The unveiling of the boob. I'll admit, I never ended up looking in private, even though that's what I told the nurse I'd do. I was dealing so well with the recovery and the mental game of my amputation that I didn't want that streak to end. I just didn't unwrap it. I knew I'd be going back to the surgeon soon enough for him to look, so I'd just wait until then. When I did go to see him to get my clips (basically staples) and the drains removed, I was preparing myself for the worst. I already thought I knew what it would look like so I was prepared as much as I could be to actually see it. By the way, the drains are so gross, I've walked around for a week with these 2 big plastic 'balls' pinned to the inside of my t-shirt and there are two tubes that are coming out of my body to drain the fluid from my lymph node area. They are 2 vacuum suction things that I have to drain a few times a day and they're gross, but whatever, they don't hurt. The clips are to keep my incision closed. I didn't even know I had clips until I heard them hit the tray next to the table I was lying on as my surgeon removed them. So, as I'm lying on the table, I didn't look down at my chest once as he removed the tubes for the drains and the clips. I asked him how it looked, and he said to see for myself. I had to will myself to finally look at it. "Oh! That's it! It looks good!" In hindsight, I'm so glad I did see that google image of what I thought a mastectomy would look like (see, everything happens for a...) because that is so NOT what it looked like! I'm actually embarassed to admit what image I saw of it. I was in a great mood after I saw it. I figured I'd crumble at that point for sure! I had dealt so well with everything, surely that would be the time for me to break! Ha, not at all! It's so not even a big deal, just a train track scar that goes around that part of my body and ends below my armpit. I'm not being sarcastic, it's really not a big deal. I'm now starting to understand why my surgeon must think I'm nuts. I thought it looked pretty cool! But of course he had no idea what I thought I'd be looking at so again, my reaction in front of him to this was probably perplexing to him and surely confirmed his earlier conclusion regarding my issues with denial. My brother has a similiar but bigger and way longer and way cooler scar wrapping around his body on the lower left side and I always thought it looked really cool. Mine is now a smaller matching version on the right. His is from childhood and had him spending a good portion of his early life in Sick Kids, but that's his story to tell.
Now I'll finally tell you: the google image that was in my mind showed a woman's chest with two huge half moon cut outs of exposed tissue where her boobs used to be, just exposed red skin, not sewn up. It must have been an image from a medical textbook of a surgery that was still happening or something, or what it looks like before it's stitched, but either way, it wasn't what I was looking at. How dumb am I that I even thought this is what I'd see. Maybe that's lifes way of allowing me to cope with the reality of it. If I thought it would look worse than it did, then the actual visual of it will be easier to deal with. It's the universe conspiring to assist me again. This I can deal with no problem! I'm not even really conscious of the scar. I even think sometimes I flash it when I bend down to pick something up, but I simply don't care. I have somewhat learned to not give energy about others feelings or opinions about how I am reacting during this time in my life, it should mean nothing to me. I have my network of people in my life and they are close to me because for the most part we're like-minded people so I am completely at ease when I say the opinions of others are no longer that important to me, unless of course I care about you and then my world will crumble at a negative opinion. But that number is precious few and they know who they are I know who they are and they're reading this with pride, not with any opinion of what I should or should not do, say, think, act, tell. Thanks to them for empowering me with that knowledge. I'll write about my friends another time, but they're great people and I'll give them their credits in another post. :)
Friday, August 10, 2007
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Let's all take a moment of silence to mourn the loss of a dear old friend: small b-cup right boob
When I woke up in recovery from my surgery the first thing I thought to do when my eyes opened was peak under the covers. I guess in my drugged haze I was expecting to see that horrifying image right then when I woke in recovery. Of course I was just wrapped up and saw nothing, phew! All that was going on at that point was a severe migraine and crazy burning throbbing hot pain through my arm and chest and a really dry hot throat. I was in and out of consciousness for a few hours. I was in recovery for a really long time as the pain was unrelenting at that time. They kept giving me more and more morphine, but it had no effect on the pain in my chest and arm. A few hours later, after I got yet another dose, I finally felt the relief of no pain. The nurse then informed me it was a good thing it worked as she had given me my last shot of prescribed morphine and was about to page the doctor for a next step to deal with the pain. Thank goodness! I chilled there for a while longer for them to monitor me, I still had a huge headache but they did eventually move me to a mobile stretcher and wheel me up to my room. That stretcher ride to my room was an experience on its own while on serious drugs. I'm totally horizontal and I watched the lights on the hall ceiling go by one by one, I was counting them but kept losing count and starting again and smiling to myself that I couldn't count past 8 for some reason, I remember chuckling to myself about playing whack-a-mole on the heads that kept popping in to my line of vision from sides of the bed I was being wheeled on. "Kelly, we're just gonna take you up to your room now." Whack! "We're just getting on the elevator dear." Whack! "This is your floor nurse Wendy." Whack! My dad's head appeared when I got to the floor. Whack! Ha ha ha, wheeee! Everyone seemed upset yet I was really groggy but I was in pretty good spirits thanks to my friend morphine. I think it was my brother who later informed me about a totally different experience that everyone waiting had. Firstly, back to Code Blue. That apparently happened about 10 minutes after I had left my family. There they were in the waiting room and it was quiet until over the intercom came 'Code Blue, day surgery, Code Blue.' I can only imagine a pin dropping after that. Craig said that they were looking around at each other but no one said anything. Of course, the chart showing the different colour codes and definitions was there for them to view. Code Blue is cardiac arrest, the worst code (Code Red is fire, duh!) Rationally, they had to know that there was no way it could've been me so soon, but I don't think that was a comforting thought to any of them. I don't know what else was said among them but I can imagine that that set the tone for what was about to be a very long day. Apparently, after my surgery came more upsetting news. My surgeon ended up going to the waiting room to speak with my family, and they were bombarding him with questions he couldn't answer without me being present, which was probably frustrating for all parties. I think that I may have been a little light on information about my actual tumour size, stage, etc. before then so hearing from my super-serious and monotone surgeon about the size of it and that it was advanced was too much for them to take in and something my surgeon would've presumed they already knew. And then I spent a long time in recovery, which they were probably worried about as well. It was a lot to take in for them and I didn't know any of that until much later. Everyone left pretty soon after I was in my bed as I was in and out of consciousness. Shawn's aunt had given me a breast cancer pink bear that was so soft and comforting and I brought him to the hospital with me and snuggled with him all night. That night Carm and Jess came to visit me but again, I remember small bits of it and that I was totally out of it. I remember Kelly scaring the crap outta me when she came as she was trying to be stealth and drop off a card and beautiful flowers while I was sleeping! ;P It was really sweet that she came and she stayed for a little while and kept me company. That night, I was up hourly but it was pretty peaceful and uneventful. I was able to get up and go to the bathroom without assistance and I had magazines to entertain me, but really, I just slept and lay there and slept more. I had a small confrontation with one of the nurses in the morning. She must've just started her shift as I didn't recognize her from earlier. She was bringing in my food tray in the morning with another nurse, and she rudely and loudly and exasperatedly told me that I couldn't have all that 'stuff' on the tray beside my bed. I look at her baffled and counter, "So move it!" She's shocked and taken aback at my defiant rebuttal I guess and goes on the defense immediately. She states she's not being rude, she just needs to put the tray down on that. I point out that there are two nurses standing in front of me, I tell her that she is in fact, being rude. I didn't put the offending articles on the table and I'm in no position to move any of it as per my whole right side being bandaged up, the side where the table is. That the interpretation of rudeness is left to the person on the receiving end and not the administering end, is it not? I think the other nurse wants to laugh but the rude one did kind of apologize through her actions, I'll give her that. She also had to wheel me around later and was being really chaste after so I acted like it didn't happen and was chatty and amicable with her I'd like to think. The other nurse simply took the cups and cards and stuff and moved it to the other table. They left me with my tray of food. I was starving as I hadn't eaten in about 24 hours and couldn't wait to ingest something, even if it was hospital food. I lifted one of the lids to see a big plate with a teensy eggo waffle on it. Just one. No syrup, just a butter pack. Close that lid, open the next one. Porridge. I'm not going to say oatmeal because I like oatmeal. This was porridge. It was in the shape of an upside down jelly mold and smelled bad and was lumpy and solid and just disgusting. I groaned, laughed, took the milk and pushed the rest aside. Shawn came in a few minutes later, I was so happy to see him! He was happy to see me too. :) He lay beside me on the bed and we chilled like that until I got to leave, which was a few hours later. I was getting a bone scan that day so I had to hang out for them to come and get me. This is where they inject your blood stream with radiation, wait an hour for the dye to course through you and then they xray your skeleton to check for cancer in your bones. A few days earlier I had an abdomen ultrasound for them to check for spreading to my organs and I'd get all the results at my next appt with the surgeon.
