Bye, Bye, Third Boob

Last Monday, September 23, I had (hopefully!) my last surgery due to breast cancer.  I had a port that had been in my body for a year.  As I continued to lose weight, it continued to protrude more and more to where I called it my third boob.  I joked about it, but Jack confirmed it for me.  The first time we put on swimsuits this summer, I was holding him.  He "grabbed" my port and said, "Mommy's chi chi!"  (That is what we call the breasts in our house.)  I explained, "No, Sweetie, that is my port."  He got upset and said more emphatically, "No!  Mommy's chi chi."  And so it was.

                                                       

My port outside my body.

I am so mad that I didn't take pictures of it sticking out of my chest before they took it out.  I thought about it for 3 days before, but knew I would be waiting around at the hospital before surgery and that seemed like the perfect time to do it.  I guess my nerves got the best of me.

We arrived at the hospital at 9.  My surgery was scheduled for 10:40.  We waited in a pre-op room.  For the past year, I didn't not need any IVs because of my port.  My port was mainly for chemo.  But when I ended up in the ER, they accessed my port to take blood.  Kind of nice.  So I had my first IV in over a year.  My arms do not like IVs.  But this one wasn't bad.

They wheeled me back around 10:30 and I started shaking.  I really don't like being put under.  I started asking questions to try to calm my nerves.  They gave me some meds in my IV and everything started spinning.  I closed my eyes and tried not to think too much.  I just began to wonder when I would "fall asleep" and that was the last thing I remember.

I woke up in a recovery hall.  It is a big square with desks and activity going on in the middle.  I was given some anti-naseau medicine and some ice chips.  I was back there for about 30 minutes.  Then I was wheeled back to a room and my wonderful husband.

We were released about an hour later.  I wasn't supposed to lift anything for a week.  Not easy with 2 little boys.  I didn't run or do sit-ups or do lunges or do any other exercises.

But tomorrow I am going running.  I am done not doing things because of cancer.  I am going to go running any time I feel like it because my body is on the mend.  I will drink beer whenever I want because I can and it finally tastes good again.  I will go and get manis and pedis without worrying about my low immune system and possible infection.  I will wake up every morning knowing that there is no more chemo or surgeries or multiple doctor's appointments in a week.  I am ready to start doing.

So, Bye, Bye, third boob and Hello, Life-With-Two-Boobs again.  I have missed you.

Bye, Bye, Nuts

I was planning on writing about my surgery that took place on Monday.  But today I am just angry.

We found out Wednesday that Charlie is allergic to nuts.  Pretty severely too.  My first thought was, "Hasn't our family had enough?"  This means a life change.  A life change that I do not want to make

Jason is always telling me to not let the boys play on dirty floors.  Don't let them play in the bushes.  Don't let them outside with all the mosquitoes.  And although I know he has a point, I just don't worry about that stuff.  We all survived it, so will my boys.

But now I have to be that mom that is constantly worrying about what he is putting in his mouth.  When we go to other people's houses, I will have to watch him like a hawk to make sure he isn't near nuts.  I will be always reading food labels.  When his classmates bring in cupcakes to celebrate birthdays, he will not be able to have one.  (Cross contamination is big in bakeries.)  I now have to send in snacks for him to eat every day he is at school.  And did I mention the worrying?  Just today, we were driving to work and he started coughing and I am freaking out that he is having an allergic reaction.  I was about to pull off the interstate, but then he started laughing with his brother.  How many more stomach drops and mad thinking of how to get to the Epipen?

Uggh.  I am just mad.

There is a website for children with allergies.  There are fundraisers and walks and more information than we probably need.  But that made me mad too.  Another cause that affected my family.

%$#%^&*!!!!!

I haven't really gotten mad at cancer.  Not sure what that means, but for whatever reason, I'm haven't.  But I am about this.  Maybe it is because IT is messing with my child.  Momma Bear is coming out.  I was hoping that after the year I have had, and everything I had to endure, no one close to me would have to deal with any sickness.

I think I just heard God laugh.  I know, I know.  That is not the way that it works.  But it should.

I am going to allow myself to be angry today. Tomorrow I will pull up my big girl - I kicked cancer's a@# - this is nothing but a thing - panties and deal with this.

But today I am angry because my surgery on Monday was supposed to be the symbolic end to a year filled with doctors and worries.

God is still laughing up there.  But he is there.  So I know we will be okay and Charlie will be okay. I will find a way to raise my head above this new speed bump.

Time to get off this computer because I only have 2 hours and 40 minutes to be angry...

Last Treatment

A week ago today, I had my last treatment.  A year ago today, I had my first treatment.

It has been a weird week for me.  Although I was excited to finish my last treatment, there are so many more emotions whirling around in my head.  More on that later...

My routine, on the day of treatments, has always gone like this:

Park my car.  Go up the elevator.  Sign in.  Sit down and wait.  (Usually for a long time.)  Get called back.  Stand on a scale.  Go into a small room.  Get my blood pressure and temperature taken.  Asked my name and birthdate.  The lab tech puts on my name band that has my DOB and sulfur because I am allergic to it.  She accesses my port and draws blood.  She closes off the flow.  Puts a Tegaderm Film over my port and clips the tubing onto my shirt.  And I walk back to the infusion (or chemo) room.

I sit in a chair and do some more waiting.  They have to check my numbers and make sure everything is good before starting chemo.  I have had to wait for 30 minutes before.  So frustrating.  When the blood work comes back, then they mix up my cocktail (chemo) for the day.  Once that is ready, they connect it to the tube that is now coming out of my port and I get comfortable.

Since I have only been doing Herceptin, this only takes about 35 minutes.  But sometimes I am there for 3 hours because of all the waiting.

On Monday, Jack went to school and Charlie and I had our first music class at 10:30.  My appointment was at 8 so I was nervous about making it.  It must have been my lucky day because I was receiving the Herceptin by 9:00.  I was going to make it and have some time to spare.

Around 9:25, MaryLea came by to chat.  She is one of my favorite nurses and her parents used to live on my street.  While talking, she looked down and said, "Something is dripping on the floor."  Turns out that the person who hooked me up, didn't even hook me up and the medicine had been dripping onto the floor instead of into me!

This caused all kinds of commotion.  Besides the fact that my medicines are VERY expensive and it was now wasted on the floor, chemo is a harsh drug.  Herceptin isn't as bad, but they had to wheel me and my chair out of the way, put on protective gear, spray with bleach and other stuff, and would probably have tons of paperwork to fill out afterwards.

My Wonderful Nurse, Valerie, and Her Hazmat Outfit

Wheeled Away From the Others

And all I was thinking was that I wasn't going to make it to music.  They quickly mixed up another batch and I got to sit some more.  I was done at 10:10, hugged everyone goodbye, ran to my car, drove to my house, grabbed Charlie, and we were only about 4 minutes late to music.

I went through the rest of my day trying to figure out how I was feeling.  Of course, excited and happy that I am done.  But also scared.  While on chemo, I had a sense of safety.  What happens now that there isn't poison in my body to scare any would-be cancer cells away?  Scared to be happy.  Scared that if I let my guard down, the other shoe will drop.  There are so many books about fighting cancer and what patients are feeling.  People talk about being positive and how you will physically be challenged.  No one really talks about the sh*# that comes after treatment.  Because now I am supposed to live life and be happy that I am a survivor.  Right?  I won!  Be happy!  And, I am, but there is just so much more there.

One week ago, I had my last treatment.  One year ago, I had my first treatment and I think I am just as scared now as I was then.