Here we go again (Surgery #3)

We got back from vacation and my mom and brother were in town.  We got to hang out and spend time together before my surgery on that Friday.  Luckily my surgery was the day after July 4th, so I got to enjoy pool days and BBQs with them.  This was another great distraction.  I love being with family, especially my brother.  He gets me and he gets what I need - if its a silly distraction, he will surely provide that.  Prime example - he gave me a minion for "good booby luck" on my surgery.

So, the morning of surgery #3.  Same as the other 3.  Get up, reshower with the special soap, get dressed in my surgery uniform - yoga pants and oversized wildcat shirt.  We were to check in at 6:30 at the Cancer tower.  Even if you do not have cancer, it is still alarming to have that printed on your armband. 

Preop - Got into my lil preop room and into the fun attire.  All of my support staff (Jay, Kods, Mom) are squished in there with me and I find a dance documentary on the TV to watch - lucky them :)  Then comes the revolving door of Drs..Dr Spiguel has a resident and 3 interns..talk about a packed house!  The nurse is talking Auburn football as he keeps jabbing me attempting to insert the IV.  I wanted to smack his hand!!  I got a field trip to the ultrasound room, so that they could mark the second lump and devise a plan for its removal.  Once again, a packed house for this viewing.  (The joys of being in a teaching hospital)

Once back in the preop room, Dr Singhal comes in and bulls out a blue marker.  Tells me its time to draw.  At this point Kods leaves the room.  My chest, both sides now becomes a map of blue lines as he measures and draws and takes pictures.  It was a very interesting process.  When finished, it;s go time!

I get rolled into the once again, packed house, of an operating room.  After some IV replacement issues, followed by blood pressure issues, followed by anesthesia issues (couldn't knock me out no matter how much I kept breathing in the gas) I was knocked out and surgery was completed.

I woke up in recovery and while still a little hazy, Dr Spiguel came in to discuss the surgery with me.  She tells me that too much tissue was compromised and with the margins not negative, she was concerned.  With the size of my tumor and being phyllodes, I had an over 60% chance of the tumor reoccurring within the next 1 - 5 years and  with mine being borderline, an even higher chance of it being malignant.  Mastectomy it is.  I immediately start balling.  I knew it was an option, but not what I wanted.  She also tells me due to the placement of the fibroadenoma, and its interference with the blood supply, that they will have to take my nipple.  It was all a bit much for me and I had a five min pity party while she explains to me while its the best (and really only) option but gives me an option of delaying my 4th surgery.  After 5 minutes, my rational side returns and I tell her to keep my surgery for next week. 

I got back to postop and all of my support are there looking like they swallowed a canary.  At this point I do not know what they know, so I go to tell them I have to get a mastectomy and start crying again.  After consoling, they help me get dressed and we are on our way home. 

As I lay on the couch recovering, my wonderful brother cooked us all breakfast for dinner.  It was over dinner that someone drops the info that apparently I will get a nipple tattoo.  Say what?! This is news to me..

Heaven on Earth

 

What started out as a conversation between Jay and his Dad about a weekend in the Bahamas during his sisters baby shower, slowly morphed into a Caribbean summer vacation.  Throughout a series of flight changes and needed relaxation, it went from 4 days to 7.  After much back and forth, we ended up choosing Curacao and the last week of June.

All of this planned and booked before I found my lump.  Once the craziness began, on the hardest of days, we would just focus on the trip.  Without even knowing it, we planned the trip at the perfect time.  I was healed enough from my first two surgeries and had my next two after.  

Curacao was beautiful! Heaven on Earth.  Everything I needed for a week and more.  I can't talk about my journey without briefly mentioning this trip.

We were giddy in the weeks and days leading up to it.  I had made countdown frames that we changed daily.  I even had an app on my phone.  Silly I know, but I needed distractions. 

We had an amazing flight there - free unlimited drinks (rum & coke) and the entire back half of the plane to ourselves.  The views were breath taking and made me even more excited.  The further we got from Miami, the more I felt my stress and worries start to lessen.  By the time we stepped onto our resort grounds I could have sworn I was 10 pounds lighter from the stress lifted from my shoulders.