The nurse came in to change my bandages. When the nurse asked me if she could rewrap my bandage for me, I said, "Nah, no thanks, I'll do it myself when I get home." Are you sure, I can just do it for you so you don't have to? No no, it's fine, don't even worry about it, no big deal. I'm sooo tough! Ha! I just didn't want to see it and didn't want to look away like a p***y and have her see that and I didn't want to watch her face for any signs of horror as she changed my bandage. I wanted all of that to be a private thing for me. So she took off just the tensor that was wrapped around my chest and said that there was no blood through the gauze so it was fine to leave that way for now. The physiotherapist came in the morning before I left to go over exercises with me. She was really happy with the mobility, crossed off a whole bunch of exercises she said I wouldn't need to do and told me in her opinion, I didn't need actual physio, I should be fine to simply do the exercises from home. This was great to hear. Also, when I did get home, I was walking around immediately and felt pretty good, albeit high on morphine and then Oxycontin. I had excellent mobility in my right arm for just having had all my lymph nodes removed as well as my breast. They had opted to take all my lymph nodes on the right side as well as the breast. This decision had been made because of the size of my tumour and the length of time they'd suspected I had it. They were worried about my nodes as there was a more than good chance that the cells would have spread to them so they wanted to get them out too. That's how the cancer would travel to the other parts of my body, bones, brain, lungs, liver etc. and that's how cancer kills you. They would remove them and analyze them and see how many had been affected and then they could decide on an action plan. So not only am I getting the boob removed, but there is a chance that the right side of my body will remain swollen for the rest of my life since I won't have any nodes to filter the fluid, which can cause a build up hence the permanent swelling. My arm may be numb forever and/or my mobility compromised. If they told me at the same time that my skeleton may start to protrude through my skin or that I may permanently turn green as a side effect, I truly wouldn't have been surprised. Keep in mind I still have the image of the mastectomy to contend with. Basically, I'm gonna be frankenstein, but cool, I'll stay positive, I'm alive, I'm mentally sound (although tested at every turn) but I can handle this. If there's one thing that I can firmly say for sure, is that I do believe that in life, you are not given anything you can't handle, that's why it's given to you to go through. I've lived my life this way, this diagnosis doesn't change that, it affirms it. I still have my 'why me?' moments, I'm human, but they don't consume me, strength of will does. I have been blessed with the strength to see this through, learn from it and improve upon it. Everything happens for a reason. It may be that I've been diagnosed with cancer at 29 because it has made me quit smoking and if I continued smoking I was gonna die at 37 from heart disease or stroke, so my cancer diagnosis has actually saved my life instead of simply hijacking it. Doesn't it make sense that I'm the one who's going through this because I'm the one that can and will handle this? I mean, anyone who deals with anything 'handles it' just by getting up in the morning and breathing, that's not something special you do, you're not given a choice, but the 'how' is vastly different for everyone. I'm telling you right now, I don't know if and or how I'd 'handle it' if someone I love was going through this and I was the one on the helpless side. I'm in the better seat from my perspective and that is why this is happening to me. Everything is relative and your own quality of life totally depends of how you choose to view it, the world, yourself, and others, in my humble opinion anyway. Anyway, that's my reality and it works for me. I'm an avid reader, and to date my favourite book in the world is one that was given to me by my girl Caroline a few years ago called 'The Alchemist' by Paulo Coelho. One of my many favourite quotes by Coelho is that "simple things are the most valuable and only wise people appreciate them." I've bought a whole bunch of his other work and am looking forward to reading those too soon. The core of 'The Alchemist's' philosophy is "when you really want something to happen, the whole universe conspires so that your wish comes true." Isn't that a comforting concept? It is to me. I read in Dr. Marla's book another amazing view, and the book is not in front of me so I'll misquote, but the gist is "being courageous has nothing to do with fighting a battle you have no choice but to fight, it's how you choose to fight it that is the definition of courage." I love that! I roll my eyes internally when people who don't really know me talk to me about being courageous or something of the sort. I don't get it, I'm courageous because I got cancer? That just makes no sense to me and it's such a silly thing to say so I totally related to that quote in that book.
The nurse came in to change my bandages. When the nurse asked me if she could rewrap my bandage for me, I said, "Nah, no thanks, I'll do it myself when I get home." Are you sure, I can just do it for you so you don't have to? No no, it's fine, don't even worry about it, no big deal. I'm sooo tough! Ha! I just didn't want to see it and didn't want to look away like a p***y and have her see that and I didn't want to watch her face for any signs of horror as she changed my bandage. I wanted all of that to be a private thing for me. So she took off just the tensor that was wrapped around my chest and said that there was no blood through the gauze so it was fine to leave that way for now. The physiotherapist came in the morning before I left to go over exercises with me. She was really happy with the mobility, crossed off a whole bunch of exercises she said I wouldn't need to do and told me in her opinion, I didn't need actual physio, I should be fine to simply do the exercises from home. This was great to hear. Also, when I did get home, I was walking around immediately and felt pretty good, albeit high on morphine and then Oxycontin. I had excellent mobility in my right arm for just having had all my lymph nodes removed as well as my breast. They had opted to take all my lymph nodes on the right side as well as the breast. This decision had been made because of the size of my tumour and the length of time they'd suspected I had it. They were worried about my nodes as there was a more than good chance that the cells would have spread to them so they wanted to get them out too. That's how the cancer would travel to the other parts of my body, bones, brain, lungs, liver etc. and that's how cancer kills you. They would remove them and analyze them and see how many had been affected and then they could decide on an action plan. So not only am I getting the boob removed, but there is a chance that the right side of my body will remain swollen for the rest of my life since I won't have any nodes to filter the fluid, which can cause a build up hence the permanent swelling. My arm may be numb forever and/or my mobility compromised. If they told me at the same time that my skeleton may start to protrude through my skin or that I may permanently turn green as a side effect, I truly wouldn't have been surprised. Keep in mind I still have the image of the mastectomy to contend with. Basically, I'm gonna be frankenstein, but cool, I'll stay positive, I'm alive, I'm mentally sound (although tested at every turn) but I can handle this. If there's one thing that I can firmly say for sure, is that I do believe that in life, you are not given anything you can't handle, that's why it's given to you to go through. I've lived my life this way, this diagnosis doesn't change that, it affirms it. I still have my 'why me?' moments, I'm human, but they don't consume me, strength of will does. I have been blessed with the strength to see this through, learn from it and improve upon it. Everything happens for a reason. It may be that I've been diagnosed with cancer at 29 because it has made me quit smoking and if I continued smoking I was gonna die at 37 from heart disease or stroke, so my cancer diagnosis has actually saved my life instead of simply hijacking it. Doesn't it make sense that I'm the one who's going through this because I'm the one that can and will handle this? I mean, anyone who deals with anything 'handles it' just by getting up in the morning and breathing, that's not something special you do, you're not given a choice, but the 'how' is vastly different for everyone. I'm telling you right now, I don't know if and or how I'd 'handle it' if someone I love was going through this and I was the one on the helpless side. I'm in the better seat from my perspective and that is why this is happening to me. Everything is relative and your own quality of life totally depends of how you choose to view it, the world, yourself, and others, in my humble opinion anyway. Anyway, that's my reality and it works for me. I'm an avid reader, and to date my favourite book in the world is one that was given to me by my girl Caroline a few years ago called 'The Alchemist' by Paulo Coelho. One of my many favourite quotes by Coelho is that "simple things are the most valuable and only wise people appreciate them." I've bought a whole bunch of his other work and am looking forward to reading those too soon. The core of 'The Alchemist's' philosophy is "when you really want something to happen, the whole universe conspires so that your wish comes true." Isn't that a comforting concept? It is to me. I read in Dr. Marla's book another amazing view, and the book is not in front of me so I'll misquote, but the gist is "being courageous has nothing to do with fighting a battle you have no choice but to fight, it's how you choose to fight it that is the definition of courage." I love that! I roll my eyes internally when people who don't really know me talk to me about being courageous or something of the sort. I don't get it, I'm courageous because I got cancer? That just makes no sense to me and it's such a silly thing to say so I totally related to that quote in that book.
