My husband and I had our parent-teacher conference today for our daughter, who is in fourth grade. I have to admit this was the first time I've actually met my daughter's teacher, which pretty much makes me the Worst Mom Ever in the history of my daughter's school, which I'll call Helicopter Parent Elementary (HPE). But, you know, I HAVE CANCER, PEOPLE! LOL.
Anyway, I had no idea what to expect. I have no idea how my daughter is doing in school. And it's fourth grade, so I don't care that much. I care enough to occasionally scream at her when she doesn't get something that she should get, or when she tells us at 9 PM that she has to create a salt dough map of our state for school tomorrow. But other than that, I know nothing. And in fairness to myself, I was pretty laid up until a few weeks ago. I'm too lazy to be a helicopter parent, but I'm not normally this clueless. I got the feeling my daughter's teacher knew why I had been so MIA, because she asked me a few too many times, with a lot of interest, how I was doing.
And no matter how clueless I am about my daughter's academic achievements, I'm pretty in tune with her strengths and weaknesses in general. If you know me, you know I spend a lot of time lamenting that God cursed me with a daughter who is the exact opposite of me. This is not necessarily a bad thing for her, because I have a lot of bad qualities I wouldn't wish on anyone, but it does create constant tension between us, because I do not understand this alien being who is 50% me but yet Not Me in every possible way, good or bad.
Thus, I was fairly relieved when my daughter's teacher started off with how much she LOVES Ellie. Yes, she needs to work on organization and neatness and focus, but overall she is doing fine. This is pretty much how all our conferences go. We chatted a bit about academic stuff, then eventually the teacher asked us if we had any questions. I entered the dreaded territory of asking how my daughter was doing socially. Her teacher paused, then said she thought she was doing fine. But then added, 'Unless she's telling you something I don't know.' I replied that Ellie never said anything, which in a way worries me, because she is very oblivious to a lot of things that I feel she should notice. I said that from a parenting standpoint, it is easy to have a daughter who is fairly clueless, but that I also understand that can't work forever. I worry about the day when she does get a clue. Her teacher replied in just the right way - not an overly assuring Oh no! She's FINE! way, but in a realistic, thoughtful way. She said, 'There are a lot of issues in the class, especially with the girls... but... Ellie really doesn't do drama.' Then she added, 'It's really interesting because everyone in the class is really protective of her. She's really nice to everyone, and it seems like everyone likes her.' She said this in a way that implied that it was really a respect thing, and not an I feel sorry for you thing. But she also sounded surprised by it - like... How can this be? It's weird. Yet it is.
I keep thinking of this: Ellie really doesn't do drama. WTF? WHO IS THIS CHILD? It seems like everyone likes her? Are you sure you are talking about the same person who lives with me?! And it struck me that after being inspired by all the amazing people who have rallied around me in the past few months, that perhaps I could learn a lesson or two from my own daughter, who doesn't do drama. After talking a bit more with her teacher about it, her teacher said that while she thought Ellie was fairly naive, she wasn't totally clueless. So her 'not doing drama' wasn't 100% because she didn't even know it was there. She just... doesn't do drama.
It is hard to know how to feel about this. On the one hand, you hope your child will be upset when you tell her have cancer, and that this is a serious thing. On the other hand, you're happy when none of it seems to faze her, the same way she was okay when our cat was run over by a truck or when our chickens were gutted by raccoons. After my surgery, she was okay not knowing who was going to pick her up from school for over a month, and she took going home with random classmates in stride. I never have to worry about her throwing a fit if I forget to pack her a lunch on the day of a school field trip when they can't buy lunch, or if I'm not feeling good enough to go watch her at her running meets, or if the tooth fairy forgets to come. Because she just... doesn't do drama.
It struck me during the conference that I don't want to do drama, either. I feel like I've been a drama queen for the past five months since my diagnosis, and I'm done with it. I hate being emotional and feeling sorry for myself and crying and I dunno, all that other dramatic stuff that comes with cancer. I just want to be the person who is nice to everyone that everyone likes and protects - someone more like my daughter, and less like me. I'll add it to my self-improvement 'to do' list.
Saturday, October 31, 2015
Friday, October 30, 2015
A Touchy Subject
While I'm on work hiatus, I've vowed to do some work in the elusive self-improvement area. Somehow the BACK OFF! I'M BUSY! I HAVE A FULL TIME JOB AND TWO YOUNG KIDS AND CANCER! card doesn't work when you don't have a job. Plus, being surrounded by so many excellent people inspires me to be less mediocre, so I am motivated.
Of course, self-improvement encompasses many things, because there's not an ounce of myself that couldn't be better. The projects are practically limitless. But one thing I've been focusing on is my professional life which is, quite frankly, slightly pathetic. I used to blog about it, but then the I HAVE A FULL TIME JOB AND TWO YOUNG KIDS thing reared its ugly head, and spending time blogging about how pathetic you are is a pathetic thing to do when you could be using that time to make yourself less pathetic.
Anyhoo. I have a 'to do' list of things I want to accomplish while I am free from my teaching duties, which I now realize is insanely ambitious and not do-able, but that's sort of the story of my life. However, one of my goals is to finish what I started back in January, and become a certified EMT. At this point in my life, I'm not sure if I'll ever use this credential in any sort of professional manner, but I am a finish what I start kind of gal. I already completed the EMT course and passed my practical exams (and god it was hard for me, which I wrote about here and here), so all I need to do is to pass the national registry exam. This should be the easy part for me. And I just feel like after all that time I put into the class, I should be certified.
I remember talking about the steps to become certified in my class, and it's a lot more complicated than it should be, and all that is just a world away from where I am now. So a few weeks ago, I finally decided to wade through all of the bureaucracy and apply for certification. Now I have a definite date that I can sit for the national registry exam, and that is November 10th. Thus, I've been half-heartedly trying to study for the exam, without much luck. I mean, hello, I HAVE TWO YOUNG KIDS AND CANCER! Ha.
Oh and geez, that is one super long introduction to the topic that actually inspired this entry, which is the topic of touching. Let me just say, I'm not a touchy person. Physical contact makes me uncomfortable, which makes breast cancer a bitch, yo. So many random people looking at and touching your boobs all. the. freaking. time. is not cool. Fortunately, after two kids, I've sort of overcome some of my issues, or whatever. Meaning, I don't freak out when someone touches me. But still, IT'S NOT NORMAL AND I DON'T LIKE IT!
And what does any of this have to do with studying for my EMT exam? I was thinking about this the other day as I came across a practice question that went something like this:
An EMT should do all of the following EXCEPT
This question actually brought back a memory from my last visit with Dr. T - details I had never really thought about until just then. Until my last visit, my husband had been with me for every appointment. However, since my mom took me to my last appointment, I was alone in the exam room. When Dr. T came in, we had a brief conversation, then he told me he was going to get his nurse before he examined me, which was new. I really didn't think about it until much later, when I realized it was only because my husband wasn't with me. Apparently Dr. T needed someone else in the room to verify that he wasn't being inappropriate, in the event that I should suddenly decide that having a strange man touch my breasts and abdomen is not okay. (For the record, it's really not okay, but you have to get over it, and having someone else in the room to witness it doesn't make it any more okay.) Reflecting on it later, I was sort of offended Dr. T didn't trust me, but my husband assured me that it wasn't about me; it was standard.
The weird thing is that I have a specific memory of having a freak out while Dr. T was looking at my nipple. (I mean seriously, nipple grossness is pretty freaking embarrassing.) And I must have been in typical Waning freak out mode, because I remember that he asked me to lie back, then HE PUT HIS HAND ON MY SHOULDER, and his other hand on my arm and told me everything was going to be fine. LOL. (That's only a no-no if everything isn't going to be fine.) I wouldn't say he exactly calmed me down - it's more like he was holding me down, or at least making me aware of the fact that I was wiggling around too much, because it's embarrassing to have your gooey, bleeding nipple inspected. Nevertheless, it's interesting that I remember this. Like... dude, this guy has seen me naked, taken pictures of me naked, pinched the fat on every part of my body, felt my breasts regularly, and yet, him putting a hand on my shoulder to calm me is what I remember. I wonder if it's something they teach in med school in addition to EMT class - put your hand on the patient's shoulder to calm her. It definitely seemed personal - too personal almost. Which is ridiculous, I know. You can touch my boobs, but please keep your hand off my shoulder. It's like the prostitutes in the movie Pretty Woman - sex is okay, but kissing is a no-no. Too personal.
I mentioned in my post about BRA Day that there was another woman there who was super emo who kept hugging me and hugging Dr. T, which made me wonder if this is the way I am supposed to be. I mean, I've never gotten touchy with a doctor before, but then again, I've never had cancer before, either. Now that I think about it, Dr. L is sort of touchy, too - hugging me and putting her arm around me a lot. Putting her hand on my shoulder to calm me. Ick. LOL. When I was a kid, my mom had to give me hugging lessons because I did gymnastics, which is a very huggy sport, and she said I looked stupid when I finished a routine and everyone tried to hug me and I just stood there. (In college, I started diving, which worked better for me because people are less inclined to hug you when you're all wet.) Maybe it's time to re-visit this issue. I'll add it to my 'to do' list for self-improvement: must increase physical contact with others. Must learn how to put a hand on someone's shoulder to calm her.
Of course, self-improvement encompasses many things, because there's not an ounce of myself that couldn't be better. The projects are practically limitless. But one thing I've been focusing on is my professional life which is, quite frankly, slightly pathetic. I used to blog about it, but then the I HAVE A FULL TIME JOB AND TWO YOUNG KIDS thing reared its ugly head, and spending time blogging about how pathetic you are is a pathetic thing to do when you could be using that time to make yourself less pathetic.