We checked in and started heading to our rooms.  Last I heard, we were staying in ocean view rooms.  That was something I really wanted, I just wanted to open the windows and see the beautiful blue water.  Boy, was I shocked when we actually opened the door to our room!  As a surprise to me, my MIL and FIL had our room upgraded to a Beachfront Junior Suite, with wrap around windows! Champagne and goodies were waiting for us, and we wasted no time popping the bottle.  It was night when we got there, but this is what we woke up to..

It was a wonderful week!  Beautiful beaches and pools.  We stayed at an all inclusive, so we had all of the drinks and food we could ever want.  The entertainment was so much fun.  We had a couple of excursions of the resort - animal encounter snorkeling and horseback riding - and also spent a day sightseeing in the capital city and one all around the island.  I will never forget this trip.

Not once did I think about what was waiting for me at home.  I was completely in the moment and loving it.  I didn't wear a watch or have my phone all week.  We were completely off the grid and loving it.  We were a part of the preferred club, so we had internet access, but I didn't feel the need. 

Curacao now holds a special place in my heart and I can't wait to go back.  That trip was what I needed - for a week I could just enjoy the beach and spend time with my fantastic husband.  I was rejuvenated and ready to tackle this next chapter with all of my strength.

How beautiful is this water?!

Answers..

For as much information I had received at my last two doctor's appointments, I still had a lot of uncertainty swirling around in my life.  Was their sarcoma present in the tumor?  Would I have a reduction or a total mastectomy?  The sarcoma was the one that weighed heavily on me.  My dad had a sarcoma in his leg when he was diagnosed, so I truly understood what that would me for me, and it scared the HELL out of me.  I continued to try not to worry too much until I knew for certain, but after over a month of uncertainty, my resolve was starting to crumble.

On Father's Day (yes a Sunday), we were up and at Shands MRI at 7:30 in the morning.  Once again, my Jay was right by my side.  This morning he proved not so helpful at one point...so I was having regular MRI images done, and then images with contrast.  In order to do this, they would have to put an IV in my arm.  So, before we were to walk in the underground tunnel under Archer to get to the Cancer tower for my breast MRI, I had to get the port (I am sure that's not what they call it) placed.  I NEVER watch IVs, blood drawing needles.  I am not afraid, per se, but I don;t enjoy watching them go into my body.  Jay is sitting next to me, so I decided to look at him, hoping it will calm me.  WRONG.  I am feel the needle go in, and I feel the wiggling of it.  At that point I look at Jay, who has a look of concern and "Uh oh" on his face. NOT what you want to see.  I then make the dumb mistake of looking at my arm - blood dripping down it!! I instantly feel nauseous.  I don't know what happened - Jay told me something about the nurse's glove being to big and him moving it...I don't know.  It didn't hurt after he got it placed properly, but I did have to sit for a min to collect myself.

MRI went smoothly.  I don't like them - to closed in for me, but the lady was very kind.  I had headphones, got to pick my music, and after I told her I was afraid I was going to get claustrophobic, she would warn me before sending me in so I could close my eyes, and then would give me time count downs while inside.  I had ones taken on my back, and then the fun ones - on my stomach, with my breasts in plastic cups.  I was in and out in an hour with a glowing report from the tech on how well I did.

The ultrasound later in the week was to further look into another lump that was found in the same breast.  These images were done at Shands breast imaging (all women) office.  Both the tech and radiologists were very sweet and informative.  They told me what they were looking at and that for the first part they would be silent, but that did not necessarily mean anything bad.  I left with them telling me it was a fibroadenoma. 

After all this was said and done, it was the end of the week, and we were about to be heading out of town (and the country) to Curacao for a week vacation.  I was hoping to have a plan of action before then..and then Dr. Spiguel called with the same intent.  She wanted me to enjoy my trip and wanted to share everything with me before then.  Told you she was totally lovable!!

She calls and tells me she has more information for me.  I sit down on the bed and grab the closest piece of scrap paper and a pen.  And hold my breath.  She begins with she took my case to the breast board and they agree on the phyllodes diagnosis.  They also agree on the two surgical options.  She then tells me pathology came back and was negative for sarcoma.  At this point I start to cry.  Tears of relief streaming down my face.  For the rest of the conversation I was listening, but not listening.  I got off the phone with notes scratched all over the paper, but can't remember hearing her say any of it.

