Susan and the Terrible. Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day!

Whiner alert!    
 Getting up at 4:30 in the morning after not having slept very well is just the way to begin a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day. To make matters worse, I couldn't eat or have anything to drink, especially COFFEE!
  After driving for the now familiar hour and a half, we arrived at Mayo, and as usual, didn't have to wait long  for my first appointment at 7:00 - an EKG followed by an echo cardiogram. Piece of cake. The last piece of cake I'd be having that terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day!
   My next appointment was supposed to be the blood draw at 10:30, but because of a mix up, it didn't happen until around 11:00 which was when I was scheduled to register for my port insertion which was supposed to take place around 1:00. Needless to say, by the time they called me back to take my blood after not having anything to drink or eat since 9:00 the previous night my blood sugar was at an all time low and my anxiety level was off the chart.
   Unfortunately I inherited Dad's vascular system. When my veins hear the words "blood draw" you'd think they were playing dodge ball - DUCK, DODGE, DIVE, STOP -DROP - ROLL! Getting blood from me is like trying to stick wriggling snakes with a spear! Here's one! Nope! Over here! Got it! Uh, no, let's try again. I'll spare you the details; let's just say almost passing out will get you the best phlebotomist in the place.
    After that little incident, the nurses wouldn't let me walk, so Jarret had the pleasure of toodling me around in a wheel chair. Next stop - out-patient surgery for the putting in of the port. You'll have to pardon the prolific use of alliteration. It can't be avoided!
   For the insertion of the port, I'm in my jeans, a hospital gown, and a pair of those way cool hospital socks with the rubber things on the bottom. Still nothing to eat or drink, and after the previous fiasco I'm wishing for a Xanax! The thought of another needle stick was seriously freaking me out. I told the nurse about it, and he put the IV line in my hand instead of my arm. He was good!
   By this time Jarret was with me and we were introduced to everyone who was going to be involved in the procedure - Cheryl - the lady who explained the features of the "purple power port," Dr. ? - doing the actual surgery, and my favorite, Kim - my bartender, the awesome nurse in charge of making sure I felt NO PAIN!
Long story short: Surgery went well. Port is just under my left collar bone. It's subcutaneous, nothing sticking out of my skin. Now I can receive meds and they can take blood without sticking my arm! Let's hear it for modern science! I will, however, set off metal detectors, so I have a card for my wallet, an ID for my key chain, and a cool rubber bracelet for my arm that explains everything. 


And that is the end of Susan's terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day!
 

And Now for a Little Humor

     Being and English teacher and a lover of words makes my brain go in strange directions when it's not engaged in academic pursuits. The following is an example of what happens when Jarret and I have to wait for an extended period of time without reading materials.
     On one of our trips to Mayo to get my drains out, we had to wait much longer than usual. We were in the treatment room of the plastic surgeon, so there wasn't any reading material available except for the pamphlets about botox, face lifts, tummy tucks, and believe it or not "thigh lifts!" Having looked at more than my share of surgical procedures related to my condition, I abstained.
     After playing with the implants on display, we were running out of activities, so I suggested we come up with booby "hink pinks." For those of you who haven't been around me long enough to know, hink pinks are one of my favorite past times. A hink pink is a riddle whose answer is two rhyming words. The clue cannot include a word that is part of the answer. Ex. What do you call an overweight feline? A fat cat. Answering these hink pinks will test your knowledge of synonyms and breast terminology to the max.
     All right! Let's begin. I will list the clues, and the answers will be at the bottom of the page.  Since they all begin with "what do you call," I won't be redundant and type that phrase every time.

What do you call...
1. the top award at the boob contest?
2. a boob joke?
3. a prayed over boob?
4. an embrace from a well-endowed woman?
5. feeling sorry for someone with breast cancer?
6. a chastity bra?
7. it when gravity takes its toll on breasts?
8. rear boobies?
9. it when women store items in their bras?
10. Stevie Nick's boobs?
11. a Buttery Nipple substitute?
12. the boobs of the singer of "I was Born this Way?"
13. a large-breasted teacher?
14. breast lotion?
15. one who makes fun of breasts?




1. best breast
2. breast jest
3. blessed breast
4. jug hug
5. titty pity
6. knocker locker
7. slack rack
8. back rack
9. pack rack
10. rocker knockers
11. hooter shooter
12. Gaga's ta tas
13. hooter tutor
14. boob lube
15. knocker mocker

Scoring:
If you answered 12-15 correctly consider yourself a breast master!
9-12 - writer for a college frat paper
5-8 - reader of Harlequin romances
1-4 - you don't get out much, do you?

