It appears that it is Stage 1, but they won't know exactly until they get in there and start cutting. They will biopsy one lymph node and then proceed from there. They do not think it is so invasive that they will be required to do a radical mastectomy, and assure me my boobs will look pretty much the same when they are done. I actually stated loudly, "WHAT?? I thought there would be a reduction as part of this whole thing." Apparently they have made such great strides they can preserve most of the breast tissue and then have me undergo radiation or chemo. I was not happy to hear that a reduction was not automatically part of the procedure.....LOL
So, after being told that the lumpectomy would be scheduled for Dec. 3 or 4 (what with next week being Thanksgiving and the fact I actually wanted to talk to the oncologist and the radiologist before having any of that done) means surgery in another 2.5 weeks. The surgeon did refer me to the plastic surgeon, who agreed that a 38GG was a bit much and that therefore, he would have no problem doing the reduction after the lumpectomy had healed. He reminded me that men liked really big breasts. I stated that there were times when too much of a good thing was just too much. After all, while a 24" penis might sound good in theory, that was simply too much. He laughed and agreed that he saw my point. When the reduction tissues healed, they would then do radiation or chemo.
Timeline = Surgery for lumpectomy on Dec. 3 or 4.
Reduction surgery 3 weeks after that.
Radiation or chemo 6 weeks after the reduction.
Showing posts with label lumpectomy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lumpectomy. Show all posts
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Follow-up at the VA, the Surgical Consult and more Reality Bites
Spent yet another night with the folks. While Dad loves the company, I definitely got the feeling that Mom was thinking about the fish and family thing....that we both begin to stink after a few days. Conversations with the folks about long range plans have been half hearted, joking aside type comments and an attempt to use humour to get a better idea of where I was coming from and where I felt the whole thing would go. When I merely mentioned the fact that Miss Kitty might need a new home, Dad immediately agreed that she would be "welcome", but Mom quickly shot him the look that kills so I knew that plan was dead in the water. Miss Kitty has been guaranteed a home with my current roomie Becky and her two cats Winston and Luna. None of the cats are particularly thrilled about THAT idea.
So, the day of my follow-up at the VA I went to work and had Mom meet me in Forest Park at the end of the Blue Line. Brought an overnight bag because I did not know if the consult would become a check-in. While waiting for the surgeon, we were introduced to a medical student who proceeded to take my history and ask a million questions I had already answered to others. I could NOT believe that I was dealing with breast cancer and I was being handed off to a newbie. I think the look on my face said it all and both Mom and I agreed that there was NO WAY I was taking a word of advice from this young gal. This whipped any fear I had of being treated at the VA into an absolute frenzy.
When the surgeon finally arrived, his assistant (or merely another surgeon, I was not totally coherent at this point) both agreed the lump was where they said it was and said they agreed that the VA should perform a lumpectomy and once we knew what was actually inside, they would proceed to come up with a game plan to attack the cancer itself. This was the FIRST time a doctor was willing to actually say the word......CANCER, yes, I had CANCER!
That in and of itself was actually a huge relief. I explained that of my two greatest fears, dying alone and frankentits, the thought of the VA performing my surgery and leaving me with hideous scars scared the pants out of me and actually made me hope and pray the cancer would kill me instead of leaving me looking like a total freak. I was having a hard enough time finding dates WITH giant knockers. Imagine how hard it would be if I was flat on top and fat on the bottom. The doctors (both male) did not understand and obsession with the concept of frankentits until I explained that if it was penis cancer and they might wind up with a frankendick, they would be all up into it. Mother expressed horror at my blunt terms but ALL parties in the room had to agree. If there was one thing the VA was absolutely lousy at, it was dealing with tits and whohas.
When I was finally able to get the docs to understand my aversion to surgery, they agreed a needle biopsy would be the best bet AND they acknowledged that it had to be done at Loyola because they did not have the right equipment at the VA. That both Mom and I feel a huge burden lifted and a huge sigh of relief was obvious as well. Measure twice and cut once had NEVER rung so damned true to anything I had ever done before.