No sarcoma. No cancer. No chemo. No radiation.  As much as I kept telling myself that was not an option, I am still rational and a part of me had to accept it might be a reality.  No it had been ruled out and I could breathe.  So thankful.

At this point, Dr. S needed to go in and look at the cavity from the last surgery and look at the tissues/margins.  Dr. Singhal would scrub in with her and be their to see what he was working with and discuss my case with her.  So, we scheduled my 3rd surgery the week after our vacation with my 4th scheduled a week after that.  We still did not know what that 4th surgery would be.  My fingers were still crossed for a reduction.

Skin..

So...my first appointment with my plastic surgeon was one that filled me with so much anxiety.  I did not know what to expect from the Dr or the actual logistics of the appointment.  Sitting in the waiting room did nothing for my anxiety - it was a mix of patients - women waiting for botox, toddlers with cleft pallets, and women who were clearly going through chemo and reconstruction.  I felt nauseous.  Jay held my hand and quietly reassured me it was fine.

When we finally got back to see the Dr, I was shocked. In a good way.  I am not sure what exactly I was expecting, but Dr. Singhal was not it.  He was younger than what I expected and so very kind.  He through me off early in the conversation by saying, "So when were you diagnosed?"  My heart stopped and I just stared at him.  He proceeded to explain the grey area that phyllodes sort of exists in.  He was very reassuring about the "diagnosis" and what would come ahead.

Next came the not so comforting part - the measuring and planning.  Now, by this point in my journey, I was really no longer uncomfortable topless in a Dr office.  I mean, I was that way at least 3 times a week for a month now, so it was "normal" to me.  Sadly.  But this appt was so different...there I sat on the chair/table as the Dr measured, sat back and thought (complete with hand on chin) and measured some more.  Most of this was done without any conversation.  Even Jay commented afterwards on how awkward HE felt throughout the process.

Once that was over, we began discussing the possible options - a reduction to both breasts or a mastectomy on my right.  At this point it was up in the air until more was known.  He was very forthcoming with the details of all of my options in both situations.  When asking what my expectations were, I just kept responding " I don't really care what my breast ends up looking like.  I just want to be healthy."  I don't think he believed me at first.  He kept saying its not a vanity thing, I want you to be happy and comfortable.  By the end of our conversation, he got it.  I am not attached to my breasts, I want to live, and if that means losing one or both, let's do it.

When we started talking mastectomy, I was initially adamant that I wanted to use my own tissue.  I did not want anything foreign in me or something that required maintenance.  Well, as he explained those options, I started to waiver on my decision.  Instead of worrying, I decided just to continue hope of having a reduction.

I left his office in LOVE with yet another Dr, lots of information, and a sense of relief and comfort that I had a highly capable team in my corner fighting with me.

Next on the calendar - MRI and another ultrasound...

Hope..

 After the last appointment, I was so ready to be done with that Dr.  Unfortunately, I still had half of my staples in and would have to go back at the end of the next week to get them removed.  I was also STILL waiting on pathology.  We were at week 3 at this point.  The original lab sent it to Shands for a 2nd opinion.

While my lovely tumor was making its trek to Shands, I was making the same direction.  I had an appointment with a Breast Specialist/Oncologist early the next week.  After researching the new Dr.  I got excited.  She's a woman! Not only that but she specializes in breast preservation and high risk patients.  Good hands to be in.

We arrived at Shands for the appointment, and the waiting room was a lil scary - mostly older women, and many of them look sick.  And I know that kind of sick, I have seen it before on my dad.  It's that exhausted, fighting for life chemo/radiation sick.  Is that going to be me?  I found myself asking in my head.  After a little more thought (the wait was long)  I thought...I hope not, but if it is I'll fight it as best I can.

As soon as I met Dr. Spiguel I LOVED her.  She is so down to Earth and doesn't mess around.  She is a little older than I am, but knows her stuff!! She sat down and asked me to bring her up to speed.  When I told her the little I knew, and the lot I didn't know, she stepped in and saved the day.

