Monday 9th december
I wake up and think I have a seroma. This is the collection of too much fluid in the cavity where your breast tissue once was. It is a very sad replacement for my breast that is for sure. It is quite sore and swollen and when I move from side to side it sloshes in my chest. It literally sounds like a hot water bottle being sloshed. How disgusting! I call the breast care nurse, she says “yeah call the doctor.”
Today I also have my first appointment with my Oncologist. This is one medical professional I never thought I would say I have. “I’m seeing my oncologist today.” I’d much rather be saying Beautician or even Gynaecologist!!
Marc is still away in South Australia so my sister is coming with me. If you read about chronic illness you should always take someone with you to the Doctor. Just to offer support and make sure you ask all of your questions and understand the responses.
Because of the seroma, I call my Breast Surgeon and they ask me to come after the Oncologist. We arrive at the Hospital and my Oncologist is running 45 minutes late, so I think, lets scoot up to the breast surgeon and see if he can fit me in now. This is one part of my nature that I need to explain; I hate waiting around. I love to do things in the most effective way possible. So rather than wait for 45 mins I think let’s get this seroma sorted.
The breast surgeon can see me now, which is great. He says “you do have a seroma but it is not that big.” “Oh I’m sorry.” I think, “I did realise it was a competition!” When I am upright it is very swollen, sore and downright ugly. When I lay down the fluid disappears. Not unlike our ageing breast hey girls…..
I ask him to drain it while I am sitting, he won’t do it in case I faint. Personally, I would rather be upright and know all the fluid is gone than lie down and be told there is hardly any fluid there.
So, he makes me lie down and then he says “it is not that big but I will drain it anyway.” My blood pressure rises in line with my frustration and related directly to my feeling of being a pain in his butt. He gets a whopping great needle and sticks it into my chest to drain the fluid. He gets 50 mls and says “see I told you it was not much.”
His mannerisms and tone have such a way of making me feel like a real whiner. I am feeling so uncomfortable and in pain and he was so understanding before the mastectomy, but since he lopped off the boob its like “stop whining please, what more do you expect me to do?”
We leave the breast surgeon, somewhat deflated ( hah hah) and go to the Oncologist with my sister as planned. I am a little nervous, as I am not sure what is ahead.
The Oncologist is lovely, she is my age, down to earth, open to my questions, gentle, supportive, but strong. She says because I had 2 tumors of different grades in one breast and there was lymph node involvement. I need chemotherapy, then the ovaries stopped and Tamoxifen. This is because the cancer is driven to grow by my female hormones oestrogen and progesterone.
All I hear is chemo! Wow, I did not expect this. She also says that I will definitely lose my hair, due to the type of chemotherapy used. She says I can have my ovaries removed or have my ovaries chemically halted.
Me being Miss efficiency thinks that when I get the second mastectomy and reconstruction in about April 2014, I will plan to have my ovaries removed. Thats typical me, lets make a list and get it done.
I only need 4 rounds of chemo at this stage, ( I am so lucky compared to many) she says let’s give you Christmas off, allow you to heal from surgery and you can start in early January. Woohoo! I get Christmas off.
It’s funny how stress brings out the best and worst in you, I turn into little miss practical planner, and who knows that a journey like cancer doesn’t always let you play this type of game.
How do I feel?? I don’t know – numb is a great word, I just go into problem solving mode, I’m good at that. I need a blood test as a base line before chemo starts, I go down to the oncology centre to book in for the 3rd of January 2014. It is very interesting walking into an oncology department. I’ve never seen so many posters for wig manufacturers and scarves. The staff also say, you can have Christmas off. Funny, they have the same idea. I don’t feel like it’s a good thing, I sort of want to get into it.
My sister and I go to lunch to digest the information form this morning. She is really supportive but I think she wishes I didn’t say “yes” to chemo. I think that she wishes I would go the complete natural route. I just feel like I need to use the best of both worlds. Use the chemo but use complimentary medicine to support and strengthen my body. The idea that a single cancer cell is roaming my body makes me want to obliterate it and just get as strong as possible. There is still so much I want and need to do with my life.
Even though I sense that my sister would like me to take a different path, I don’t feel any pressure for her, just love and support. We are both very aware that each journey like this is so individual.
So now I need to tell my family what is ahead and let young Sam know that I will be needing that cool beanie after all…
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