Surgery Day

It's finally here.  I can't say that I'm excited, but I'm very happy we're getting the show on the road and I don't have to spend any more days with it consuming my thoughts.  The next time I wake up, I'll be cancer free :)

I wasn't impressed with myself yesterday.  I was at work wrapping up everything for the next couple weeks and surgery is all I could think about.  I got to the point where I couldn't stop moving, I was almost twitchy.  I broke down on the phone with my dad for a little bit before heading to Erin & Rob's for a family dinner.  The mood there was quiet; I think everyone was feeling the nerves I have.

On the way home Jason and I were completely silent in the car.  There's nothing that can be said at this point to make either of us feel better.  I'm afraid of the pain I'll have in the next couple days and he's afraid something will go wrong with surgery (that's one thing I'm NOT afraid of - my surgeons are awesome).  When we got home, we both just started doing stuff - me inside and Jason outside - to pass the time.  Until this experience I've never been a stress cleaner, but it's been a fabulous distraction.

After crossing off all of the things on my to-do list (extra long for this extra stressful week and a half), I got to packing.  Here's an inside peek at the wardrobe I'll be rocking in the next couple days:

• My awesome post-surgery zip up camisole, complete with pouches for the drain bags
• Grannie panties
• Tube top swimsuit coverups
• Leggings
• Moccassins
• Wrap sweaters and zip-up hoodies
• Cloth headbands

I also threw in a few extra items for my sanity:

• Baby wipes
• Cleansing facial wipes
• Makeup (I'm so vain)
• A brush
• Burt's Bees Rejuvenating Lip Balm
• Throat lozenges (I read that they're helpful)
• A Kindle

My little overnight bag is filled to the brim but I don't care :)

This morning I'm nervous but calm (does that make sense?).  My stomach is churning but I don't feel like I have a panic attack coming on.  It's all out of my hands now, and I need to stay confident that things will be just fine.  Yes the next couple weeks will be hard, but the cancer-free result will make it so worth while.

There's no way I could've gotten through the last week and a half without my family and friends so here's a thank you: the support, love and encouragement you've given me played a tremendous part in my positive attitude.  The dinner, treats, movies, magazines, pedicure, gift basket and clothing are all completely unnecessary, but I appreciate every last bit and will utilize it all in my recovery.

My Jason: This has been an experience I never wanted us to go through.  When I look back at two weeks ago, I see two dumb kids with nothing but a backyard full of weeds to worry about.  Ignorance really was bliss.  There's no other person I would want by my side right now.  You've kept my feet on the ground (we all know how my imagination and hypothetical thinking can get the best of me) and you've been such a solid person to lean on when I need to break down.  Your love is so evident and your calmness is so soothing.  I love you so very much and can never thank you enough for your drop-everything attitude, pre-bedtime "wake me up if you can't sleep" offers to talk, and care I know you'll give me in these next few weeks.

I'm going to be just fine.

This might be it for a few days.  Keep the positive, healing vibes coming my way and I'll be sure to give you an update on how awesome it is having draining tubes coming out of me.

48 Hours to Go

This is too bizarre.  I just looked at the clock on my computer and it's 1:30 on the dot.  48 hours until surgery begins.

What to Wear?

Today I'm going shopping for some recovery clothes.  Everyone keeps telling me to wear comfy lounge clothes that zip or button up; problem is that all of my clothes that zip or button are long sleeved, and it's June, and we have no central AC.  I was thinking about buying some loose tube-dresses or swimsuit coverups.  It's difficult to imagine what I'll need or how much I'll be able to move my arms.  Hopefully I'll be able to find something! 