She had pathology results! (Enter a chorus of Hallelujahs) Once I became her patient, she stepped in with pathology.  She wanted an answer - she got it Phyllodes, borderline.  She then explained it in detail with us,  as well as what it meant for me in the long run.  She also said that she had ordered more stains on the tumor to rule out sarcoma.  

When she did the examination, she was not thrilled with the staples either.  I started to feel like maybe I should be angry, but I still wasn't.  It's a shoulder shrug issue to me.  She check my nodes, went over my imaging, and then we got down to a plan.

We discussed margins, which is important, especially with phyllodes.  We want negative margins, meaning no tumor cells present, at a determined distance from the tissue still remaining in the breast. Well, hooray, hooray, the previous lab did not orient the tumor before they sliced it, so if there are any positive margins she will have to rove more tissue all the way around because she wont know which side it's from...Thanks lab!  She also wanted me to get an MRI so she can have even more data for her decisions.

Finally, we discussed the two paths I had laid out before me.  I had 1, possibly 2 more surgeries.  The final surgery options were a reduction of my breast (even there was enough viable tissue) or a skin sparring mastectomy.  It was all dependent on further imaging, the continued pathology, and board discussions.  

She referred me to a plastic surgeon she has worked with in these types of cases, and sent me on my way.  I left there with more hope.  She reassured me that the first priority was my health and trying to preserve as much of my own breast as possible. 

Strength..

Up until this point, I liked the general surgeon that performed my first 2 surgeries.  He was older, and kind, and aggressive.  He got my tumor out, and he got it out fast.  Sure, he used staples, which many of my family members (esp my Dad) were none to happy with, but I honestly didn't care.  Throughout this entire journey I have always said, Ultimately it is just a breast.  I'm not that vain - if I have a polka dotted scar from staples. fine.   I mean, who is really going to see it? Me and Jay - and we don't care either.  My husband loves me for me and it doesn't bother him either - thankfully. 

I had many a conversations about possibilities with my mom, and it did come up if I would consider removing my breast if needed.  Without skipping a beat, I said of course!  I just wanted to be healthy. And alive.  Whatever steps I needed to take to reach that goal I would take them.

With that being said...back to my Dr. appt.  In walks my doctor, says hello, and grabs his staple remover.  Without any warning, he begins pulling the stitches, while simultaneously opening the conversation with "If I were you I'd just take the breast, then your problem would be gone."  Yep.  Thats how it started - no warning, hello staple removal and discussion of breast removal.

Mind you, I still did NOT have my pathology results back.   As much as I said, it's just a breast, its still my breast and not a wart that I can removal quickly and without reason.  I started crying, while listen to this MAN discuss removing my breast as if I were getting a tooth pulled.  I wanted to yell, scream, and hit him all at once.  I cried instead.

And questioned.  "Do you have the pathology report?"  "No, they can't come to a conclusive diagnosis.  We are sending it to other labs."  "Have they narrowed it down at least?"  "No"  "Is it cancer?"  "We aren't saying cancer now, but that doesn't mean it won't turn into cancer."

Okay, thanks for that wealth of knowledge Doc! Then he proceeds to tell me how HE would feel so much better if we remove the breast because then the risk is gone.  Well, gee...first off, I don't really care how it would make YOU feel, and last time I checked..I am a woman, I have two breasts, and will always have some degree of risk.

I told him I wanted a second opinion and he promised to set some up for me.  Which he did, and I am forever grateful for his first referral.  I went home, whined a bit, then pulled myself out of it and started researching, ready to tackle the next stage.

My Dad, especially, has some bitter feelings about this Dr.  Yes, I too have some issues with him.  But like I said, I believe everything happens for a reason and people are put in our lives for a reason.  This Dr. got my tumor out and referred me to an amazing breast specialist I LOVE!

The Waiting Game..

I consider myself a patient person for the most part.  I spend my day with 18 3rd graders, so patience is a definite must.  With that being said, my patience was truly tested while waiting for my pathology report after my 2nd surgery.