This is where the conversations were now a little less light, a little more serious and for me, a bit more desperate. Now that I knew, for a fact, that I had cancer, the what ifs and who woulds started to eat at me. Did I want to fight this? (handled in a seperate post) Would I wind up with frankentits? Who would hold my hair while I puked from the chemo? Radiation? Did that make you sick like chemo? Would I be able to work? How would I feed myself if I couldn't get out of bed? Would I be allowed to keep the gig I have if I can't work full time? When I jokingly told mom that it was too bad that I could not be a burden on my children, but that I was going to be a burden to someone, she let out a very heavy sigh and told me that she had already "resigned" herself to the fact that she would be "stuck" taking care of me because it was obvious noone else would do it. A short while later she informed me that because I did not have a "real job", the family had pretty agreed I would become an unfair financial burden to my family and that I was only after Mom's money.
It was at this point I left for the train sobbing and walking through Naperville. Mom's parting shot was that she never said she wouldn't take me to the train. Poor Dad was very confused but I just had to get out of there. I certainly did not want to be a burden on anyone. I do not blame Mom for her feelings, feelings are just that. But, she also has tons of stuff going on in her own life and I would be encroaching on her retirement. I get that.
So, the day of my follow-up at the VA I went to work and had Mom meet me in Forest Park at the end of the Blue Line. Brought an overnight bag because I did not know if the consult would become a check-in. While waiting for the surgeon, we were introduced to a medical student who proceeded to take my history and ask a million questions I had already answered to others. I could NOT believe that I was dealing with breast cancer and I was being handed off to a newbie. I think the look on my face said it all and both Mom and I agreed that there was NO WAY I was taking a word of advice from this young gal. This whipped any fear I had of being treated at the VA into an absolute frenzy.
When the surgeon finally arrived, his assistant (or merely another surgeon, I was not totally coherent at this point) both agreed the lump was where they said it was and said they agreed that the VA should perform a lumpectomy and once we knew what was actually inside, they would proceed to come up with a game plan to attack the cancer itself. This was the FIRST time a doctor was willing to actually say the word......CANCER, yes, I had CANCER!
That in and of itself was actually a huge relief. I explained that of my two greatest fears, dying alone and frankentits, the thought of the VA performing my surgery and leaving me with hideous scars scared the pants out of me and actually made me hope and pray the cancer would kill me instead of leaving me looking like a total freak. I was having a hard enough time finding dates WITH giant knockers. Imagine how hard it would be if I was flat on top and fat on the bottom. The doctors (both male) did not understand and obsession with the concept of frankentits until I explained that if it was penis cancer and they might wind up with a frankendick, they would be all up into it. Mother expressed horror at my blunt terms but ALL parties in the room had to agree. If there was one thing the VA was absolutely lousy at, it was dealing with tits and whohas.
When I was finally able to get the docs to understand my aversion to surgery, they agreed a needle biopsy would be the best bet AND they acknowledged that it had to be done at Loyola because they did not have the right equipment at the VA. That both Mom and I feel a huge burden lifted and a huge sigh of relief was obvious as well. Measure twice and cut once had NEVER rung so damned true to anything I had ever done before.
This is where the conversations were now a little less light, a little more serious and for me, a bit more desperate. Now that I knew, for a fact, that I had cancer, the what ifs and who woulds started to eat at me. Did I want to fight this? (handled in a seperate post) Would I wind up with frankentits? Who would hold my hair while I puked from the chemo? Radiation? Did that make you sick like chemo? Would I be able to work? How would I feed myself if I couldn't get out of bed? Would I be allowed to keep the gig I have if I can't work full time? When I jokingly told mom that it was too bad that I could not be a burden on my children, but that I was going to be a burden to someone, she let out a very heavy sigh and told me that she had already "resigned" herself to the fact that she would be "stuck" taking care of me because it was obvious noone else would do it. A short while later she informed me that because I did not have a "real job", the family had pretty agreed I would become an unfair financial burden to my family and that I was only after Mom's money.
It was at this point I left for the train sobbing and walking through Naperville. Mom's parting shot was that she never said she wouldn't take me to the train. Poor Dad was very confused but I just had to get out of there. I certainly did not want to be a burden on anyone. I do not blame Mom for her feelings, feelings are just that. But, she also has tons of stuff going on in her own life and I would be encroaching on her retirement. I get that.
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