Tomorrow, Tomorrow

Well, tomorrow is the big day!  I'm nervous, but have spent the last couple of hours at dinner with some of my amazing family and am in a really good place right now.  Thanks, Mom, Aunt Pam, Aunt Renee, Russell, Liz, Eric, Paige, Sarah and Zac for having dinner with me and making me laugh.  I am happy that I introduced you to guava mojitos and thankful that Sarah can eat almost as much guacamole as I can.  


Mom brought her cat up here today because she is planning on staying for several weeks.  To say that this cat is high-strung would be an understatement.  He's half-Siamese, a little cross-eyed, and very vocal about his displeasure of moving.  He hid under the couch for the first few hours that he was here, and has now made his way underneath the tree skirt of the Christmas tree.  This would normally not be a problem except that my tree is precariously perched atop a box to make it taller.  I keep expecting to hear a giant crash and a cat wailing.  I guess we made him this way when we named him Testes Kensington Lancaster.  Any cat with a name like that is almost guaranteed to have anxiety problems.  (He was given this unique moniker because he was born completely white and within a couple of months had developed very large, very black male cat parts.  And his wayward roaming father belonged to the neighboring Lancasters.  And every proper cat needs a distinguished middle name like Kensington.)  For the record, his name at the vet's office is Boo Radley and Mom only calls him Boo.   (He got the name Boo Radley because he looked just like Boo Radley in the movie "To Kill a Mockingbird."  Do you remember when Robert Duvall came out from behind the door?  He had those crazy eyes and was so pale?  That's exactly what this cat looks like all the time.)  


Enough about the cat.  I realized tonight that I hadn't really given too many details about the actual procedure.  What they will do tomorrow is make a couple of incisions and remove most of my breast tissue.  They cannot get all of the breast tissue, but they will get most of it.  They are doing the nipple saving technique, for which I'm very thankful.  They will put in expanders at the time of the surgery with a little saline injected, so I won't be totally without fullness.  They also put in a "mesh" piece that will become part of my body within a few months.  I will have two sets of drains, which will look like bulbs at the end of tubes.  These drains will be safety-pinned to my Ace bandage, and have to be emptied two times a day.  Thank goodness my mom isn't squeamish!  I will have one set of drains removed on December 6th, and the others removed the next week.  I can't shower for a long time.  This bothers me.  I did buy some dry shampoo so maybe I won't look too much like a greaser.  Maybe I should start growing some dreadlocks.  Anyway, every 7-10 days I will go back to see Dr. Stacey and he will inject more saline into my expanders.  Eventually, in about three to four months, I will have another surgery to get the final implants and to make sure every looks like it should.  I'm choosing to look at this surgery like a really long boob job.  I'm blessed to have doctors who are concerned with saving my life AND making sure that I look good when I live it.  Vain?  Probably.  But I've spent the last year feeling really bad about myself and my body, and I don't want to do that anymore.  It may be vain but I'm excited to look good.  So, tomorrow begins my long process of healing, both mentally and physically.  


I have so many people to thank and I'm afraid that I'll forget someone.  Mostly, I want to thank everyone who has been so kind and supportive.  Your kind words and actions mean sooooo much to me.  Also, thanks to Maxilea, Pam, and Paige for the awesome blanket, books, pj pants, jackets and warmer.  My brother couldn't be marrying into a better family!  Thanks to Renee for the card--I love mail and I love gift cards and I'm going to buy something fun and wear it in Charleston.  Thanks to Jean Mallett for the basket of fun goodies!  Thanks to Sam's Club (not the store) for the friendship and the awesome banana bread.  Thanks to cousin Katie for the furry footies and book.  Most of all, thanks to everyone who has texted or called with kind thoughts and promises of prayers.  I'm so blessed.


Ok, I'll update when I'm out of a drug-induced haze!  Talk to you all very soon!

Pre-Op

On Wednesday, Mom and I went to all of my pre-op appointments.  First, we hit the hospital where they make you talk to the money people, of course, before you see any nurses.  My nurse was kind of old, and was not in a good mood.  I don't know about you, but hospitals make me nervous.  A nurse with a surly attitude does not help matters at all.  Mom and I were determined that we would talk to her until she decided to be nice to us, and it took us an hour and a half, but we finally succeeded in getting her to smile.  What I learned from the hospital pre-op:  you can't take fish oil pills before a surgery.  Who knew?