Like I mentioned before, my Dr. told me that the pathology would take a bit longer because of the holiday weekend, but  he was expecting the report by Wed. or Thurs.  He was out of town that week, but told me his nurse would call me as soon as she knew anything. Well, that didn't happen.

 I was patient through the entire first week.  I carried my phone in my pocket at work, and anytime my phone would vibrate my heart would stop.  If the number belonged to the Dr, my heart felt like it was in my throat.  And let me tell you, the nurse called almost Every.Damn.Day.  Now, to her defense, she was trying to be helpful.  She was either calling to check on me or to tell me that she was continuing to call the lab to see if the unofficial results were in yet.  While I appreciated that, I really just wanted her to quit calling until she had my results.  It felt like a cruel joke everytime she called, only to hear "No, I don't have results. They said a few more days."  The lab gave multiple reasons - the size, the time of yr, etc.  I didn't care...I was hanging in limbo and wanted to know what the final diagnosis was.

This was probably the hardest time for me in the entire journey so far.  With all I have been through, you might doubt that, but it's true.  I had my one and only major breakdown/anxiety attack during this time. Over showering....well, more than that, but that was part of the equation.

It really was just a perfect storm of emotions and physical feelings.  First, I wasn't sleeping well because I wasn't comfortable and because I am a side/stomach sleeper and that wasn't happening.  I'll admit, I'm not the friendliest person when I'm tired.  Okay, I'm down right crabby.  I was emotionally exhausted from trying to hold myself together and keep a positive attitude while waiting for what seemed like an eternity.  And then there were the staples...all 27 of them in a neat little row across an entire half of my breast.  I started to call it my "Frankenboob"  Looking at it was hard for me.  Not for vanity reasons, but because it was scary.  I was constantly afraid of pulling a staple or applying to much pressure on them.  They hurt and the were mean looking. 

It was the first night I was going to shower solo and was now on Drs orders to wash the incision with soap and water.  I didn't want to look at it, much less wash it.  I just wanted Jay to do it for me.  He wanted me to do it.  He's good like that - he pushes me to overcome my fears, but he's also rational.  He isn't in my body, he doesn't know how much pain I can tolerate, and he didn't want to press to hard and cause me an unnecessary pain.  I understand know, at that time, though, I crumbled.

I lost it.  I just wanted it to be over.  I wanted to know what was wrong with me, if anything.  I wanted to not be in pain constantly.  I wanted to be independent again.  I wanted to just be able to hop in the shower, and shower - without extra help, supervision, or a pep talk to mentally prepare myself.  I did the ugly cry.  And my loving husband listened to me, as if I was telling him the most interesting and rational story, and held me until I calmed down.  Then he looked at me and reminded me of what had become my new mantra " Take it one day/thing at a time".  He got me talked down off the ledge and then sat in the bathroom and talked me through the entire incision washing, and got me through it.  Had it not been for him, I probably would have been the stinky kid at school.  Seriously..

Two weeks had gone by, and still no word.  It was maddening.  I had an appointment with my dr. to get some of my staples removed.  I was hoping to get the results at that appointment.  I got a little more than I was bargaining for..

Love..

At this moment, I have to talk about the amazing support I had at this point in my journey.  It's no secret that I have the most amazing husband ever.  I mean seriously, even on a "normal" day he is the best.  He is always been such a support for me, and during this time it was no different.  He was always there, doing whatever he could do to help ease my mind.  He loving washed my hair and combed in after my 2nd surgery when I could raise my hand without my breast feeling like it was going to burst.  When I went back to work, I would come out of the bathroom after brushing my teeth to him sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting to hook my bra for me, because I couldn't do it myself.  I rarely had to ask..he just knew, and he stepped in. 

Also, not a secret, but my family is so supportive.  I know it was hard for them, especially my mom to be so far away, but I always knew that they were in my corner and supporting me at every step.  Even without me asking, my Dad changed his return flight home from a business trip to a red eye to be there for surgery #2.  I told them it wasn't necessary, but I was deeply appreciative he was there too.  I worried about my brother.  He was so young when my Dad got sick and never talks about it, so I worried about how all of this might affect him.  He always remained positive and kept me laughing. My inlaws were just as supportive, my MIL began gathering information for me with her medical connections/knowledge, and was a great sounding board for me when I was overwhelmed by the information (or lack thereof) I was getting.  Both sides of the family constantly sent me positive texts, prayers, and love.

