Recovery, what a strange word, you need to recover from your operation, and also need to recover from the treatments they have thrown you into, then you need to recover from the assault on your mind. My mind is it's own worst enemy. I know that I have lost my breast, but for some unknown reason, I think people look at you strangely as if your boob's define who and what you are, that they define you as a complete and whole woman. Silly really, but a real thought that I considered.
After my operation I was hospital in a total of 5 days, then, sent home, with drainage bags attached, strange I thought, with an open wound you would be in hospital until all was clear. So home I went, with the home care nurse attending daily.
4 days later I had an appointment for a check with the surgeons, and yes true to form I had an infection, (they say it was very nasty), I was promptly admitted that evening, (no mucking around now), I spent another 7 days "inside", dealing with canula's and receding veins, extremely painful. I had to refuse another canula being inserted after the previous one had slipped out of the vein, and started to pump antibiotics straight into the muscle, (a pain and swelling that I never want to visit again).
I was happy to be home and getting the "anti's", in tablet form. This now gave me time to go over everything that had taken place in the previous 21 days. “What a trip I had been on”, fear being my companion most of the way, now as I sat at home, sipping coffee, the reality of what actually happened hit me.
So did the regrets of not having enough information, or being able to absorb the information given to me, enough to make a rational decision, instead putting myself in the hands of “Professionals”. I’m told by other women, this is the way to go, because “if they don’t know what they’re doing by now, well, we are all stuffed”,…. And so say all of us hoorah!
So many little things I cannot get my head around, and yet they are inconsequential in reality, but it’s me and I’m selfish, now. The “If I’d know” statements flicker in and out of my mind after now actually having time to research, and some of the things that happened may have been done differently, and probably more comfortably for me.
I’m trying not to dwell on this too much as again I’ve had to make a snap decision about reconstruction. What a mine-field…., I’m a priority 2 on the waiting list, which is good I suppose, it gives me up to 6 months to heal from the mastectomy. On the day I was asked the question, “What do you want?, Silicon or lift”, I on the one hand would love to have my youthful breasts back, so the Silicon is looking good, but really in the back of my head is the thought that, the cancer will come back in the other breast, and all this surgery is just a waist of time. I had this dilemma of needing to give an answer right then and there, I chose the lift. Now I’ve changed my mind and would love to get Silicon. I’m hoping that I can see my Plastics Dr next week and advise that I would now after research and great thought prefer to have the Silicon. I’m crossing my fingers.
The upshot is I don’t think of Recovery as being just the physical side now, it’s all things.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
Mammogram's - the new torture
I was happily living my life, happily married, to a wonderful man, with a beautiful 8 month old pup, when I went in for my yearly Mammogram and Ultrasound. I sat in the waiting room, this is like travelling on a train, you see that there is other people in there, but you don't actually look at them, you look near them, but never at them. You are waiting for your name to be called, trying to occupy yourself, like everyone else. I approached my appointment with my usual attitude of "no problem". Two years earlier I had discovered a lump, in my left breast, I had been told it was nothing but a normal Cyst, a benign lump, nothing to worry about. So you can imagine my surprise when this normal procedure suddenly became bigger than Ben Hur.
Mammogram's. Now there is a torture, that is endured by women all over the world, all ages and from all walks of life, who ever invented this machine, must of been a torturer by trade in a past life. This is one of the most uncomfortable and painful experiences a woman voluntarily puts herself through every year. I personally believe this is worse that childbirth. It also makes you feel extremely vulnerable, in many ways, but I will come back to this.
The procedure. You are asked prior to attending your appointment, not to wear, deodorant or perfume, this is due to the metals in these items and also, can you imagine every one that come in has different perfumes, all with varying degrees of potency, and fragrances, the combinations would make your head spin. These two things can upset the readings from the machine. So when you are called in, you are then asked to strip to your waist, and are given a delightful evergreen styled white hospital gown to put on, which way you put it on is entirely up to you, flap to the front is my preferred style. You sit for a few minutes in the small cubical change room, with which you have been supplies a shopping basket in which you put your clothes and handbag, so you take it with you wherever you go , until you have been processed. The operator then knocks on the door, and asks you to come into the torture chamber. She introduces herself, and asks you to sit again, and set's up the computer, with your information. I have noticed that they are incredibly protective of my information, and I must say I have never even now seen my info from this machine. But I have noticed that the air-conditioning is very cold. And I do realise that this is for the machinery, and the computer, but it's not really conducive to relaxing a female, who is about to be sandwiched into the torture machine that is all metal and very cold plastic. I sit looking at the machine before me, contemplating the size of this vice, at least 7ft, with a shelf sticking out of the front of it, and another arm that moves up and down.
The operator now asks you to stand in front of the machine, while she moves the shelf down to suit you breast height, and you are asked to disrobe, so there you stand topless, freezing, and contemplating the pain threshold you can handle in this machine. She asks you to stand with your feet apart, and bum sticking out, knees slightly bent, feet pointing this way and that, meanwhile she asks you to lift your arm over the machine, and grab the hold bar "loosely", "please turn your head", while the operator lifts your breast onto the shelf, and uses her foot to start lowering the arm closer and closer to your breast, that she has flattened by hand , in readiness for the vice coming down, when it connects with skin. Now a your mind is doing what a woman does best, multi-tasking, you are dealing with the weird sensation of another person handling a very private but sensitive part of your anatomy, your cold, and your watching the arm come down . It connects with skin, an keeps going and going, til you have no shape apart from a skin toned pancake that seems to of had all the nerve endings crushed, and the skin on my neck has been stretched and pulled down, to the point of feeling like I've had a stroke. Now the operator goes behind the plastic screen to her computer, and say's " do not breath". You don't and hope this is going to be quick.