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Oh good, it's a party!
Anyway, back to the surgery. When I found out that I would be getting a boob lopped off, I googled images for 'mastectomy'. I am queen of research. I look into everything and always ask my computer questions and I source information etc. I no longer do this so much. It's sometimes better not to know, I now get that. The first image that my search pulled up horrified me. I actually jumped up outta my chair, gasped, swore, covered my mouth and shielded my face and stepped away from the computer still cursing repeatedly, closed my eyes all squinty-like to click the top right x. Just awful! I was worried about what I would look like after but now I really was scared sh*tless to see that when I looked down at my body! I tried really really really hard not to think about it leading up to the surgery, but that image plagued me for weeks after I glimpsed it.The day of my surgery was pretty interesting. If I had it my way, I would have been there by myself or with just Shawn. That is very very selfish of me and so is this, but I didn't want to make small talk, answer frivolous questions, entertain others; I simply wanted to be in my own head space and quietly go in for my surgery. Others would feel that they would have to take my mind off it or entertain me, but I really just didn't want the hovering. Anyway, again, I was thinking very selfishly. Shawn wouldn't hear of not being with me, I doubt I even mentioned to him that I wanted to go by myself. I told my parents that I didn't want everyone there when I went in, so they weren't going to come for my admission, but I told my dad that they could visit me afterwards which he still decided to interpret as 'we'll meet you at the hospital as you go in for surgery and pace around the hospital all day while you're in surgery and then wait while you're in recovery and come and meet you in your room afterwards.' Truthfully, I knew I'd really want to see my parent's when I got up to my room. I remember being younger and having my tonsils removed and waking up in my hospital room alone after surgery and my parent's were nowhere to be found. The nurse told me she had looked for them but couldn't find them, which upset me as where on earth could they be other than right beside me at this moment? I remember being really groggy and that there was another girl a few years older than me in the bed next to me. I remember repeatedly waking myself up from these gross throat gurgly noises I was making in my sleep as a result of the surgery and I remember hearing the girls friends making fun of me for making these noises when they thought I was still sleeping. That was a miserable experience. It took them a while to come and see me and I remember being really upset in that room alone. The staff were supposed to tell them when I'd left recovery but there had been a miscommunication and they hadn't informed my parents as they'd confused two sets of parents until my mum I think finally demanded to know what on earth was taking so long. I felt so relieved when they walked in, although I'm sure I first chastised them for abandoning me! :)
Anyway, back to this surgery, my thinking beforehand was that Shawn would just call them and they'd meet us there once I was leaving recovery, about five hours after my surgery would start. Why spend the whole day at the hospital doing nothing but waiting? What good would that do? Just meet me there afterwards as there's nothing anyone can do from a waiting room other than go crazy, right? But now, Shawn, mum, dad, Craig are all gonna be there for the whole thing. I'm aggravated. And then Shawn told me his mom would be there for all of it too. I remember being flabbergasted by this. WHY? Again, there's a limit to how much of my journey I want others a part of at certain times and I felt it intrusive that I wasn't getting a choice of who or how I'd be spending those last few moments before going under the knife with. Shawn was annoyed that I was being like this and pointed out that his mom was coming to support him more than anything, and I remember again thinking that that point then defeated the purpose of him being there to support me in the first place if I didn't want others there. Since I'm the one going through this and I'm the one saying I didn't even want Shawn there for that part of the day, and now not only is he not giving me a choice about him coming, I now have to contend with my whole family, boyfriend and his family too? How did it make sense that I was not getting a say in this? That was me then; selfish selfish selfish. Around those days, I was handing out lashings at every turn, I was angry and displacing it wherever I could. I'm sure I still do. Did I really mind that Shawn's mom was coming to support both of us? Was that really the issue? Of course not, that gesture was done simply out of love and care and concern and now I was gonna make her -and Shawn- feel bad about that? Brutal. The truth of it was, I was just scared. But I wanted to be able to embrace those scared feelings and succumb to them if I chose to. I'm not going to let the people that care about me most see me like that if I can help it, as then they just get upset and I end up feeling guilty that I caused that. I didn't want to hear about how you have to let others help, that's wasn't the point. I didn't want to be "on" at that time, I just wanted to sit there in silence and read my book and hold Shawn's hand since he'd be there. Again, in hindsight, thank goodness they were all there! My dad would've been driving the household crazy with waiting, pacing, picking at his fingers which he does when he's nervous, and then would've eventually ended up saying "Okay, let's just go there and wait in her room. Ready? C'mon, let's go. Let's go, hurry up!" Shawn's mom would have had severe anxiety waiting for news from home and worrying about how Shawn was coping and how I was doing and really, the best place for all of them to be was exactly where they all were: in the day surgery waiting area of Centennary, waiting for news of my surgery and waiting to see me.
One freaky thing happened when I was going in for surgery. The 6 of us pile into the little waiting room beyond the waiting room once my name is called, and we're waiting for the nurse to come and prep me for surgery. We were in there for no more than 5 minutes when I got called in. I hugged everyone individually and could no longer hold it together. This is when I cracked. I couldn't stop the tears even though I was willing them to stop and I was so embarassed while walking through the quiet hallway behind the surgery rooms and I think I was snorting a little while walking with the nurse to my room. It's so weird walking in to those rooms, seeing all the machines, the big lights, the tools all lined up and shiny that are gonna be used to cut you open and distort and dissect you, the team of people that are about to see you at your most vulnerable moment. I hopped up on the bed, introduced myself to the 5 people in the room, told them jokingly to make sure they all felt an emotional attachment to me as I wanted extra special care while I was under and wanted my boob to be replaced one day for tiny bikini tops, so make it look good, which got a laugh. As I'm lying down, this is what I hear: "Code Blue, Day Surgery, Code Blue" Again. "Code Blue, Day Surgery, Code Blue" Isn't that where I'm lying? In day surgery? I think it is. The nurse that is currently putting my IV in tuts and mutters "whoa, code blue!" I'm trying not to look frantic and I'm trying nonchalantly to strain my neck so I can look around on the walls for that chart that tells you what the colours codes mean, I'm chastising myself for not memorizing the one I had been staring at in the waiting room, and I can't find the chart and can't sit up to check behind me for it, so my heart is racing, not because I'm worried about me really as I haven't been worked on, they're not talking about me, but more at the reaction of my nurse, and also that 3 of the team about to work on me have now left the room. What's Code Blue? Code Red is the big emergency, isn't it? Anyway, a few minutes later, my team is back and in comes my surgeon, we exchange pleasantries and I ask him to please do a good job. Then my head gets spacey and I think, wait, I'm not ready! and I'm out like a light.
Anyway, back to this surgery, my thinking beforehand was that Shawn would just call them and they'd meet us there once I was leaving recovery, about five hours after my surgery would start. Why spend the whole day at the hospital doing nothing but waiting? What good would that do? Just meet me there afterwards as there's nothing anyone can do from a waiting room other than go crazy, right? But now, Shawn, mum, dad, Craig are all gonna be there for the whole thing. I'm aggravated. And then Shawn told me his mom would be there for all of it too. I remember being flabbergasted by this. WHY? Again, there's a limit to how much of my journey I want others a part of at certain times and I felt it intrusive that I wasn't getting a choice of who or how I'd be spending those last few moments before going under the knife with. Shawn was annoyed that I was being like this and pointed out that his mom was coming to support him more than anything, and I remember again thinking that that point then defeated the purpose of him being there to support me in the first place if I didn't want others there. Since I'm the one going through this and I'm the one saying I didn't even want Shawn there for that part of the day, and now not only is he not giving me a choice about him coming, I now have to contend with my whole family, boyfriend and his family too? How did it make sense that I was not getting a say in this? That was me then; selfish selfish selfish. Around those days, I was handing out lashings at every turn, I was angry and displacing it wherever I could. I'm sure I still do. Did I really mind that Shawn's mom was coming to support both of us? Was that really the issue? Of course not, that gesture was done simply out of love and care and concern and now I was gonna make her -and Shawn- feel bad about that? Brutal. The truth of it was, I was just scared. But I wanted to be able to embrace those scared feelings and succumb to them if I chose to. I'm not going to let the people that care about me most see me like that if I can help it, as then they just get upset and I end up feeling guilty that I caused that. I didn't want to hear about how you have to let others help, that's wasn't the point. I didn't want to be "on" at that time, I just wanted to sit there in silence and read my book and hold Shawn's hand since he'd be there. Again, in hindsight, thank goodness they were all there! My dad would've been driving the household crazy with waiting, pacing, picking at his fingers which he does when he's nervous, and then would've eventually ended up saying "Okay, let's just go there and wait in her room. Ready? C'mon, let's go. Let's go, hurry up!" Shawn's mom would have had severe anxiety waiting for news from home and worrying about how Shawn was coping and how I was doing and really, the best place for all of them to be was exactly where they all were: in the day surgery waiting area of Centennary, waiting for news of my surgery and waiting to see me.
