Port-A-Connie

June 22

Now what??? 
 Today was the day for my port installation and the "precious duo" was with me, of course, as well as that special friend of mine, Leigh Ann. The port is used for all infusions (like chemo, drawing blood, etc.) so the nurses don't have to find a new vein each time I need an infusion.  I've been told that the port is "my friend."

Here I am right after the procedure.  I don't know why I'm smiling because I really didn't feel like smiling!  This procedure took a lot longer than I thought it would.  (However, during the wait and the procedure, I got FIVE warm blankets!!  I couldn't believe my luck.) There was no general anesthesia for it either ... instead, they used medications for something called "conscious sleep."  Well, I wasn't conscious, but I was asleep.  For almost 24 hours!  Apparently I did the "conscious" part half-way through the procedure so they gave me even MORE medication.  When my sister took this picture, all I wanted to do was go back to sleep.  I'm very sensitive to those "conscious sleep" medications.

Man, what a fake smile is that??

And here's a picture of the bandage over the port and the incision for the tube that they shove down to the jugular vein and back to the port.  Ouch!!

See that redness under the bottom bandage?  I had to go back to the doctor the next morning because I had a reaction to the original tape.  I was so afraid I already had an infection, but the doctor didn't think so. Also, the original tape was on my skin so tightly that I couldn't move my head and it really hurt.  The doctor changed the dressing and the tape and it feels so much better now.  I think the redness will disappear or turn into a big bruise, but I don't care.  At least this procedure is over.  I was really dreading this, but then I've dreaded EVERYthing so far, right?!!

 FYI ... when I finish my last chemo treatment, I'll explain the title of my blog.  (Just in case you were wondering!!)

I start chemo on July 28.  Let's get this party started!  

I Love Dr. B!

June 2 - Part Two

These beautiful flowers came from good friends of mine who live in Wyoming.  All the way from Wyoming!  Well, not literally, but still ... love these sweet girls.

From the radiologist's back to outpatient for surgery.  Actually, this part was kinda fun.  There was a lot of laughter in the pre-op area.  Dr. B. has a very dry wit and he was cracking me UP.  I almost forgot where I was and what I was doing!  My anesthesiologist came in and introduced himself like this: "Hello, Mrs. E., I'm Patrick."  I've never, ever, ever had a physician introduce  him/herself by his/her first name.  I fell in love with him right on the spot.  He gave me a little shot in my IV, and before I got to the operating room, I was out like a light.  It was a beautiful, beautiful sleep.

Waiting for surgery ... my sister took this pic of me with my daughter.  She's about 7 months pregnant here with her second child, a boy, named Charlie.  I love his name.  And I adore her.  She's such a good mama to Sophia and I know she'll be amazing with Charlie, too.

Here I am walking to my pre-op prep room.  They gave me a little pink backpack and I put it right on.  My sister thought it would be a funny picture, and it really sorta is.  Sorta.

While I was in the recovery room, Dr. B told the "precious duo" (and my very good friend, Leigh Ann) that there was no lymph node involvement and that he got clear margins.  Oh, happy day!! We all thought I was home free ... a little radiation and I'd be good as new.

It took a few weeks to get the pathology report back so I waited ... and researched ... and waited ... and read some more about this ugly disease. I learned that there is much more to breast cancer than clear margins and negative lymph nodes.  A lot more.  A whole lot more. And now the waiting for the path reports became almost unbearable.

Why Was I SO Scared??

June 2 - Step One

I worked myself up for nothing.  In fact, I'm still embarrassed because I was so freaked about this day, but it was easy peasy.  Well, it started VERY early.  And that was the worst part of the day. 

After checking in at the hospital (outpatient), my "precious duo" and I went over to my radiologist's office.  Oh, man.  I can't even express how scared I was. The procedure for a "wire-guided lumpectomy," took place in a special room with a mammogram machine turned on its side ... kinda weird.  I sat in a chair and my breast was placed in the mammo machine and squeezed as usual so they could locate the tumor.  So far, so good.  I was happy to see my radiologist, Dr. D ... so beautiful and SO sweet.

Another needle in my breast for numbing ... didn't feel a thing!  Next came the scariest part ... a hollow needle was put in my breast and then a tiny wire pushed into that needle.  Dr. D. went back and forth from the mammo screen to the wire, making sure it was in the right place.  (During this she told me not to look down because I might faint if I saw the wire hanging out!)  After she knew the wire placement was correct, she cut the wire and taped it under my arm.  All done.  No pain.  Now my surgeon just had to follow the wire to find my tumor.  Cool, huh?  As yucky as the procedure sounds, I can promise that, for me, it was NO BIG DEAL. Just another day in paradise.  ha!

