I was greeted by a technician's assistant with a lovely smile.  She shook my hand, verified what I was having the MRI for and then asked how I was.  I opened my mouth...and burst into tears.  I'm feeling so raw and vulnerable.  I have to say, she handled this with so much grace and tenderness.  She sat me down and waited out my tears (she also handed me a bunch of tissues that seemed to appear out of nowhere).  When I told her about the BC, she gave me such a wonderful hug, looked me right in the eyes and said "I understand because I've been there."  Then I gave HER a big hug.  My immediate thought was "this is a freaken epidemic; does every other woman have BC?"  She told me that in light of this new development, they would do a few extra scans, to set a baseline and just to take a peek to make sure nothing ominous was going on.

For me, this was a super experience.  If it weren't for the BC, I'd be really excited that I was finally going to find out the unverified cause of my pain...but now I was feeling frightened.  What if something really ugly shows up?  Maybe I don't want to do this.  It's amazing how the possibility of a herniated disk became so unimportant.  I was made very comfy on the super-narrow sliding bed and the tech was terrific.  I had earplugs in and a 2-way mic.  He could hear me and I could hear him.  He said it would be over in 25 minutes or less.  I closed my eyes, started deep breathing and used my grandson, Kevin, as a focus.  The scans were 2-3 minutes each.  In between, the tech would verbally check that I was ok, tell me how many scans were left and away we went.  The noise was a bit disconcerting but manageable.  When it was over, I had a slight headache for an hour.  Other than that, I came through it just fine...except for the fear.

I've been receiving a lot of caring, supportive and encouraging email from the "ladies".  I believe they know how important those little notes can be.  I've tried to reciprocate, sincerely, whenever I feel up to it.  These ladies continue to hold my head above the dark, swirling waters of my terror.  I'm beginning to have hope that I won't drown.

11/18 - I get a call from Kaiser to show up tomorrow for all my pre-op stuff.  I'll be meeting with Beth first. [[gulp]]  I call Christine to see if she or anyone can possibly go with me.  She lets me know that they all can if I would like that.  I said I would LIKE that!  So, Christine, George and Sandra will be my support tomorrow.  I'm so very grateful.

11/19 - Just as I'm headed out for the office, I check to make sure I have everything I need.  Part of my daily routine on work days.  I could swear I put my comb in my purse, but it's not there.  I check the bathroom - nope.  I check the bedroom, living room.  Well, the hell with it!  Before I head out the door, I go to the fridge for another gulp of water...there's my comb!  CLUE:  I'm truly not in my right mind.

I meet with Beth.  Unfortunately, there isn't enough room in her office for all of us, so Sandra volunteered to sit in the waiting room.  Beth goes over everything with me again and she answers some of the questions the kids have.  She's very patient and explains the dual purpose of this operation using a sketch to show the kids the different Grades.  The first objective is to remove the tumor and a bit of surrounding tissue in hopes of achieving a clear margin.  If that's achieved, my breast will be considered cancer free.  The kids perk up at this.  She then explains about the Sentinel Node dissection and it's purpose.  The kids become a bit anxious at this.  My brain has fled my body.

Then I'm sent to meet with the anesthesiologist.  She again explains what will happen in great detail.  I'll have a general anesthetic administered by an anesthesiologist nurse practitioner because I'm considered to be in "good health".  The operation will take approximately 1-1/2 hours.  Prior to surgery, I'll have an IV inserted and I'll be given whatever pre-op meds I may need.  She's already been alerted that I'm experiencing very high anxiety so she writes orders for anxiety med to be administered right after I sign surgical consent forms.
She then says I'll need an EKG because of my age.  So, does that mean I'm "OLD"?

Then we're off to see the pre-op coordinating nurse.  She goes into even greater detail about the surgery, what to expect before and after.  This woman is a real trip.  Cheerful, competent and no-nonsense but at the same time, compassionate.  She strongly encourages me to adopt and maintain a positive attitude from that moment forward and to not look back.  I really liked her but I hope I never have to see her again...ever.
George couldn't resist giving her a hard time.  Being a cocky firefighter and an EMT, he kept lobbing questions at her and she fielded them with such aplomb...amazing.  I was then "invited" to sign a gazillion forms and I was outta there.

Then we're off for the EKG.  This is a bit disconcerting because I've never had one.  What if they find something wrong?  This could be a can of worms.  Fear, fear, fear...I hate it!

During all of this I have the knowledge that my surgeon has been called for a jury panel.  Nobody knows what will  happen except he said he will definitely do the surgery...he just doesn't know what time.  At the worst, it would be between 5:00 PM and 6:00 PM.  Ohhhh, great!  My surgeon will be pooped...I'll just add that to my list of worries and fears.

So, I can't even arrange a ride to the hospital because I have no clue what time to show up.  I hate this!

