Bald Barren And Boobless

An honest and comical reflection of my journey through breast cancer

Tag: breast surgeon

It’s all too draining

quotes1Saturday  7th  December

Marc and Monica go to South Australia for the weekend. I am home with Sam for the weekend, I thought no problem I won’t be doing much. On the first morning that they are away I am innocently in the bathroom having a wash.

All of a sudden I notice that there is a strange sound. As I am standing there I notice that the length of drain that was inside my chest has fallen onto the floor! I didn’t really feel anything. But I am looking at this thin king “now what do I do?”

I guess it wants to come out; I am not sure what to do? I call my sister who is a medical professional, she is always great for advice, she does not answer, Marc is in mid air, I can’t put it back in, I decide to call the nurse. They say they will be there asap, they come 2 hours later. I have put a dressing over the top as it is oozing, lovely!

I am skipping about the house as much as a one boobed sore woman can skip, trying not to panic. I am sure I look like an epileptic cockroach. Oh well Sam is sleeping in so there in no audience.

The nurse arrives, she is calm so then I begin to calm down too. The drain is out, the dressing is removed from my chest. I must say it is freaking me out, the scar is healing well but it looks like the 2 edges of skin are just resting together and can open any time. I begin to have these visions of the flesh parting, it’s horrible.

My wound is so sore, I thought they said when the drain comes out I will feel better I am just as sore if not sorer. It may be due to all of my jumping about previously in a panic.  With time, as the drain pain lessens, I can move a bit more freely without the bag attached to me.  I no longer look like a lost librarian with my shoulder bag.  I feel like I am beginning to make some progress.  Yippee!

 

 

It’s cut off day

fearless quote Thursday 28th November 2013

Surgery day has arrived very quickly! We arrive at St George Private Hospital by 6am. We get all booked in and fill in all the paperwork. I have been nil by mouth since midnight.

The first “procedure” of the day is to have radioactive isotope injected at 9am. This is to see if any cancer has travelled out of the breast to the lymph nodes. It is a fairly new procedure so I am glad I get access to this new technology so to speak.

We meet another lovely lady and her family in the waiting room. She is there also to have the same procedure for a lumpectomy today. You can just see the fear on her face. Poor love. We make small talk and try to act like everything is going to be ok.

My lovely man Marc is with me every step of the way. Any one who knows us knows we cope with life through humour and lots of it. The poor technician that takes some images of me is very straight laced. Marc is trying to make him laugh and he is almost tripping over himself just to get out of the room more quickly. I am laughing so hard for a moment I forget what I am at the hospital for.

The injection of the radioactive substance really hurts but it only lasts a little while. This will trace the pathway from the breast to the lymph nodes so they can be biopsied and tested for cancer. I am then escorted back to the preparation area for surgery. I wear what I think is my most comfy mastectomy undies only to be told they are made of the wrong fabric and I need to wear these ridiculous paper ones. So uncomfortable, honestly there is no end to the embarrassment you experience.

The Breast care nurse comes by, she is lovely and makes me feel really at ease. She explains that I will receive some support regarding a prosthesis after the surgery and also receive support at home post surgery due to the drains I will have in place.  She also tells me I will get a soft prosthesis and a bra to wear after surgery.

The anaesthetist comes by and I feel like he has stepped of the set of mad men, he looks like he is right out of the 1960’s. A lovely man, funny, happy to chat, I am glad for the distraction to be honest. Its getting near 12 and I still haven’t gone in for surgery. I am becoming really thirsty and agitated, lets get the ball rolling people!!!

I finally go in for the surgery at 1pm. I get the smooth talking South American orderly who is as smooth as silk. He is wheeling me along and says in his smooth accent “So what is Santa Claus going to get you for Christmas?” Without even thinking is say “Breast cancer how about you?” Poor guy, does not have an answer for that and I am far too focused on the next part of my day to apologise.  I didn’t mean to sound nasty that is my bald sense of humour at times.

I am aware that I am awake and back in room by 5pm, I feel sore but ok.  I have a dressing on my right side chest and a drain coming from the right chest wall as well as a PCA for pain. At the push of a button I can get pain relief. Marc is there when I wake up which is nice. He has to leave at dinnertime so that the kids get fed, and I settle in for a quiet evening.