If you have any "best breast jests," please send them my way!

New Information

Three things:
* Released by my general surgeon, Dr. Bagaria (love him!)
* Met with my oncologist, Dr. Colon-Otero (love him too!)
* Received my first "expansion." 75 ml of saline in each side.

     Like all of my doctors, P.A.'s, and nurses at Mayo, Dr. Colon is very personable and professional. His quiet demeanor put me at ease immediately. He alternately asked me questions and consulted his computer screen to obtain the needed information. The cancer was HER2 positive which means I will need chemotherapy. I have agreed to participate in a double-blind study which, even if I don't benefit from it, others will. I will receive chemotherapy plus Trastuzumab (Herceptin) which is used to treat early-stage breast cancer that, in my case, has these risk factors: over 35 years old and stage 2 cancer. The other drug I may or may not get is Pertuzumab. (The P word and the T word sound like a spell from a Harry Potter book! "PERTUZUMAB!" Be gone cancer cells!)
     The treatments will be every three weeks for eighteen weeks! That's a year, folks! To get ready for all this, we head back to Mayo on Tuesday, June 19th for an electrocardiogram, echocardiogram, a fasting blood draw, the insertion of the port, and another expansion. Whew! I think the surgery was the easiest part!
     The saline injections don't hurt terribly, just a little stick and then a lot of pressure. The image below is what the expander looks like. The gray area contains a magnet which is how the port is found because it's subcutaneous. The procedure is similar to how a woman's abdominal skin stretches to accommodate a baby.  It takes time, but the difference is, I get to say "when!"

These illustrations show how the expander works.

I promise- these images are as graphic as it gets!
Bottom line: Please keep me on your prayer lists, in your meditations, and in your thoughts. It's not over, yet! Much love!

The Journey to Recovery

     It has been said that the longest journey begins with one step. That wise person didn't say how slow the steps would be! For those of you who know me, sitting for long periods of time is not my forte. I'm learning it doesn't matter if that's not a strong point. When recovering from surgery, there is, inevitably, a whole lot of sitting going on.
     There's sitting, and then there's sitting comfortably. Let's just say I'm in love with my recliner.
 Oh you with the wide cushy arms
 that now house my little pillows, my cell phone, and my elbows!
 Let's not forget the foot rest, oh no!
 It's is you who allows me sleep well with my legs extended and supported.
 I'm safe in your loving embrace.
 Although, sometimes, mostly in the early morning hours,
 I do feel rather trapped, kind of like sinking, in a bog,
 not sure how I'll get out - HELP!
 Oh wait - it's better now that I can raise and lower the foot rest by myself.

    Here I am in my beloved recliner. I think Jarret took this picture on Friday. I look kind of loopy. We found a new use for the "boppy," the nursing mother's pillow. Instead of it holding the baby, it holds my tray, my laptop, a book, my kindle, and anything else I need to put in my lap. Thanks Emily!

Back Home!

     I am back home! Mayo is awesome, but as Dorothy says in The Wizard of Oz, "There's no place like home!" Thanks to everyone who has been praying, meditating, chanting, sending good vibes. I posted on Facebook that I feel as if I'm floating in a bubble of peace. No negative thoughts can pierce it. It's an incredible feeling!
     No cancer in the lymph nodes! That means no radiation! Yay! Pain is manageable with the right meds. Definite owies in the chest area. Arms are definitely affected. Difficulty lifting them and cross-lateral movement is a BIG no no! Little pillows are my best friends right now - under my elbows. All those lunges and squats are coming in handy when I have to get up. Push up with the legs!
     Unwrapped the compression bandage around my chest this morning. I was apprehensive about my appearance, but guess what? Not that bad! I mean, no breasts, but hey, alive here! I am definitely more than a pair of boobs! And it only gets better. Reconstruction here I come!
     Who knew that taking a shower would be equivalent to an obstacle at Tough Mudder! Hooah!
Of course I couldn't do anything without Jarret! This is when the fine print on the marriage vows kicks in. He is totally amazing - from emptying my drains (eww) to fixing my food to keeping up my spirits. I love him! Lots!
     Our neighbors are the best in the world! They have mowed our lawn, brought us food, and given support when needed.
     I can't say enough about my family! Jarret and I come from good stock! Love you guys!
     Feeling the twinges that I've slightly over done it - who knew typing could be so exhausting!

Signing off.