One freaky thing happened when I was going in for surgery. The 6 of us pile into the little waiting room beyond the waiting room once my name is called, and we're waiting for the nurse to come and prep me for surgery. We were in there for no more than 5 minutes when I got called in. I hugged everyone individually and could no longer hold it together. This is when I cracked. I couldn't stop the tears even though I was willing them to stop and I was so embarassed while walking through the quiet hallway behind the surgery rooms and I think I was snorting a little while walking with the nurse to my room. It's so weird walking in to those rooms, seeing all the machines, the big lights, the tools all lined up and shiny that are gonna be used to cut you open and distort and dissect you, the team of people that are about to see you at your most vulnerable moment. I hopped up on the bed, introduced myself to the 5 people in the room, told them jokingly to make sure they all felt an emotional attachment to me as I wanted extra special care while I was under and wanted my boob to be replaced one day for tiny bikini tops, so make it look good, which got a laugh. As I'm lying down, this is what I hear: "Code Blue, Day Surgery, Code Blue" Again. "Code Blue, Day Surgery, Code Blue" Isn't that where I'm lying? In day surgery? I think it is. The nurse that is currently putting my IV in tuts and mutters "whoa, code blue!" I'm trying not to look frantic and I'm trying nonchalantly to strain my neck so I can look around on the walls for that chart that tells you what the colours codes mean, I'm chastising myself for not memorizing the one I had been staring at in the waiting room, and I can't find the chart and can't sit up to check behind me for it, so my heart is racing, not because I'm worried about me really as I haven't been worked on, they're not talking about me, but more at the reaction of my nurse, and also that 3 of the team about to work on me have now left the room. What's Code Blue? Code Red is the big emergency, isn't it? Anyway, a few minutes later, my team is back and in comes my surgeon, we exchange pleasantries and I ask him to please do a good job. Then my head gets spacey and I think, wait, I'm not ready! and I'm out like a light.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
The term 'boobs' is no longer plural
I've got plenty to say about the early days of my mastectomy, numerous other Doctor appts leading up to my first treatment, and I'll publish those as I go. I'll probably concentrate on what I'm going through during my first chemo treatment over the next month, but feel free to ask me something in an email and I'll write about it. (All posts up to October are simply pasted from my previous journal entries as that is when this blog was created; I've just archived them as close to the date that they happened as possible so that the entries make sense chronologically).
I will say as most people that are comfortable with me ask about the mastectomy and my emotional state, that when I first woke up after that surgery, I was hit by a wall of emotion, just as the doctor thought I would (remember this is the point that what I'm going through will, in his opinion, 'hit me') but it wasn't what he thought. It was relief. When I woke up, I didn't immediately mourn the loss of my boob (and to date still haven't I guess) I was relieved, just as I'd hoped I be, that as of this very moment, I no longer had cancer! Now I'm a survivor of cancer, no longer a victim of it. It was out of me. Those were the thoughts rushing through me and I felt elated by this thought (and the morphine I'm sure). I didn't and don't have any real emotional attachment to my boobs so it has never been an issue, in all honesty, it hasn't mattered to me at all, seriously. We'll talk about hair loss later as that's affected me way more than losing my boob, isn't that odd? I mean, that'll grow back, the boob (I don't imagine anyway) won't. As I've said a hundred times, I'm just gonna get brand new boobs (yes that was meant to be plural) next year or whenever so why be upset about it? I never would've gotten fake boobs for any other reason, and I'm not gonna lie, I've always wanted them! :)
I had my surgery at Centenary in Scarborough, but a few days after I arrived home from it, I got a call from my doctor. She had gone to the hospital to visit me but they had given her the wrong dates so she'd missed me. She wanted to talk to me about her recommendation that I do the treatment aspect at Princess Margaret. Not that my surgeon and hospital are not more than capable of treating me, it's that I'll need state of the art treatment and if I were her daughter, that's where I'd be going. *sniff* How awesome is this woman?? Everyone at this point had opinions on where I should go for treatment, but I was adamant that I'd simply take the advice of my doctor. Although I'll admit that I did want to go to a state of the art hospital, of course I did, but I didn't want to make a fuss after I was already in the process with a team of medical people. But now I'm pretty relieved to hear her saying this to me and also that my days with the surgeon I'm no longing loving are numbered. She told me to tell my surgeon this was her recommendation and he could contact her if needed (he was fine with this and made it happen quickly which I'm thankful for). What can I do for the woman that I feel may have saved my life? Say thanks? Get her chocolates? Movie passes? I ended up visiting her later and brought her a card with my heartfelt feelings towards her written out, it was the best I could do. It was on this visit that she handed me her home phone number in case I had any issues or for anything, I could and should feel free to call her at home. Say what you will about doctors in Canada/Ontario/GTA, this was my experience with a family practitioner. I don't want to give away her identity as I haven't asked her to write about her, but this woman has for years worked in a clinic that sees some sketchy clientele. She deals with bullsh*t alllll day long from alll sorts of people. She is not in what I would call a 'higher end' clinic shall we say, and she is a champion! We talk as a society about surgeons, specialists etc in such high regard. I hold no one in higher regard than I do this woman, this 'family practitioner'. It's not even like I've been going to her for years and years and we've formed a bond, I have up until this diagnosis gone to another doctor for years and just go to her for the yearlies or anything embarrassing. She didn't need to be this way with me and I am forever grateful to this woman for how she 'handled' me. Thank you. Oh, and yes, she's now been upgraded to my doctor for everything, not just annually any more. And now I have formed a bond to her and I think about her constantly and credit her for championing my diagnosis.
I will say as most people that are comfortable with me ask about the mastectomy and my emotional state, that when I first woke up after that surgery, I was hit by a wall of emotion, just as the doctor thought I would (remember this is the point that what I'm going through will, in his opinion, 'hit me') but it wasn't what he thought. It was relief. When I woke up, I didn't immediately mourn the loss of my boob (and to date still haven't I guess) I was relieved, just as I'd hoped I be, that as of this very moment, I no longer had cancer! Now I'm a survivor of cancer, no longer a victim of it. It was out of me. Those were the thoughts rushing through me and I felt elated by this thought (and the morphine I'm sure). I didn't and don't have any real emotional attachment to my boobs so it has never been an issue, in all honesty, it hasn't mattered to me at all, seriously. We'll talk about hair loss later as that's affected me way more than losing my boob, isn't that odd? I mean, that'll grow back, the boob (I don't imagine anyway) won't. As I've said a hundred times, I'm just gonna get brand new boobs (yes that was meant to be plural) next year or whenever so why be upset about it? I never would've gotten fake boobs for any other reason, and I'm not gonna lie, I've always wanted them! :)
I had my surgery at Centenary in Scarborough, but a few days after I arrived home from it, I got a call from my doctor. She had gone to the hospital to visit me but they had given her the wrong dates so she'd missed me. She wanted to talk to me about her recommendation that I do the treatment aspect at Princess Margaret. Not that my surgeon and hospital are not more than capable of treating me, it's that I'll need state of the art treatment and if I were her daughter, that's where I'd be going. *sniff* How awesome is this woman?? Everyone at this point had opinions on where I should go for treatment, but I was adamant that I'd simply take the advice of my doctor. Although I'll admit that I did want to go to a state of the art hospital, of course I did, but I didn't want to make a fuss after I was already in the process with a team of medical people. But now I'm pretty relieved to hear her saying this to me and also that my days with the surgeon I'm no longing loving are numbered. She told me to tell my surgeon this was her recommendation and he could contact her if needed (he was fine with this and made it happen quickly which I'm thankful for). What can I do for the woman that I feel may have saved my life? Say thanks? Get her chocolates? Movie passes? I ended up visiting her later and brought her a card with my heartfelt feelings towards her written out, it was the best I could do. It was on this visit that she handed me her home phone number in case I had any issues or for anything, I could and should feel free to call her at home. Say what you will about doctors in Canada/Ontario/GTA, this was my experience with a family practitioner. I don't want to give away her identity as I haven't asked her to write about her, but this woman has for years worked in a clinic that sees some sketchy clientele. She deals with bullsh*t alllll day long from alll sorts of people. She is not in what I would call a 'higher end' clinic shall we say, and she is a champion! We talk as a society about surgeons, specialists etc in such high regard. I hold no one in higher regard than I do this woman, this 'family practitioner'. It's not even like I've been going to her for years and years and we've formed a bond, I have up until this diagnosis gone to another doctor for years and just go to her for the yearlies or anything embarrassing. She didn't need to be this way with me and I am forever grateful to this woman for how she 'handled' me. Thank you. Oh, and yes, she's now been upgraded to my doctor for everything, not just annually any more. And now I have formed a bond to her and I think about her constantly and credit her for championing my diagnosis.