My second appointment was with Dr. Stacey, the plastic surgeon.  He's very young (31ish!) and has a cute little nurse named Amy.  They are both very nice and helpful, and they always make me feel like everything is going to be ok.  Amy is also very open and informal about what may happen; for example, I shouldn't freak out if I wake up and things look really, really crazy.  Apparently, that will get better.  One thing that was a little...well, unsettling, was that while Dr. Stacey talked to me, he had a picture of my naked chest up on his laptop.  I had a hard time answering his questions because I just wanted to reach over and close the screen!  (I had another uncomfortable moment the last time I was there, when he handed me a silicone implant for one hand and a saline for the other.  It makes it a little difficult to stay serious and not laugh when you're holding boob implants in each hand!)  What I learned from pre-op with Stacey:  I may never have to wear an underwire bra again.  (I learned lots of other disturbing things, but I'm choosing to focus on the positive)

My third appointment of the day was with Dr. Cross.  Dr. Cross is amazing.  If any of you ever need a surgical oncologist, and I pray that you don't, please go to him.  I cannot say enough good things about him.  Anyway, this appointment was very short; he drew on me with a purple pen, wrote me prescription for a Z pack because I have a cold, and then let me leave.  What I learned from the third pre-op:  I won't ever have to have another mammogram!  Yay!!!!!  No more evil machine!

A lot of people have asked if I'm getting nervous.  YES.  Yes, I am. Extremely.  I have total faith in my doctors and I know that everything will turn out ok, but I'm still really anxious.  I'm more nervous about the pain, and getting sick from anesthesia.  I'm also starting to freak out a little about not being able to do anything for a month.  I have known about that, of course, but the actual reality of not being able to bathe myself or fix my own hair finally hit me.  I'm very independent, and having to rely on other people soooo much kind of bothers me.  I'm blessed to have a great mom who is taking off work to take care of me, and wonderful friends who have promised to come over for movie nights.  

I'm going to consider this my Hugh Hefner period because I will be wearing pajamas for a month and will be doing lots of worrying and talking about breasts.  It's worked for him for about 80 years, so I guess I can do it for a month!

Gobble, Gobble

As always, today's theme is breasts.  However, since this is a special Thanksgiving edition, I'm going to talk about my favorite kind of breasts...turkey!  Mom's in the kitchen right now whipping up a massive Thanksgiving feast, including a glorious-looking turkey that could rival one of Martha Stewart's birds.  I'm not really going to spend any time writing about actual turkey breasts, but rather something that I'm very thankful for every day, especially holidays.

I have a lot to be thankful for today, and could spend all day writing about all the blessings in my life.  I think, though, that today I'm going to focus on cooking.  A weird topic, you say?  Well, it's a general topic that has a lot of meaning to me.  In case you don't know, my family is full of great cooks.  Amazing cooks.  Male and female, every person in my family can cook.  We all learned how to cook, either directly or indirectly, from my Nannie Jean.  Nannie was one of those unique ladies who could do anything well.  I could, and probably will in the future, devote an entire post to Nannie, but today I want to focus on the cooking legacy that she left to her family.

Nannie was a fantastic cook, and her recipes have been featured in a couple nationally-published cookbooks.  The thing about Nannie though, was that she didn't actually measure anything.  Ever.  (Her recipes in those cookbooks were the first time any of us actually had a general measurement idea for her peach cobbler.)  She passed down her recipes to her daughters and son by showing them how to make things, rather than have them follow a recipe.  They learned at a very early age how to cook these amazing dishes, and did it by watching Nannie.  They, in turn, passed it down to their daughters and sons the same way.  Nannie had a wooden spoon that she used all the time, and I guarantee you that if you said, "one scoop in the wooden spoon," everyone of us would know exactly how much of that ingredient we would need.  