A thought run's through my head, how funny does this look, to the layman, not knowing what is really going on, sort of like a softball stance only more awkward. Then there's the thought of "please don't let there be a fire alarm", the comic version runs through my head. A few more Clicks of the machine, and we are onto the other breast and this whole operation is repeated.
The operator then releases you and asks you to sit and wait until she gets back from showing your pictures to a doctor. When she returns it can go two different ways, first is no problem please go back to the waiting room and wait for the Ultrasound operator, OR , I'm sorry but we need to take more pictures for the doctor. I unfortunately was the latter and 3 more times I had to go through the torture of Mammogram, before heading off to the Ultrasound.
Mammogram's. Now there is a torture, that is endured by women all over the world, all ages and from all walks of life, who ever invented this machine, must of been a torturer by trade in a past life. This is one of the most uncomfortable and painful experiences a woman voluntarily puts herself through every year. I personally believe this is worse that childbirth. It also makes you feel extremely vulnerable, in many ways, but I will come back to this.
The procedure. You are asked prior to attending your appointment, not to wear, deodorant or perfume, this is due to the metals in these items and also, can you imagine every one that come in has different perfumes, all with varying degrees of potency, and fragrances, the combinations would make your head spin. These two things can upset the readings from the machine. So when you are called in, you are then asked to strip to your waist, and are given a delightful evergreen styled white hospital gown to put on, which way you put it on is entirely up to you, flap to the front is my preferred style. You sit for a few minutes in the small cubical change room, with which you have been supplies a shopping basket in which you put your clothes and handbag, so you take it with you wherever you go , until you have been processed. The operator then knocks on the door, and asks you to come into the torture chamber. She introduces herself, and asks you to sit again, and set's up the computer, with your information. I have noticed that they are incredibly protective of my information, and I must say I have never even now seen my info from this machine. But I have noticed that the air-conditioning is very cold. And I do realise that this is for the machinery, and the computer, but it's not really conducive to relaxing a female, who is about to be sandwiched into the torture machine that is all metal and very cold plastic. I sit looking at the machine before me, contemplating the size of this vice, at least 7ft, with a shelf sticking out of the front of it, and another arm that moves up and down.
The operator now asks you to stand in front of the machine, while she moves the shelf down to suit you breast height, and you are asked to disrobe, so there you stand topless, freezing, and contemplating the pain threshold you can handle in this machine. She asks you to stand with your feet apart, and bum sticking out, knees slightly bent, feet pointing this way and that, meanwhile she asks you to lift your arm over the machine, and grab the hold bar "loosely", "please turn your head", while the operator lifts your breast onto the shelf, and uses her foot to start lowering the arm closer and closer to your breast, that she has flattened by hand , in readiness for the vice coming down, when it connects with skin. Now a your mind is doing what a woman does best, multi-tasking, you are dealing with the weird sensation of another person handling a very private but sensitive part of your anatomy, your cold, and your watching the arm come down . It connects with skin, an keeps going and going, til you have no shape apart from a skin toned pancake that seems to of had all the nerve endings crushed, and the skin on my neck has been stretched and pulled down, to the point of feeling like I've had a stroke. Now the operator goes behind the plastic screen to her computer, and say's " do not breath". You don't and hope this is going to be quick.
A thought run's through my head, how funny does this look, to the layman, not knowing what is really going on, sort of like a softball stance only more awkward. Then there's the thought of "please don't let there be a fire alarm", the comic version runs through my head. A few more Clicks of the machine, and we are onto the other breast and this whole operation is repeated.
The operator then releases you and asks you to sit and wait until she gets back from showing your pictures to a doctor. When she returns it can go two different ways, first is no problem please go back to the waiting room and wait for the Ultrasound operator, OR , I'm sorry but we need to take more pictures for the doctor. I unfortunately was the latter and 3 more times I had to go through the torture of Mammogram, before heading off to the Ultrasound.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
The Op.
Tuesday the 10th November 2009, 08:00 a.m., I arrive at the hospital, I have butterflies doing a constant samba in my tummy, I'm scared, my brain is reeling with everything that has happened until now, and the onslaught of information that has been thrown at me, I have not had time to digest any of this yet..... It's a Tuesday, normally I would be at work preparing to induct the new employees into the building, I keep thinking have I done everything at work so no-one needs to worry about it...?
Also is the thought that I would be having a double mastectomy, the Left is the afflicted breast, but the right would be preventative, again my mind is it's own worst enemy right now. I'm taken into the pre-op ward, where they have day surgery patients, I'm taken into a 2 bed cubical, the other bed is occupied by an older european lady, who is groaning constantly, ( I'm really not sure I want to be here right now with all that noise). The curtains are drawn around the bed allocated to me, and I'm told to strip down, and put on the white gown, I think about the term gown, and if I hear this word I never conjur up images of this, it's more flowing and beautiful, more ummmm..... chic! Stripping down I don the "gown", feeling even more vunerable, as I wait for some-one to come into my curtained domain. A nurse comes in and opens the curtains and I'm now able to view the world from my bed. I'm in a transition bed, waiting for somebody to let me know what's going on. I'm opposite the nurses station, and I get sympathetic looks and smiles from the ladies behind the desk as they carry on with their duties for the day.
Finally after about 2.5hrs I was approached by the a lady from radiology and advise me before anything can be done I need to have a lymph node test, and have the radio active dye injected... I hadn't been told about this so was concerned, not much is said to me about all this until I get up to radiology, and they commence the testing, LUCKILY, it turned out well, but the procededure was painful and if I had been told about it first, then I would have been ready mentally for this. The test checks to see of there is Cancer in the Lymph Nodes of the breast and under arm. After the test I'm taken back to the transition room, but my bed and belongings have disappeared, and I'm left with a chair to ponder life from.