Friday, August 3, 2007
Life is a Gamble
One of the first things I did when I found out about having cancer is I'm sure what everyone does when they find out about something so traumatic: I went to Vegas! Carm and I had been planning to do that for our 30th birthdays, which are a day apart in December. This year, Carm's birthday will fall on a Friday, mine on the Saturday so we were going to spend it in Vegas! A few years ago her and I had a birthday party at a club that was so much fun. I lived alone at the time and a bunch of my girlfriends came to my house for a feast and then we piled into a tricked out limo and headed downtown for a great night! So great in fact, that I found myself being escorted to the limo before everyone and had to 'rest' in there for a bit, flash forward 4 minutes to the spins & the limo driver sitting beside me in the back holding my hair as my head is out the window doing what you do while someone is holding your hair! Picture standing on Yonge St. and seeing a huge beautiful white limo parked with regurgitated birthday shots flying outta the back window, ewwwww, ha ha ha! Anyway, point being, it's our 30th, but we already did it up for our 27th, we both wanted to mourn the loss of our 20s and celebrate the start of our new decade in a different but memorable way. Thus the inception of Operation: Vegas! We were both so excited about doing that and talked about it all the time. In fact, one of the first upsetting revelations about my diagnosis was that I wouldn't be able to go because of chemo. That upset me. I knew Carm thought of it too but she certainly wasn't going to point it out to me. That weekend coming up and right before my operation was supposed to be our girls weekend. We had gone camping two years before and the four of us (Kel, Jess, Carm) had such a good time, we wanted to relive that experience year after year, so annual girls camping weekend was invented. However, we're all busy girls so finding a weekend that we all had free was proving difficult. We had finally picked a date and then a week later I remembered I had a wedding reception to go to that weekend that I couldn't skip, so I blew it. There was only one other weekend we could all commit to so we changed the date, only to find out a few days later that Jess was going to have a work commitment that she had no choice but to attend. &%&%*%^-*!!! So now there was just the 3 of us, which just wasn't the same. We didn't want to do it without Jess, so we were just going to find something local to do instead.
Now, I'm starting to think, I've got this whole weekend to fill, it's the weekend before my surgery, sucks that we're not camping, sucks more I'm not going to Vegas...hmmmm. Dial Carm, "Hey, so this weekend..." "Omigod omigod, should we go to Vegas??!!" "Yeah, we should go to VEGAS!" Within a day, she came over, we searched flights and it was booked. Vegas Baby! We had the time of our lives! It was so much fun! Cancer was certainly not the topic at hand for that trip, I don't know that we talked about it at all which was such a much-needed break and relief! We did a lot of gambling, (a lot of gambling!!!) we rented a mustang and drove to the Grand Canyon Thelma and Louise style, we ate at nice restaurants (had Caprese salads every day!) and just had a wicked time! I didn't sleep for 2 days, and I'm not exaggerating. On Saturday morning we woke up at 6am, picked up our convertible, drove to Grand Canyon (magnificent) which is five hours one way, then drove back, detoured through California by accident (my bad!) but we were glad we did as we drove through the Mojave which was something I had wanted to see anyway, so detour worked out beautifully, but took about 6.5 hrs to get back. We had to rush to get ready as it was now into the night and we had guest list at Pure Nightclub until 11pm and had to get ready. The night before we ended up at a poker table with a promoter from Pure and we were gonna be on his personal list which meant VIP baby! I took all his money and so I had to buy him a drink at the bar, that was the deal. I was excited to go to Pure simply to say I went to Pure and that we walked right in VIP style. It's a celebrity hot spot so we knew we shouldn't pass this up as we were lucky to have met this guy. However, as we were getting ready to go to Pure after our road trip, Carm and I were testy and we didn't know why, but we figured it out as we were putting on our makeup. Neither of us really wanted to go. At this point, I was tired, and I'm so no longer into clubs. I'm almost 30 and have been clubbing since a young age and now feel like a cougar when I go out and I'm annoyed as opposed to having a good time. So I'm over that scene but was gonna be a good sport for Carm as she's single and in Vegas. I can be wingman for a night. I can just picture my night; Carm will undoubtedly be talking to boys and I'm going stand there like an ass looking around by myself. It's not like there was a group of us, we're just two and that's weird sober (we weren't gonna have time to prelim) and I'm not good with the bar conversations. This is not just because I'm in a relationship and I want to act the way I would want Shawn to act. I was the same single and all my friends can and will attest to this. I'm not an approachable person, and I think it's embarrassing when guys try to pick you up in that scene and I don't mean embarrassing for me, I mean for the guy who's trying. I don't look approachable and when approached, am promptly able to make a guy run away arms flailing screaming. I'm that good, much to most of my friends amusement/horror. Anyway, Carm was the first to say "I don't even want to go! I just want to play poker!" Yay! I didn't want to go either, I just wanted to for her but we were instantly in fabulous moods again when we had decided to still get dolled up, but just go to the poker room, and if we decided to go to the club, then we'd just try to get in later. That was a great plan! So we played poker and drank there for free instead. Carm was Carm so there were still boys around. At this point I had already played about 10-12 hours total of poker. On the Friday the day before we got wasted before noon while I played poker. I started off well, but lost about $140 by the time I left, but who cares, we were wasted off Caesar's & Corona's! Carm decided poker looked fun but she'd never played and didn't know the hands, so later that day (after a sobering nap) we sat by the pool and I taught her. She picked it up after about 20 minutes, seriously. We went through a few more scenario's while we got ready in our room, and she said "Alright, I'm good, let's go play!" S-M-art! We played that night too, that was where we met the promoter guy and Carm did really well for her first time ever, she was up and I won back all the money I had lost that morning and then some. We had such a blast that night! Now we're back again Saturday night for more, Carm ended up going to bed at about 4am, and I stayed there until 7am! I didn't realize until I asked another player what time it was that it was the next morning! That's the beauty of Vegas. I left the table after the next hand (ended up being even or up about $50 after all the poker, which is great I think as I'd never before played in a casino, just online and with friends for tournies) As I started walking (swaggering/hiccuping) delirious with no sleep, I stopped to look around. This was truly an awesome experience: I was pretty much by myself in the MGM Grand Casino in Vegas. I'm serious! The only other people in my line of vision were the staff that were vacuuming! Okay, honestly, who's had the chance to wander around a Vegas casino with no one else present. I meandered around, smoking cuz I could inside, just taking it all in, observing the slots and hearing the absence of noise that is ever-present at a casino. You could still hear the whir of the machines etc., but this has got to be the equivalent to silence in Vegas. And there it was, beckoning me, finally calling my name. At long last! Now was the time I would conquer my slot machine. I was about to pump in quarters for the Viper. I love Vipers, they are my favourite cars and this isn't up for debate. I don't care that there are faster cars, sleeker cars, better cars, I love the Viper, I have since I first saw one at 16(ish) and have been devoted solely to it since. I have 8 really cool die cast models of Vipers and people always come over and start talking to Shawn about them until he points them in my direction "Buddy, don't look at me, they're Kel's!" I'm admittedly a little weird about the car. I don't really want to sit in one until I own one as I feel that'll take away my passion of ownership (okay fine once I sat in one at a car show in Denver but that doesn't really count I don't think). I've been offered a ride in a Viper, a few times actually, but have turned them down. Unless I'm driving I don't want to. I'm not a passenger in a Viper, I'm an owner of one (soon) and so far, the people that have offered to take me for a ride didn't say yes to me taking them for one in their car yet, so I still have managed to not drive in one. But here we are in Vegas, and the first thing I saw when walking into the MGM that first day was (I think by the looks of it) an '03 Dodge