I missed 3 days in total with the 2 surgeries, and even when I returned with 6 days left in the year I was nowhere near 100%  Two of my teammates/friends truly were godsends.  They held down the fort for me and eased my mind, allowing me to really focus on me.  It was such a crazy time at school too, and I hated missing, but they were wonderful.  I felt bad for my partner teacher -- my kids grilled her about where I was (because I hardly ever miss school, and if I do, its usually a preplanned thing I tell them about)  She was able to keep them calm while being vague enough for me to come back and discuss it with therm. Two of my other friends were so supportive and loving.  Texts, dropping off sweets and school stuff, love and prayers.  I also could not have done it without my great admin and sub.  They checked in with me, sent love and prayers, and took care of scheduling my sub for me. My sub was sweet enough to text me pics of my class during the Schoolwide Chess Challenge!  My principal gave me the "Mom" speech not to overdo myself and to ask for help, with anything, whenever I needed.  It was comforting to have her support.

I am blessed. I am thankful. I am forever grateful. I have always been blessed to be so love and supported, but it definitely helps in times like this.  It made the next phase of my journey slightly more tolerable..

The First Step (Surgeries 1 & 2)

In May I found a lump in my breast.  Now, I am used to that.  In 2003, I found a lump.  I had a mammogram, an ultrasound, and then had it biopsied and was diagnosed as having a fibroadenoma.  It's a benign tumor and the most common tumor in women under 30.  The Dr gave me the option of having it removed surgically, but said unless it really bothered me he suggested leaving it.  I was 21 and not wanting surgery.  So I left it. 

So, with that being said, I know its there and when I do my checks I just make sure it hasn't grown.  Well, in May, my fibroadenoma seemed to have blown up in size, and practically overnight it seemed.  After going back and forth for a couple of days, ( I have white coat syndrome - not a fan of doctors.  And watching my dad battle cancer in HS, I'm also not a fan of cancer, but then again who is?!)  I made an appointment with my gyn. for a breast exam.  She gave me an exam, reassured me, but made me an appointment for a mammogram and ultrasound the next day.  I went home fairly certain that it was nothing to worry about and there was an explanation besides what we all dread as women.

That Friday, I went for the imaging.  Not the most comfortable of situations normally, but when there is uncertainty, it makes it even more nerve wracking.  The lady who did the mammogram was kind and reassuring.  The ultrasound tech and the radiologist - not so much. Lots of concerning noises, and knowing looks between the two.  The diagnosis?  "You need to schedule a biopsy asap"  When I began asking questions, all I was told was "There's a letter by your purse."  And then they left.  

The letter?  "Your imaging today noted breast abnormalities.  You need to schedule a biopsy."  Well thank you for that wealth of information!  This was a Friday.  Although at this point my positive thinking was starting to crack, I still held on to the notion that it was nothing major.

So the next Tuesday was my appointment with a general surgeon for a biopsy.  I had not told anyone about what was going on, except Jay and my Mom, but for some reason I sorta blurted it out to 2 teammates on the playground this day (in the end, thank goodness I did).  My last biopsy was a needle biopsy, painful, but an office visit sort of procedures.  That is what I was expecting, so Jay came with me.  My appointment was at 3:30.  

The Dr. came in, took a look at me. Asked a ton of questions (some times several times) and kept looking at my with grave concern.  He tells me he wants to do a surgical biopsy..the next morning!  By 4:30, I was now scared, sitting in pre op admissions and labs, and texting my CRT to try to arrange a sub for the next day.  It was all happening so fast that I couldn't really wrap my mind around it.

I wanted answers, though, and the sooner the better.  So...I had my biopsy.  I can't lie, I cried A LOT that morning I was so scared.  The sweet nurse held my hand while rolling me in the operating room as I couldn't stop the tears.  They rolled me in the operating room and I lost it.  Luckily, the nurse was very caring until the meds kicked in. 

I woke up in recovery and was ready to go home.  I went home, went to bed, trying to pass the hours before we would get the pathology results.