Still waiting and it's after 12.00, 4 hours can play havoc with a mind like mine, just want to get in and get it over with now, suddenly "my" bed returns with case attached, and an apology, I check my case all my meager belongings for a hospital stay are in tact, and undisturbed. I mean really who would want to take my 2 cotton granny nightie's and house coat???, silly me clings to these things as they are mine, and the only thing of me here.
13.30 I get a visit from the Anethstatist, she advises me that she will be with the Breast surgeons crew, and asks the questions that will become the norm for the next few weeks. "Are you allergic to anything?", "no, not that I know of" I state, feeling relieved that I have not been forgotten, and that something was starting to happen, she explained her side of the procedure, and promptly waltzed out, it's a good thing I had no questions, as she bustled away in her blue surgery suit.
Next thing was the Breast Surgeon and the Registrar, both wanting to look at the breasts again, so I'm still in the mind set of loosing both breasts at this time, I keep telling my self that this is a good thing, coz I can get new boobs out of this and with a bit of lick a tummy tuck at the same time. I had decided that if both were going I would have a Tram Flap done which entails, taking fleash from the abdomen, and creating my breasts, and it would all still be me, my meat from me. So that's where the tummy tuck and new boobs came from, I mean really there had to be a posative side to all this and it was my way of dealing with this scary thing. My humour has got me through other peoples concerns.
Next is the Anethstatist for the Plastics team, I'm thinking that this is getting bigget than Ben Hur, and maybe I should be charging admission, I voice this and she laughed heartily, I can tall she's a country girl and we have an informal chat, She is a woman who really connected with me, she advised that the Plastic's people will be in shortly and she would stay until they came. I think she sensed my apprehension to what was now looming.
Dr. Z and the Registrar and the surgeons 2Ic all come in together, the Registra leaves with out a word, and Dr. Z (my wonderful Plastic Surgeon and Ross 2Ic)now want to start drawing lins and dot's all over my breast's, I state that as I'm not a white board, that this is really weird, like I'm a science project, for adults. They laugh, as do I, but they are totally at ease, I'm not. Dr. Z put's a reassuring hand on my arm and say's she will look after me. My fear is showing a little and she's doing her best to allay them. They head of to the theatre. an Orderly attends my bed now, and the nurses all give me a wave and a smile.
Now how cavernous is a hospital, very I think, I got lost and I have an exceptional sense of direction, but I ended up in the right place, I was joined during this trip by the Anethstatist's, both chatting like old mate's. We get in the room and I find a cast of thousands, well maybe not thousands but at least 8 for each team, and apparently a couple of observers, see I knew I should of charged admission.
I'm laying there and every one has a task and then just stand around, almost like public servants, I have the heart monitor sticky stuff attached to back and front, while the Anethstatist's organise the canula near my wrist, another of those "you'll just feel a little sting", then as I'm listening to every one chat, they put in the knock out drops, what a ripper, I drift off into a warm envelope of black.
I remember waking a little and feeling around my chest area, apparently Dr.Z, advised "we only took one" , again I drift off with a smile.
The next thing I remember is asking for my husband and being told he's on his way, and then the next moment he was there and I was starving, and sitting up in bed, it was 18.30. The look of relief on Hubbly's face was all I needed at that moment, and a really strong cup of coffee.
After chatting for a while Hubbly went home, and Dr. Z popped into see how I was, she told me I still had my Lymph nodes, and that a saline bag was placed into the Pectral muscle, and that I would be in hospital for at least 5 days. The reason for the other breast being saved was due to the fact, that no cancer had left it's little cocoon, and all the rest of the meat below the skin was gone. "You may feel pain in the next 24hrs, but it's to be expected". I was all good now, she patted my hand and left. I felt cheated that I didn't get my tummy tuck and 2 new boob's.
Also is the thought that I would be having a double mastectomy, the Left is the afflicted breast, but the right would be preventative, again my mind is it's own worst enemy right now. I'm taken into the pre-op ward, where they have day surgery patients, I'm taken into a 2 bed cubical, the other bed is occupied by an older european lady, who is groaning constantly, ( I'm really not sure I want to be here right now with all that noise). The curtains are drawn around the bed allocated to me, and I'm told to strip down, and put on the white gown, I think about the term gown, and if I hear this word I never conjur up images of this, it's more flowing and beautiful, more ummmm..... chic! Stripping down I don the "gown", feeling even more vunerable, as I wait for some-one to come into my curtained domain. A nurse comes in and opens the curtains and I'm now able to view the world from my bed. I'm in a transition bed, waiting for somebody to let me know what's going on. I'm opposite the nurses station, and I get sympathetic looks and smiles from the ladies behind the desk as they carry on with their duties for the day.
Finally after about 2.5hrs I was approached by the a lady from radiology and advise me before anything can be done I need to have a lymph node test, and have the radio active dye injected... I hadn't been told about this so was concerned, not much is said to me about all this until I get up to radiology, and they commence the testing, LUCKILY, it turned out well, but the procededure was painful and if I had been told about it first, then I would have been ready mentally for this. The test checks to see of there is Cancer in the Lymph Nodes of the breast and under arm. After the test I'm taken back to the transition room, but my bed and belongings have disappeared, and I'm left with a chair to ponder life from.