Chin Up

Nothing like a couple IPAs to make you feel okay with having cancer.  It's been one week to the day that I heard the dreaded diagnosis.  Looking back on a week that could've been three years long, I already see how far I've come in terms of dealing with it.  I don't feel like I have cancer; I don't feel sick and I don't think I look sick.  When I picture a cancer patient, I see the bald, sunken eyes chemo effect.  I'm just as much alive today as I was a week ago.  Maybe more?  I've realized a couple things in these short seven days:

• Never underestimate the power of support from friends and family
• Time doesn't matter when you're talking about a life/death situation all day (I'm far FAR from death by the way)
• Love from my Jason is all I'll need to get me through this next week/month/year/lifetime
• Telling people you have cancer doesn't ever get easy

I met with a second plastic surgeon yesterday and she completely eased the anxiety I was feeling about the end result.  She measured me and we discussed my fears and goals; she actually cares what I look like at the end of all of this, and that's exactly the person I need on my team.  Her results photos looked absolutely beautiful; feminine, as natural as you can expect for a reconstruction, and sized appropriately.  I'm not going all Dolly Pardon over here (I'm 5' 4", I'd topple over!).

Now that I've agreed to have her do the procedure we were able to set a surgery date: Wednesday June 26th.  Day one of my cancer-free life.

Today I had my pre-op appointment; I met a doctor who checked my blood pressure (good), my heartbeat, ears, nose, breathing, etc. Basically an overall checkup to tell the surgeons that I'm fine for my appointment on Wednesday. I had a bit of blood drawn and that was it!

Right after my appointment, Jason and I met with Dan, the pastor who married us almost five years ago.  He reminded us that things will get better and that we're right to be confident about my prognosis.  He also said that I'm a force (yeah I am) and that I should use this experience in a positive way, whether it be learning more about myself or helping others.

I've been tossing around the idea of making this blog public, and after Dan's encouragement I feel like I should.  There aren't many women my age who have to go through breast cancer and if I can answer questions or give encouragement, I feel like my experience with this will have a little more purpose.  Not sure when I'll work up the courage to put myself so out there online, but it'll happen.

I don't think that I was given the cancer card because I did something wrong or I was a bad person.  I think I was given this situation to grow and learn from, and I hope that I'll be able to do that in a way that will shape who I am in the future.  For now, keeping my chin up.

Funk

I had my first bit of bad news yesterday since my initial diagnosis, and it totally put me in a funk for the rest of the day/this morning. It wasn't even news, it was just talking about potential outcomes after surgery.  It's likely that I'll have to take a drug for the next five years that has the potential to put me into early menopause.  If that happens, I'll have to wait five years before carrying my own children.  I think I'm having such a hard time with it because I finally got to the point where I was ready to start having children, and now that I'm ready, I'll have to wait. 

This is all hypothetical of course; we don't know what will happen after surgery so I'm trying not to dwell on the idea.  Before I start any sort of chemical treatment, I'll be meeting with a fertility doctor to talk about potentially freezing eggs for later use.  In my ideal world, if I'm not able to carry a baby for the next five years, I'd get a surrogate to do it for me.  No idea what the cost or emotional repercussions of that are, but I just don't think I (or Jason) can wait that long.  We need something good, and soon.

One Step Back

Day five of being a cancer patient and I’ve finally hit a wall.  It’s not all sunshine and rainbows, even when getting good tidbits of news here and there.  It’s so funny how some people in my life never had opinions about my breasts and now all of a sudden they do, and aren’t holding back their thoughts.  Yes it may seem drastic to go with the double mastectomy to some people, but they’re not the ones sitting in the chair listening to test results or the statistics from the board certified specialists I’m seeing.  And did I mention, it’s not their breasts we’re going to cut off?  They’re mine, and I think that as a 28-year-old informed, capable adult I have all the right in the world to do whatever I want with them.  I’m going forward with the procedure and I feel 100% confident in that decision.

Will I have kids someday?  I hope to God that I do.  Does that mean mentioning it to my oncologist?  Obviously.  I don’t want to take medicines now that will mess up my uterus or eggs so I’m sterile at the end of this.  Don’t you think the doctors look at my chart, then look at the fact that I’m a happily married 28-year-old and wonder if I’ve thought of having children (it says that I’ve been taking prenatal vitamins in my list of current medicines for crying out loud!)?  They’re bound to start asking those questions, I literally just haven’t had a chance to meet the oncologist yet. The surgeon doesn’t care, neither does the plastic surgeon or the lady at prosthetics. 

