New, New, New, New Normals.. Gotta Love Them!

Only me.   Just a mere 4 weeks ago I had a blood draw at Dr K’s office.  He wanted to make sure that my estrogen levels were where they should be—you know, being on that estrogen blocker pill.   The call went like this:

Dr K:  Your estrogen is higher than last year.  You need a bone density test.

Me:  (sighing) of course I do

Dr K:  Someone will call and schedule it and then we have a hard decision to make.

Me: (laughing) Oh no, YOU have a decision to make.  I do what you tell me to do.

Dr K:  exactly

So, I did the bone density and figured I was head towards my 3^rd surgery in a year.  However, he calls and this is how THAT went:

Dr K:  Due to your age etc, chemo induced your so called menopause so you are not exactly through it- which explains why your levels are going up.  We are going to fix this with a shot every 4 weeks for a year and we will retest.   Insurance will cover it, I already checked.

Me: silence… (thinking that must be a hell of an expensive shot if insurance had to be called)

Dr K: you there?

Me:  Seriously, a shot?  That involves a needle.

Dr K:  (sighing) Afternoons work best—Monday and Fridays are not great as there are holidays involved. 

Me: Tuesdays and Thursdays are out so I guess Wednesdays will have to work

Dr K:  Works for me and I will be here if you need me. 

Me: Fine… I really hate needles.

Dr K: I know- see you Wednesday

Which is why, on Wednesday, April 19—in the mist of 3 OTHER Doctor appointments that week in Wilmington, I was standing waiting for Lina to give me said shot- yes, standing, more on that in  a few.  But first, let’s visit Tuesday night, around 1030pm or so, when I smartly decided to Google the side effects of the Lupron shot.  The more I read, the pissier I get and I start talking to myself- loudly.   The talking turns into bitching and whining and just like that I am up in a tizzy and am like hell no; this is NOT going to happen.  Then, as always, the moment passes and reality sets in as I KNOW this is going to happen as the only battles I have ever won with Dr K is the fluid ones.  I went to bed defeated and pondering the size of the needle.  And in case anyone was wondering, I did tell God I owed him at least 7 readings of the prayer of confession on Sunday.  

Back to Lina, standing and the needle.   God answered my prayers and gave me a small needle.  And since it is me, we had a bit of excitement as Lina was getting the needle ready.  There we are talking and all of a sudden, the plastic covering on the needle pops off and ricochets around the room as we are ducking out of the line of fire.  We look at each other and she mentions how that has never, ever happened before.  She then tells me I must be special.  I just started laughing and told her she had no idea, none at all.  That was when she smiled and said drop the drawers… I smiled back and said there is enough there… she smiles and says it is going into your muscle… I said oh, then I need the man treatment… after she stopped laughing she got the numbing spray out and says you have been this route before I see… I replied, why yes, I have and how much longer… she says done and I will see you in 4 weeks.  I worried over nothing.  Well, as far as that needle went.

Side Effects- the reason I was in a tizzy.  After reading the long list of usual side effects, all I can think is—this is like chemo but I get to keep the hair.  Instead of stopping there like a normal human, I continue looking up things.  I come across this sharing of information page- 9 out of 10 women are saying how they gained weight.  Of course they did. Just poke me in the eye with an ice pick.  And that is when I was pushed over the edge. My innards are still fighting for housing so I am still swollen and now I will more than likely gain weight?  Seriously?  Can I just enjoy the tummy tuck for a few weeks?! 

I went to bed the night of the shot and thought this was a cakewalk.  Then I woke up and tried to move.  Well hell, the bone and joint aches were back as was the worst part of chemo—the lower arm aches and the fingers all cramped up.  Not to mention the calf aches.  I was not happy when I ventured on down.  By that time, Mae Ling had looked up the side effects and as I am walking into the room she is mentioning that the side effects are like chemo (gee Mom, this was one time you could have lied and I would have not cared). 

Side effects:

            Hot flashes                                 √

            Bone/joint/muscle aches             √

            Night sweats                              √

            Nausea                                      √

            Insomnia                                    √        

            Swelling of feet and ankles         √

            FATIGUE                                 √

As you can see, there are quite a few, with many more not mentioned, but I figure these are the top ones.  I actually felt that first weekend that I had neuropathy all over again in my feet.  As the days have gone by, aside from the fatigue, most have improved to a more manageable degree.  It has been 2 weeks today and if this is how it goes, I will be fine.  I mean, I have done this before so I know how to handle it and what works and what does not.  There will be lots and lots of 90 minute massages in my future… lots. 