Still waiting and it's after 12.00, 4 hours can play havoc with a mind like mine, just want to get in and get it over with now, suddenly "my" bed returns with case attached, and an apology, I check my case all my meager belongings for a hospital stay are in tact, and undisturbed. I mean really who would want to take my 2 cotton granny nightie's and house coat???, silly me clings to these things as they are mine, and the only thing of me here.
13.30 I get a visit from the Anethstatist, she advises me that she will be with the Breast surgeons crew, and asks the questions that will become the norm for the next few weeks. "Are you allergic to anything?", "no, not that I know of" I state, feeling relieved that I have not been forgotten, and that something was starting to happen, she explained her side of the procedure, and promptly waltzed out, it's a good thing I had no questions, as she bustled away in her blue surgery suit.
Next thing was the Breast Surgeon and the Registrar, both wanting to look at the breasts again, so I'm still in the mind set of loosing both breasts at this time, I keep telling my self that this is a good thing, coz I can get new boobs out of this and with a bit of lick a tummy tuck at the same time. I had decided that if both were going I would have a Tram Flap done which entails, taking fleash from the abdomen, and creating my breasts, and it would all still be me, my meat from me. So that's where the tummy tuck and new boobs came from, I mean really there had to be a posative side to all this and it was my way of dealing with this scary thing. My humour has got me through other peoples concerns.
Next is the Anethstatist for the Plastics team, I'm thinking that this is getting bigget than Ben Hur, and maybe I should be charging admission, I voice this and she laughed heartily, I can tall she's a country girl and we have an informal chat, She is a woman who really connected with me, she advised that the Plastic's people will be in shortly and she would stay until they came. I think she sensed my apprehension to what was now looming.
Dr. Z and the Registrar and the surgeons 2Ic all come in together, the Registra leaves with out a word, and Dr. Z (my wonderful Plastic Surgeon and Ross 2Ic)now want to start drawing lins and dot's all over my breast's, I state that as I'm not a white board, that this is really weird, like I'm a science project, for adults. They laugh, as do I, but they are totally at ease, I'm not. Dr. Z put's a reassuring hand on my arm and say's she will look after me. My fear is showing a little and she's doing her best to allay them. They head of to the theatre. an Orderly attends my bed now, and the nurses all give me a wave and a smile.
Now how cavernous is a hospital, very I think, I got lost and I have an exceptional sense of direction, but I ended up in the right place, I was joined during this trip by the Anethstatist's, both chatting like old mate's. We get in the room and I find a cast of thousands, well maybe not thousands but at least 8 for each team, and apparently a couple of observers, see I knew I should of charged admission.
I'm laying there and every one has a task and then just stand around, almost like public servants, I have the heart monitor sticky stuff attached to back and front, while the Anethstatist's organise the canula near my wrist, another of those "you'll just feel a little sting", then as I'm listening to every one chat, they put in the knock out drops, what a ripper, I drift off into a warm envelope of black.
I remember waking a little and feeling around my chest area, apparently Dr.Z, advised "we only took one" , again I drift off with a smile.
The next thing I remember is asking for my husband and being told he's on his way, and then the next moment he was there and I was starving, and sitting up in bed, it was 18.30. The look of relief on Hubbly's face was all I needed at that moment, and a really strong cup of coffee.
After chatting for a while Hubbly went home, and Dr. Z popped into see how I was, she told me I still had my Lymph nodes, and that a saline bag was placed into the Pectral muscle, and that I would be in hospital for at least 5 days. The reason for the other breast being saved was due to the fact, that no cancer had left it's little cocoon, and all the rest of the meat below the skin was gone. "You may feel pain in the next 24hrs, but it's to be expected". I was all good now, she patted my hand and left. I felt cheated that I didn't get my tummy tuck and 2 new boob's.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Cancer and I - The beginnings
Cancer, it’s a really small word that carries so much weight to it, to the point of people not even saying the word, but just using the letter C, to describe the disease. In my Mothers family, it has been quite a well used word, as quite a few people have been killed by it, all on my Grandmothers side she, and most of her sisters have died from the big C. So it has come as no surprise to me that either my Sister or I would eventually be diagnosed with it. I have never really expected anything else. A very sad thought in the back of my mind, was that not, IF it would happen so much as, WHEN.
After my mother passed, on the 20/04/2004, 4 months to the day from diagnoses, I kept up my breast checks, every fortnight, and started getting, Mammograms and Ultrasounds, done yearly, just to be on the safe side. 2 years ago I found a large lump, {it seemed large to me}, it was not a problem though, due to the amount of cysts I had in my breasts already, but monitoring it would be a good idea. This year on the 14th/10th/2009, I went in for my yearly check via Mammogram & Ultrasound, and they seemed to be doing an extraordinary, amount of pictures.
This alone conjures up dastardly thoughts, but however, the staff does endeavour to put your mind at ease. I then had a week to wait for the normal Breast Clinic, my appointment was for 2.45 pm 21st/10th/2009, but like all clinics I have attended, I was waiting for 3 hours. When my name was eventually called I entered room 20 as requested. The doctor was sitting at her desk, in a cubical the size of a single bedroom, with a smile she stood and introduced herself., as we sat I observed her, it was the look of interest mixed with concern, as she looked at the computer screen filled with my file.
She asked me to remove my clothing from the top half, and please put the gown on, and lay on the bed please. Curtains drawn, but I’m not sure for whom, as in this business you cannot afford to be modest or shy about the human form. As I got ready for the examination, we chatted about normal things, age, family history (in brief), and the weather, yes even the conversation filler “The Weather”, amusing as that is, I was there to get the results. The physical examination was a normal part of this yearly ritual. I was asked if there were any spots that had changed, whilst doing my own checks?, no the same lumps in the same places as last year and the year before. “Have you started Menopause yet?” “Yes” I reply, “All over red rover as of February this year”, I say this with happiness and relief, just one more thing that has made me regret being a woman for the last 36 years has ended, and now I can grow old gracefully.