Anyhoo. I have a 'to do' list of things I want to accomplish while I am free from my teaching duties, which I now realize is insanely ambitious and not do-able, but that's sort of the story of my life. However, one of my goals is to finish what I started back in January, and become a certified EMT. At this point in my life, I'm not sure if I'll ever use this credential in any sort of professional manner, but I am a finish what I start kind of gal. I already completed the EMT course and passed my practical exams (and god it was hard for me, which I wrote about here and here), so all I need to do is to pass the national registry exam. This should be the easy part for me. And I just feel like after all that time I put into the class, I should be certified.
I remember talking about the steps to become certified in my class, and it's a lot more complicated than it should be, and all that is just a world away from where I am now. So a few weeks ago, I finally decided to wade through all of the bureaucracy and apply for certification. Now I have a definite date that I can sit for the national registry exam, and that is November 10th. Thus, I've been half-heartedly trying to study for the exam, without much luck. I mean, hello, I HAVE TWO YOUNG KIDS AND CANCER! Ha.
Oh and geez, that is one super long introduction to the topic that actually inspired this entry, which is the topic of touching. Let me just say, I'm not a touchy person. Physical contact makes me uncomfortable, which makes breast cancer a bitch, yo. So many random people looking at and touching your boobs all. the. freaking. time. is not cool. Fortunately, after two kids, I've sort of overcome some of my issues, or whatever. Meaning, I don't freak out when someone touches me. But still, IT'S NOT NORMAL AND I DON'T LIKE IT!
And what does any of this have to do with studying for my EMT exam? I was thinking about this the other day as I came across a practice question that went something like this:
An EMT should do all of the following EXCEPT
a. make good eye contact with a patient.For me, 'b' is like NO, just NO. PUTTING A HAND ON A PATIENT'S SHOULDER DOESN'T CALM HER! Never ever touch a person unless you ask them first! OMG!! Except that for most people, the hand on the shoulder trick is a-okay, and apparently I am a freak, and the correct answer is 'c', because sometimes patients should be worried and everything is NOT going to be fine, which I get. But I disagree that physical contact with a patient will calm her - not to mention you can get sued. (I can tell you a true story about this.)
b. put a hand on the patient's shoulder to calm and reassure her.
c. tell the patient not to worry because she is going to be fine.
d. explain to the patient what is happening.
This question actually brought back a memory from my last visit with Dr. T - details I had never really thought about until just then. Until my last visit, my husband had been with me for every appointment. However, since my mom took me to my last appointment, I was alone in the exam room. When Dr. T came in, we had a brief conversation, then he told me he was going to get his nurse before he examined me, which was new. I really didn't think about it until much later, when I realized it was only because my husband wasn't with me. Apparently Dr. T needed someone else in the room to verify that he wasn't being inappropriate, in the event that I should suddenly decide that having a strange man touch my breasts and abdomen is not okay. (For the record, it's really not okay, but you have to get over it, and having someone else in the room to witness it doesn't make it any more okay.) Reflecting on it later, I was sort of offended Dr. T didn't trust me, but my husband assured me that it wasn't about me; it was standard.
The weird thing is that I have a specific memory of having a freak out while Dr. T was looking at my nipple. (I mean seriously, nipple grossness is pretty freaking embarrassing.) And I must have been in typical Waning freak out mode, because I remember that he asked me to lie back, then HE PUT HIS HAND ON MY SHOULDER, and his other hand on my arm and told me everything was going to be fine. LOL. (That's only a no-no if everything isn't going to be fine.) I wouldn't say he exactly calmed me down - it's more like he was holding me down, or at least making me aware of the fact that I was wiggling around too much, because it's embarrassing to have your gooey, bleeding nipple inspected. Nevertheless, it's interesting that I remember this. Like... dude, this guy has seen me naked, taken pictures of me naked, pinched the fat on every part of my body, felt my breasts regularly, and yet, him putting a hand on my shoulder to calm me is what I remember. I wonder if it's something they teach in med school in addition to EMT class - put your hand on the patient's shoulder to calm her. It definitely seemed personal - too personal almost. Which is ridiculous, I know. You can touch my boobs, but please keep your hand off my shoulder. It's like the prostitutes in the movie Pretty Woman - sex is okay, but kissing is a no-no. Too personal.
I mentioned in my post about BRA Day that there was another woman there who was super emo who kept hugging me and hugging Dr. T, which made me wonder if this is the way I am supposed to be. I mean, I've never gotten touchy with a doctor before, but then again, I've never had cancer before, either. Now that I think about it, Dr. L is sort of touchy, too - hugging me and putting her arm around me a lot. Putting her hand on my shoulder to calm me. Ick. LOL. When I was a kid, my mom had to give me hugging lessons because I did gymnastics, which is a very huggy sport, and she said I looked stupid when I finished a routine and everyone tried to hug me and I just stood there. (In college, I started diving, which worked better for me because people are less inclined to hug you when you're all wet.) Maybe it's time to re-visit this issue. I'll add it to my 'to do' list for self-improvement: must increase physical contact with others. Must learn how to put a hand on someone's shoulder to calm her.
Tuesday, October 27, 2015
DIEP Reconstruction Aftermath: 7 Weeks
It's hard to say whether there has been no improvement in the past week, or if my expectations are just getting higher. I still feel good, but not stellar. In some ways, I feel like certain things are getting worse, like itching in my abdominal scar and the pain in the rib that Dr. T messed with. Also, after lots and lots of sitting - first on a road trip involving 20 hours in the car over a period of three days, followed by deciding to go back to work - I've learned a couple things. First, sitting is really bad for my abdominal tightness; I'm pretty sure the tightness is worse than a week ago. Second, my hips (remember my hips?!) are still a problem in a bad way. Oh my God. I don't actually have the energy to whine about this right now, because I've basically spent the past few days in misery, feeling sorry for myself, and I'm done for now. But seriously, oh my God.
So to make a long story short, I'm pretty much where I was a week ago except my hips are killing me.
I'm also still adjusting to taking tamoxifen, which makes me tired if I take it in the morning, and gives me morning sickness if I take it at night. Before experimenting with anti-nausea medications, I decided to try taking the tamoxifen at yet another time. I'm now on day 3 of taking it at 4:30 PM, and that actually seems to be better so far. Minimal fatigue, minimal hot flashes, minimal nausea. According to my husband, I toss the covers off in the middle of the night and take off my pajamas, then get cold and steal the comforter back from him, but as long as I can do it in my sleep, it doesn't bother me. :) Along the same lines, I am thrilled that my insomnia is pretty much gone, or at least back to my pre-cancer levels. I've been about a week without a sleeping pill or melatonin, and I've been sleeping great. I did take half of a hydrocodone for the past few nights, but that was truly because of pain and not cheating for sleeping.
Overall, I feel good, but not great. I'm a little disappointed in the lack of progress because I was hoping to feel STELLAR by now, and I definitely don't. On the upside, I am in a good place emotionally. I at least feel very even-keeled, which is practically a miracle for me. I continue to feel blessed by the goodness that surrounds me, and I have really been trying to focus on that.
So to make a long story short, I'm pretty much where I was a week ago except my hips are killing me.
I'm also still adjusting to taking tamoxifen, which makes me tired if I take it in the morning, and gives me morning sickness if I take it at night. Before experimenting with anti-nausea medications, I decided to try taking the tamoxifen at yet another time. I'm now on day 3 of taking it at 4:30 PM, and that actually seems to be better so far. Minimal fatigue, minimal hot flashes, minimal nausea. According to my husband, I toss the covers off in the middle of the night and take off my pajamas, then get cold and steal the comforter back from him, but as long as I can do it in my sleep, it doesn't bother me. :) Along the same lines, I am thrilled that my insomnia is pretty much gone, or at least back to my pre-cancer levels. I've been about a week without a sleeping pill or melatonin, and I've been sleeping great. I did take half of a hydrocodone for the past few nights, but that was truly because of pain and not cheating for sleeping.
Overall, I feel good, but not great. I'm a little disappointed in the lack of progress because I was hoping to feel STELLAR by now, and I definitely don't. On the upside, I am in a good place emotionally. I at least feel very even-keeled, which is practically a miracle for me. I continue to feel blessed by the goodness that surrounds me, and I have really been trying to focus on that.
Monday, October 26, 2015
The Wrong Type of Leave
I went up to work today, because. Because I'm going to start going to work again, because. Because a lot of reasons. Self-improvement, yada yada. Unfortunately, I think all these surgeries have killed some brain cells, because man, I am slooooooooow.
Anyway, I left work in August with an impending fiasco that almost made me excited for my mastectomy. LOL. The details aren't important, but they center around a digital textbook that has basically been a nightmare, and has almost cost me a few friendships within the department, because there is constant tension about said nightmarish digital textbook.
I returned to discover that the situation has barely improved since I left; in fact, it may have gotten even more complicated. And my mind can't handle complicated right now. (I'll play the surgery card all that I have to considering I don't even have to be up at work if I don't want to be.) I sent off a few e-mails about the textbook situation to our textbook rep, as well as the guy who does the tech stuff, who immediately called me. The conversation started off like this:
Him: How's your baby?
Me: Ummmm... huh?
Him: I thought you were on maternity leave.
Me: No, I WISH. Pause. I was on medical leave.