Scared Out of My Wits

June 1

Such a big blessing today ... my "precious duo" went with me again for another procedure.  Now this one had me shaking in my boots.  This procedure just sounded so awful.  On this day, I had two enormous shots filled with radioactive dye injected into my breast.  Oh, man.  I couldn't believe this was gonna happen to my poor little boobie!

The shots were a piece of cake.  A teeny, tiny pinch with each one and it was over.  Really.  Nothing.  The x-ray two hours later was painless as well. The reason for this procedure? ... during the lumpectomy, Dr. B would also remove two lymph nodes from under my arm and the dye helped him find the sentinel node, which is the first node to carry fluids (lymph) away from the breast.  A link that explains it beautifully is here.

Tomorrow morning is my surgery.  I'm freaking out about tomorrow and it's not necessarily about the surgery, although I dread it.  Oh, yes, I dread it horribly.  BEFORE surgery, though, I must return to my radiologist to have a tiny wire inserted into my breast, which will guide Dr. B to the cancer mass.  A wire inserted into MY breast? No need to say how I feel about that one.

Check back tomorrow and I'll tell you all about what happened.

What NOT to Say to Someone With Cancer

This picture makes me smile.  Sophia, my granddaughter, will only wear 

pink ...  well, except for the green dress.  This is her closet!  Love it.

The rest of this post will make you smile and maybe even laugh, too, i hope.  I'm all about smilin' these days.  And laughing.  Laughing feels so good.

I have a friend who's been a breast cancer survivor for over 20 years.  When she told her best friend that she had breast cancer, she received a huge bouquet of flowers the next day.  Written on the card:  "I'm sorry you have cancer.  We can't be friends anymore."  True story.  And, to be honest, I laugh every time I think about it.

And what about this one? ... A woman received a call from someone she'd worked with in the past. When the young woman asked the woman how she was, the woman told her she had breast cancer.  The young woman replied, "Oh, I don't know what to say."  And then she hung up!  Just like that.  End of conversation.  I LOL at this one!

This is my personal favorite:  A double mastectomy patient was talking to a friend on the phone and told her that she was scheduled for a hysterectomy.  Her husband heard the conversation and yelled from another room, "WHY DON'T YOU JUST HAVE THEM TAKE YOUR ARMS AND LEGS WHILE THEY'RE AT IT?"  I gasped when I heard this, but then I laughed until I cried.

Please be careful when you're talking to a person with cancer.  Your comment could be repeated in someone's blog.  Ha!

Here's something else that makes me laugh ... my grandson, Walt, in time-out at the restaurant.  How cute is this pic??

My Surgeon, Dr. B

May 25

Today, I met my surgeon, Dr. B.  OMG!  He's the MAN!  I'm in powerful hands. And very blessed. Of all the surgeons in OKC, I get to have him. Sweet.

Surgery (lumpectomy) will be June 2nd.

The "precious duo," my twin sister, Claudia, and my daughter, Emily, accompanied me to this appointment and to every single one after that.  What a blessing these two are to me on my journey through breast cancer.  I'm so very grateful!

Later that day I saw this:

Sweet little family of geese crossing a very busy street.  A line of cars were behind me as we waited for them to get to the other side.  Awwwww.

Holy Cow! ... Are You for Real?

That's exactly what I was thinking on May 23, 2011, when the radiologist from hell told me I had invasive breast cancer.   I wanted to jump across the table and remove the eye balls from her face. I wanted to scream at her and ask her 'why?' ... but not because I had cancer.  It was because the news was coming from her: so blunt, so uncaring, so cruel.

But here's the blessing:  for the next two days I didn't focus on the breast cancer because I was so focused on THAT woman.  Oh, yeah.  Sometimes anger is a good thing ... but only for a day or two.  As soon as I came out of the anger funk, I started the breast cancer journey.  There was so much to do.  So many decisions to make.  So many tests and consultations and sleepless nights.  I was scared.  Really scared.

At this point, I knew nothing about breast cancer in general or MY breast cancer in particular.  I didn't even know that I needed to know!  This was the beginning of my "research ride."

Another blessing:  my precious grandkids.  Just adore these guys!