Catia Bitching Cancer

I saw him today for my two-week checkup. I dressed all nicely: tight Guess jeans, tight aqua cashmere sweater, stiletto boots, day makeup. Of course, I was chest-lopsided, but Bruce said I pay too much attention to the breasts. He thought I was sexy and, had it not been Dr. McDorky I was seeing, he might have thought jelous thoughts. And of course, my thoughts for Dr. McDorky do not involve passionate kisses or sexual breast-fondling. But I do love him. Because, after all, he is human. He is such a sweetheart, in his own dorky way. So he was pleasantly surprised that my scar is healing so fast and he’s happy with my healing progress in general. I asked him whether the surgeon’s decision to not re-excise to obtain wider margins had anything to do with aesthetic reasons (in other words, whether he influenced the decision, based on possible aesthetic consequences). He reassured me he had nothing to do with it: his opinion is that first I have to take care of the cancer, take out as much skin and tissue as it is necessary, then he’s going to work with what is left to give me the best aesthetic results, given the circumstances. He told me not to let aesthetic consideration influence my decision either (not that I needed telling, but it was nice to hear that from a plastic surgeon). Of course, being Dr. McDorky, he explained all the possible procedures to get more skin and tissue to the side of the mastectomy, should further sugery be needed. But I won’t go there. He also told me that, should I need radiation, he won’t have to remove the implant, as it is all made of plastic parts. He’ll try to avoid further cosmetic surgery as much as possible. Another nice thing to hear from a surgeon!
Anyway, after we had talked for a while, he said I was ready to be pumped up. So he got out a big syringe, a small needle and went to get some saline solution. I am happy to say that I was able to take in 90cc of saline solution, as opposed to the 60cc he was planning to inject. I could probably take some more, but why making it more painful than necessary? Right now I feel some pressure from the added volume, but no pain. Moreover, with a sports bra on, one can barely notice that I am lopsided. My left breast is about half the size of the right one, but since sports bras squeeze the breast a little, and the implanted one is hard and cannot be squeezed, I look almost normal. I can’t wait to see what Bruce says!
Dr. McDorky is also planning ahead to recreate a nipple out of some extra skin left over from the surgery. And finally, cherry on the cake, he gave me the ok to resume exercizing, as much as I want. He just cautioned me to listen to my body and not do anything that’s hurting me above the ordinary. And he remembered that he has to talk to me in terms of grams and cc, not ounces or pounds! Oh yeah, I love him! How could I not?

Yesterday I saw my surgeon who explained what she had done and told me about the pathology report on my cancer. I had always wondered how much a breast weighs…mine weighed 335 grams (almost 12 ounces) on the pathologist scale. Not too shabby, eh? Anyway, as expected I had (notice the use of the past tense) multicentric disease (that is tumors located in multiple sites of my breast). The largest tumor was 2 cm. at its widest, there was no infiltration of the lympatic or vascular systems, thus it was a stage T1c (early stage). Yuppie! The bad news is that there were noninvasive carcinomas throughout (as we had suspected) and for one of them the surgeon could not excise as much healthy tissue around it as she would have liked (so the margin, as it is called, was only 1 mm. wide, where she would have preferred to have it at 1 cm.). Bottom line: the surgeon referred me to both a radiation oncologist and a medical oncologist, as she thought I’d need both radiation and chemo (plus hormone therapy, as my cancer tested positive to hormone receptors…another good thing). Francesca instead told me that the therapy in Europe would probably be limited to hormone therapy…so there is a good chance that I won’t need either chemo or radiation. If I have to do radiation it will mean that I will probably have to have another surgery to replace the implant, as it will likely be damaged by radiation…but I’ll wait to see what the oncologists say.