Do I know what my insurance deductibles are?  No, I’ve never had anything more than a couple wisdom teeth pulled.  Does that worry me?  Not at all.  Why not?  Because there’s nothing I can do about it at this point.  If it’s $3000, okay.  We’ll have to pay $3000 for this fucked up experience.  If it’s more or less, we’ll pay that too.  I can’t change it and I have too many other things to worry about than to focus on money.

I love you friends and family and I’m so very thankful for your tips and extra questions to ask the doctors.  Please keep in mind though, that any comment that’s not completely positive or uplifting can and will likely be taken the wrong way in my current state of mind.

Cell Type

MORE good news!  Dr. Sanan called a bit ago and informed me that the cancer cell types were HER2 negative, which means that the tumor is very much affected by estrogen/progesterone!  I sound like I know what I'm talking about, but I really don't - I need to do some research on this.  Dr. Sanan had to tell me it was good news haha!  I do know that because the cells aren't HER2, it decreases even more the chance that I'll have to do chemo or radiation.  That's fantastic news!  I told Dr. Sanan to go ahead and schedule surgery so I'm hoping to hear back on a time/date today.  Eeek!

Making a Plan

​I think the beaming light of awesome that comes from good test results will be something that may take awhile to wear off.  Fine by me!  Still telling close friends about what’s going on - the list is getting shorter and shorter and it’s definitely easier to talk about it now.  I think my appetite is coming back a little and I’m tired, which means I’ll hopefully get a good night’s sleep tonight.  I’ve got a bunch of appointments this week and new doctors to meet.  So far so good!

I told my boss over a long lunch today and then she came with me to talk with our HR department. They were both extremely supportive and made me feel like there would be nothing I need to worry about on the work front.  I’m hoping I don’t have to take too much of my saved up vacation for this; I’d much rather use the time for other things! 

Late this afternoon Jason and I met with a plastic surgeon to discuss reconstruction options.  I’ll do implants in 4-5 months which means that during this first surgery, I’ll have tissue expanders put in to make room for them.  They’ll sit behind the muscles in my breasts and every week I’ll go in and they’ll inject saline until they’re at a size big enough to accommodate the implants.  Sounds like it’ll be a little uncomfortable for a few days while the skin/muscles adjust but I’m guessing that after going through the first surgery I should be able to handle it. 

This is what the expander looks like. 
The circle is magnetic and is where they'll use a needle to inject saline each week.

Hoping to get a better idea on a surgery date tomorrow - today at the meeting we discussed what I’ll need to do for the prep and it made it all very real!  It’s scary to think about, especially since I know I’ll have pain to manage, but I wish I could just go in and get it over with!  Waiting is the worst part!

MRI Results

​MRI Scan from this morning is CLEAR!  No other areas of concern in either breast OR in my armpits.  I'm going to totally kick cancer's ass.  Gone, done.  Watch it. SO relieved!

Feeling Slightly Normal

​I told a few more people about my situation today.  I swear, the more I talk about it the better I feel.  It doesn’t change what’s happening inside of me (the cancer part) but mentally it’s such a relief to have others bear the weight with me (sorry friends and family!).

Talking with Deb helps so much - she's open and willing to share her experiences and helps me understand what I can expect for the surgery and my recovery.  She's given me a better understanding of the limitations I'll have when I get home from the hospital, and although I'm not looking forward to them, I think knowing what to expect will prepare me mentally/emotionally.

After our long day yesterday (we went to Rock the Garden and then an after show at 1st Ave) I was exhausted.  I slept for eight and a half glorious uninterrupted hours, woke up and went for a run, showered, made a quick Target stop and made my way to Faribault.  Sounds pretty much like any other day huh​?  ​I refuse to let cancer disrupt my life.

Jason and I at top; Missy (a great friend from high school) and I at the bottom left,
and then Joelle (a great friend from college) at the bottom right.