Him (sheepishly): Oh gosh, I'm sorry! I don't know why you I thought you were having another baby!
I let him stutter around and feel uncomfortable because I was actually a bit ticked off, because his textbook stinks and the customer support sucks dog testes. I found myself enjoying playing the mysterious medical problem card a little too much. And it's true, even though I'm a die-hard believer in ZPG, I would rather be having another baby than having breast cancer.
Of course, assuming that I'm on maternity leave is a reasonable assumption, as that would actually be normal, except that faculty at my school don't actually get any maternity leave, but that's a minor detail, LOL. Toward the end of summer, when I told people at work I was going to be on leave, I could see them eyeing my belly. It was kind of fun leaving them in suspense about what could possibly be wrong with me that I looked fine, yet knew I was going to be gone for six weeks (and didn't appear to be pregnant). This particular guy and I have never met in person - in fact, he's thousands of miles away - but it was still fun to play the cancer card. Without actually playing it, that is. More like just holding it in my hand and trying to make confusing poker faces.
What can I say, I have to entertain myself somehow. I mean, hello, I HAVE CANCER AND YOU SHOULD FEEL SORRY FOR ME!
Anyway, I left work in August with an impending fiasco that almost made me excited for my mastectomy. LOL. The details aren't important, but they center around a digital textbook that has basically been a nightmare, and has almost cost me a few friendships within the department, because there is constant tension about said nightmarish digital textbook.
I returned to discover that the situation has barely improved since I left; in fact, it may have gotten even more complicated. And my mind can't handle complicated right now. (I'll play the surgery card all that I have to considering I don't even have to be up at work if I don't want to be.) I sent off a few e-mails about the textbook situation to our textbook rep, as well as the guy who does the tech stuff, who immediately called me. The conversation started off like this:
Him: How's your baby?
Me: Ummmm... huh?
Him: I thought you were on maternity leave.
Me: No, I WISH. Pause. I was on medical leave.
Him (sheepishly): Oh gosh, I'm sorry! I don't know why you I thought you were having another baby!
I let him stutter around and feel uncomfortable because I was actually a bit ticked off, because his textbook stinks and the customer support sucks dog testes. I found myself enjoying playing the mysterious medical problem card a little too much. And it's true, even though I'm a die-hard believer in ZPG, I would rather be having another baby than having breast cancer.
Of course, assuming that I'm on maternity leave is a reasonable assumption, as that would actually be normal, except that faculty at my school don't actually get any maternity leave, but that's a minor detail, LOL. Toward the end of summer, when I told people at work I was going to be on leave, I could see them eyeing my belly. It was kind of fun leaving them in suspense about what could possibly be wrong with me that I looked fine, yet knew I was going to be gone for six weeks (and didn't appear to be pregnant). This particular guy and I have never met in person - in fact, he's thousands of miles away - but it was still fun to play the cancer card. Without actually playing it, that is. More like just holding it in my hand and trying to make confusing poker faces.
What can I say, I have to entertain myself somehow. I mean, hello, I HAVE CANCER AND YOU SHOULD FEEL SORRY FOR ME!
Friday, October 23, 2015
Happy BRA Day
Alternative title to this post: Thank God that's done.
Apparently Wednesday really was BRA Day, as in there is an official 'Breast Reconstruction Awareness' Day. True story - try Googling it. Ummm, no comment.
So... I went up to University Hospital on Wednesday to go to what I knew would be a painfully bad BRA Day event. And as usual, I was right. LOL. (I repeat: WHAT WAS I THINKING?!) After getting out of town late because my daughter came home from school with pinkeye and had to get rushed in to see the doctor because we were heading out of town straight from my event, we spent nearly two hours in traffic. Although I had planned to be fashionably late, it's hard to know where 'fashionably late' for a two-hour event crosses the line into 'don't bother showing up' territory. Fortunately, if I crossed that line, then so did my plastic surgeon and, like, every other person involved in this god-awful event, because when I arrived shortly after 6 PM, there were approximately five other people there. Okay, maybe 10 or 15, but that's counting the people in charge of food and drink and check-in. (Hey, at least there was food and drink!) But I was seriously cursing Dr. T at that point, because he knows I live 1-2 hours away - and definitely closer to two when we are talking about an event that starts at 5:30 - and was thinking it was quite a lot to ask of me if he himself couldn't be bothered enough to show up.
Around 6:30, the plastic surgeons started to trickle in, probably because that's when they were supposed to start giving talks and introducing their patientsuckers speakers. I mean, I get that they were all in surgery, blah blah blah, but then, dude, JUST GIVE UP ON THE BRA DAY EVENT!! I mean, it's not like refusing to celebrate Martin Luther King Jr's birthday for gosh sake. Dr. T was scheduled to give a talk at 6:50, for which he was late, which was excused with a He is late because he is busy actually DOING breast reconstruction right now. Which I get, of course. Breast reconstruction takes a long freaking time, which I know, because I went under around 8 in the morning and came to around 9:30 at night, and Dr. T was there, and I remember that he was there, and it meant a lot to me that he was. And if he hadn't been there or had rushed off because he had to go give a talk at some f-ing 'awareness' event, I would have been pissed. Okay so maybe not, I'm not sure I was with it enough to be pissed off, but I did appreciate that he was there when I woke up (so much that I actually gave his wife a thank-you present, but that's a different story). So I get it. And I have no idea of where the idea for doing such an event came from, but I'll venture a guess and say that I doubt it came from anyone who was actually at the event. Gaaaaaaah! It was one of those events where you don't know whether to feel sorry for yourself for being a big enough sucker to be there, or for the organizers of the event, that they couldn't sucker more people into being there.
Anyway, three plastic surgeons gave talks, and each one who gave a talk also had a patient give a talk in conjunction with his/her talk. The surgeons' talks were pretty uninspired, with an air of OMG IT'S 7 PM AND WANT TO GO HOOOOOOME! but the patient testimonials were more interesting. And to be totally fair, I have to say that chatting with a few of the other patients made the 1.5 hours I was there bearable. I've never talked to other breast cancer patients in person before.
At any rate, for what it is worth, here is how I summed up five months of turmoil into a five-minute talk:
Yeah, so there.
After my talk, I did have a decent conversation with Dr. T, as well as with another patient of his he suckered into attending. She was actually a super sweet woman, who got an implant eight years ago, which then got infected. Like me, she only met Dr. T through chance; she went into the ER for her infection, and he happened to be on call. So she ended up ditching the implant and doing DIEP reconstruction on July 23rd. She kept hugging me and crying and telling me how inspirational I was for being brave enough to talk about my experience just six weeks after surgery, which was super sweet, but since I'm totally not emotional like that, it freaked me out. She actually asked me at one point, 'Don't you ever get emotional about all of this?' and while I tried to figure out how to explain my 40-year-long history of not being emotional in a few sentences, I decided it was easier just to say, 'No. Not really.' Meanwhile, she kept hugging Dr. T, too, which freaked me out more because I was thinking to myself, Am I supposed to be hugging Dr. T? Is that what normal patients do? Does he think I'm not emotional about any of this because I haven't hugged him? I didn't know you were supposed to/allowed to hug doctors. I think Dr. L was the first doctor I've ever hugged, and I feel like she's the one who started it. In fact, I'm sure she did. I do not hug people unless I'm attacked first.
So overall, it was... okay... I guess. But man was I happy when, around 7:15, my husband texted me to tell me that he and the kids were ready to pick me up whenever I was done. I figured I had stayed long enough that I could excuse myself gracefully. When I told Dr. T and his surgeon friends that my ride was there, Dr. T told me that he would walk me out, which was nice, but also kind of sucked, because I was getting ready to get into the car and drive a few hours, and I kind of needed to pee. But going to the bathroom while your surgeon is walking you out of the building just isn't cool, so... I didn't. On the way out, Dr. T semi apologized for the event - lack of participation and blah blah blah - and thanked me for coming such a long way for it. I didn't know exactly what to say, so I just said, 'Well, I wouldn't do it for just anyone.' Which is true - I do feel that Dr. T and I have a very special relationship that I'm unlikely to ever have with any other doctor, ever. (And it's not because he is hot, dudes. I seriously spent the whole evening trying to see him as hot, and he totally is not, no matter what those of you who know who he is say.) I'm honestly not sure what the connection is, but it is there, and it's a good thing. I think part of it is because I'm an academic, and the academic part of Dr. T's job seems really important to him, so in those regards, he sees me more like a peer than a patient. He told me that he was really looking forward to his talk at my school in April, and that he was planning to spend the whole day in my town. He said he had arranged to meet with other doctors in my town on that same day to talk about some of the things they do at UH that can't be done in my town, one of which is Dr. L, but other than that, he would love to come meet with students or do... whatever.
I mean, this is not normal. I love this guy! The cynic in me is like, What am I missing here?! but then I realize I have the hard part of surgery behind me, so there's no ulterior motive in all of this. It's just... dumb luck, I guess. A religious person would chalk it up to 'all things happen for a reason,' but since I don't believe in that, I guess I'll just keep sallying forth, and being thankful the event is over. :)
Apparently Wednesday really was BRA Day, as in there is an official 'Breast Reconstruction Awareness' Day. True story - try Googling it. Ummm, no comment.
