesting fact today:  In addition to burning like a St Hubert Chicken in the sun, fair skin blondes have a tendency to bruise and bleed more than the average person.

Area 51 which is what I will be referring to my right breast and arm pit for the next few weeks is extremely sore, swollen and I have tingling sensations down my arm.  I managed to squeeze in an appointment with my surgeon today...To make sure I am just being a wimp.

You know its bad when you remove your gown and the surgeon makes a face.  The bruising is more excessive than the usual and there has been some bleeding on the inside.  But to go back inside the wounds will not necessarily fix the problem and could potentially risk infection.

The prescription?  Suck it up buttercup

Oh and all the Advil and Aspirin I have been taking the past 6 days makes the situation worse.  It thins blood.  I never even looked at my Tylenol bottle.

The Tensor bandage also provides relief by keeping the area tight.  I already walk around with that bandage as Linus walks around with his blanket but decided I need an assortment.  A- there is no such thing as colored tensor bandages B- drug stores only carry bandages 5 metres long.  The one they gave me from the hospital is longer than me.  So I am wrapped back up and whatever boobs I have left, get pushed downwards.  At least that is what I keep telling myself.  It isn't a gut, its like pushing toothpaste around a tube.

But I discovered that my vodka bottle I keep in the freezer fits perfectly into my armpit and makes the perfect compress.

Surgery, Recovery and CSI

Today was my first feeble attempt at going back to reality; post surgery......may want to take another stab at it again next week. Pretty sure I won't be back in the saddle by tomorrow

Surgery went well.  I made it to the hospital in time and of course everyone was super cool and helpful.  I could tell my father wanted to do something for me so I asked if he would take me to Kim's in the morning.  He arrived in plenty of time but was trying to rush me.  "It doesn't take 15 minutes to get to Kim's place" 

When you drive 15 km below the speed limit, it does.

Even the cats tried to help.  They woke me up in plenty of time to get ready and even gave me a little gift: A live mouse.  Of course, I didn't have time to deal with it, so I let them chase the mouse in and out of the bedroom while I was getting dressed. My gift eventually escaped.

God love Kim and Shawn.  They got up before the crack of dawn to take me to the hospital, checked me in and stuck around town until I was ready to go home.

At the hospital, I changed into my little gown but had difficulty in understanding the purpose of two pairs of paper slippers.  I misunderstood the nurse's instructions and put one pair on my feet, tried to put my flip flops back on and then put the second pair over everything.  No No - the nurse meant a pair for my feet and a pair to cover my flip flops when I put them in the bag with my clothes.  "I have not had anything to eat or drink so please do not give me difficult instructions without any coffee."

Just my luck, I am set up in front of the nurses' station.  I watch them drink coffee like I'm watching porn.  I contemplated rolling a nurse for her Timmies

Kim pulled through with the book!  I highly recommend Chelsea Handler's "Are You There God, It"s Me Chelsea"  It was so funny that while I was lying in a gurney waiting for a CT Scan in front of 4 people, I burst out laughing.  And if you know me, I don't chuckle quietly.

So I get injected with something, take some photos of the area and asked to lie still.  Naturally that is when you get an itch somewhere.  Then I dozed off and startled myself awake..God you feel like a loser when that happens. Especially when you are being watched.

Surgery was delayed by an hour and a bit.  The orderly wrapped me up in blankets, took me by wheel chair to the operating room which wasn't ready.   I wait in the hall as people are walking in and out of the room.  That is when I over hear  "We haven't had a heart attack here in a while"  Great...That makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. 

Finally he takes me into the room and helps me up onto bed that has two side panels sticking out for my arms.  I ask the orderly if he has ever heard the song Jesus Christ Pose by Soundgarden because that is playing in my head.  I also warn a nurse that if I wake up with Stigmata, I will know they did more than remove a lump.

