Is. It. Dead.

I had two follow ups last Wednesday.  One with the oncologist and one with the ps.  I didn't expect she had anything much to tell me.  I had done the treatments, I knew things were looking better.  

The nurse took my vitals and weight (let's not go there mmkay?) and then was talking to herself about whether I needed blood work.  Hell if I know!  I just show up when I'm supposed to!

She came in and pretty much asked me 328 questions about how I was, and I reported everything was seeming pretty well!  She kind of acted surprised.  She seemed REALLY surprised that I had lowered my dose of Lexapro to the minimum.  I wasn't taking it for anything to do with this, I had started it for bad PMS.  

And then you get cancer.  

And then PMS seems stupid.  

But then you can't just stop Lexapro cold turkey - as I read "it's like throwing your brain off a cliff".  So I'm weaning off.  

She checked everything out and then was looking to coordinate my next steps, mammos and MRI's.  I should get a mammo in 6 months, and an MRI in December - once the exchange and reconstruction is done.  Then probably alternate every 6 months after that.

This was all yada yada yada in my head.  I got right to what was on MY mind:

"Based on your experience with a case like mine, and now having done radiation, what do you think is (waving over B-) in there?"

"Is it dead?"

She says, "I would say yes."

I didn't burst into tears or throw my hands up in relief.  I just nodded and said ok.  

Why doesn't this make me feel better?!?

I know why really, I'm just a black and white person when it comes to this.  You have it or you don't.  I logically know about the percentages and I know my treatment reduced everything to the lowest possible point, but still, I have the feeling that I am still only cautiously optimistic until the MRI in December.  I'm not going to be a crazy head-case until then and lose sleep and worry.  I just want something on paper to confirm.  I want someone looking IN there and confirming that it is indeed, dead.  

After this appointment I went straight to the ps.  He said I was healing well.  He also said I've rotated my expander.  Oops.  My guess is maybe since its gotten more comfortable to sleep on my left that I'm kind of mashing it around a little?  To me this thing doesn't move at all, but somehow I smooshed it over or around or west or whatever.  He said "Don't worry, I'll fix it."  Awesome.  

He said he has no way to tell what damage if any has been done to the pocket by the radiation.  The area will continue to heal for 6 months so from now on there can be continued contraction, scarring and skin issues.  He said that while at times they just go back near the main incision to do the swap, that if he foresees any problem, he'll instead make a new incision underneath the breast and swap it from there.  Yeah baby, more scars.

I asked him how long the recovery usually is. "Cause I got things to do!" is how I phrased it.  I have a Spartan Super run June 20th, and the Surftown Half Marathon in early September.  So I'm open for a little boob job anywhere in the middle there.  

Oh yes Cancer, you work around MY schedule now.....

He states usually two weeks.  So July may be good!  Nice birthday gift to myself huh??  

He said he doesn't really need to see me again till we're ready to nail down a date.  Until then I have one more follow up with the radiation oncologist, and maybe the surgeon?  Have to check my book.  But its damn nice to see the calendar filling in with events and possible runs and all this other good stuff besides doctor's appointments.  

I'm picking up my running again.  I have made a couple crazy-ass deals with friends over all this.  One being the triathlon.  What's nice is that there are some indoor kinds that I think are manageable for me as a total beginner.  I have nowhere to swim!!  I have a $99 bike from Target.  Seriously not competitive here.  But actually I'm finding some workable options! 

The other one I got roped into thanks to a little wine and crazy New Years resolutions (actually it's just because I blindly say yes to everything) is to run 2015 miles in 2015.  And this can be split among people, and I'm doing it with a grand total of ONE other people.  So if Fair Oaks math serves me right I have... 1007...  and a half..... miles to bang out this year.  

I really need like.... 2015 other people to share the load with right now.  Anyone?  Bueller?

I tried to run 1000 in 2013.  I got to 666 or 669.  That's kinda close.  



  

   

I'm Here!

Well that part's over and done with!  I thank all of you so much for your prayers and good vibe thoughts. And even some of you who told me you have loved ones going through something similar. And another bunch of you told me what runs you were doing this weekend and I love seeing you guys kill it out there!!!