The next afternoon, the Dr called.  Pathology came back saying fibroadenoma with questionable characteristics.  He further tells me he was convinced I had inflammatory breast cancer and had already started at looking at me starting chemo the next week.  However, he was still not comfortable with the diagnosis and wanted to remove the entire tumor.

I was so on board with this - I just wanted it out of them.  He spent some time discussing what this meant for my breast.  The tumor was softball sized.  He gave me all the worst scenarios of what it could end up looking like.  I did not care.  I wanted it out.

So..the next day I was scheduled for Surgery #2.  Once again, I was scared, but knew it needed to happen and would rather him do it now before the incision healed.  I was truly at peace with the decision.  My mom kept asking , "Are you sure you are okay?  Or are you lying to me for my benefit" I really was pretty calm.  My wonderful Dad took the red eye from LA, then drove (like a mad man I'm sure) from Orlando to be there for my 8:00 surgery.

The preop nurse came in to discuss my procedure, a partial mastectomy, with me.  It was the first time I had heard the official procedure.  The word "mastectomy" (even with partial) made me tear up a bit, but once again, I knew it needed to be done. 

This time, rolling into the operating room wasn't as traumatic, but I still cried (and felt like a big ol baby), but once again a caring nurse comforted me.

This time around, I woke up and felt like I was hit by a semi.  The car ride home was AWFUL!!  I had an incision basically from my nipple to the middle of my chest and 27 staples.  Yes, staples...  So many feelings about that, but I'll save that. Luckily it was Memorial Day weekend, so I had an extra day to recover.

I spent the weekend mostly laying on the couch, spending QT with my fantastic nurses - my dad and Jay.  By the day after surgery I was able to get up with minimal help and was moving around.  Now sleeping...forget about it.  I am NOT a back sleeper, so yeah that was fun.

I was back to work on Tuesday (3 days post op Surgery #2)  I was slow moving and a little achy because I stopped taking my pain meds, but happy to be back in the groove.  

Now was the waiting game for pathology.  I was told it may take until that Wednesday because of the long weekend, but I had no idea how long I'd actually wait...

Be Kind...

 

I have always loved this quote and thought it was important to remember everyday.  However, I can relate to this quote more now...as I have been fighting one of the biggest battles of my life lately, and its a battle not many people in my life know about.

I have an amazing family and fantastic friends, but when I say many people didn't know - I am not kidding - outside of my parents, inlaws, and a select friends, NO ONE knew.  I do feel bad that most of my family and many of my closest friends have been in the dark, but its the way I chose to deal.

With that being said, this battle started in late May with a mammogram and an ultrasound of a lump that I found in my right breast.  From start to finish I had 4 surgeries and endless doctors appointments. It "ended" with a mastectomy of my right breast about a month ago.  

NO I do not have cancer.  This is one of the many blessings I have been given throughout this process. I was diagnosed (finally - but more on that later) with a phyllodes tumor.  Haven't heard of it? Yeah, me either.  It's a rare breast tumor - accounting for less than 1% of all breast tumors rare. They are fast growing tumors that are classified in three categories: benign, borderline, and malignant. Mine was diagnosed as borderline.  This tumor, even when removed, has high chances of reoccurring.  The borderline ones, like mine,  have the potential to become cancerous, and even after surgery, if some cells remain they can metastasize. Malignant phyllodes do not respond to chemo or radiation.

This has been a LONG process (even though its only spanned three months in my calendar), and one that I am not finished with yet.  I have surprised myself throughout this journey in many ways.  I am a FIRM believer in everything happens for reason, even if we do not understand it.  I also have so many things to be thankful for in this journey, even as I sit here a little over 4 weeks out from my mastectomy with one of my drains still in (but more on those lovely apparatuses later)

I have decided to blog about it, and put my journey out there for several reasons: 1) For me - I know one day I will want to share my journey or even just reflect on it and it would be nice to have "written" down.  2) I'm a researcher and mad googler.  Throughout my entire journey, at every step, I was looking for answers.  The most helpful information came from blogs of women in similar circumstances.  3) My mom said several times "you should write a blog and share that"  and we all know I always listen to my momma ;)