Viper RT 10 surrounded by the slot machines that would give you a chance to win it. I walked there like a moth to a flame with Carm probably looking around wondering where the hell I'd gone to. She found me & said "So Play!" She just doesn't get it. It doesn't work like that, I'm not going to simply pump quarters into this machine and "play" for a Viper!!! How do I know what machine is the winner? Say I pick the machine to the left of the winner and then go to jail as I've tackled the grandma beside me who can't see that she just won a viper? Say anyone wins that car other than me. No, it's best to not go near this area again. I have to familiarize myself with the car, spend some time with it first, and then it'll tell me when to play for it and which machine to go to. Duh! Unfortunately the viper was located right in the way of us getting to and from our hotel (we were at the Signature MGM grand, which was a super swanky "boutique" hotel that had newly opened) so I had a small anxiety fit every time we walked by it as I was waiting to hear the whoop of joy coming from that area. Now here we are, just me and the car (insert cowboy duel whistling music here). It was time; it was my time. The car didn't necessarily speak to me per se however I did get a feeling about a certain machine and I sat down, brought out all my remaining tickets (Vegas no longer uses actual money, just get a chit which takes the fun out of walking around with a bucket of quarters) which totaled $17.25 Away I went. Pull after pull of the lever, trying all possible combinations of lever button dynamic (hit max, hit the coin button 5 times then press spin, actually pulling lever, y'know what I mean) I got startled when a guy appeared beside me. I gave him an offended look as he pumped his chit in the machine beside me. Are you kiddin' me? Him and I are alone practically at this point in the casino, and he's got to sit beside me at the viper machine and screw up my chances at glory cuz he wants to be rejected by me? Once I realized my best course of action was blatant rudeness instead of usual undertones of it, as obviously he wasn't beside me cuz he loved vipers like I did, it was that I was a chick , still dressed up from my night before in case we went clubbin' (although I was carrying my heels at this point and they were currently on the seat beside me since there was no one to see me do that), and here's his chance to talk to a real live girl at this ungodly hour of the morning, as clearly that's the best time to pick up. Anyway, to his, "How y'all enjoying Vegas?" I sniffed without even looking at him, "we're enjoying it just fine and if you wait two more minutes you can ask my boyfriend how he's enjoying it too." It was weird that two seconds later he cashed out without another word and left me to my about-to-win-a-viper high. I must have been punished for that by the viper Gods as I did not leave Vegas with the car, BUT I did at least try, just wasn't my time and who wants to win anything in the States other than cold hard cash what with the taxes you pay on winnings!
Anyway, we had to leave that morning so I had to go and grab a few hours of sleep. Unfortunately though, I was wired, I had just played about 10 hours of poker and wasn't ready to lie down. As I was puttering around, Carm woke up, said she felt like crap and advised me to stay up as if I lied down, I was gonna feel really bad when I got up too so I just stayed up. We were hungry and went for breakfast. We took the mustang we still had to Paris Paris and had breakfast at that hotel. If you can, always drive to Vegas as the valet parking is free everywhere! We would've used the car more had we found that out earlier, but you can park at every hotel for free as that's how they get you there, that was cool. We then played slots at the Bellagio and now I'm starting to twitch. I was feeling buzzy and fuzzy by then as an understatement. I've now been awake at this point for 28 hours. After our day of travelling, many delays later and no sleep, we rolled into Toronto at about 1:30am Sunday night, Carm's brother Mito graciously agreed to pick us up at that hour, and by the time we got home, I sat down on my couch after such a long day, it was 3am. I had been up for 45 hours. I had my ceremonious last smoke (Vegas was my last hurrah with tobacco) and went to bed. I've chronicled this adventure through pictures on facebook, and maybe I'll link the pics to this blog if anyone is interested in seeing them...
Now, I'm starting to think, I've got this whole weekend to fill, it's the weekend before my surgery, sucks that we're not camping, sucks more I'm not going to Vegas...hmmmm. Dial Carm, "Hey, so this weekend..." "Omigod omigod, should we go to Vegas??!!" "Yeah, we should go to VEGAS!" Within a day, she came over, we searched flights and it was booked. Vegas Baby! We had the time of our lives! It was so much fun! Cancer was certainly not the topic at hand for that trip, I don't know that we talked about it at all which was such a much-needed break and relief! We did a lot of gambling, (a lot of gambling!!!) we rented a mustang and drove to the Grand Canyon Thelma and Louise style, we ate at nice restaurants (had Caprese salads every day!) and just had a wicked time! I didn't sleep for 2 days, and I'm not exaggerating. On Saturday morning we woke up at 6am, picked up our convertible, drove to Grand Canyon (magnificent) which is five hours one way, then drove back, detoured through California by accident (my bad!) but we were glad we did as we drove through the Mojave which was something I had wanted to see anyway, so detour worked out beautifully, but took about 6.5 hrs to get back. We had to rush to get ready as it was now into the night and we had guest list at Pure Nightclub until 11pm and had to get ready. The night before we ended up at a poker table with a promoter from Pure and we were gonna be on his personal list which meant VIP baby! I took all his money and so I had to buy him a drink at the bar, that was the deal. I was excited to go to Pure simply to say I went to Pure and that we walked right in VIP style. It's a celebrity hot spot so we knew we shouldn't pass this up as we were lucky to have met this guy. However, as we were getting ready to go to Pure after our road trip, Carm and I were testy and we didn't know why, but we figured it out as we were putting on our makeup. Neither of us really wanted to go. At this point, I was tired, and I'm so no longer into clubs. I'm almost 30 and have been clubbing since a young age and now feel like a cougar when I go out and I'm annoyed as opposed to having a good time. So I'm over that scene but was gonna be a good sport for Carm as she's single and in Vegas. I can be wingman for a night. I can just picture my night; Carm will undoubtedly be talking to boys and I'm going stand there like an ass looking around by myself. It's not like there was a group of us, we're just two and that's weird sober (we weren't gonna have time to prelim) and I'm not good with the bar conversations. This is not just because I'm in a relationship and I want to act the way I would want Shawn to act. I was the same single and all my friends can and will attest to this. I'm not an approachable person, and I think it's embarrassing when guys try to pick you up in that scene and I don't mean embarrassing for me, I mean for the guy who's trying. I don't look approachable and when approached, am promptly able to make a guy run away arms flailing screaming. I'm that good, much to most of my friends amusement/horror. Anyway, Carm was the first to say "I don't even want to go! I just want to play poker!" Yay! I didn't want to go either, I just wanted to for her but we were instantly in fabulous moods again when we had decided to still get dolled up, but just go to the poker room, and if we decided to go to the club, then we'd just try to get in later. That was a great plan! So we played poker and drank there for free instead. Carm was Carm so there were still boys around. At this point I had already played about 10-12 hours total of poker. On the Friday the day before we got wasted before noon while I played poker. I started off well, but lost about $140 by the time I left, but who cares, we were wasted off Caesar's & Corona's! Carm decided poker looked fun but she'd never played and didn't know the hands, so later that day (after a sobering nap) we sat by the pool and I taught her. She picked it up after about 20 minutes, seriously. We went through a few more scenario's while we got ready in our room, and she said "Alright, I'm good, let's go play!" S-M-art! We played that night too, that was where we met the promoter guy and Carm did really well for her first time ever, she was up and I won back all the money I had lost that morning and then some. We had such a blast that night! Now we're back again Saturday night for more, Carm ended up going to bed at about 4am, and I stayed there until 7am! I didn't realize until I asked another player what time it was that it was the next morning! That's the beauty of Vegas. I left the table after the next hand (ended up being even or up about $50 after all the poker, which is great I think as I'd never before played in a casino, just online and with friends for tournies) As I started