I had a very successful talk with my dad, who I was super nervous to talk to about it all.  His mother passed away from colon cancer when he was a little boy and I think all he knows of cancer is that people don’t survive it.  Until me, muahahaha!  He was encouraging and positive and asked questions and seemed to be doing ok.  Of course that didn’t stop me from calling Adam on my way back to St. Paul to have him check in with Dad in the next day or so.  Everyone needs to be checked on once in awhile. 

Waking up early for the MRI tomorrow morning to see if there are any additional hot spots in my breasts/armpits.  Hoping to get a little more information about my schedule of appointments in the next week too.  Let’s get surgery on the books please!!

I Can Do This

​Feeling awesome!  Met with Dr. Sanan and Lynnae this morning and learned a LOT about cancer.  We’re still waiting more info from the biopsy on what type of cancer cells I have, but we’ve come to a decision to do a double mastectomy with reconstruction.  Not quite sure when that’ll happen; my guess is in the next week or so?

It wasn't a difficult decision to make (I completely understand if it is for some women) because to me, they're just breasts.  Lumps of tissue that at this point in my life, aren't serving any purpose.  Plus, getting rid of them means I'm not looking over my shoulder the rest of my life, wondering if there are hidden lumps of cancer in them.  Dr. Sanan and Jason are both supportive of my decision which makes me feel great about it!

I’m still having the MRI on Monday morning and then next week I’m meeting with an oncologist, a plastic surgeon, a genetic counselor and I’m having a second opinion too.  I’m trying to avoid pushing surgery off too long so I’m hoping all of these appointments can be completed early in the week.  Head is spinning with all of the information but I talked with my sisters and mom and Ron (my step-dad) and Barb and Todd (Jason's parents) so I think everyone is (hopefully) feeling the slight relief I am.  I got some information on therapy so I can talk to someone about all of this, I’m planning on talking with Deb (a family friend) tomorrow morning and get her take on all of it since she’s been through it.  I plan on talking with everyone else in the next couple days about it.  It’s a strange feeling to be positive in this situation but I feel like I have no other option.  Let’s deal with it and move on! 

Still Can't Sleep

​Exhausted.  Up off and on since my last post.  It’s a lot harder to be confident and strong and positive when you’re alone and it’s quiet and dark.

Can't Sleep

​Wide awake to the realization that I didn’t dream what has happened in the last 24 hours. It’s 66 degrees and I’m shaking all over.  Fear or cold? 

Telling my family this afternoon/tonight was terrifying.  I’d get super nervous and queasy before starting each conversation.  Happy Friday - I have breast cancer.  Jason took it OK, I saw tears but he didn’t let them go like I think he wanted to.  He's been super quiet all night and has let me do most of the talking.  My mom and sisters weren’t as discrete with their reactions.  I didn’t talk to Jason’s parents but he said they’re in shock (aren’t we all?).  Adam (my brother) was a champ - super positive, encouraging, offering to shave his head if I ended up doing chemo.  I’m a lucky girl to have a brother like that.  I told a few friends and their reactions were surprisingly different.  Shock first, followed by mutual agreement that I’ll kick cancer’s ass and then that they were feeling waves of nausea.  Me too my dears, me too. 

Rachel and Erin came over tonight; we all sat in the porch/back deck and had conversations that bounced from “what the hell is going on in our family - there are way too many random, terrible events happening this year” to listening to a new song Erin heard on her way over, or laughing at Rachel’s stories in the world of banquet serving.  Totally surreal. 

Feeling a little better, not so tense.  Going to try and lay down and fall asleep again.

My Diagnosis

​At 1:50pm I got a phone call from the hospital.  I let it roll to voicemail.  I listened, it was Dr. Sanan asking me to call him back on his cell phone. Shit, what surgeon gives out his cell phone? I rushed outside and called back.  He started saying something about how he was right to be worried, and that I have breast cancer.  Excuse me?  I had to ask him to repeat himself as all the blood in my head rushed to my stomach.  I could feel my voice catch in my throat as I mumbled my yesses and mmmhmms as he spoke.  He rattled off the positives (are there in this situation?): it’s close to the surface, any deeper and we wouldn’t have noticed.  It’s a small tumor, I’m young.  Jason (I haven’t told him at this point) and I are meeting him at 10am tomorrow at the hospital - he’s coming in on a Saturday for me, when no one else will be there.  I can’t decide if it’s because it’s very very serious or if he wants to be aggressive with treatment.  I’m going with option two.