My family is very creative, and I think their artistic leanings make them even better cooks.  Cooking, especially without recipes, requires a little bit of creativity and flexibility.  Also, we all call each other all the time to get advice and help remembering things.  My mom and her sisters have been on the phone with each other several times this morning exchanging advice and tips about Thanksgiving dishes.  So, today, I'm thankful for the cooking legacy left to my family by my Nannie, and the closeness that we all share as a family, also left to us by my Nannie.  She loved all of us very much, and she never seemed happier than when her entire family was sitting at the table(s) eating a big meal that she had cooked with so much love.  

Happy Thanksgiving!!!

Men are from Mars

It's been a couple of weeks since I've written, mainly because I've been doing a lot of writing for work and haven't felt like doing it when I come home.  I've had several people send me emails or texts about the blog, and it really feels great to know that my friends and family are reading it.  I've had some comments about how it's apparently difficult to "follow" or comment.  I have no idea how to fix that.  Sorry.  Thanks for everyone who is reading and sending me messages or emails in response.  If I figure out how to make it easy to comment, I'll let you know.  Also, the screen apparently is really big or really small depending on the computer that you're using.  I don't know how to fix that either.  Sorry again!  Finally, someone commented that my blog subjects aren't cohesive and I kind of skip around from topic to topic.  To that, I say sorry, but I'm using this blog not only to keep people informed, but also to get some of these crazy thoughts out of my head.  So yes, I may write about cancer on one post and knitting on another; I'm not trying to be published.  Yet.

On to the real stuff...

Many people, mostly women, have asked what made me initially go see a doctor and how I knew that this was something other than just a hormone-induced cyst.  Basically, I found a lump that was really close to the skin.  It felt different.  I can't explain it much better.  I know that people would like to know exactly what made it feel different, but I can't really explain.  I just urge you to see a doctor if you find anything  Just in case.

My surgery is in a couple of weeks and I'm getting really nervous.  I'm also getting a little overwhelmed with trying to get all of my work stuff taken care of for this month and next month.  Thankfully, I have some really great people at my office who help me and haven't even made me feel badly for piling a lot of extra work on them.

It's interesting how different people have reacted when they found out about all of this.  Generally, the women have reacted with total support of any and all of my decisions and have asked questions about how and when.  They never questioned my need for secrecy at first and even if they didn't, they acted like they understood.  The males in the group have all reacted differently.  Some guys got that scared, glazed over look that some guys get when they hear something that's uniquely female.  They just mumbled, "just let me know if you need anything," and would occasionally ask if I'm ok, with their fear that I would answer with details about my breasts written all over their faces.  (I always wanted to say the word "nipple" to these guys, just to see them turn bright red and squirm.)  Others very vocally offered their opinion about how I should handle things, including how I should tell everyone I know.  These guys did not understand that I needed to keep this information among a small group of people, and had no problem telling me that I was wrong to do that.  I just found it very interesting that men and women reacted so differently.  I always wanted to ask the males who had such strong opinions that if the situation was reversed, and they were having biopsies and tests run on, let's say their testicles, if they would want the world to know.  "Oh hey, sorry I'm a little quiet today, I just had a giant needle attached to a vacuum cleaner suck tissue out of my testicles."  Or "I need that court date moved because I'm going to spend the morning standing in a room with five strangers while one of them smashes my manbits in between two pieces of plastic and takes pictures."

Speaking of, I've always heard female members of my family say that a man must have invented mammogram machines, because no woman would ever invent something so painful.  Seriously, why hasn't that thing been outlawed yet?

In my quest to become an 80 year-old,

I've decided that I need to learn how to crochet.  Or knit.  Whichever is easier.  Can anyone help me?  I have this dream of sitting in front of my fireplace knitting (or crocheting) while my cat sleeps on the back of the couch.  No, I do not have a cat, but I will have one while my mom nurses me back to health.  (I will dedicate a later post to "Kitten" even though I know at least two people reading this blog hate cats with a passion)  Anywho, I need to learn the knitting/crocheting skill.  Please help.  (I just quickly re-read this paragraph and I'm pretty sure that my friends may think this is a cry for help for something other than learning to knit.  That's kind of a nerdy dream.)


Also, in my quest to become an 80 year-old, I'm now the proud new owner of an Arkansas Razorback Snuggie!


