October 10, 2012:
Today, I make the decision to tell the people at work. At this point, many of them know why I was out last week, and if I suddenly stop showing up, rumors will start to swirl. So at a stand-up faculty meeting after school, the wonderful VP tells everyone my diagnosis and what we think it means. God bless this woman for being able to stand up there and do what I knew I could not!
Unfortunately, I don't know a whole lot, so that really sucks for everyone. At this point, I think treatment (whatever that means) will be fast, and I'll be gone until the New Year. Donations of sick days are appreciated, and thank you to my wonderful Evergreen family for jumping on that bandwagon. I am not worried about time off!
What I discover, is that telling people has made it real. And a little scary, especially all the unknowns. What I also discovered, is that I work with amazing people and it's made the first step in the process a little easier. I also learned that a new co-worker went through the same thing at the same age, and when I'm ready, she is going to be my sounding board.
Still haven't told the kids. Just can't do it with all the unknowns. And it's homecoming week for my son, and who wants to ruin that? And my parents are still in Hawaii, which is good because I'm a big chicken anyway.
Besides my co-workers, I have told a friend who lives in the neighborhood and helps me with Pantry Packs, as well as my best friend from school. I am slowly realizing that I don't really want to have this conversation 100 times. Facebook is looking more and more like not such a bad way to tell people. That must make me a horrible person, right?
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Now What?
October 9, 2012:
It's the next morning, and I have to go to work so that I can tell someone in person that I won't be in to work today. All I really want to do is throw up, so how can I go to work and be nice to kids? Especially middle school kids.
I spend an hour in the Vice Principal's office, a lovely young woman who now has the sole responsibility for keeping it together for the rest of the day by not telling anyone else, while I go home and be a vegetable.
We don't know anything yet as far as types, treatment options, course of action, next steps, so we can't tell the kids. I'm having an MRI on Thursday evening, then meet with the oncologist in a week, then back with the surgeon next Thursday. It's not until all three of these are done that I will "know" what is going to happen.
The funny thing here is that long ago I committed to presenting a 3 hour seminar on YA literature at a state conference this week. I'm still going to do it, because it is a welcome distraction and keeps me from surfing the Internet for answers. I know better than to start typing things into Google at this point!
The throw up feeling in the pit of my stomach never does go away, and this is the first of many days to come where I really don't eat much. And I'm definitely not sleeping. And damn if one of the shows we watch isn't having a storyline with the main character getting breast cancer.
I am a concrete, sequential, process type of person. Just give me details, answers, and a schedule and let's go! This waiting thing SUCKS!
It's the next morning, and I have to go to work so that I can tell someone in person that I won't be in to work today. All I really want to do is throw up, so how can I go to work and be nice to kids? Especially middle school kids.
I spend an hour in the Vice Principal's office, a lovely young woman who now has the sole responsibility for keeping it together for the rest of the day by not telling anyone else, while I go home and be a vegetable.
We don't know anything yet as far as types, treatment options, course of action, next steps, so we can't tell the kids. I'm having an MRI on Thursday evening, then meet with the oncologist in a week, then back with the surgeon next Thursday. It's not until all three of these are done that I will "know" what is going to happen.
The funny thing here is that long ago I committed to presenting a 3 hour seminar on YA literature at a state conference this week. I'm still going to do it, because it is a welcome distraction and keeps me from surfing the Internet for answers. I know better than to start typing things into Google at this point!
The throw up feeling in the pit of my stomach never does go away, and this is the first of many days to come where I really don't eat much. And I'm definitely not sleeping. And damn if one of the shows we watch isn't having a storyline with the main character getting breast cancer.
I am a concrete, sequential, process type of person. Just give me details, answers, and a schedule and let's go! This waiting thing SUCKS!
Monday, October 8, 2012
The Phone Call of Doom
October 8, 2012:
Monday morning and back to work. My left side still isn't working and really does hurt. It's starting to bruise also, which is quite lovely. The right side is healing quite nicely and on schedule.
After school, I am running a packing event for the non-profit charity I run (Pantry Packs...you can find us on another blog), when I get a phone call from my now-ex-husband. The doctor has called the house and won't leave a message. She's going to be calling me on my cell phone.
What I don't tell my now-ex-husband in that moment is it's a bad sign if she won't leave a message or tell him. Damn...here comes the phone call of doom.
When it comes in 5 minutes later, it really is doom and gloom. The big "C" word. Cancer. And let's be honest, I don't hear anything else other than that. Except, I also heard the words "survival rate." Seriously just like the movies, I didn't hear ANYTHING she was saying. (They really should follow this up with an email, because I didn't have any real details after that phone call).