I heard people with disabilities comment on how “temporarily abled people” (among whom I used to count myself) often avoid looking at them. The disabled seem to not like that a bit. As a formerly abled I wondered how to look at the disabled without appearing to be staring or condescending; or how to not look at them without appearing to denying their presence and dignity. I am finally getting a taste of what the disabled feel like. For the first few days I was only in touch with my friends who were simply great: I could even show some of them the scar and they seemed not too shocked. But a few days ago, someone I know saw me for the first time after surgery and boy was it evident she was trying to avoid looking at my chest! She was trying to be upbeat about it, to cheer me up, to tell me that I had nothing to worry about, but it was clear as crystal that the absence of breast bothered her. I guess for her it meant I was now no longer ‘like anybody else’, a ‘normal’ person. I was a sick person, someone to be pitied. Of course, I don’t feel that way about myself at all. Inside I am the same person as before, and the absence of a breast does not change who I am. But people do see me differently, as somehow less than… So the other day I decided to put on a new t-shirt that Cynthia, Kristi, and Kristin gave me at the goodbye-boob party. It says ‘Please ignore my gorgeous tits’ right across the chest. Just because I have cancer it doesn’t mean I lost my sense of humor, and every time I put that t-shirt people will know!
I had gone to the doctor’s office that day to have a nurse help me milk my drainage tube. For the past 10 days, I have been going around with a plastic tube inserted under my skin making a curve from the sternum, up my chest, then coming out on my left side, below my armpit, and ending in a little plastic bottle. Every now and then, the tube gets clogged with a blood clot, and I have to unclog it. The technique for unclogging the tube is called ‘milking’ because, as my father observed, it is very similar to milking a cow. You use a disinfectant wipe to slide your fingers along the tube and help the drainage liquid (a mixture of blood and some other clear body fluid) go through the tube and into the bottle. I have had to monitor the flow and empty the bottle two to three times a day for the past ten days. Needless to say, I was ecstatic today to see Dr. McDorky who finally took the tube out! It was not without pain, but it lasted a short time. More painful was the insertion of a big long needle attached to a huge syringe, to drain some fluid that had formed (not unusual) on my side, where the implant valve is located. But he told me I am healing well, everything is normal. I still can’t use my arm and I have to get plenty of rest, no exercise for another week, but I am doing fine! Tomorrow I’ll see the surgeon and get the histological report.

First post after surgery, here it is. I was in a way dreading it. Where should I start? The last thing I remember before waking up in the hospital room without my left boob is Dr. McDorky marking my breasts with a felt-tip pen and telling me I was lopsided. I was oh so happy that it was slightly cold in that room, so that my breasts were all perky, but he plainly said it didn’t matter a bit. That’s what I get for choosing McDorky over Cute Plastic Surgeon, I thought! But I got the nurse giggling over my fake boob-glasses and various boob paraphernalia that Bruce later had to take back with him. I got a lot of comfort from the presence of all my friends through the gifts and cards I brought with me to the pre-op room.

When I woke up in my room, I looked down to check through the bandage and all I saw was a mini cleavage that gave me a measure of relief. Then friends came over to see how I was and laugh at and with my groggy self. Kristin and Cynthia even gave me a foot and hand massage. S-P-O-I-L-E-D, that’s my name!

Saturday, early afternoon, Gary came to visit too, and insisted that cleavage doesn’t matter, but he’s a man beside a priest, so what does he know? Dr. McDorky came while Gary was there, and he sent everybody out. My parents attempted without success to convince Sandro to help them communicate, but Sandro was occupied with his GameBoy and continued to ignore the adults around him. But he didn’t ignore mamma: he moved into my bed as soon as he arrived in my room, and though he never let go of his GameBoy, we were just content to lie next to each other. He’s been so wonderful ever since. He even saw my wound and matter-of-factly admired it. He did ask me whether the drainage tube hurt, but he didn’t seem phased from the 10-in. red scar across what used to be my left boob.

As for me, I watched myself in the mirror as soon as I came home that day, after Dr. McDorky gave me the go (and after giving me post-op instructions laced with what he thought were humorous details). I won’t hide it: it’s nasty! It runs across my chest for about 10 inches, starting 2 inches left of the sternum curvying its way through to my left underarm. Then I have the scar from the biopsy and lower on my side a 2-3 in. scar where the valve from the expandable implant is sitting temporarily until the breast is inflated to the proper size. For someone who had only two small scars over all her body for her entire life and never was put under until 2 weeks ago, that was quite a change. But I am getting used to it, and Sandro’s reaction helped a lot. But more about that later…

Recorded Nov 4 2006. Click Here to Listen

The surgeries are over, both surgeons reporting that the surgeries went well. Catia was out of recovery and in her own room by 2:10pm, but groggy. We visited at about 4pm and she was in great spirits (a strong will, a measure of relief and good meds, I suspect) but still a bit groggy.

Keep the love coming!!!

Oh yeah, and vote on Tuesday.

posted by Mark