So... I went up to University Hospital on Wednesday to go to what I knew would be a painfully bad BRA Day event. And as usual, I was right. LOL. (I repeat: WHAT WAS I THINKING?!) After getting out of town late because my daughter came home from school with pinkeye and had to get rushed in to see the doctor because we were heading out of town straight from my event, we spent nearly two hours in traffic. Although I had planned to be fashionably late, it's hard to know where 'fashionably late' for a two-hour event crosses the line into 'don't bother showing up' territory. Fortunately, if I crossed that line, then so did my plastic surgeon and, like, every other person involved in this god-awful event, because when I arrived shortly after 6 PM, there were approximately five other people there. Okay, maybe 10 or 15, but that's counting the people in charge of food and drink and check-in. (Hey, at least there was food and drink!) But I was seriously cursing Dr. T at that point, because he knows I live 1-2 hours away - and definitely closer to two when we are talking about an event that starts at 5:30 - and was thinking it was quite a lot to ask of me if he himself couldn't be bothered enough to show up.
Around 6:30, the plastic surgeons started to trickle in, probably because that's when they were supposed to start giving talks and introducing their patient
Anyway, three plastic surgeons gave talks, and each one who gave a talk also had a patient give a talk in conjunction with his/her talk. The surgeons' talks were pretty uninspired, with an air of OMG IT'S 7 PM AND WANT TO GO HOOOOOOME! but the patient testimonials were more interesting. And to be totally fair, I have to say that chatting with a few of the other patients made the 1.5 hours I was there bearable. I've never talked to other breast cancer patients in person before.
At any rate, for what it is worth, here is how I summed up five months of turmoil into a five-minute talk:
I took sort of a backwards path to reconstruction. I pretty much figured everything out on my own, then bullied Dr. T into doing what I wanted (or so he says). My story goes something like this: I initially had a lumpectomy, but one of the margins was very close, so my surgeon wanted to do a re-excision. But she was so confident the re-excision would take care of things that we scheduled it around both her upcoming vacation and my upcoming vacation, with the plan being re-excision, vacation, then radiation. We didn’t even talk about other possibilities. So needless to say, I was pretty shocked when I found out I had three positive margins after the re-excision. Naturally I freaked out, and my surgeon was on vacation, and I was leaving in three days.I think it went... fine. I mean, whatever. This is coming from a person who lectures to a room full of apathetic students on a daily basis, so it wasn't much worse than that. LOL. And the parts of the talk that were supposed to be funny were interpreted as funny, like the part about Dr. T not being creepy, and the part where I'm a bully. Dr. T actually started off his talk with Waning is right; she DID bully me into doing what she wanted. But like all the women in my life, she was right.
In a panic, I met with both my radiation oncologist and my medical oncologist, both of whom counseled me to have a mastectomy. But I didn’t want to believe it, so I decided to keep shopping for opinions until I found a doctor who would tell me what I wanted to hear. So I called UH and set up a consultation for as soon as I got back from vacation. Then I left town for two weeks.
Of course, a few days into my vacation, my surgeon called me and said she agreed with all of my other doctors; I needed a mastectomy. So I spent the first week of vacation crying and feeling sorry for myself. Once I got the self-pity out of my system, I started consulting with Dr. Google about my options. I knew nothing when I started, as a mastectomy wasn’t even on my radar originally.
It didn’t take me long to figure out that I didn’t want an implant. So many people have asked me about this, and I have to admit I don’t have a good reason for this other than I just don’t (and you can’t make me). So that left me with flap reconstruction or no reconstruction. And since I was making this decision on the beach, surrounded by women in bikinis, it wasn’t an environment conducive to deciding against reconstruction. So I spent the second week of vacation eating a lot of fattening foods, drinking a lot of beer, and researching places in the U.S. that did DIEP reconstruction on women my size.
When I got back, I came up to UH for a consultation with Dr. F, and of course she recommended a mastectomy, which I had accepted by then. Dr. F said I would feel better if I met with a plastic surgeon, and called over to plastic surgery. As luck would have it, Dr. T was able to come over within an hour. I was a little nervous about meeting a plastic surgeon, but he wasn’t at all creepy like I was expecting. And even more important than not being creepy, when he asked me why I didn’t want an implant, and I told him I just don’t (and you can’t make me), that was okay with him. So then he said, ‘So tell me what you want.’
I told him I wanted to do a mastectomy with flap reconstruction, then waited for him to tell me that he couldn’t. But he didn’t. But he did stare at me for a long time, and pinch all my fat. Then he told me it wouldn’t be easy, but that he could figure out a way to do it. It would be a process, and I had to give him an entire year before I would be allowed to get mad at him. I’m sure that answer wouldn’t work for most people, but for me, it was exactly what I wanted to hear. It reminded me of when I was buying ski boots last year. The saleswoman told me it was like shopping for a wedding dress; you know when you’ve found the right ones, and you don’t need to keep looking. I think it’s the same with breast reconstruction. Regardless of what decision you make, you’ll know when things are right.
And I’ll be honest – it wasn’t easy. There were a lot of bumps in the road between the time we met in July and when I finally had the reconstruction done in September, but the important thing is that I got what I wanted in the end. It has been six weeks now, and I feel great. I just hope Dr. T isn’t too traumatized from having to put up with me, but one thing I’ve learned about myself in the past few months is that I’m willing to be annoying to get my way when it’s something this big. So for me, the end justifies the means, because the end is something I have to live with for the rest of my life, and I hope that’s a long time.
Yeah, so there.
After my talk, I did have a decent conversation with Dr. T, as well as with another patient of his he suckered into attending. She was actually a super sweet woman, who got an implant eight years ago, which then got infected. Like me, she only met Dr. T through chance; she went into the ER for her infection, and he happened to be on call. So she ended up ditching the implant and doing DIEP reconstruction on July 23rd. She kept hugging me and crying and telling me how inspirational I was for being brave enough to talk about my experience just six weeks after surgery, which was super sweet, but since I'm totally not emotional like that, it freaked me out. She actually asked me at one point, 'Don't you ever get emotional about all of this?' and while I tried to figure out how to explain my 40-year-long history of not being emotional in a few sentences, I decided it was easier just to say, 'No. Not really.' Meanwhile, she kept hugging Dr. T, too, which freaked me out more because I was thinking to myself, Am I supposed to be hugging Dr. T? Is that what normal patients do? Does he think I'm not emotional about any of this because I haven't hugged him? I didn't know you were supposed to/allowed to hug doctors. I think Dr. L was the first doctor I've ever hugged, and I feel like she's the one who started it. In fact, I'm sure she did. I do not hug people unless I'm attacked first.
So overall, it was... okay... I guess. But man was I happy when, around 7:15, my husband texted me to tell me that he and the kids were ready to pick me up whenever I was done. I figured I had stayed long enough that I could excuse myself gracefully. When I told Dr. T and his surgeon friends that my ride was there, Dr. T told me that he would walk me out, which was nice, but also kind of sucked, because I was getting ready to get into the car and drive a few hours, and I kind of needed to pee. But going to the bathroom while your surgeon is walking you out of the building just isn't cool, so... I didn't. On the way out, Dr. T semi apologized for the event - lack of participation and blah blah blah - and thanked me for coming such a long way for it. I didn't know exactly what to say, so I just said, 'Well, I wouldn't do it for just anyone.' Which is true - I do feel that Dr. T and I have a very special relationship that I'm unlikely to ever have with any other doctor, ever. (And it's not because he is hot, dudes. I seriously spent the whole evening trying to see him as hot, and he totally is not, no matter what those of you who know who he is say.) I'm honestly not sure what the connection is, but it is there, and it's a good thing. I think part of it is because I'm an academic, and the academic part of Dr. T's job seems really important to him, so in those regards, he sees me more like a peer than a patient. He told me that he was really looking forward to his talk at my school in April, and that he was planning to spend the whole day in my town. He said he had arranged to meet with other doctors in my town on that same day to talk about some of the things they do at UH that can't be done in my town, one of which is Dr. L, but other than that, he would love to come meet with students or do... whatever.
I mean, this is not normal. I love this guy! The cynic in me is like, What am I missing here?! but then I realize I have the hard part of surgery behind me, so there's no ulterior motive in all of this. It's just... dumb luck, I guess. A religious person would chalk it up to 'all things happen for a reason,' but since I don't believe in that, I guess I'll just keep sallying forth, and being thankful the event is over. :)
Tuesday, October 20, 2015
DIEP Reconstruction Aftermath: 6 Weeks
The lyrics that keep flying through my head are It's the end of the world as we know it... and I feel fine!
Okay, so maybe it isn't the end of the world as we know it, but it's at least the end of my world as I know it. And... I FEEL FINE! Like, really, I feel great! I'm not even sure if I feel great considering, you know, I have cancer and all that jazz, or I just feel legitimately great. It's probably somewhere in between. Whatever, I'll take it. Seriously, I was so depressed and so stressed out for so long that any time I have a feel-good period, I'll take it. And dude, I'm on a medication that I was afraid was going to make me suicidal or homicidal or at the very least make everyone around me want to kill me, but... like I said. I feel FINE! (And no one has killed me so far.) Maybe when you're a jerk to begin with, medication that makes normal people super jerkwady actually makes you a better person. Who knows?
At any rate, I am going on a road trip with my family tomorrow, after I go to the dreaded BRA Day event. I'm looking forward to it. Not the BRA Day event, but the road trip. It's one of those things that is pretty much happening just because I have cancer and am not working this semester. Yay cancer.
Other than the above blather, there is no reason for this post other than to say that six weeks post-DIEP, I feel really good, and really happy.