I love these doctors, they are masters of weedling information, and calculating in their heads without giving anything away, and they have a serene smile to boot. “Please get dressed and we will have a chat”. Silly me thought that we had already covered the “Chat” stuff. As I sat, tucking in the last little bit, I realise that may be this would be “The” chat, the one that sits in the back of my head every time I attend this Clinic.
“Well, it seems that you have a decent lump in your left breast”, my mind being a comedian where it can involuntarily goes to the “decent lump” and asks myself what’s decent about a lump? She continues, “I think we should Biopsy that as soon as possible” Again the involuntary kicks in and I zone in on “Biopsy” and I translate ASAP to URGENTLY. I was not wrong, She continues “Friday or Monday”, my mind does a quick calculation, today is Wednesday, well I have to wait to be told anyway, I have no choice in the day, time, month, year, and decade. I love control, but this was making me edgy. “And you need to make another appointment for next week’s clinic for the results”. I now go to the counter and make the appointment and set off home to tell Hubbly, what’s going on.
I received no call on Thursday before lunch, for the appointment with Radiology, so me being a little control freak, rang and asked if a time had been made. “Oh yes, Friday week, the 30th/10th/2009” I replied, now a little concerned as the doctor had spoken of as soon as possible, “the doctor said Friday or Monday”, “no others are in more need” I was told abruptly, so I take my time’s down and call Hubbly, who is now angry that others are more important than me. And so goes the weekend.
I go to work on Monday 26th, and do my daily thing, when at 09.30 am, my mobile rings, “Hello? Mrs A”, “Yes, speaking”, It’s Dr K, from Radiology, where are you at the moment?” “At work”, I reply, “No I mean where are you as in suburb?” sounding a little frustrated, at my imbecility , and lack of power to read her mind. “Melbourne, Spring St”. “We have a gap this morning, how soon can you get in?” “Before 11.00 am”, my heart starts to thump due to the excitement, on one hand a day off work, and the other, this is more like it, getting the ball rolling, instead of hurry up and wait.
I get to the department at 10:45am, I actually left work at 10.15, so half an hour, was a good run as the hospital is near home. I am directed to the waiting room for the Ultrasound, and try not to think about what is about to be done, there are people waiting, for this and that, all looking very lost in their own thoughts, as each person considers his or her issue to be the most dramatic thing on earth, not that you say that to anyone, but deep down our personal issues, regardless of what they are, are all consuming.
My name is called, and I’m guided by the Radiographer to a large room, with all the equipment and bed, I’m asked to strip off again to the waist, and lay on the bed, meanwhile she is warming up the computer and Ultrasound machine, also now a days, they heat the gel, that they put on you, so no nasty shocks. I lay there not really knowing what or how to think, but calm myself.
Doctor K who, rang me earlier, enters and we shoot the breeze for a few minutes. I see a tray with the appropriate Needles, and little specimen jars, with clear fluid in them. The doctor explains what type of Biopsy she is doing on me, and then tells me that I will feel a little prick, like a bee sting, have you noticed that every one who’s giving you a needle says the same words, but it’s not really like that at all, it’s more like a wasp sting, meaning it hurts more than a little old bee sting. This is the local anaesthetic, and I must admit she was really good, I really thought it would be more painful, because I was watching on the monitor, where the needle was going. Maybe I should of closed my eye’s but I seem to be fascinated with my own body and everything that’s being done to it, during the procedure.
I watch as she gets the next needle and starts trying to get through the flesh under the skin, she’s having a very hard time of it, because god blessed me with extremely dense breast’s, see I always knew a little bit of me was dense, but I digress. I could see the concern on her face, and her arm it looked like she was pumping up an airbed with a bike pump. She was getting through but very slowly, when she got it into position she said I might feel a little like I’ve been flicked by an elastic band, she triggered the spring loaded needle and I saw it dart into the lump, she extracted it, and put the contents into one of the jars, In again she went through the same hole, and the procedure was repeated. She still had this look, a very serious look I might add, on her face, and said that maybe the angle wasn’t right, she would go in again from a different angle, so she apologised to me, but explained that she had to make sure that the tissue was the right tissue, taken from the right area of the lump, and such. Sure I agreed, do what you have to do, it’s all good, and no I feel nothing of what they’re seemingly expecting me to. From the new angle the original procedure with the dart needle was done 4 more times, the joy at feeling none of this, was outweighed by the nurse and doctor, chatting about how many they would normally do, which was 2, not 6. the story of my life, Dr K was sufficiently surprised at my lack of reaction, and she actually said thanks for making it easier. I did hear her say, she admired my pain threshold, being as high as it is. I explained that 3weeks earlier I had all my teeth out and the plates put in same day, and that procedure had only produced relief in me, very little actual pain. She was sufficiently shocked at this, but smiled and laughed, that I could handle anything. They were used to people fainting, and screaming at the pain. I was told to expect decent bruising, well I certainly got bruising but not until Wednesday morning, just in time for clinic. Dr K said that the results would be in by Wednesday, in time for clinic. But that, it would be reviewed by, all Dr’s on Wednesday morning.