walking (swaggering/hiccuping) delirious with no sleep, I stopped to look around. This was truly an awesome experience: I was pretty much by myself in the MGM Grand Casino in Vegas. I'm serious! The only other people in my line of vision were the staff that were vacuuming! Okay, honestly, who's had the chance to wander around a Vegas casino with no one else present. I meandered around, smoking cuz I could inside, just taking it all in, observing the slots and hearing the absence of noise that is ever-present at a casino. You could still hear the whir of the machines etc., but this has got to be the equivalent to silence in Vegas. And there it was, beckoning me, finally calling my name. At long last! Now was the time I would conquer my slot machine. I was about to pump in quarters for the Viper. I love Vipers, they are my favourite cars and this isn't up for debate. I don't care that there are faster cars, sleeker cars, better cars, I love the Viper, I have since I first saw one at 16(ish) and have been devoted solely to it since. I have 8 really cool die cast models of Vipers and people always come over and start talking to Shawn about them until he points them in my direction "Buddy, don't look at me, they're Kel's!" I'm admittedly a little weird about the car. I don't really want to sit in one until I own one as I feel that'll take away my passion of ownership (okay fine once I sat in one at a car show in Denver but that doesn't really count I don't think). I've been offered a ride in a Viper, a few times actually, but have turned them down. Unless I'm driving I don't want to. I'm not a passenger in a Viper, I'm an owner of one (soon) and so far, the people that have offered to take me for a ride didn't say yes to me taking them for one in their car yet, so I still have managed to not drive in one. But here we are in Vegas, and the first thing I saw when walking into the MGM that first day was (I think by the looks of it) an '03 Dodge Viper RT 10 surrounded by the slot machines that would give you a chance to win it. I walked there like a moth to a flame with Carm probably looking around wondering where the hell I'd gone to. She found me & said "So Play!" She just doesn't get it. It doesn't work like that, I'm not going to simply pump quarters into this machine and "play" for a Viper!!! How do I know what machine is the winner? Say I pick the machine to the left of the winner and then go to jail as I've tackled the grandma beside me who can't see that she just won a viper? Say anyone wins that car other than me. No, it's best to not go near this area again. I have to familiarize myself with the car, spend some time with it first, and then it'll tell me when to play for it and which machine to go to. Duh! Unfortunately the viper was located right in the way of us getting to and from our hotel (we were at the Signature MGM grand, which was a super swanky "boutique" hotel that had newly opened) so I had a small anxiety fit every time we walked by it as I was waiting to hear the whoop of joy coming from that area. Now here we are, just me and the car (insert cowboy duel whistling music here). It was time; it was my time. The car didn't necessarily speak to me per se however I did get a feeling about a certain machine and I sat down, brought out all my remaining tickets (Vegas no longer uses actual money, just get a chit which takes the fun out of walking around with a bucket of quarters) which totaled $17.25 Away I went. Pull after pull of the lever, trying all possible combinations of lever button dynamic (hit max, hit the coin button 5 times then press spin, actually pulling lever, y'know what I mean) I got startled when a guy appeared beside me. I gave him an offended look as he pumped his chit in the machine beside me. Are you kiddin' me? Him and I are alone practically at this point in the casino, and he's got to sit beside me at the viper machine and screw up my chances at glory cuz he wants to be rejected by me? Once I realized my best course of action was blatant rudeness instead of usual undertones of it, as obviously he wasn't beside me cuz he loved vipers like I did, it was that I was a chick , still dressed up from my night before in case we went clubbin' (although I was carrying my heels at this point and they were currently on the seat beside me since there was no one to see me do that), and here's his chance to talk to a real live girl at this ungodly hour of the morning, as clearly that's the best time to pick up. Anyway, to his, "How y'all enjoying Vegas?" I sniffed without even looking at him, "we're enjoying it just fine and if you wait two more minutes you can ask my boyfriend how he's enjoying it too." It was weird that two seconds later he cashed out without another word and left me to my about-to-win-a-viper high. I must have been punished for that by the viper Gods as I did not leave Vegas with the car, BUT I did at least try, just wasn't my time and who wants to win anything in the States other than cold hard cash what with the taxes you pay on winnings!
Anyway, we had to leave that morning so I had to go and grab a few hours of sleep. Unfortunately though, I was wired, I had just played about 10 hours of poker and wasn't ready to lie down. As I was puttering around, Carm woke up, said she felt like crap and advised me to stay up as if I lied down, I was gonna feel really bad when I got up too so I just stayed up. We were hungry and went for breakfast. We took the mustang we still had to Paris Paris and had breakfast at that hotel. If you can, always drive to Vegas as the valet parking is free everywhere! We would've used the car more had we found that out earlier, but you can park at every hotel for free as that's how they get you there, that was cool. We then played slots at the Bellagio and now I'm starting to twitch. I was feeling buzzy and fuzzy by then as an understatement. I've now been awake at this point for 28 hours. After our day of travelling, many delays later and no sleep, we rolled into Toronto at about 1:30am Sunday night, Carm's brother Mito graciously agreed to pick us up at that hour, and by the time we got home, I sat down on my couch after such a long day, it was 3am. I had been up for 45 hours. I had my ceremonious last smoke (Vegas was my last hurrah with tobacco) and went to bed. I've chronicled this adventure through pictures on facebook, and maybe I'll link the pics to this blog if anyone is interested in seeing them...
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
What I Should've said to Mammob*tch
This is where I’d like to say that I later went into that mammogram office after my cancer diagnosis and gave the secretary that wasn’t going to give me the appt a piece of my mind, but I didn’t do that. I walked in there unsure of whether I would say anything or not, and I decided against it and have gone into that office for those films numerous times since and have not uttered a word about it. This is conflictive with my personality but still, I did nothing. However, as writing is supposed to be my therapy, I’m gonna include exactly what I would’ve liked to have said right here:
“Do you remember me? I’m the 29 year old girl that you wanted to deny a mammogram to because I’m still 5 months short of the accepted age of 30. You had your blue paper in front of you with my doctor’s signature, and yet still, you decided to be stubborn and flex your secretary muscles by denying me an appointment in your book and calling my doctor to tell her you don’t do mammograms on people under 30? I want you to take a good look at my face. If I didn’t get that mammogram, you may have signed my death sentence. I want you to picture my face the next time you are going to turn someone away from receiving one of the only forms of detection we have against this brutal disease & one of the only ways to check for breast cancer and think twice; you have the power to affect someone’s life, use it wisely.”
Had my mammogram been delayed, or had my doctor not been in her office to answer her phone, my life may have been very different right now. I may have found out about my cancer from a hospital bed instead of from the mammogram. I know that it isn’t really this receptionists fault, it was not a personal attack on me, and this is what goes through my head as I've stood in front of this woman numerous times over the past few months. I don't even think I have to say anything to her; I think she knows who I am and knows what she almost did, I'm pretty confident of that. She's for sure sneaked a peak in my folder or they use code words for what I have on the front of my folder, point is, she knows. I can tell by her face when I'm in there and to be honest, I like the power of her wondering if today will be the day I make her day crap. That's one reason I stay silent. Another is the humanity behind it. This woman is probably a wonderful person and a good mother/wife whatever, so I don't really want to make her feel the way I say I want to make her feel I guess as I do understand it wasn't personal. I teeter with this one internally a lot. This woman has no idea that a form of her lives in my head and every once in a while, I bring her out so I can abuse her verbally on an internal rant. That's gotta be therapeutic enough on some level I reason with myself.