So, on the eve of the one year anniversary of the lobbing off of Pia, this is where I am at.  All is good and I am on this side which was/is the goal.  And best of all, Mae Ling was going to retire, but then, after reading the side effects, she took pity on me and is staying put for a while.  All hail Mae Ling! 

Side note on Mae Ling:  earlier this week I had a 101.8 temperature and while I was thrilled it was a normal illness, Mae Ling had her doubts.  In fact, when I showed her the thermometer at 101.7 she said did you put it under water (apparently I did that as a teen—I thought I used the heater) so I cleared it and it went to 101.8.  She then pulled mother rank and told me I was staying home that night (I was cat/house sitting).  I was not going to argue.  As for the cat, he won big time as I fed him a wee bit more than I should have feeling guilty and all that.   He might or might not have purred—stay away woman and feed me more J

As always, my blessings far outweigh the negatives.  As always, just take it for what it is- information not whining.  You will know when I am whining. Trust me on that. 

When you rise in the morning, give thanks for the light, for your life, for your strength. Give thanks for your food and for the joy of living.  If you see no reason to give thanks, the fault lies in yourself.

Tecumseh

As my life turns...

I’ve been trying to put the whole reconstruction surgery into words for weeks and it was not happening.  Bits and pieces (such as the awful private nurse I had, um Mom what the hell is going on with my belly button and the cut is how long???!!!) are easy.  Yet there are other parts (recovery) which are giving me pause.  But I think this tells the story.   I would like to point out Dr K2 informed me at the last appointment it could be 9 months until normalcy (as if that word will ever be a part of my vocabulary again).  Lovely.  So I bit that bullet and here you go. 

A short recap of said surgery:

·        Hospital from Tuesday until Saturday.  I think I was supposed to stay until Sunday, but after the whole IV coming out in the bathroom at 1230 am and it looking as if I had committed a murder (I have never, ever seen blood so red, not to mention so much in one place) and 5 tries within 5 hours to get another IV in- I was done.  I think it was the crying which sprung me. I was tired of being a test dummy.   **Note: they were wonderful and they took time in between trying.  It just was not part of the plan. And I blame the morphine for the tears (which was so worth the tears).  

·        Speaking of the IV—that pull cord that is in the bathroom—really works.  I pulled it 5 times and I had 4 people in my room in seconds.  Luckily I had great nurses (as always) and the comments where right up my alley.  I kept apologizing and I guess I said it too many times as my nurse told me if I said it one more time she was holding out on the morphine.  Not one peep for hours out of me.

·        Morphine—they give you that little drip thing with the control and you think you have it made.  As if.  I had enough time to actually comprehend it is a very small drip and it did not drip every time you punched it.  Mind games.

·        I had 4 drains.  Sadly, I am a pro at them.  However, this time I had two in my new boob area and two in the belly area.  And they were attached to my binder (girdle thingy) and they were easy as all get out.  I was impressed.  I was also impressed as Dr K2’s nurse Kristin told me they could be there for 4 weeks.  I had one out in a week and the other 3 out in 2.  The only time in my life I was an overachiever (I’ll take it).

A short recap of recovery:

·        Slow and still recovering.  I had no idea it would be like this.  Dr. Nurse Elaine told me rule of thumb for energy is for every hour you are under it takes a month to recover.  She was not kidding.  Some days I have energy and some days I do not. Period. 

·        I went back to working 10 hours and am now up to 32.  Again, some days kill me and some are okay.  The first shift I did on the desk was a Saturday with Gaye.  I was determined to put my own books away.  I do great when I put them on a cart so I can push it around.  Figures it was a kid’s book that did me in that day.   The corner hit the belly.  My knees buckled and the only thing out of my mouth was grunt (yes, even I was impressed).

·        My belly area is still very sore and aches when I am awake.  At first it was like needles but it was the nerves coming back to life.  That feeling is not as bad now, but still there. Of course now it feels tight—as if I need a good burp or fart (don’t worry, it just feels that way).  I still wake myself up when I roll over in bed.  That is fun.  Not.