Wednesday, afternoon I attend clinic and only have to wait for an hour this time, so at quarter past 3, I again attend room 20, and the same Dr from the previous week, (the public system doesn't let you choose), was again behind the desk, there was a different look on her face this time and she spoke with a softer voice. Greetings done, she gets to the business of the day, “You have Cancer”, she hesitated to gauge my reaction; there is none to gauge. She passively and kindly smiles in a sad way, but perks up and says “It’s a grade 1, and very slow growing”, again looking for a reaction, I smile, and tell her it’s all good, it’s the best diagnosis for this disease I could hope for. Taken back by my reaction, she looks relieved; again I’m sure she deals with every other reaction in the negative, not the positive. She asked how I could be so positive? I told her it’s relief, due to family history, for me "it was not If, but, When I would be diagnosed, the earlier the better”. She is now smiling knowing that I can handle this issue. The only thing that pops into my head is telling Hubbly, and family and friends, their reactions would be very hard to deal with, but I resolved to keep pumping at them how low a grade it is, and the survival rate at this level being 100%. Dr apologises for what barrage I’m going to go through, as now they need to do more tests to check if this is anywhere else. The funny thing is I feel fantastic, like I could do anything I set my mind to, so I don’t believe there could possibly any cancer anywhere else, but just to be on the safe side, they want to do the tests anyway. I’m introduced to the Breast Surgeon, who happens to have the cubicle next door, and she starts reeling of what tests need to be done, Blood’s, we should be able to get them done today, CT scan & Chest X-ray, Bone density scan, MRI, but I would be told when these appointment would be, also there is only 2 things that could be done for this lump, a Lumpectomy or a Mastectomy, but all would be revealed by the test results next week, and I have to make an appointment for that. Now since watching my mother die from Cancer, I have been really reticent about the whole idea of treatment, but as this is low grade, it would be foolhardy to not get it out and treat the disease. So now I meet the Breast Care Nurse, a lovely little lady that seems to of swallowed way too many ever-ready batteries. She looks at me concerned and I laugh at this whole idiotic situation, and keep thinking to myself, everyone else is taking this a lot harder than I. I’m sure they all think I’m in denial She sits me down and tells me that the next few weeks are going to be hard, but I have a support network here at the Hospital, an with family and friends. I nod smiling that I know this already, but I also know there are going to be times during the next few weeks where I will call upon my network to help me through, she advises me that if I have questions or need to chat, call her. She hands me some booklets, and a DVD about my new Disease, and reconstruction, living with early Cancer for family and friends, and the list goes on. Right at that moment I was thinking I better get to Pathology to get the blood taken, and then home to Hubbly and break the news.
Now here’s a whole new ballgame, this so far has been the only time, where I have really felt like crying a little, I told hubbly, and the look on his face, the sorrow in his eye’s, it hurt me that I had hurt him with this news. Then the practical side kicked in the facts and such, I told him that he has been requested to attend the next clinic appointment, and talk to the Dr’s and ask questions, this way he gets the fact’s himself, also the tests results and we would hear them together. You know the only thing at this point that I can pinpoint as me not being up to scratch, is the fact I’m very tired now, but then I work 10hr shifts, and was doing a lot of Overtime, and I thought it was due to that, but I seem to be very tired all the time now, it could also be my mechanism for dealing with this news. After talking to hubbly, I started to call family and friends so that I could put the network into place, and so that everyone would be getting it from me, and even at work, where the gossip runs rife, I didn’t want a convoluted departure from real facts getting spread around. All their reactions have been different for each person, but very supportive.
As I write this I am so far up to, I’ve had Blood test’s, CT scan & X-rays, and tomorrow morning, the bone density test, which the results will be ready for the afternoon clinic. I am starting to get a little concerned, but after each of these tests, not one of the people taking the tests, lets you know anything, so we are back to HURRY UP AND WAIT.
Well, as I write this, I had the bone Scan, and all clear joy of joys, but alas I was injected with Radio active contrast, which means I cannot go near, Pregnant ladies, children & babies, so I asked about pets, he asked how old was my pet, "9mths' I replied, he said, to treat it as a child and not be close, very, very hard thing to do to your fur-baby. So of I trotted to the clinic.
After waiting about an hour and a half, (and I thought things were getting faster, silly me again), I saw the breast surgeon, and was advised the rest of my body and blood is clear, fantastic, BUT, "you need a Mastectomy", I still didn't react, and asked when, "2 weeks", I just happen to say "the sooner the better". (Careful what you wish for, you might actually get it.), so, I was then taken to see a Plastic surgeon, and we went through reconstruction, and the best road to take, it was then that I was advised, "also you will require Chemotherapy". This thought conjures up bald ladies with scarf’s that make their heads look small. Still there is much to do before that takes place.
At lunch time I was called by a nice young lady, who advised me that I was required at hospital tomorrow at 10.30 am, for a pre op clinic, that means Blood tests, history, ECG's......, and so it goes on. I asked why tomorrow, and she said that next Tuesday was the surgery day, Pardon I said, and where is this taking place, I asked, not sure the two surgeons are duking it out as to the place, but we will know tomorrow. So it seem' I got my wish the sooner that later comment struck a chord somewhere.
After my mother passed, on the 20/04/2004, 4 months to the day from diagnoses, I kept up my breast checks, every fortnight, and started getting, Mammograms and Ultrasounds, done yearly, just to be on the safe side. 2 years ago I found a large lump, {it seemed large to me}, it was not a problem though, due to the amount of cysts I had in my breasts already, but monitoring it would be a good idea. This year on the 14th/10th/2009, I went in for my yearly check via Mammogram & Ultrasound, and they seemed to be doing an extraordinary, amount of pictures.