Okay, so maybe it isn't the end of the world as we know it, but it's at least the end of my world as I know it. And... I FEEL FINE! Like, really, I feel great! I'm not even sure if I feel great considering, you know, I have cancer and all that jazz, or I just feel legitimately great. It's probably somewhere in between. Whatever, I'll take it. Seriously, I was so depressed and so stressed out for so long that any time I have a feel-good period, I'll take it. And dude, I'm on a medication that I was afraid was going to make me suicidal or homicidal or at the very least make everyone around me want to kill me, but... like I said. I feel FINE! (And no one has killed me so far.) Maybe when you're a jerk to begin with, medication that makes normal people super jerkwady actually makes you a better person. Who knows?
At any rate, I am going on a road trip with my family tomorrow, after I go to the dreaded BRA Day event. I'm looking forward to it. Not the BRA Day event, but the road trip. It's one of those things that is pretty much happening just because I have cancer and am not working this semester. Yay cancer.
Other than the above blather, there is no reason for this post other than to say that six weeks post-DIEP, I feel really good, and really happy.
Monday, October 19, 2015
Blame the Tamoxifen
I've mentioned before that I worry about being a hypochondriac, except I'm pretty sure I'm not because whenever I go to the doctor, I'm told I need surgery. Or that I'm going to have a baby. Nonetheless, my worry over being a hypochondriac translates into me not knowing if the symptoms I feel are real, or if they are part of my hypochondria.
Anyway, I started to take tamoxifen a week ago. I was pretty sure it would either kill me, or make me want to kill myself, but it hasn't been that bad. Really and truly, it hasn't. Unfortunately, I created some weird mind game within myself where I think I was blowing off any side effects as hypochondria, when there do actually seem to be some side effects, which I'm finally realizing are real.
My oncologist had told me to take it at different times of the day to see which one made the side effects the most tolerable. He said a lot of women like to take it in the morning so they have hot flashes during the day, rather than at night when they're trying to sleep. So that's what I did initially, because the last thing I need is another factor contributing to my already really bad insomnia. But, the hot flashes are not bad; in fact, I don't even know if they are real or not. Part of that could be that I'm always getting weird hot and cold flashes and feeling gross and unsettled, so maybe my hormones have always been fucked up, which could perhaps be why I have cancer. Just a thought.
One thing I do notice is that I. am. tired. As in... a lot more tired than I should be. Then again, I'm tired a lot, because I don't sleep well or enough and I stress excessively about everything. And I'm recovering from surgery, yada yada yada. Still, I feel like I shouldn't be so slothly. So I blame the tamoxifen for that. Because I can.
I asked people on breastcancer.org what time of the day they take their tamoxifen, and an overwhelming majority said at night, because of the fatigue issue. So sometime last week, I switched to taking it at night, while the kids are taking their nightly shower - so around 7:30ish. Doing this seems to help me sleep better ( = OMG, a miracle). Even if it is a placebo effect, who cares, right? Sleep is sleep, and I don't notice excessive fatigue during the day. At least, it's no worse than when I take the tamoxifen in the morning.
Unfortunately, taking the tamoxifen at night gives me morning sickness, for whatever reason. It seems kind of cruel considering I don't recall ever even having morning sickness when I was pregnant, so WTF? It took me a while to figure out that this is real, because the first time I took it at night, I also ate sushi and had several glasses of red wine, after not drinking much at all for quite some time. The next morning, I figured I was either hung over or it was bad sushi, or both. (Like tamoxifen, sushi is an easy target for blame, especially when you live in a landlocked state.) However, a few sushi- and drink-free days later, what do you know, I still wake up feeling nauseous. I feel like I am going to throw up, but I don't. It usually goes away by late morning, but it is not pleasant. It's somewhere in between mildly irritating and completely disruptive. Bleck.
So... starting Week 2 of Adventures in Hormone Disruption, I'm going to try taking the tamoxifen a bit earlier - perhaps with dinner. Since I KNOW it makes me tired, I'm a little worried about taking it too early. On the other hand, the nausea when I wake up every morning is annoying enough that I'm not sure I can live with it for another 9 years and 358 days. And so the adventure continues.
Anyway, I started to take tamoxifen a week ago. I was pretty sure it would either kill me, or make me want to kill myself, but it hasn't been that bad. Really and truly, it hasn't. Unfortunately, I created some weird mind game within myself where I think I was blowing off any side effects as hypochondria, when there do actually seem to be some side effects, which I'm finally realizing are real.
My oncologist had told me to take it at different times of the day to see which one made the side effects the most tolerable. He said a lot of women like to take it in the morning so they have hot flashes during the day, rather than at night when they're trying to sleep. So that's what I did initially, because the last thing I need is another factor contributing to my already really bad insomnia. But, the hot flashes are not bad; in fact, I don't even know if they are real or not. Part of that could be that I'm always getting weird hot and cold flashes and feeling gross and unsettled, so maybe my hormones have always been fucked up, which could perhaps be why I have cancer. Just a thought.
One thing I do notice is that I. am. tired. As in... a lot more tired than I should be. Then again, I'm tired a lot, because I don't sleep well or enough and I stress excessively about everything. And I'm recovering from surgery, yada yada yada. Still, I feel like I shouldn't be so slothly. So I blame the tamoxifen for that. Because I can.
I asked people on breastcancer.org what time of the day they take their tamoxifen, and an overwhelming majority said at night, because of the fatigue issue. So sometime last week, I switched to taking it at night, while the kids are taking their nightly shower - so around 7:30ish. Doing this seems to help me sleep better ( = OMG, a miracle). Even if it is a placebo effect, who cares, right? Sleep is sleep, and I don't notice excessive fatigue during the day. At least, it's no worse than when I take the tamoxifen in the morning.
Unfortunately, taking the tamoxifen at night gives me morning sickness, for whatever reason. It seems kind of cruel considering I don't recall ever even having morning sickness when I was pregnant, so WTF? It took me a while to figure out that this is real, because the first time I took it at night, I also ate sushi and had several glasses of red wine, after not drinking much at all for quite some time. The next morning, I figured I was either hung over or it was bad sushi, or both. (Like tamoxifen, sushi is an easy target for blame, especially when you live in a landlocked state.) However, a few sushi- and drink-free days later, what do you know, I still wake up feeling nauseous. I feel like I am going to throw up, but I don't. It usually goes away by late morning, but it is not pleasant. It's somewhere in between mildly irritating and completely disruptive. Bleck.
So... starting Week 2 of Adventures in Hormone Disruption, I'm going to try taking the tamoxifen a bit earlier - perhaps with dinner. Since I KNOW it makes me tired, I'm a little worried about taking it too early. On the other hand, the nausea when I wake up every morning is annoying enough that I'm not sure I can live with it for another 9 years and 358 days. And so the adventure continues.
Sunday, October 18, 2015
News Round-Up
Highlights:
- Because we haven't had enough surgery in this household this year, my husband had knee surgery on Wednesday to fix a torn meniscus. It was one of those things that needed to happen sooner or later, so... why wait? I guess? Of course, I'm the Queen of Waiting, and based on the way things have turned out for me, I'd recommend to everyone that they do the opposite of what I'd do. At any rate, the orthopedist said it was eight weeks between knee surgery and skiing, so it had to happen sometime soon if we wanted to go skiing as a family this year. And we do. And so it did.
- Wednesday and Thursday were a little rough, because I as I have mentioned before, I am a self-centered bitch, and I hate taking care of other people, even if said people have spent the past five months taking care of me. (Have I mentioned that I'm a self-centered bitch?) But... I managed. Yay, aren't you proud of me? And my husband is doing really well, and still loves me (or at least says he does). After all the shit we've gone through the past few months, this surgery was such a piece of cake, I wonder if he will even remember to mention it in our Christmas newsletter.
- Speaking of orthopedists, my husband's experience with his orthopedist reminds me of why I can't stand orthopedists, and why I'm dreading the point in time in the future when I feel good enough to have to deal with my hips again (yeah, remember my hip problems?). As I told Dr. L, after dealing with such amazing cancer doctors, I'm pretty sure I will never be able to find an orthopedist who is anywhere close to acceptable. And unfortunately, my hips continue to be a problem, I just don't write about them anymore because I realize there's only so much whining my dear readers can take. And, there's only so much energy in one day that I can devote to OMG-I-AM-IN-PAAAAAIIIIIIINNNN-JUST-KILL-ME-NOOOOOW.
- Speaking of pain, I started physical therapy on Thursday, because I'd like to be able to, you know, use my left arm again at some point in time. I knew I had limited range of motion in my left arm, which started with my first surgery, but I really didn't know just how bad it was until I went to physical therapy. I mean, I'm right handed, and apparently I can live a fairly normal life with limited use of my left arm. However, the therapist gave me a few exercises to do at home, twice a day, and I already feel better. (Okay, so maybe it's psychological, but that has to count for something, right?) She said we would be able to do more once the restrictions on my 'core' ( = my abdomen) were lifted, at eight weeks. After that, I'll start doing PT twice a week and really start to kick some ass. (My words, not hers. Although she was better than the therapist I saw for my hip, she had the personality of, like, a pancake. But at least she seemed fairly competent.)