I do not know what happened Friday. I lost like 8 hours of my life. The last thing I remember is being wheeled back from nuclear medicine to the room where Chris and my mom were waiting, about 8:15 am... I was all awake... Then it was 4 pm and I was waking up in recovery. So apparently I was also roofied.  I thought for sure I was going to see the OR, and do the count backward thing till I went to sleep, but no, roofied time warp.

Before I write more, forgive me for spelling errors, my one pupil is dilated (my bad) so the screen is a little goofy.

Prior to everything, I am taken to nuclear medicine.  Here they numb around the breast and then inject it about 5-6 times with the isotope that will travel to the sentinal lymph node.  While in surgery, the surgeon uses something like a Geiger counter to locate it, and dissect it, to determine if any cancer is in there, which I believe would make you Stage I.  They test everything there, while you're out, to make sure they secure that no cancer is left or determine if it spread.  

So like I said, I remember getting wheeled back to pre-op.  Here they start the neverending buffet of meds.  Zofran for nausea, a patch behind my ear to ward off nausea and dizziness (this is what blew up my pupil), and a Xanax.  That's some good stuff.

I meet my anesthesiologist.   OK, so his name is Dr. Ringering.  His phone rang with that old-school ring ring-ring, and he answers it "Dr. Ringering" and I thought he was joking, but no, that's his name and it sounded so funny to me.  And I wasn't even that hopped up yet.  He thought I was answering him too alertly though, and gave me more Xanax.  Go to sleep little girl.....

Literally cut to 4 pm.  I was apparently in post-op about 90 minutes.  And they wheeled me back to my room.  I was on the maternity floor, but there were no babies... Boo.  

The next hours are fuzzy.  The kids came to see me.  Tyler was so sad!  But by then I was awake and alert and sitting up so I probably didn't look all that bad.  Jack's the observant one, asking how I felt and if I was ok.... 

My surgeon had to be out of town the day after so I didn't get any info from her but she told Chris that my lymph nodes were clear, no invasion.  So if they took my breast, with everything in it... then I might be clear???  I don't want to anticipate this yet till I hear it from her mouth..

So, what do I feel like, look like etc...  They brought no sexy back with this big bra, so that's on me for the next few weeks.  I also have gauze and padding all up in there, so actually it still looks like I have some boob.  I have one drain clipped to my side, which my hot male nurse is helping me with.  

The area generally feels tight.  Like sore to take in a big breath.  I can feel the top edge of the expander under my skin.  I know I have at least two incision sites but I can't see much else.  

The anesthesia stays with you for a little while.  They removed my cath at 2:30 and by 10 I still hadn't peed.  I tried and tried.  It's like, it was right there but wouldn't make the exit.  So they had to recath me.  So my bladder wouldn't explode.  So.  Pleasant.   Anesthesia doesn't let you feel like you need to pee and messes your Kegal's.  So we had to give it more time. 

The next morning, after prayers to the God of Urination, I walked some laps and finally let in rain!!  So I said, I'm good to go. 

Right now, I don't feel that bad... I think because with the padding I still look like me, but when I have my post-op on Tuesday and if they change my dressings, and I catch a glimpse of what it looks like, I may have quite a few different feelings.  

Yeah, so Chris helped wash my hair in the kitchen sink, and I think the water ran over that nausea patch and into my eye, because later when my friend came by and she and Chris were talking with me, she said, "oh my god your one eye is totally dilated!'  Yeah, this is a good look.  Don't know how long that'll last.  

This has definitely been a "one step at a time" thing.  I can't get anxious about something two days from now.  I think, so far, given everything, this has been better than expected.  So I'm just going to do what I have to do to heal up and recuperate and get back to it.  

What are my restrictions?  No driving for 2 weeks.  No lifting the arm above shoulder height.  No lifting over 10 pounds.  I would like to lift 6 ounces of wine, but I gotta let the Percs wear off.:)  

Again, I thank you sooo much for your thoughts and prayers.  I'm already planning my events for next year.  I also got Double Dog Dared  to do a triathlon if my friend does a half-marathon.  Game on, sister.  I think its so important to have a goal in mind when yo're going through something like this.  It's so easy to think that an obstacle like this can derail you.  So many friends we're running this weeked and said they dedicated it to me, which is so humbling!  I'm carrying on with my goals for those that lost their battle.  If I still CAN, I WILL.  

I may have you, Cancer, but you don't have me.