The fact is I do kind of understand the reasoning behind not giving mammograms to people under 30, I just don’t agree with it. Young boobs are very dense and they could give you a false negative, in other words, the cancer wouldn’t be detected by the mammogram and you leave with a false sense of security which could also be very damaging. But is that age-specific? No it is not. A 65 year old woman could also get a false negative from dense boob tissue too. Mammograms aren't perfect for anyone of any age. If you've ever read Dr. Marla's book, she opted to remove her "healthy" breast as well as she didn't think she'd ever feel confident about future mammogram results because she had received an erroneous reading. Dude, she's a Doctor! Unfortunately mammograms just aren’t perfect yet, but shouldn’t we allow all women to use what we do have available to us as far as technological advancements? It's all we have right now! I did self-exams, I have since I was 16 years old gone for a yearly physical. I've had cancer for years. Feeling my boobs did not give me or my doctor any cause for concern until it was way past the "we've caught it early" phase. If I had a mammogram two years ago I may have (would have) gone through something completely different. Getting a mammogram is not only 'not recommended' I actually almost got turned away from getting one and I had a Dr's form stating to schedule one! There was a day when getting an xray would've been viewed the same way getting a mammogram is today, and I'll bet in the very near future, getting a mammogram won't be the event it is currently, same with MRIs. It's hard living with the what-ifs so I'm trying not to for the most part, but here it is: for me, the scariest thing about getting cancer is that in all likelihood I will die from it one day. It will most likely come back one day in another form and kill me. I didn't say it will for sure, it may not, but this is statistically what will eventually happen. Or I could walk in front of a bus tomorrow just like anyone else. I don't want to hear any positive thinking comments here, I do think positively and I will live my life by living but I described myself as an optimistic realist and not a realistic optomist. That's simply my new reality and one I'm dealing with as effectively as I know how. Anyway, the scary irrational thought is what if they find a cure the day after I die from it? That's a crazy thought! It's happened to people in the past, right?
Anyway, back to the topic of mammograms, I do think I’m afforded the luxury of having a strong opinion on this and to comment on this from my perspective. Is it maybe that those huge machines are extremely expensive to run, and therefore, because the 'age' of breast cancer is 50+, they don’t want to run those costly machines when the amount of women under 45 with breast cancer is so much smaller than the 45+ women? Even though the percentage of women my age getting this disease is very low (but growing rapidly), I get that, but it’s also more aggressive at this age than it is in older women from what I understand, so shouldn’t we get a chance to fight it early too? It’s got to be about money in my opinion and not the just the reasoning given about dense breast tissue being hard to see through. Older women can also have dense breasts and are still at a risk for false negatives, but because there is less of that risk, it’s an accepted risk? I’m not saying that they should lower the age of annual mandatory mammograms (although in the future I’d like to advocate for this after I’ve studied up on it) but I absolutely firmly believe that they should NEVER turn someone away from one, especially when requested by a Doctor! There shouldn’t be an age put to it for a receptionist to have that kind of power over my life is my point. I can’t stop myself from thinking about the what-ifs on that topic, and I have to stop talking about it as my blood is beginning to boil. I’ll finish this rant with the following: I have very small, dense boobs. I’m under 30. I took one look at those films that the mammogram produced and there was no denying what was there on every single film of my right breast. A huge ominous white circular solid-looking mass covering my entire nipple and breast, the size of a small baseball. No false negative there. Very clearly something very very wrong in fact. So although there will be women who generate false-negatives, both young and old, let’s not discriminate and influence young womens decision to get a mammogram by not allowing it. You are signing someone’s death sentence, thank goodness my doctor made sure it wasn’t mine.
“Do you remember me? I’m the 29 year old girl that you wanted to deny a mammogram to because I’m still 5 months short of the accepted age of 30. You had your blue paper in front of you with my doctor’s signature, and yet still, you decided to be stubborn and flex your secretary muscles by denying me an appointment in your book and calling my doctor to tell her you don’t do mammograms on people under 30? I want you to take a good look at my face. If I didn’t get that mammogram, you may have signed my death sentence. I want you to picture my face the next time you are going to turn someone away from receiving one of the only forms of detection we have against this brutal disease & one of the only ways to check for breast cancer and think twice; you have the power to affect someone’s life, use it wisely.”
Had my mammogram been delayed, or had my doctor not been in her office to answer her phone, my life may have been very different right now. I may have found out about my cancer from a hospital bed instead of from the mammogram. I know that it isn’t really this receptionists fault, it was not a personal attack on me, and this is what goes through my head as I've stood in front of this woman numerous times over the past few months. I don't even think I have to say anything to her; I think she knows who I am and knows what she almost did, I'm pretty confident of that. She's for sure sneaked a peak in my folder or they use code words for what I have on the front of my folder, point is, she knows. I can tell by her face when I'm in there and to be honest, I like the power of her wondering if today will be the day I make her day crap. That's one reason I stay silent. Another is the humanity behind it. This woman is probably a wonderful person and a good mother/wife whatever, so I don't really want to make her feel the way I say I want to make her feel I guess as I do understand it wasn't personal. I teeter with this one internally a lot. This woman has no idea that a form of her lives in my head and every once in a while, I bring her out so I can abuse her verbally on an internal rant. That's gotta be therapeutic enough on some level I reason with myself.
The fact is I do kind of understand the reasoning behind not giving mammograms to people under 30, I just don’t agree with it. Young boobs are very dense and they could give you a false negative, in other words, the cancer wouldn’t be detected by the mammogram and you leave with a false sense of security which could also be very damaging. But is that age-specific? No it is not. A 65 year old woman could also get a false negative from dense boob tissue too. Mammograms aren't perfect for anyone of any age. If you've ever read Dr. Marla's book, she opted to remove her "healthy" breast as well as she didn't think she'd ever feel confident about future mammogram results because she had received an erroneous reading. Dude, she's a Doctor! Unfortunately mammograms just aren’t perfect yet, but shouldn’t we allow all women to use what we do have available to us as far as technological advancements? It's all we have right now! I did self-exams, I have since I was 16 years old gone for a yearly physical. I've had cancer for years. Feeling my boobs did not give me or my doctor any cause for concern until it was way past the "we've caught it early" phase. If I had a mammogram two years ago I may have (would have) gone through something completely different. Getting a mammogram is not only 'not recommended' I actually almost got turned away from getting one and I had a Dr's form stating to schedule one! There was a day when getting an xray would've been viewed the same way getting a mammogram is today, and I'll bet in the very near future, getting a mammogram won't be the event it is currently, same with MRIs. It's hard living with the what-ifs so I'm trying not to for the most part, but here it is: for me, the scariest thing about getting cancer is that in all likelihood I will die from it one day. It will most likely come back one day in another form and kill me. I didn't say it will for sure, it may not, but this is statistically what will eventually happen. Or I could walk in front of a bus tomorrow just like anyone else. I don't want to hear any positive thinking comments here, I do think positively and I will live my life by living but I described myself as an optimistic realist and not a realistic optomist. That's simply my new reality and one I'm dealing with as effectively as I know how. Anyway, the scary irrational thought is what if they find a cure the day after I die from it? That's a crazy thought! It's happened to people in the past, right?
Anyway, back to the topic of mammograms, I do think I’m afforded the luxury of having a strong opinion on this and to comment on this from my perspective. Is it maybe that those huge machines are extremely expensive to run, and therefore, because the 'age' of breast cancer is 50+, they don’t want to run those costly machines when the amount of women under 45 with breast cancer is so much smaller than the 45+ women? Even though the percentage of women my age getting this disease is very low (but growing rapidly), I get that, but it’s also more aggressive at this age than it is in older women from what I understand, so shouldn’t we get a chance to fight it early too? It’s got to be about money in my opinion and not the just the reasoning given about dense breast tissue being hard to see through. Older women can also have dense breasts and are still at a risk for false negatives, but because there is less of that risk, it’s an accepted risk? I’m not saying that they should lower the age of annual mandatory mammograms (although in the future I’d like to advocate for this after I’ve studied up on it) but I absolutely firmly believe that they should NEVER turn someone away from one, especially when requested by a Doctor! There shouldn’t be an age put to it for a receptionist to have that kind of power over my life is my point. I can’t stop myself from thinking about the what-ifs on that topic, and I have to stop talking about it as my blood is beginning to boil. I’ll finish this rant with the following: I have very small, dense boobs. I’m under 30. I took one look at those films that the mammogram produced and there was no denying what was there on every single film of my right breast. A huge ominous white circular solid-looking mass covering my entire nipple and breast, the size of a small baseball. No false negative there. Very clearly something very very wrong in fact. So although there will be women who generate false-negatives, both young and old, let’s not discriminate and influence young womens decision to get a mammogram by not allowing it. You are signing someone’s death sentence, thank goodness my doctor made sure it wasn’t mine.
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