This alone conjures up dastardly thoughts, but however, the staff does endeavour to put your mind at ease. I then had a week to wait for the normal Breast Clinic, my appointment was for 2.45 pm 21st/10th/2009, but like all clinics I have attended, I was waiting for 3 hours. When my name was eventually called I entered room 20 as requested. The doctor was sitting at her desk, in a cubical the size of a single bedroom, with a smile she stood and introduced herself., as we sat I observed her, it was the look of interest mixed with concern, as she looked at the computer screen filled with my file.
She asked me to remove my clothing from the top half, and please put the gown on, and lay on the bed please. Curtains drawn, but I’m not sure for whom, as in this business you cannot afford to be modest or shy about the human form. As I got ready for the examination, we chatted about normal things, age, family history (in brief), and the weather, yes even the conversation filler “The Weather”, amusing as that is, I was there to get the results. The physical examination was a normal part of this yearly ritual. I was asked if there were any spots that had changed, whilst doing my own checks?, no the same lumps in the same places as last year and the year before. “Have you started Menopause yet?” “Yes” I reply, “All over red rover as of February this year”, I say this with happiness and relief, just one more thing that has made me regret being a woman for the last 36 years has ended, and now I can grow old gracefully.
I love these doctors, they are masters of weedling information, and calculating in their heads without giving anything away, and they have a serene smile to boot. “Please get dressed and we will have a chat”. Silly me thought that we had already covered the “Chat” stuff. As I sat, tucking in the last little bit, I realise that may be this would be “The” chat, the one that sits in the back of my head every time I attend this Clinic.
“Well, it seems that you have a decent lump in your left breast”, my mind being a comedian where it can involuntarily goes to the “decent lump” and asks myself what’s decent about a lump? She continues, “I think we should Biopsy that as soon as possible” Again the involuntary kicks in and I zone in on “Biopsy” and I translate ASAP to URGENTLY. I was not wrong, She continues “Friday or Monday”, my mind does a quick calculation, today is Wednesday, well I have to wait to be told anyway, I have no choice in the day, time, month, year, and decade. I love control, but this was making me edgy. “And you need to make another appointment for next week’s clinic for the results”. I now go to the counter and make the appointment and set off home to tell Hubbly, what’s going on.
I received no call on Thursday before lunch, for the appointment with Radiology, so me being a little control freak, rang and asked if a time had been made. “Oh yes, Friday week, the 30th/10th/2009” I replied, now a little concerned as the doctor had spoken of as soon as possible, “the doctor said Friday or Monday”, “no others are in more need” I was told abruptly, so I take my time’s down and call Hubbly, who is now angry that others are more important than me. And so goes the weekend.
I go to work on Monday 26th, and do my daily thing, when at 09.30 am, my mobile rings, “Hello? Mrs A”, “Yes, speaking”, It’s Dr K, from Radiology, where are you at the moment?” “At work”, I reply, “No I mean where are you as in suburb?” sounding a little frustrated, at my imbecility , and lack of power to read her mind. “Melbourne, Spring St”. “We have a gap this morning, how soon can you get in?” “Before 11.00 am”, my heart starts to thump due to the excitement, on one hand a day off work, and the other, this is more like it, getting the ball rolling, instead of hurry up and wait.
I get to the department at 10:45am, I actually left work at 10.15, so half an hour, was a good run as the hospital is near home. I am directed to the waiting room for the Ultrasound, and try not to think about what is about to be done, there are people waiting, for this and that, all looking very lost in their own thoughts, as each person considers his or her issue to be the most dramatic thing on earth, not that you say that to anyone, but deep down our personal issues, regardless of what they are, are all consuming.
My name is called, and I’m guided by the Radiographer to a large room, with all the equipment and bed, I’m asked to strip off again to the waist, and lay on the bed, meanwhile she is warming up the computer and Ultrasound machine, also now a days, they heat the gel, that they put on you, so no nasty shocks. I lay there not really knowing what or how to think, but calm myself.
Doctor K who, rang me earlier, enters and we shoot the breeze for a few minutes. I see a tray with the appropriate Needles, and little specimen jars, with clear fluid in them. The doctor explains what type of Biopsy she is doing on me, and then tells me that I will feel a little prick, like a bee sting, have you noticed that every one who’s giving you a needle says the same words, but it’s not really like that at all, it’s more like a wasp sting, meaning it hurts more than a little old bee sting. This is the local anaesthetic, and I must admit she was really good, I really thought it would be more painful, because I was watching on the monitor, where the needle was going. Maybe I should of closed my eye’s but I seem to be fascinated with my own body and everything that’s being done to it, during the procedure.
I watch as she gets the next needle and starts trying to get through the flesh under the skin, she’s having a very hard time of it, because god blessed me with extremely dense breast’s, see I always knew a little bit of me was dense, but I digress. I could see the concern on her face, and her arm it looked like she was pumping up an airbed with a bike pump. She was getting through but very slowly, when she got it into position she said I might feel a little like I’ve been flicked by an elastic band, she triggered the spring loaded needle and I saw it dart into the lump, she extracted it, and put the contents into one of the jars, In again she went through the same hole, and the procedure was repeated. She still had this look, a very serious look I might add, on her face, and said that maybe the angle wasn’t right, she would go in again from a different angle, so she apologised to me, but explained that she had to make sure that the tissue was the right tissue, taken from the right area of the lump, and such. Sure I agreed, do what you have to do, it’s all good, and no I feel nothing of what they’re seemingly expecting me to. From the new angle the original procedure with the dart needle was done 4 more times, the joy at feeling none of this, was outweighed by the nurse and doctor, chatting about how many they would normally do, which was 2, not 6. the story of my life, Dr K was sufficiently surprised at my lack of reaction, and she actually said thanks for making it easier. I did hear her say, she admired my pain threshold, being as high as it is. I explained that 3weeks earlier I had all my teeth out and the plates put in same day, and that procedure had only produced relief in me, very little actual pain. She was sufficiently shocked at this, but smiled and laughed, that I could handle anything. They were used to people fainting, and screaming at the pain. I was told to expect decent bruising, well I certainly got bruising but not until Wednesday morning, just in time for clinic. Dr K said that the results would be in by Wednesday, in time for clinic. But that, it would be reviewed by, all Dr’s on Wednesday morning.