- At my last visit with Dr. T, I mentioned in passing that he had invited me to a 'BRA Day' event up at University Hospital. (BRA = Breast Reconstruction Awareness, isn't that cute? Not.) I'll be honest - when he was telling me about it, I wasn't really listening; I was mostly trying to keep a straight face and not roll my eyes. But later, I reconsidered. For one, the guy spent, like, two whole minutes telling me about this gig, and asking me to come. That's about the same amount of time we spent talking about my nipple. Second, between the time that he invited me to the BRA Day event and the time I left, he volunteered, totally out of the blue and on his own, to come down to my college and meet with students and give a talk. This is huge, yo. Seriously huge. Surgeons at his level don't do things like this unless you offer them a lot of money, which it's pretty obvious I don't have. And even if I did have money to offer for that sort of thing, it's still huge, because plenty of surgeons without his status can't even be bothered to give updates to loved ones after surgery, or return phone calls to answer questions after the fact (see points 1-3). This guy volunteered to take time away from his day, during which he does life-changing surgery and makes some ungodly amount of money, to drive no less than an hour each way, to come give a talk, meet with my students, whatever I wanted.
- I was supposedly supposed to get information about the event before I left, but somehow I didn't. I looked for information about it online, but couldn't find anything. Eventually, while I was e-mailing Dr. T with a few other questions, I asked him for information on the event, and also thanked him for meeting my mom. (I omitted the part about her thinking he is HOT.) He replied: Thanks for letting me meet your mother; it was my pleasure. (...) Attached is our Bra day flyer. Please join us if you can and if you'd like to speak about your experience, let me know.
- I wasn't quite sure how to respond, but I felt like the e-mail required a response, at least to keep his goodwill toward me alive, which was the whole point of me not totally blowing him off in the first place. But... speak about my experience? To whom? Does this involve modeling? Show and tell? Is this a formal event or an after-work event? Is there food? (There was VERY little info on the flyer.) I didn't want to pepper Dr. T with questions, so I replied in what I felt was a pretty non-committal yet please remember who I am kind of way: Thanks for the info. I think I can make it - and I'm happy to talk about my experience. Honestly, I didn't give it a lot of thought before I replied. I just figured... well, I don't know what I figured. I obviously didn't do enough figuring, because to my surprise, he replied almost immediately: Wonderful. I'll ask them to add you on as a patient testimonial. Thanks so much! That he responded so quickly and was thanking me so much made me realize I should have thought a little more before responding to the original e-mail.
- So now I'm ridiculously stressed out about this, of course. First, because I stress excessively about everything. Second, because there are some complicated logistics involved in this, and basically I will have to drive myself to the event and spend the evening there alone, which is pretty much my worst nightmare. I'm not that good in social situations to begin with, and in my opinion, a BRA Day event is pretty much a worst-case scenario as far as a social gathering can go. As far as my 'testimonial,' I'm supposed to talk for 5-7 minutes about 'my story.' On the one hand, it's hard to imagine telling 'my story' in 5-7 minutes. On the other hand, 5-7 minutes is not nothing. It's a lot longer than, 'Hello. My name is Waning, and I'm an alcoholic.' LOL. It's long enough that I need to, like, plan what I'm going to say, unless I want to sound like an idiot, which I do not.
- I suppose I could fairly easily back out of this. I can think of a gazillion legitimate excuses right off the top of my head - and trust me, I've gone so far as composing e-mails with said excuses in them. But: A. I'm not that type of person. Even though I'm a self-centered bitch, I do follow through with the things I say I'm going to do. And I'm painfully honest; I'm not convinced I'm actually capable of lying, even in a premeditated e-mail. And B. In between the time that I agreed to this, Dr. T agreed to come and give a talk at my school, which like I said before, is quite amazing. Granted, he is getting paid to come and talk, but he doesn't know this yet, and besides, he agreed to it before he knew he was getting paid. I really think he was just being nice. So I need to be nice in return, even though it's not in my nature. But STILL. Gaaaaaaahhhhhhh!
- Lesson learned: THINK BEFORE YOU PINK!
Tuesday, October 13, 2015
DIEP Reconstruction Aftermath: 5 Weeks
Five weeks and feeling good!
Two days into taking tamoxifen, and my world hasn't fallen apart. I am my usual crabby self, and I haven't even had any hot flashes. Knock on wood.
I'm still having occasional shooting pains in my chest and abdomen as I regain feeling, but it's manageable. I also get itchy a lot, but it's manageable, not to mention something I'm used to. (I've been itchy my whole life.) I still have quite a bit of tightness in my abdomen, but it's manageable. I'm upright for the most part for most of the day.
Oh! And the biggest news is that my insomnia is improving in a major way. I've been trying to wean myself off of sleeping pills, and it's going pretty well. I've been sleeping about 5 hours a night and it's AMAZING. It's still not enough, but it's so much better than it was. I'll take it.
Probably the best part of all of this is that I am loving not working. Waaaaaay too much. I'm kind of scared of how much I enjoy doing nothing all day. I knew that work stressed me out in a major way, but OMG, I had no idea just how much. I feel like I need to go back to work just so I don't get used to this level of happiness and stresslessness. (Is that twisted logic? It's like the Seinfeld episode where Jerry and Elaine are arguing over who should get to fly first class, and Jerry's logic is that since Elaine has never flown first class, it's easier for her to fly coach, because she doesn't know anything different. NOW I KNOW DIFFERENT. Ahhhhh!) I hope I don't become permanently lazy.
Interestingly, when I was debating what to do over my work situation, my plastic surgeon wrote me: As far as the recovery, I typically tell folks to anticipate 4-6 weeks to be completely conservative. You are very young and in great shape so should heal very well and much more quickly. I have to say that while I do feel good, I don't feel that good. I'm REALLY GLAD I ignored this, because if I had made plans to go back to work after, like, 3-4 weeks, I'd be one unhappy camper right now.
Anyway, no complaints. Life is good.
Two days into taking tamoxifen, and my world hasn't fallen apart. I am my usual crabby self, and I haven't even had any hot flashes. Knock on wood.
I'm still having occasional shooting pains in my chest and abdomen as I regain feeling, but it's manageable. I also get itchy a lot, but it's manageable, not to mention something I'm used to. (I've been itchy my whole life.) I still have quite a bit of tightness in my abdomen, but it's manageable. I'm upright for the most part for most of the day.
Oh! And the biggest news is that my insomnia is improving in a major way. I've been trying to wean myself off of sleeping pills, and it's going pretty well. I've been sleeping about 5 hours a night and it's AMAZING. It's still not enough, but it's so much better than it was. I'll take it.
Probably the best part of all of this is that I am loving not working. Waaaaaay too much. I'm kind of scared of how much I enjoy doing nothing all day. I knew that work stressed me out in a major way, but OMG, I had no idea just how much. I feel like I need to go back to work just so I don't get used to this level of happiness and stresslessness. (Is that twisted logic? It's like the Seinfeld episode where Jerry and Elaine are arguing over who should get to fly first class, and Jerry's logic is that since Elaine has never flown first class, it's easier for her to fly coach, because she doesn't know anything different. NOW I KNOW DIFFERENT. Ahhhhh!) I hope I don't become permanently lazy.
Interestingly, when I was debating what to do over my work situation, my plastic surgeon wrote me: As far as the recovery, I typically tell folks to anticipate 4-6 weeks to be completely conservative. You are very young and in great shape so should heal very well and much more quickly. I have to say that while I do feel good, I don't feel that good. I'm REALLY GLAD I ignored this, because if I had made plans to go back to work after, like, 3-4 weeks, I'd be one unhappy camper right now.
Anyway, no complaints. Life is good.
Monday, October 12, 2015
9 Years, 364 Days to Go
I took my first tamoxifen today.
I got up, and first thing, before I could even think about it or make an excuse about why I shouldn't take it, went downstairs and just swallowed the damn thing already (along with my vitamin D, vitamin C, multivitamin, and baby aspirin). The sort of funny thing is that I almost took it by accident yesterday, because I wasn't really paying attention as I took all of my pills out of their various containers, and the tamoxifen happens to look a lot like vitamin C. (Do I even need all these vitamins anymore? Who knows?)
After I swallowed it, I waited for the world to end, and it didn't.
All that happened is that I immediately felt nauseous. (And yes, I'm aware that was 100% psychological.)
I'm waiting for the side effects, but so far, nothing. No cataracts yet, no 20-pound weight gain - praise God. (Who are we kidding? It has only been four hours.)
So that's one pill down, 3,646 more to go. That's 10 years x 365 days/year minus three days for leap years in 2016, 2020, and 2024 minus the one I took today. So 3,650 - 4 = 3,646.*
Not that I'm counting the days or anything.
* ETA: And I'm a idiot. Leap years have an extra day, duh. (Thank you, Lexi!) Well, what is three more days in the large scheme of 3,650?
I got up, and first thing, before I could even think about it or make an excuse about why I shouldn't take it, went downstairs and just swallowed the damn thing already (along with my vitamin D, vitamin C, multivitamin, and baby aspirin). The sort of funny thing is that I almost took it by accident yesterday, because I wasn't really paying attention as I took all of my pills out of their various containers, and the tamoxifen happens to look a lot like vitamin C. (Do I even need all these vitamins anymore? Who knows?)
After I swallowed it, I waited for the world to end, and it didn't.
All that happened is that I immediately felt nauseous. (And yes, I'm aware that was 100% psychological.)
I'm waiting for the side effects, but so far, nothing. No cataracts yet, no 20-pound weight gain - praise God. (Who are we kidding? It has only been four hours.)
So that's one pill down, 3,646 more to go. That's 10 years x 365 days/year minus three days for leap years in 2016, 2020, and 2024 minus the one I took today. So 3,650 - 4 = 3,646.*
Not that I'm counting the days or anything.
* ETA: And I'm a idiot. Leap years have an extra day, duh. (Thank you, Lexi!) Well, what is three more days in the large scheme of 3,650?