·        I have been stuck in the Lazy Boy (I am too short to use that; figured that out on day one at home), the couch (too many times to count—still have trouble pushing myself up at times), the bathtub (that was frightening) and the bed.  The best position to sleep in when I first got home was a little bit elevated. For the first 3 nights I arranged my pillows, got into bed and they fell flat and there I was.  I was able to maneuver just enough the first 2 nights.  The 3^rd night, I was over it so I called Mom on the house phone from my cell to help me.  I think she laughed. 

·        I took 2 pain pills each day.  One in the am and one in the pm.  They were heaven.

·        Back to the sore belly.  It is swollen and will be for a while.  Lovely.  Still, it is better than it had been. I hit it from time to time and a grunt comes out.  It’s like when I kept hitting Portia—never hit the area before but now it happens all the time.  Figures. 

A short recap of the things I did not really need to know that I know now and other bits and pieces:

·        That awful private nurse- Billy.  He stayed the first night and Mom told him to act as he was my private nurse.  He slept AND snored the entire night.  I am sure he will deny this and maybe I was too drugged, but every time I looked over he was asleep AND snoring.   He came back a day later and told me I had to eat.  I did not want to but gave in and ordered some fruit, cereal and milk, telling him I would eat most of the cereal dry.  What does he do?!  They bring my tray, he gets out of his chair, opens my cereal, puts it in the bowl, dumps the milk on it and says eat.  I may or may not have said you are a useless idiot and you need to leave.  He was out of there in 5 minutes.  Good thing he is a good doctor as he sucks as a nurse.

·        My motto of “Ignorance is bliss” struck again.  And again, it was a wonderful thing.  Had I known I might have blown the whole surgery off (I did Google it but went back to Candy Crush when I saw it was an 8 hour surgery.  Luckily for me I looked the wrong one up and it was only 4; something I found out the day of surgery).  So I get home and look down and freaked.  My belly button was under my left boob.  Mom calms me down with it will go back into place when the swelling goes down. Whew. Then I looked closer at the belly button itself which was ugly, red, sore and bigger than I remembered. It was like I had a new belly button.  I said as much and Mom gave me what looked to be a very pained look (when I look back I think she was keeping the laughter in) and said “um, it is a new one.” Well crap.  And for the record—it is the last to heal.  And OF COURSE I had an issue with it and had to pack it.  Seriously?!  Dr K2 and one of his nurses Kristin started explaining the packing.  I told them no need, been there done that.  Luckily this did not last as long and was much easier.

·        The cut.  If you do not know, Mae Ling is a quilter which means there are all kinds of tools around, including a tape measure.  She also did a stint in nursing school so she is into medical stuff.  Like when I sat in Dr K2’s examination chair, there she was, behind them looking in awe at my torn and battered body as they admire their handiwork (apparently my new boob is magnificent- but more on that next).  I finally give in and she is actually gloating she gets to measure it.  That cut is from hip to hip and it is 20 inches long.  And that my friends, explains the hell of the past few months.

·        Back to the belly boob.  I thought I was fatter.  Darn thing is smaller than I thought it would be and yes, quite frankly, they do just cut a chunk out of the belly and sew it on. Its’ amusing each time I go back how they say my new boob is magnificent and healing well ( it is rather amazing what they can do).  However, I was pretty ticked off that it was not bigger. Nurse Morgan laughed and said they had to close the stomach area.  Oops, forgot that part.  I had named her Permanent Penny but she is more like Belly Boob. Either way, I have a football shaped boob.  As Dr K (oncologist) noted last week, laughing.

·        Dr Lynn was right and I have to give her that, even if it kills me.  And it will. But when I first mentioned the surgery to her, she told me I would get my right arm back to the way it was before the mastectomy and it would be even better.  I was like no way was she right and I forgot all about that until after the surgery.  And right the good Dr was.   And, it was immediate- as in the hospital immediate. Because the tumor was so large, she had to take most of the skin and it was tight as hell. Add in the radiation and it was a constant pain in the arm and shoulder area. When Dr K2 went in, he cleaned out the radiated area, added skin and voila—I can use my arm again.  That is the biggest blessing of all.

So there you have it.  My surgery in a nutshell.  My new, new, new normal.  I hope and pray that this is IT with the new normals.  Speaking of prayer, thank you for all the prayers, the cards, Jessica for watching over the Angels, Mae Ling (of course) and to Gaye, Helena, Ann and Christina, thank you for never missing a beat, filling in when needed, having my back and just making me thankful I have a great team. 