Ok, I tried to find a google image for a Razorback Snuggie and when I typed it in google images, an add for a back razor popped up.  Needless to say, I abandoned my search.  In exchange, here's a picture of Boo, the cutest dog in the world:

Look him up on facebook. 

Rhonda Biggerstaff

Today's post is about my wonderful friend Erin, aka Rhonda Biggerstaff.  She's one of my very best friends who has recently moved far, far away to someplace in Texas, and I miss her dearly.  


Tonight, I had to make a very difficult call to Erin.  She's getting married in Beeville, TX, the weekend before my surgery and I'm supposed to be a bridesmaid.  I was so honored that she asked me, and so excited to spend a weekend with my girlfriends celebrating Erin and Micah.  Unfortunately, due to both financial reasons and my surgery, I can't go to Texas.  I've been so upset the last couple of days when I found out, and I've made myself sick over having to disappoint Erin.  So, I called Erin this evening and told her the issues and that I couldn't come to her wedding.  I cannot express in words just how horrible I feel about this situation.  Showing extreme grace and kindness, Erin did not hesitate in telling me that she was not upset and that she understood.  She also said that she was worried about me taking on too many responsibilities and trying to do everything I possibly could do myself.  Instead of being upset with me, she was concerned about my well-being.  I could not ask for a better, more gracious friend.  


This situation has been so difficult for so many reasons, and seems to get more difficult as the surgery date draws closer.  I am so blessed to have such wonderful, caring friends.  I only hope that I can be as good of a friend to them as they are to me.  


Enough of the sadness, I promise the next post will be humorous.  And in case you were wondering, Erin got the name Rhonda Biggerstaff when she got caught by her high school principal doing something she shouldn't, and he asked her name.  She immediately popped out, "Rhonda Biggerstaff" and Rhonda she has been ever since.  

There's a place in France...

(I'm not going to finish that rhyme...and I didn't see any pantless women.  Topless, yes.  And for all you women over 50 that are reading this, women in France of the same age have no problem baring all for the world to see.  Just think of all the extra Vitamin D!)

Many people have expressed concern for how I handled everything last fall.  I don't want you to think it was all terrible...Along with having a lymph node removed last fall, I also went here:

So not all was bad :)  

Roller Coasters

I've had a lot of people ask me why I didn't tell more people last year when I found out about the cancer.  The simple answer is that I didn't want people to worry.  The better answer is that I didn't want people to worry, and I was an emotional wreck.  I was on the verge of tears pretty much all the time, and I was so very tired, both mentally and physically.  My body was dealing with all the pokes and prods of constant doctors appointments, biopsies, and surgeries.  My mind was constantly racing with what ifs and fear.  I was also trying to work as much as possible because I didn't know how many days I would have to miss in the future.  So, the mental stress and physical exhaustion combined to make me a ball of nerves and tears.  Every time someone said something nice to me, I would smile, say thank you, and then cry as soon as I was alone.  I gave my family and closest friends strict orders not to tell anyone, until I was emotionally stable enough to deal with people approaching me with concern.  (By the way, not that I would ever encourage anyone to use a cancer diagnosis as a test of friendship, but I quickly found out who I could trust by asking people not to say anything.  I'm still upset about a person who told other people (acquaintances) who then approached me at a tailgate less than a week after my diagnosis.  I cried for several hours that day.)   I know that it may not make sense to anyone reading this, but it was what I needed to do to be ok.  I have a lot of amazing friends, many of whom didn't know about this until very recently.  My keeping it quiet has nothing to do with who I value or how deep our friendship.  I value you all of you very much and I consider you all wonderful friends.  Some of you live far away and we get to hang out or talk so infrequently that I didn't want to make our conversations about me and my issues.  Plus, I kept hoping that it would all go away, and then no one would have to worry about me.  It didn't go away, and I realized that I'm ok now.  I can handle talking about it.  Obviously :)

All that said, I'm still pretty emotional.  I have occasional breakdowns, usually over stupid things, like songs on the radio or cheesy tv shows.  And I'm pretty sure that I'll have more as it gets closer to my surgery.  So please continue to be patient with me, and thank you for understanding when I'm too tired to hang out or just acting weird.  I'm getting nervous and overwhelmed, but every kind word from you all makes it all just a little bit better.