We finalize our plans and hang up.  Five minutes later Lynnae calls to see how I’m doing.  She says she’d like to be at the appointment tomorrow.  Love her.  I might make her my new best friend.  She answers my preliminary questions: do we know what stage it is? (can’t tell until after surgery), how fast will the treatment process go? (MRI and genetic counseling scheduled for Monday, surgery by the end of next week), whether my insurance will cover this? (yes).  My last question: what if I’m pregnant right now?  I’m due to get my period tomorrow and yes, Jason and I have been trying.  Lynnae and I decide that I should take a test today so I can go to the meeting tomorrow with as much information as possible.  We hang up, I go to the bathroom.  Relief, I notice some spotting.  I take the test anyway and it’s negative.  At the very least, I’m not having to restrict any possible treatments or worse, terminating a pregnancy. 

Jason’s on his way home right now - I’m sure he already knows it’s what we were afraid of (my text to him before I left work: “can you come home?”).  How do you tell your husband that you have cancer?

Jas and I at a Packer game last fall - MUCH happier (and oblivious) times

Obsessed

Still obsessing.  Happy thoughts happy thoughts.

Happy Thoughts

Results. Results. Results.  When will they be in?  Will I have to wait all weekend assuming the worst yet hoping for the best?  In my opinion this could go one of four ways:

1. (Most important and what I'm hoping for) I'm pregnant and the lump is benign
2. (Pit-in-my-stomach worst fear) I'm pregnant and the lump is cancerous
3. I'm not pregnant and the lump is benign
4. I'm not pregnant and the lump is cancerous

So there's that.  If I'm not pregnant this month that's fine.  Bummer, but there's next month so no big deal. 

I wasn’t planning on it but I'm in the office working today.  Thought it would be a good distraction.  Happy thoughts happy thoughts.  I've asked Lynnea to email me any results if they come in today so I don't have to take a dreaded phone call with my coworkers listening in.   I'll hopefully be able to read it in the privacy of our house and react as needed (being positive: I'll probably scream with relief when I hear it's nothing).  

Happy thoughts.

Cancer pain faintness holy shit cancer worry pain lightheaded cancer heart-racing

I just had a biopsy done on my right breast.  It’s the first non-dental procedure I’ve ever had and for not having time to mentally prep myself ahead of time, I think I did okay.  Yes I broke down when Dr. Sanan (a Board-Certified General Surgeon) said he was concerned and wanted to run tests on it, and yes I held hands with the amazing nurse, Lynnae, while it happened.

Background information.  I’d been in to see Dr. Sanan in December of 2010 for a “lump” I’d found in my right breast.  I somehow bypassed one of the general practitioners at the clinic I go to and was able to get in with the specialist.  He (and an intern) felt around and after an ultrasound, determined it was just my breast tissue.  No big deal.  Come back in a few weeks and we’ll recheck.  Done, fine, moving on. 

Fast forward to late 2012 or early 2013.  Jason (my husband) and I became a bit more serious about starting a family, and in my excitement to get pregnant, I was checking for early signs.  I noticed a bit of dark skin, right next to my nipple that was accompanied by a lump the size of a small gum ball.  I freaked out, then remembered I have lumpy tissue and went on with my day. 

Days, weeks and months went by and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I should get it tested, or at the very least, looked at by my regular doctor.  I finally scheduled an appointment, and at it, she recommended I go back and see Dr. Sanan again.  Two weeks go by.

Today.  I left work at 1:30 and headed to the United Hospital Breast Center.  I sat in the waiting room, then after changing into a bathrobe, sat in the exam room.  Dr. Sanan comes in, we chit chat and he starts the exam.  It’s completely silent as he pokes, applies pressure and squeezes me.  I know there’s a lump, I just wish he’d say something.  Finally he finishes the exam and has me sit down in a chair.  He types something into the computer for a few minutes, then looks at me and says something to the effect of “There’s a lump, and of course I want to know what it is.” Next thing I know, I’ve got a mammogram and ultrasound on my afternoon agenda. 