By 10pm I have the nurses encouraging me to get out of bed and use the toilet. This is not easy, it is very painful to move and I am not able to go. We realise pretty soon after a few attempts that it is more about performance anxiety than a surgical complication. PHEW!! I sneak to the loo by myself and am able to go, then tell the nurse that all is well.

Then at about 1030 the anaesthetist comes and says “hello.” What an unexpected and lovely surprise. After some routine small talk, he asks “so do you remember anything during the procedure?” I answer, “No should I?” He responds with a weird, “Nooo”.   He then vanishes into the night.

After he has left I look in the mirror and notice that I have a black eye!!! What on earth happened in that operating room?  As I lay there, laughing to myself,  pondering the endless possibilities I drift off into a broken sleep, first day after my mastectomy, I have survived, in fact I did quite well, I wonder what tomorrow will bring?

It’s C Day

faith quote

Tues the 19th November 2013

It’s 9 am and we go to the breast surgeon, my preferred Doctors colleague. My first choice for a breast surgeon is on holidays and we can only see his colleague.  We arrive eager to get the results only to be told it’s not today its tomorrow!  I want to cry.  I really don’t know how that happened!  I go home and wait.  I cannot describe the frustration and helplessness that I feel. The time passes so slowly, its almost like I feel like I need to make every decision but you also can’t make any because I don’t know what the outcome is.  Again a very unproductive and emotionally painful day.

The following day Wednesday, we go to our appointment, a young Chinese doctor sees us.  The moment i see him i feel like the answer is not going to be good.  He looks at me says, “ it’s cancer, it is what it is.”

He then turns from us and with his back to us mumbles, “take a moment if you need too.”  I feel like offering him some training in how to deliver life changing news!  Honestly!    Marc grabs my hand but I am strangely calm.

One some level I am shocked but not hugely because I feel like I have known since the radiologist went quiet on Saturday. He says to Marc and I, “Hey we need to biopsy the other lump Kerry”. (My name is Kylie) and I say “What about the third lump?” – he says “hang on let me read the report, oh yeah lets get both done now.”

Well I’m sure you can imagine what has just happened to my trust level in this young man, zero!!!! First he gets my name wrong, then he hasn’t read the report and could have let a third biopsy be forgotten and he wants to touch my boob!  I don’t think so….

He also says, “I will do a lumpectomy next week.”   I say “I want a mastectomy” and he says “I don’t think we need to go overboard!”  I am spinning thinking I have two time bombs on my chest here, I saw my Mum die over a very long slow and painful process, my sister is going through it and you say don’t over react!!!!

I go back to my friends at radiology, my friend cranky pants the angry receptionist greets me with a hug this time and I get the other biopsies done.  Again the staff at radiology are so lovely and gentle, they treat you with such dignity and care it makes a horrible process so much more bearable.  I am to see the breast surgeon who doesn’t know me from Adam again on Monday the 25th to get pathology results and confirm the plan.

Marc takes me to out favourite local restaurant at Brighton by the water for some lunch.  Ia m not hungry I have such a knot in my stomach.  We begin to make those first phone calls to family and close friends, the people we are going to need the most support from.   I am becoming quite emotional and am trying to hold it together.  The poor waitress is trying to serve us but realised something quite big is going on so she circles too afraid to approach.

What a weird day, I am calling people telling them that I have cancer, it is surreal.  They all read differently, some are strong for me, others I need to be strong for them.  Some have very strange reactions and in their shock say weird things like ” well at least you’ll lose weight with chemo,”  I breathe deeply and just think, “It is their shock speaking, they don’t mean it, who would say that seriously!”

We eat, we talk, both of us are keen to seek a second opinion, but are also keen to get the results back form the other biopsies.  The weight on us is tremendous.  We are both drowning in the “what ifs.”

So from Wednesday to the following Monday we wait, we know I have cancer but we don’t know anything else. As you can probably imagine this is a weird time, we don’t sleep much, we talk a lot, we contemplate things more, differently, I am trying to wrap my head around what I need to do practically with my work and life.

I feel like my works has been placed on hold but also on fast forward.  I start to think about all the things I haven’t done but want to and need to do.  I think “oh Geeez, I don’t have a will in place, I have not made it clear about what would happen to Sam in the event of my death.”  Big questions to contemplate.  Then I also have this beautiful confirmation that I will be ok, I will get through this.

To say I am confused, bewildered and overwhelmed is the understatement of the century.