Isaiah 41:10

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

For I know the plans I have for you...

Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I would be sitting here tonight contemplating tomorrow.   I have had 3 surgeries (4 if you count that silly little Pia and her infection and that darn packing) in which I went from extra large , to nice and perky, to slowly shrinking to nothing on the right side , all in 11 years. Go figure.  Who knew that when I had the reduction it would save my life 7 years later?  If I had not had it, I never would have found that pesky little lump.  Which led to the lumpectomy, 5 years and 2 days ago- not that I am counting or anything.  That pesky little Stage 3  lump led to not only the loss of the hair, but to 6.5 weeks of cremation which made Pia the incredible shrinking boob.( Insert surgery number 4 here, I am not reliving that. Well, the morphine was amazing).   Fast forward to May of this year when then the shoe dropped and with it went Pia.  At which point Dr. Lynn took just about all that she could—which was basically all of it ( in her defense, she had to take it all due to that 5.9 cm tumor she had to carve out. You know the one the paid Radiologist missed.  I swear I need to frame that letter).

***Side note here—if anyone ever goes to the good Dr Lynn—you must mention you know me.  She will more than likely roll her eyes, grimace and say shit under her breath.  Extra points are given if you start off by saying… you know, my librarian just happens to know you.   That will start the whole routine going.  Makes me happy just thinking about it. ***    

Which brings me to tonight and the contemplating. I am not a big believer in plastic surgery.  I believe God gave us what he gave us and that is that. Yes, I know there are certain things which need to be done for health reasons, I just have not seen the need for it.  Until the fall of last year when I looked at the mirror and wondered how I ended up this way.  Which is when I knew it was time to become two again.   Am I worried about tomorrow?  To be honest,  I was worried about it when it was last week.  And since I did not really go into why it was postponed, here is the short version. Right before Christmas Dr Kays called and asked if he could switch the time of the surgery to 3pm as there was a seminar in Memphis the day before and he was to present and it happened to be on the machine he will be using on me.  Did not bother me so told him I was good with it.  Which I was, until the week of the preop. That is when I started to feel very uneasy with the actual surgery and was not at all at peace, something I have always, always felt before any surgery. So when I got the call about the weather and possibly changing the surgery, I felt some relief.  And when it was postponed 4 days, I was thrilled and that peace finally found me.  Going back to tomorrow, yes, I am a bit worried about the pain and the recovery time as I really did not have it bad during the others (and yes, bad is relative, but my memory is bad so we will go with the others were not bad and this one might be).  I also dread being bored. If I am drugged, I will sleep and heal. If I am not properly drugged, I will be going stir crazy.   Will I more than likely try to talk him in to letting me go back to work earlier if I am stir crazy?  Most certainly.  However, he is not the good Dr Lynn who is wrapped around my finger, so it will be interesting to see how that goes.  I did promise him 4 weeks out of work so there is that. 

As for the boob, I am looking forward to being able to wear necklaces that stay in place, not go off to the black hole.  It will be nice to have something there.  I get to get a new, new, new normal (personally I am getting rather sick of these new normals).  But at least I am getting a new normal. Not all have that chance. 

Now if you will excuse me, I need to go listen to a voicemail I got back on May 3—it’s John 14:27 and I bet it sounds familiar to some…  Peace I leave with you, my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let you hearts be trouble and do not be afraid.  And yes, that voicemail just happens to belong to exactly who you think it does.   I am so very, very blessed!

PS

I just lied.  I do not care about the boob and how a necklace is going to stay in place.  I am all about that tummy tuck.  The boob is a bonus.  I sure hope God does not have another lesson in mind and lets me end up with a flat belly.  I mean, I have earned that sucker. 

PSS

I was able to use the one comeback late last week that I have been dying to make.  Sadly, due to the belly being what it is (at the moment), and I tend to wear over sized shirts, I have been asked numerous times when I was due.  I usually laugh it off and tell them it is just fat and I am too old—which they grasp on to as they usually feel bad. Anyway, the other day I was again asked and I said “well, next week I will be delivering a healthy boob!”   Let’s just say it was a good comeback and I was the only one to get joy out of it.  She was clueless.  And she knew all about the mastectomy.

PSSS

Thank you for all the prayers, calls and texts.  It means more than you will ever know.