Sunday, October 11, 2015
A Moment of Peace
Very patiently and nicely, she repeated everything, telling me that she was the manager of a salon and spa in town, and that one time a year, they closed down on a Sunday, and employees donated their time to come in and give free salon and spa services to people who are having a hard time and need 'a moment of peace.' I was like, 'Uh... okay.' (And what do you want me to do for you?) Finally, she was like, 'Well, someone put your name in and you're one of the people we chose.' To which I was like, 'Huh?' Then, 'Oh wow, really?!' (Seriously?! That's, like, so nice. Who does that sort of thing?!)
So, I went in today and got a free facial and haircut and pedicure and ate and had makeup put on, and it was really fantastic. I've never had a facial before; in fact, I've only been into a spa, like, three times in my whole life. (On a side note, I was listening to two of the other women talking, and they were both like, 'OMG, I totally started crying when they called me and told me!' and I felt pretty bad for not crying, and just being like, 'Huh? Whaaaat?!')
Anyway, I've often said that I've had more medical procedures in the past five months than in the whole rest of my life combined, but now I can say that I've also had more pampering, too. :) Before my mastectomy, I decided that I wanted a pedicure. I'm not quite sure why, it was just one of those things that I've never done before, and figured why not? I'm getting my boob cut off, the least I can do is get my toenails painted. Or something like that. Plus, I normally take good care of my feet, and I was afraid I wouldn't be able to reach them for a while. So a friend and I went and got pedicures with our daughters as a back-to-school/pre-mastectomy treat. And I was glad that I did, because so many people admired my lovely green toenails while I was in the hospital. LOL. I didn't think anyone would notice, because they make you wear color-coded socks (mine were yellow to show that I was a high risk for falling - WTF?), but it turns out they took my right sock off during surgery so they could put an IV in my foot, and that IV stayed in for three days, so that foot got a lot of attention. :) Today I went with something more fall-like; hopefully we'll have a few more weeks of flip-flop weather!
It really was a lovely afternoon, even though I felt kind of guilty the whole time. Like, what did I do to deserve this? On the other hand, I don't think I did anything to deserve breast cancer, either, so I guess that it just how the universe works. Ha. I know I promised to never be one of those people who professes that cancer has made my life so much better, given me a new outlook on life, whatever, but... it sort of has. LOL. At the very least, this experience is giving me a new appreciation for people. My relationships with my friends have grown to new depths, my love and appreciation for my husband has grown as we live out the 'for worse' part of our marriage vows, and I've been amazed by the generosity of miscellaneous folks throughout all of this - whether it be people spending the day doing free facials or distant acquaintances bringing food. I feel spiritually centered and strangely peaceful. I used to feel that it was just resignation and fatigue, but I'm not sure about that anymore.
I need to take a lot of deep breaths and try to hold onto this peace, for tomorrow I have to start taking tamoxifen, and I am terrified.
Wednesday, October 7, 2015
A Great Patient
I mentioned that at my last appointment, Dr. T had volunteered to come give a talk at my college. This is, quite honestly, an amazing offer. For one, this is a guy who works, like, 80+ hours a week, making hundreds of dollars an hour, and lives an hour away. He really has nothing to gain from this - nothing at all. Now, oftentimes people say things in passing that they don't really mean, but there was honestly no reason for him to say anything if he didn't mean it. He is the one who brought it up completely out of the blue, so I decided he was serious. And my mom was there to corroborate this.
This was such a nice offer that I really didn't want to ignore it, but at the same time, it is a fairly complicated process to arrange to have a speaker come and give a talk. And even if you get through all the hoops, then you have to worry that no one will actually show up for the talk, and it will be a waste of the speaker's time and an embarrassment to your institution, not to mention the person who arranged the talk (which in this case would be me). Of course, I could always have him come and talk during one of my class times, but plastic surgery is not directly relevant to anything I teach, aside from the fact that 90% of my students think they are going to be doctors someday. Plus, I would feel really bad having him come down in the middle of the day to talk to a group of largely apathetic students, when he could be doing life-changing surgery instead.
However, apparently my mom and I had the same thought at the same time. My dad runs something called the Café Scientifique at our school. The idea of the cafe is to highlight the scientific work being done locally, outside of the traditional academic context. There are cafe talks once a month - Tuesday evenings in the university pub - and they are always about random topics related to something interesting and new in anything remotely science-related. There's a group of dedicated cafe-goers - mostly faculty and administrators - who go regardless of the topic. And, of course, various topics draw people who happen to be interested in the topic. But the important part is you never have to worry about no one showing up. If nothing else, there are random students in the pub who become attendees whether they want to or not. It seemed like the perfect forum for Dr. T to give a talk about boobs and butts. LOL. And since my mom thinks Dr. T is hot (and oh, is probably a great speaker, too) she of course mentioned it to my dad, and there actually happened to be one open spot left for the April cafe.
Here is where you hope Dr. T really meant what he said, because my dad e-mailed him, introducing himself as my dad, explaining was the cafe is, asking him if he would like to come give a talk, and thanking him for taking care of me. Apparently Dr. T responded immediately - my dad sent his e-mail at 6:04 PM and received a reply by 6:09 PM - and was so amused by Dr. T's response that he forwarded it me:
Dr. Moon, (interesting role reversal here)
I would be honored to speak on advances in plastic surgery.
Waning is a rather extraordinary young woman and a great patient. It's been a pleasure getting to know her and her husband.
Ty
HAHA! So apparently I am a great patient?! Those are words I never thought I'd hear. LOL. It got me thinking... I wonder what constitutes a 'great patient' in a doctor's mind. I always figured I was the type of patient that doctors dread seeing because I'm needy and demanding and have ridiculously high standards, much like the over-achieving, uptight straight-A students that drive me crazy. (Contrary to popular belief, the best students in a class are rarely the instructors' favorites.) In Dr. T's case, I'm constantly pestering him with questions via e-mail, including one mortifying e-mail in the middle of the night, and I strong-armed him into doing a surgery he didn't want to do. I'm guessing that if all of his patients were like me, he'd have to work 200 hours a week. (Wait, are there even 200 hours in a week?) I mean, I think I'm a pleasant enough person, and I make an effort to express my gratitude when it is deserved, but I think that's pretty normal, no?
As for the extraordinary part, that actually strikes a chord. Because I am not. But I wish I were. The thing is there is nothing wrong with just being a normal, ordinary person. Not everyone can be extraordinary, by definition. However, as some of you know, I spend a lot of time frustrated with my professional life, overcome by the feeling that I need to be doing something different. Maybe not something extraordinary, but something... more. And if there is one thing that will make you feel the weight of your own mediocrity, it's getting cancer and being cared for by people who truly are extraordinary - people with a wealth of knowledge, insanely refined skills, masters in their fields. People who really do save and change lives for the better.
Many people will try to convince you that cancer will make your life better, because it will change your attitude, make you appreciate the beauty of life, whatever. I don't buy it. Make no mistake about it: I already had a deep appreciation and love for life before I had cancer. I was already working to change my professional life. I can forgive myself for getting side-tracked from this while dealing with cancer for the past five months, at times wondering if I have enough years left to make it worth the effort. But now it's clear to me again: I need to do something more, something that is at least different from my old ordinary. I keep thinking of the words of Anna Quindlen, who was the speaker at my college graduation. She said that as graduates of our particular college, we had obviously done well, but the question we should ask ourselves was, have we done good? I need to do some good. Even if it's nothing extraordinary, I need to do better, be better. But first, I have to get better.
This was such a nice offer that I really didn't want to ignore it, but at the same time, it is a fairly complicated process to arrange to have a speaker come and give a talk. And even if you get through all the hoops, then you have to worry that no one will actually show up for the talk, and it will be a waste of the speaker's time and an embarrassment to your institution, not to mention the person who arranged the talk (which in this case would be me). Of course, I could always have him come and talk during one of my class times, but plastic surgery is not directly relevant to anything I teach, aside from the fact that 90% of my students think they are going to be doctors someday. Plus, I would feel really bad having him come down in the middle of the day to talk to a group of largely apathetic students, when he could be doing life-changing surgery instead.
However, apparently my mom and I had the same thought at the same time. My dad runs something called the Café Scientifique at our school. The idea of the cafe is to highlight the scientific work being done locally, outside of the traditional academic context. There are cafe talks once a month - Tuesday evenings in the university pub - and they are always about random topics related to something interesting and new in anything remotely science-related. There's a group of dedicated cafe-goers - mostly faculty and administrators - who go regardless of the topic. And, of course, various topics draw people who happen to be interested in the topic. But the important part is you never have to worry about no one showing up. If nothing else, there are random students in the pub who become attendees whether they want to or not. It seemed like the perfect forum for Dr. T to give a talk about boobs and butts. LOL. And since my mom thinks Dr. T is hot (and oh, is probably a great speaker, too) she of course mentioned it to my dad, and there actually happened to be one open spot left for the April cafe.
Here is where you hope Dr. T really meant what he said, because my dad e-mailed him, introducing himself as my dad, explaining was the cafe is, asking him if he would like to come give a talk, and thanking him for taking care of me. Apparently Dr. T responded immediately - my dad sent his e-mail at 6:04 PM and received a reply by 6:09 PM - and was so amused by Dr. T's response that he forwarded it me:
Dr. Moon, (interesting role reversal here)
I would be honored to speak on advances in plastic surgery.
Waning is a rather extraordinary young woman and a great patient. It's been a pleasure getting to know her and her husband.