There was something about an MRI that needed to be done ASAP, and someone would call me with the time and place of that. Sure...whatever...not thinking anything right now.
It's about 4:30pm and I run into the school office hoping to find someone there so that I can tell them "Not coming to school tomorrow!" but this appears to be the one day in the history of public education when everyone has left the building before 4pm.
I get home as my now-ex-husband is leaving to ref two high school soccer games. Hmmm, do I tell him before he's about to get into a giant truck and get on the roads? Yes, I can't have this knowledge all to myself for 3 hours until he gets home. I know...I'm a sucky wife. Don't really care in this moment.
Monday morning and back to work. My left side still isn't working and really does hurt. It's starting to bruise also, which is quite lovely. The right side is healing quite nicely and on schedule.
After school, I am running a packing event for the non-profit charity I run (Pantry Packs...you can find us on another blog), when I get a phone call from my now-ex-husband. The doctor has called the house and won't leave a message. She's going to be calling me on my cell phone.
What I don't tell my now-ex-husband in that moment is it's a bad sign if she won't leave a message or tell him. Damn...here comes the phone call of doom.
When it comes in 5 minutes later, it really is doom and gloom. The big "C" word. Cancer. And let's be honest, I don't hear anything else other than that. Except, I also heard the words "survival rate." Seriously just like the movies, I didn't hear ANYTHING she was saying. (They really should follow this up with an email, because I didn't have any real details after that phone call).
There was something about an MRI that needed to be done ASAP, and someone would call me with the time and place of that. Sure...whatever...not thinking anything right now.
It's about 4:30pm and I run into the school office hoping to find someone there so that I can tell them "Not coming to school tomorrow!" but this appears to be the one day in the history of public education when everyone has left the building before 4pm.
I get home as my now-ex-husband is leaving to ref two high school soccer games. Hmmm, do I tell him before he's about to get into a giant truck and get on the roads? Yes, I can't have this knowledge all to myself for 3 hours until he gets home. I know...I'm a sucky wife. Don't really care in this moment.
Saturday, October 6, 2012
Waiting for Results Again
October 6, 2012:
Saturday morning and I'm still in pain. I did make it out and about yesterday to take my son to get a haircut and grab a drink with a friend. I was still all bandaged up though and today is the day when I'm gonna peel off the giant bandages (stuck on with what feels like duct tape!). This will leave the steri-strips only.
Everything still hurts though, especially lifting and moving my left arm (the side where the two lumps were). Keith reminds me that the surgeon said this would be the case because of how much digging she had to do around the muscle to remove the lumps. Really, and when was this conversation? In the recovery room when I'm still hopped up on drugs? Sure, I remember that...
A weekend full of soccer games ahead of me, and I never thought I'd say it, but I'm grateful that my son can drive (well, with his permit, but still).
What I forgot to mention the other day was that Thursday when I came home from surgery was the first time my kids knew anything about what was going on. Pretty hard to hide anything at that point. We told them that I had lumps, and that they were taken out, and that everything should be good now. Perhaps this was not the best strategy, but it was the sense we got based on initial feedback.
Back to work on Monday. Ugh! I hope my left side feels better soon!
Saturday morning and I'm still in pain. I did make it out and about yesterday to take my son to get a haircut and grab a drink with a friend. I was still all bandaged up though and today is the day when I'm gonna peel off the giant bandages (stuck on with what feels like duct tape!). This will leave the steri-strips only.
Everything still hurts though, especially lifting and moving my left arm (the side where the two lumps were). Keith reminds me that the surgeon said this would be the case because of how much digging she had to do around the muscle to remove the lumps. Really, and when was this conversation? In the recovery room when I'm still hopped up on drugs? Sure, I remember that...
A weekend full of soccer games ahead of me, and I never thought I'd say it, but I'm grateful that my son can drive (well, with his permit, but still).
What I forgot to mention the other day was that Thursday when I came home from surgery was the first time my kids knew anything about what was going on. Pretty hard to hide anything at that point. We told them that I had lumps, and that they were taken out, and that everything should be good now. Perhaps this was not the best strategy, but it was the sense we got based on initial feedback.
Back to work on Monday. Ugh! I hope my left side feels better soon!