I start telling everyone that this is my first surgery and it certainly doens't look the same as it does on TV. The room is bigger, brighter and no one is talking about who is sleeping with who at the hospital - Plus I have no make up and if this was TV I would look much better.  I guess they had enough of my rambling because someone injects me and the last thing I remember saying is "Oh yeah, that's the good shit"

The surgery went well.  They removed the lump, some extra tissue and 4 lymph nodes.  She even saw another lump and took it out at the same time.  Afterwards, I rested, ate a cookie, read my medical files (Note: Surgeon called me a lovely person) and was told I would be peeing green for the next 24 hours.  Now I wait aprx. 2 weeks to see if it has traveled to the lymph nodes (and if I need another surgery) and hopefully by the end of Novemeber learn what my treatment will be.

Kim fetched me a few hours laters.  One thing I don't understand is why the hospital would ask an average person to wheel me out.  I love Kim and she is a great driver but she will never have a career as an orderly.  She rammed me into walls, got her pant legs caught in the wheel and had me stuck in a door with another lady in a wheel chair.

I have to say my experience at the Montfort has been nothing but positive.   The staff have been so friendly and helpful throughout  this whole process, moved me through the system very quickly and have given me the best care.  I even received a nice email from the nurse who answers all my surgery questions just before I went in.

Lo and behold the Holy Grail was waiting for me in the car!  An all dressed Harvey's cheeseburger.  I inhaled it and then inhaled Gravol about 45 minutes later on the drive home.

The first evening, my cousin was assigned as nurse.  She had not arrived when I got home so I went to bed and my father waited around. By the time I woke up, Susie had arrived and was settling in.

"What are you doing up?" She asks as I walk out of the bedroom "Jennifer, I thought you were going to be out like a light and I was looking forward to lying on the couch and reading magazines."

Her bedside manner amazes me.

Day one went really well.  I vacuumed, made a cheesecake and did 20 crunches.  By night time, I was sitting at the table with an ice pack.  Part of the problem with wearing a tensor bandage around your boobs is that they are flat and your stomach looks bigger. Hence, I decided I needed to do crunches.   One thing cancer is going to teach me is how to take it easy.  That will be another "journey"

Second night went well, except my overweight cat decided to walk across my chest.  Despite he exceeds the weight restrictions, he got tossed out pretty quickly.  He moved to my cousin's door and "sang the song of his people"

I thought having surgery before Thanksgiving was an excellent idea, giving me an extra day to recover.  What I didn't realize was that it also meant having my family over for dinner while I stayed sober.  God help me if I start chemo before Christmas!

Monday and Tuesday were quieter days, spent lying on the couch, eating leftovers and watching three seasons of CSI.  I even started to dream abut investigating dead people

One of my other cousins who is a nurse helped remove the dressing.  It was comforting to hear her say, the surgeon did an excellent job because the incisions are quite small and clean, seems to be healing really well and likely won't lose much shape on that side.  I couldn't tell because I can't see past the bruising.  My boob and everything around it looks like it went through an old fashioned wringer washer.  Sports Illustrated will not be calling me anytime soon for their swimsuit edition.

I decided I was well enough to return to work today.  I hitched a ride into town and settled in at the office.  After the first hour I realized that I had not lifted anything heavier than a remote for the past 2 days.  By the end of the day, I was swollen, sore and numb and am now in bed with pain killers and my beloved tnesor bandage.  Will take it a bit easier tomorrow.

The hardest thing for me is to not be able to do stuff by myself.  Its difficult when I have to ask Gailene to take my garbage to the curb, or I have to leave my cats at the farm because I can't lift the carrier or Kim has to drive me to work because I can't drive a car for a week or Mirella has to take me grocery shopping and push the cart.  I  know I will recover quickly and will soon be able to help everyone out or pay them back with some act of kindness. It just frustrates me to be this way right now and I feel selfish to ask for help.  I dated a midget many years ago who used to call me a "Princess" in a  very derogatory way.  He claimed I wasn't capable of dealing with stressful situations or to do things on my own.  Boy, not only was he short but also stupid.