Ty
HAHA! So apparently I am a great patient?! Those are words I never thought I'd hear. LOL. It got me thinking... I wonder what constitutes a 'great patient' in a doctor's mind. I always figured I was the type of patient that doctors dread seeing because I'm needy and demanding and have ridiculously high standards, much like the over-achieving, uptight straight-A students that drive me crazy. (Contrary to popular belief, the best students in a class are rarely the instructors' favorites.) In Dr. T's case, I'm constantly pestering him with questions via e-mail, including one mortifying e-mail in the middle of the night, and I strong-armed him into doing a surgery he didn't want to do. I'm guessing that if all of his patients were like me, he'd have to work 200 hours a week. (Wait, are there even 200 hours in a week?) I mean, I think I'm a pleasant enough person, and I make an effort to express my gratitude when it is deserved, but I think that's pretty normal, no?
As for the extraordinary part, that actually strikes a chord. Because I am not. But I wish I were. The thing is there is nothing wrong with just being a normal, ordinary person. Not everyone can be extraordinary, by definition. However, as some of you know, I spend a lot of time frustrated with my professional life, overcome by the feeling that I need to be doing something different. Maybe not something extraordinary, but something... more. And if there is one thing that will make you feel the weight of your own mediocrity, it's getting cancer and being cared for by people who truly are extraordinary - people with a wealth of knowledge, insanely refined skills, masters in their fields. People who really do save and change lives for the better.
Many people will try to convince you that cancer will make your life better, because it will change your attitude, make you appreciate the beauty of life, whatever. I don't buy it. Make no mistake about it: I already had a deep appreciation and love for life before I had cancer. I was already working to change my professional life. I can forgive myself for getting side-tracked from this while dealing with cancer for the past five months, at times wondering if I have enough years left to make it worth the effort. But now it's clear to me again: I need to do something more, something that is at least different from my old ordinary. I keep thinking of the words of Anna Quindlen, who was the speaker at my college graduation. She said that as graduates of our particular college, we had obviously done well, but the question we should ask ourselves was, have we done good? I need to do some good. Even if it's nothing extraordinary, I need to do better, be better. But first, I have to get better.
Tuesday, October 6, 2015
DIEP Reconstruction Aftermath: 4 Weeks
Four weeks, wow.
I feel really good. I mean seriously, I feel human and half normal again. Maybe even 3/4 normal. At least 3/4 of my new normal. (God I hate that term already.)
This is not to say there are not still bumps and some major challenges ahead, but I do feel like the third week came with some massive improvements. I can stand up straight for most of the day, my massive back pain has subsided, and my energy is returning. It's as if I woke up one morning and I was just... better. In reality, it probably was more gradual. I keep thinking of how my husband likes to tell everyone that our daughter didn't talk until she was three, then one day she was speaking in full sentences. Ummmmm, no. He's obviously not the one who took her to speech therapy twice a week between the age of 18 months and three years old! But it's true: she did go from being in, like, the second percentile at 18 months to being totally caught up by three. But still. She didn't just wake up normal one day, and I doubt I did, either.
Regardless, there are a lot things going right for me, and I'm so grateful for that. Besides what I already mentioned, here are some things that are good:
I feel really good. I mean seriously, I feel human and half normal again. Maybe even 3/4 normal. At least 3/4 of my new normal. (God I hate that term already.)
This is not to say there are not still bumps and some major challenges ahead, but I do feel like the third week came with some massive improvements. I can stand up straight for most of the day, my massive back pain has subsided, and my energy is returning. It's as if I woke up one morning and I was just... better. In reality, it probably was more gradual. I keep thinking of how my husband likes to tell everyone that our daughter didn't talk until she was three, then one day she was speaking in full sentences. Ummmmm, no. He's obviously not the one who took her to speech therapy twice a week between the age of 18 months and three years old! But it's true: she did go from being in, like, the second percentile at 18 months to being totally caught up by three. But still. She didn't just wake up normal one day, and I doubt I did, either.
Regardless, there are a lot things going right for me, and I'm so grateful for that. Besides what I already mentioned, here are some things that are good:
- My nipple is well on its way to recovery. Even after Dr. T determined it was viable, it went through various phases of grossness, then bled for a good week or so, with no sign of healing. However, over the past few days, it seems that a new layer of skin is finally growing over the top. Only about 1/3 of it is still bleeding. It looks like the pigment might even return. Dr. T was unsure about this, and told me at my last appointment that we could always tattoo pigment back into it, which gives me the heebie jeebies just to think about. My husband said it was okay if I didn't want to; an albino nipple would be easy to find in the dark. HA!
- I've been seeing a really great massage therapist that one of my colleagues recommended to me. Now that I can drive again, I've gone to see him three times, and he is fabulous. I realize that getting a massage so often is an activity that is not sustainable (financially, that is), but for now, whatever. If the cancer kills me in a few years, I'd definitely regret not getting massages while I was alive. LOL.
- I've been slowly returning to my normal activities: taking my son to preschool, cooking, doing laundry, etc. Today, I dropped my son off in the morning, went to get a massage, met a friend downtown for lunch, and picked my son up. We just got home, and I feel good, despite the fact that A. We got caught in a seriously scary hailstorm/downpour on the way home, and I actually thought we might die. (Luckily, we got home intact, with the only obvious damage being that part of the underbelly of the car is now dragging on the ground.) and B. I slept three hours last night, from around 11 until 2, and that's it.
- I'm still having insane insomnia. It was better for a while; I would take a pain pill at night, because my pain does tend to get bad at night, AND it would help me sleep. For about a week, I was able to get away with the hydrocodone only, or on some nights the hydrocodone + melatonin. However, the past few days, my pain has been minimal, even by the end of the day, so I decided to ditch the hydrocodone, which led me back to needing a sleeping pill. I can't decide which dependency is worse - the hydrocodone or the temazepam. LOL. Last night, I went back to the hydrocodone + melatonin, and woke up at 2 AM. Of course, I started thinking about having to start tamoxifen, which led my stress levels to spike, and I was never able to get back to sleep. Aaaaaargh. I joke that I am sleep training.
- At my last appointment, Dr. T brought up the possibility of doing a second, revision surgery to add fat to the reconstructed breast to make it softer. I do have to say it is rather rigid; I call it my coconut boob. At the same time, I am so over surgery right now. There is really no rush, but Dr. T suggested doing it before the end of the year - while it's 'free.' (I'm pretty sure we met my individual out-of-pocket maximum of $3,500 with the first surgery.) Part of me just wants to leave well enough alone, but the other part of me thinks that if I went through all of this, maybe I should go the extra bit and let him polish his results. After all, if my goal was simply to be acceptable-looking in everyday clothes, I could have just gone with no reconstruction and used a prosthetic. So... it's another thing to think about.
Friday, October 2, 2015
DIEP Reconstruction Aftermath: 24 Days
It is Friday, so I feel like I should be making the trek up to the University Health Clinic to see Dr. T. However, at my last appointment, he said things looked good enough that I do not need to go back for another month, which is actually going to end up being more like six weeks. So hopefully he meant it when he said everything looks good, and complications this far out from surgery are rare. My fingers are crossed.
At any rate, today was a big day for me (insert slightly sarcastic tone): I ran errands! First I went to the post office to mail a package, then I went to the pharmacy to finally have my prescription for tamoxifen filled. While I was waiting, I went to the liquor store and bought three bottles of wine, a bottle of sake, and a bottle of port, because we are having friends over tonight and I was indecisive about what we should drink. I'm pretty sure that carrying these out to the car violated my lifting restrictions, but sometimes sacrifices have to made in the name of alcohol. LOL.
So now, I've got a bottle of tamoxifen sitting on my kitchen table, and I just need to grow someballs boobs courage and start taking it already. Ugh, ugh, ugh! Have I mentioned that I fucking hate cancer?
But the good news is that it feels really good to be getting back into the swing of things. And while running errands is not particularly exciting, it is exciting to not feel trapped inside the house anymore. Until today, the most I had done was drive my son to preschool and drive myself to go get a massage. Granted, I don't see any long trips to the mall in my near future, but it's nice to know short trips are completely do-able (and I almost never go to the mall anyway).
All in all, this is far less down time than I had imagined - or at least far less complete, lying-on-the-couch down time. Heck, I ordered a whole season of True Detective and have only watched three episodes. I feel good enough that I want to start setting some goals to get myself through the end of the year, and start laying the foundation for my 'new normal.'
At any rate, today was a big day for me (insert slightly sarcastic tone): I ran errands! First I went to the post office to mail a package, then I went to the pharmacy to finally have my prescription for tamoxifen filled. While I was waiting, I went to the liquor store and bought three bottles of wine, a bottle of sake, and a bottle of port, because we are having friends over tonight and I was indecisive about what we should drink. I'm pretty sure that carrying these out to the car violated my lifting restrictions, but sometimes sacrifices have to made in the name of alcohol. LOL.
So now, I've got a bottle of tamoxifen sitting on my kitchen table, and I just need to grow some
But the good news is that it feels really good to be getting back into the swing of things. And while running errands is not particularly exciting, it is exciting to not feel trapped inside the house anymore. Until today, the most I had done was drive my son to preschool and drive myself to go get a massage. Granted, I don't see any long trips to the mall in my near future, but it's nice to know short trips are completely do-able (and I almost never go to the mall anyway).
All in all, this is far less down time than I had imagined - or at least far less complete, lying-on-the-couch down time. Heck, I ordered a whole season of True Detective and have only watched three episodes. I feel good enough that I want to start setting some goals to get myself through the end of the year, and start laying the foundation for my 'new normal.'
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