Oh, Goodie, More Waiting: AKA, Pre-Op Surgery Appointment

The meeting with the surgeon for surgery details and last-minute instructions went smoothly, except for the part about the possibility of hearing back that I would have to have a mastectomy if the pathology report came back with more cancer. I thought this was all over!!!! I screamed to myself. Let me back up. I’m letting my emotions take over. The survey would be about an hour long. First, I would check in and be given numbing medicine so the radiologist could put bracket markers where the surgeon needs to cut, using the mammogram again. Then I would be prepped for surgery, anesthesia given and wheeled in. I was told I’d be home by lunch.

Pathology takes 7-10 days to come back. Given the amount of tissue they need to take, quite a lot, it is at the limit of a lumpectomy to have much breast tissue left. If margins come back good and path comes back clean, I can go for reconstruction surgery and 2-3 weeks later, start radiation. When asked if I really needed reconstruction, she said, “It seems like if you have the chance to have perky teenage boobs, instead of 40-year-old boobs that I’m making a big divot in, you should take that chance.”

However, if the pathology comes back not clear, meaning more cancer was found, then my only real option is a mastectomy of the right breast. And there is a 25% chance for pathology to come back positive with cancer. Sooooo again, I wait! I thought was over the scariest parts. This process is leaving its scars for sure – in more ways than one.

Called the reconstruction surgeon and got on the calendar. Another preop appointment, this one just days after my first surgery. 3 hours to reconstruct my right breast and make the other breast match. Iv anesthesia and an epidural. Never had that. Don’t want to do it. Scared I won’t walk again if they miss with the epidural. The recovery for the reconstruction surgery sounds much worse than the lumpectomy with not being able to move my arms away from my sides for weeks. How will I function? How will I drive? How will I do the myriad of things I signed up for before cancer took them away from me.

I made the appointments and called my mom sobbing. I don’t really care what my boobs look like. I don’t want to have help because I can’t lift a coffee cup to my lips in the morning. Cancer fucking sucks. I don’t want to do any of this. This is insane. Insane.

My options are slim if I want to get most surgery done, and radiation started before my kids are at home for summer break. I feel I have no other choice.

Mom will fly up briefly for the first surgery is planning on coming back with my dad for the second. It seems like a better plan to have more adults on hand when I won’t be able to use my arms.

This is an actual map of the battle of Shiloh from the American Civil War. Turns out I am not *actually* putting an image of my breast on the internet.

The next day I took the long trip to the city to have my boob drawn on. The reconstruction surgeon was nice and quick and explained how she was artistically drawing on my breast so the other surgeon would use the same lines, leaving less scars behind. One friend referred to the photo I showed her of my breast as a “battle plan.” It’s a pretty adept description of the lines and marks, three colors. The most important purple lines were covered in tape so they would stay longer (there are still 5 days until surgery). I was given a permanent marker to redraw lines after showering. That seems like a lot of power to give me, considering I am not very artistic.