I’m brought into a different waiting room where there are already two middle-aged women in the same awesome robe I’m in.  They both look at me as I grab a magazine and sit down.  Not too long after sitting, my name is called and I’m lead into a room that says mammogram on it.

The mammogram machine I thankfully avoided

The practitioner asks me if there’s any chance of me being pregnant, and I say yes because there is (no period yet) and she leaves the room.  A minute later she’s back, and I’m back in the waiting room with the other ladies.  Skipped it.

Next up: ultrasound.  I had one of these the last time I had a scare, so I knew exactly what to expect.  I watched the monitor as they scanned my breast with their wand thing.  This practitioner says nothing.  She leaves to show the pictures to Dr. Sanan.  As I lay there silently trying not to overreact at the situation, he pops his head in, realizes the technician isn’t there and says he’s going to go find the pictures.  He comes back, along with his nurse Lynnea, the ultrasound tech and another doctor, Dr. Tai.  I get another ultrasound and they decide they want to biopsy the lump.

I’ve never had a biopsy before, so I ask them to explain it to me.  Numbing and a small “nick” in the skin, followed by the removal of four chunks of tissue.  I can handle it, I have a high tolerance to pain*. They all leave to grab the materials, I text Jason to let him know what’s going on.  (If you’re wondering why he’s not there with me, I didn’t think any of this was happening, so I told him he didn’t have to come.  Absolutely no hard feelings!)  The technician and Lynnea come back and I (naturally) have to ask to go back to the locker where my clothes are so I can grab my chapstick (delaying the inevitable or dry lips?).

When I came back there are tools and bandages laid out on the counter where I left my Nalgene.  I’m asked to lay down on the bed and to raise my right arm over my head.  I think Dr. Sanan had to run to surgery or something, because from this moment on he’s absent.  Dr. Tai put a topical numbing gel on me, then gave me a heads up that I’d feel a pinch and burning.  I felt the pinch - it was just like getting a shot in the arm - and the burning was tolerable and brief.  She said because of the tender area she was numbing, she was adding a lot, so she poked around inside half a dozen times and injected more of the serum.  I totally took it like a boss, not even wincing so I knew I was impressing the three ladies hovering over me with my iron-clad boob*.

After waiting a few minutes, she says that she’s going to start, so she “nicked” the surface and grabbed a long tool that, out of the corner of my eye, looked something like the image below. 

I swear, the needle was 2' long - this looks harmless!

She did a demo so I’d know what it sounded like - a stapler - and got to work.  I didn’t feel a thing on the first of four samples she was planning to take.  The second didn’t register any feeling either, except right after I felt pain like a bruise.  The third I don’t think I’ll ever be able to describe.  Here’s an attempt.  Initially, not much registered.  Within a few seconds though I felt a fire spread from the right side of my chest all the way to the left and then down into my stomach.  I got hot all over, light headed, started sweating a bit, and heard a faint ringing in my ears.  Pain.  Oh my gosh pain.  I’ve fainted a few times in my life and this was it (thankfully I was already laying down); Lynnea got me a cold wet washcloth to put on my forehead. 

Because it was so painful, the doctor (God BLESS her soul) said that the first three samples were great and that she didn’t need to do a fourth.  I regained my composure and sat up after a bit.  Lynnae walked with me to the closet where my clothes were locked up and gave me a hug before I walked in.  I dressed, feeling completely bewildered and overwhelmed.  Driving out of the ramp was like being in the twilight zone. 

Dr. Sanan said not to expect results tomorrow but Lynnea said she’s going to try.  Working from home and crossing my fingers.

Tonight my sisters, Rachel and Erin, and I went to a sushi-rolling demonstration.  While it (and the Steve Martin look-alike) took my mind off of the results I was waiting on, it didn't mask the throbbing pain in my right breast :(

"Steve Martin" and our delicious poke

*Or so I thought.