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Surgery #1
October 4, 2012:
My surgery was this morning. The best thing that I can say right now is that I get to miss three days of work because of this (yesterday, today, tomorrow). Here's the play by play:
I show up around 11:45am for the 12:30pm surgery. It's an outpatient procedure, actually done in the doctor's office, not the hospital. Before taking me back, the nurse, surgeon, and anesthesiologist all come in to talk to me about what to expect during and after. The anesthesiologist actually says, "our goal is to keep you breathing." I'm not sure whether to laugh or not, because I can't tell if he's being funny to lighten the mood or this is his bedside manner. Dear lord, I hope that's your goal!
They take me back into the room, get me ready to go on the table, and cover me with a nice warm blanket (and thank God for that! Why are these doctor's offices always so COLD? This is another theme that I am picking up on). The anesthesiologist, who is not my favorite person after the breathing comment, cannot find a vein in my hand to hook up the good drugs which are supposed to knock me out. I could have told him this was a bad idea, because my veins suck, but I assume that I should keep my mouth shut because he's the one with the degree. Once he finds a vein, after several sticks, they tie down my arms (not really, but it felt like it, and it's so I don't hit the surgeon during the procedure while I'm knocked out), and start the juices flowing. Suddenly there is the most painful stinging in my hand. I really want to scream, but I know that the drugs should kick in any second so I'll just suck it up. All three of the other people in the room gasp at the same time when it is discovered that the stinging I'm feeling is the vein collapsing and the drugs flowing all over my skin. Whoops!
So now we have to find another vein in the other arm, and try again. Please let it work this time!
I wake up two hours later in the recovery room, fully dressed, sitting in a comfy chair with my husband next to me. Have no memory of anything else. They are telling me some follow-up info and if they actually think I'm listening, they're on drugs, because I don't really remember any of this conversation. Except for the fact that they asked me what time I wanted my follow-up visit to be in two weeks, and I said, "whatever." Does another sick day at this point really matter in the grand scheme of things?
The ride home is painful! Every bump makes things hurt. Please stop now and get me my pain meds! Grateful today for a husband who encouraged the pharmacist to speed up the normal 20 minute wait time. However, when he got back to the car, the battery was dead and the car wouldn't start. SERIOUSLY? This is not what I need right now. Thank you good samaritan for stopping and giving us a jump!
I go home, take the good drugs, and try and sleep.
My surgery was this morning. The best thing that I can say right now is that I get to miss three days of work because of this (yesterday, today, tomorrow). Here's the play by play:
I show up around 11:45am for the 12:30pm surgery. It's an outpatient procedure, actually done in the doctor's office, not the hospital. Before taking me back, the nurse, surgeon, and anesthesiologist all come in to talk to me about what to expect during and after. The anesthesiologist actually says, "our goal is to keep you breathing." I'm not sure whether to laugh or not, because I can't tell if he's being funny to lighten the mood or this is his bedside manner. Dear lord, I hope that's your goal!
They take me back into the room, get me ready to go on the table, and cover me with a nice warm blanket (and thank God for that! Why are these doctor's offices always so COLD? This is another theme that I am picking up on). The anesthesiologist, who is not my favorite person after the breathing comment, cannot find a vein in my hand to hook up the good drugs which are supposed to knock me out. I could have told him this was a bad idea, because my veins suck, but I assume that I should keep my mouth shut because he's the one with the degree. Once he finds a vein, after several sticks, they tie down my arms (not really, but it felt like it, and it's so I don't hit the surgeon during the procedure while I'm knocked out), and start the juices flowing. Suddenly there is the most painful stinging in my hand. I really want to scream, but I know that the drugs should kick in any second so I'll just suck it up. All three of the other people in the room gasp at the same time when it is discovered that the stinging I'm feeling is the vein collapsing and the drugs flowing all over my skin. Whoops!
So now we have to find another vein in the other arm, and try again. Please let it work this time!
I wake up two hours later in the recovery room, fully dressed, sitting in a comfy chair with my husband next to me. Have no memory of anything else. They are telling me some follow-up info and if they actually think I'm listening, they're on drugs, because I don't really remember any of this conversation. Except for the fact that they asked me what time I wanted my follow-up visit to be in two weeks, and I said, "whatever." Does another sick day at this point really matter in the grand scheme of things?
The ride home is painful! Every bump makes things hurt. Please stop now and get me my pain meds! Grateful today for a husband who encouraged the pharmacist to speed up the normal 20 minute wait time. However, when he got back to the car, the battery was dead and the car wouldn't start. SERIOUSLY? This is not what I need right now. Thank you good samaritan for stopping and giving us a jump!
I go home, take the good drugs, and try and sleep.
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