Wednesday, afternoon I attend clinic and only have to wait for an hour this time, so at quarter past 3, I again attend room 20, and the same Dr from the previous week, (the public system doesn't let you choose), was again behind the desk, there was a different look on her face this time and she spoke with a softer voice. Greetings done, she gets to the business of the day, “You have Cancer”, she hesitated to gauge my reaction; there is none to gauge. She passively and kindly smiles in a sad way, but perks up and says “It’s a grade 1, and very slow growing”, again looking for a reaction, I smile, and tell her it’s all good, it’s the best diagnosis for this disease I could hope for. Taken back by my reaction, she looks relieved; again I’m sure she deals with every other reaction in the negative, not the positive. She asked how I could be so positive? I told her it’s relief, due to family history, for me "it was not If, but, When I would be diagnosed, the earlier the better”. She is now smiling knowing that I can handle this issue. The only thing that pops into my head is telling Hubbly, and family and friends, their reactions would be very hard to deal with, but I resolved to keep pumping at them how low a grade it is, and the survival rate at this level being 100%. Dr apologises for what barrage I’m going to go through, as now they need to do more tests to check if this is anywhere else. The funny thing is I feel fantastic, like I could do anything I set my mind to, so I don’t believe there could possibly any cancer anywhere else, but just to be on the safe side, they want to do the tests anyway. I’m introduced to the Breast Surgeon, who happens to have the cubicle next door, and she starts reeling of what tests need to be done, Blood’s, we should be able to get them done today, CT scan & Chest X-ray, Bone density scan, MRI, but I would be told when these appointment would be, also there is only 2 things that could be done for this lump, a Lumpectomy or a Mastectomy, but all would be revealed by the test results next week, and I have to make an appointment for that. Now since watching my mother die from Cancer, I have been really reticent about the whole idea of treatment, but as this is low grade, it would be foolhardy to not get it out and treat the disease. So now I meet the Breast Care Nurse, a lovely little lady that seems to of swallowed way too many ever-ready batteries. She looks at me concerned and I laugh at this whole idiotic situation, and keep thinking to myself, everyone else is taking this a lot harder than I. I’m sure they all think I’m in denial She sits me down and tells me that the next few weeks are going to be hard, but I have a support network here at the Hospital, an with family and friends. I nod smiling that I know this already, but I also know there are going to be times during the next few weeks where I will call upon my network to help me through, she advises me that if I have questions or need to chat, call her. She hands me some booklets, and a DVD about my new Disease, and reconstruction, living with early Cancer for family and friends, and the list goes on. Right at that moment I was thinking I better get to Pathology to get the blood taken, and then home to Hubbly and break the news.
Now here’s a whole new ballgame, this so far has been the only time, where I have really felt like crying a little, I told hubbly, and the look on his face, the sorrow in his eye’s, it hurt me that I had hurt him with this news. Then the practical side kicked in the facts and such, I told him that he has been requested to attend the next clinic appointment, and talk to the Dr’s and ask questions, this way he gets the fact’s himself, also the tests results and we would hear them together. You know the only thing at this point that I can pinpoint as me not being up to scratch, is the fact I’m very tired now, but then I work 10hr shifts, and was doing a lot of Overtime, and I thought it was due to that, but I seem to be very tired all the time now, it could also be my mechanism for dealing with this news. After talking to hubbly, I started to call family and friends so that I could put the network into place, and so that everyone would be getting it from me, and even at work, where the gossip runs rife, I didn’t want a convoluted departure from real facts getting spread around. All their reactions have been different for each person, but very supportive.
As I write this I am so far up to, I’ve had Blood test’s, CT scan & X-rays, and tomorrow morning, the bone density test, which the results will be ready for the afternoon clinic. I am starting to get a little concerned, but after each of these tests, not one of the people taking the tests, lets you know anything, so we are back to HURRY UP AND WAIT.
Well, as I write this, I had the bone Scan, and all clear joy of joys, but alas I was injected with Radio active contrast, which means I cannot go near, Pregnant ladies, children & babies, so I asked about pets, he asked how old was my pet, "9mths' I replied, he said, to treat it as a child and not be close, very, very hard thing to do to your fur-baby. So of I trotted to the clinic.
After waiting about an hour and a half, (and I thought things were getting faster, silly me again), I saw the breast surgeon, and was advised the rest of my body and blood is clear, fantastic, BUT, "you need a Mastectomy", I still didn't react, and asked when, "2 weeks", I just happen to say "the sooner the better". (Careful what you wish for, you might actually get it.), so, I was then taken to see a Plastic surgeon, and we went through reconstruction, and the best road to take, it was then that I was advised, "also you will require Chemotherapy". This thought conjures up bald ladies with scarf’s that make their heads look small. Still there is much to do before that takes place.
At lunch time I was called by a nice young lady, who advised me that I was required at hospital tomorrow at 10.30 am, for a pre op clinic, that means Blood tests, history, ECG's......, and so it goes on. I asked why tomorrow, and she said that next Tuesday was the surgery day, Pardon I said, and where is this taking place, I asked, not sure the two surgeons are duking it out as to the place, but we will know tomorrow. So it seem' I got my wish the sooner that later comment struck a chord somewhere.
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