Back to the anesthesiologist.  My EKG was fine (big grins)...we're all set to go, providing I have a surgeon.  Preferably, one who isn't pooped.

We're on our way out of there when Beth comes running after us.  The surgeon called...he escaped the jury duty.  I'm to show up at noon; surgery is set for 3:15.  [[gulp]]

11/20 - Surprisingly, I slept pretty well last night because I took 25mg of Trazodone, which is an anti-depressant but is also prescribed for sleep.  It basically worked but I feel drugged for the first hour I'm up.

So, this is the big day.  Christine picks me up about 11:00 and she has Kevin with her.  What a joy to see his beautiful, smiling face and to be able to chatter with him.  My stomach is churning.  I'm not afraid of the surgery -- it's the results that have me tied up in knots.

The first stop is Nuclear Medicine for the Technetium injection.  The doc and nurse were so very kind and explained exactly what would happen.  I opted to not have a "numbing" injection - why get stuck twice when this is supposed to be over in less than two minutes.  Ohhh, boyyy....talk about burn, burn, burn.  The injection was just below my nipple into the areola.  I immediately went into my deep breathing, kept my eyes open and put up a mental picture of Kevin's sweet face.  The doc counted down from the one minute left to go point and then it was over.  Phewww!

I'll be injected with blue dye once I'm under anesthetic and this will help show the node/s.  The surgeon will use a  hand-held "geiger-counter" to find the Sentinel/s. It will show him exactly where to make the incision/s in my armpit. They tell me the average SN's is 2 but it could be as many as 4.  Should he spot "other" nodes he doesn't like, he will take those also. I may/may not have a drain.  Pre-op nurse doesn't think so, but it's possible.  Surgery is estimated 1-1/2 to 2 hrs. 

Then it was back to the pre-op waiting room.  Christine and Kevin waited as long as possible with me, but I still had two hours to go before I would be taken into pre-op.  In a way I was glad to see them go because it was taking too much effort to not burst into hysterical tears.  While I was pacing and pacing a pre-op nurse came out to check on me.  When she saw I was highly agitated, she ushered me into pre-op.  She took me in her arms and gave me such a loving hug.  She looked me right in the eyes and said "I understand.  I've been there."  I started to cry and shake uncontrollably, so she helped me undress and get into this enormous "gown" and then she wrapped me up in three warming blankets.  My shivering stopped.  Now I had to wait for the surgeon so we could have our last "talk" and then I would sign the consent forms.

I try not to be worried about losing work.  If I'm not there, I don't get paid.  I don't have much vacation time left.  The boss had a long talk with me about this and assured me the financial stuff will be worked out...he's not going to let me drown.  We shall see.

My surgeon showed up around 1:30.  He was a kinder, gentler guy.  He sat on the gurney with me and while he went over everything, he maintained physical contact....holding my toes, a gentle touch on my arm...it was very reassuring.  On his way out he gave orders to have my IV started so I could have something for my back pain and to calm me.

The nurse practitioner anesthesiologist inserted the IV and I barely felt it.  I was then given 2mg of morphine for the back pain and I have no clue about the "relaxing meds" but whatever it was, I really settled down.  Contrary to their expected reaction, I had no "head rush".  I felt very clear in my mind.  But, ohhh how wonderful to experience being completely pain free for the first time in almost three years.  The nurse commented "now you know why this is so addicting".  I asked if I could take a gallon home with me.  There were several nurses and at least 10 patients waiting for their surgeries....everyone chuckled.

I kept watching the clock..time seemed to be creeping.  Then, it was 3:15 and all of a sudden there was a flurry of activity around me.  It was time to go...and that's the last thing I remember until I heard someone yelling my name.  I'm serious...he was actually shouting.  I opened my eyes and found myself looking into the most gorgeous green eyes I'd every seen.  This was my post-op nurse and he was gorgeous, but he was annoying me.  I shouted back "I only have breast cancer, I'm not freaken deaf!"  He commented "well, she's okay and feeling spunky."   I don't have a drain...thank gawwd.  He gave me ice chips - ohh, they tasted sooo good.  Then it was time for the obligatory coughs...that didn't hurt at all.  Way ta go!

Surgeon found one Sentinel Node.  All went like "textbook".  I was only in the OR for an hour, I had very little bleeding.

Then my vitals were checked and all of a sudden Christine was by my side.  I was told that I needed to get up, walk across the room to a recliner and sit down...unaided.  Then I needed to get up again, walk to the bathroom and pee.  Then walk back to the recliner and drink a glass of cranberry juice.  Then I need to dress myself, with as little assistance as possible.  After I did all that (and feeling quite smug), my temp and bp were taken and I was told it was time for me to blow that popsicle stand.  I was feeling absolutely no pain.  Gee, maybe they'd given me a tad more morphine.  I just know I was grinning like a fool.  The last test was nausea...I had none, so I plopped into a wheelchair and then I was on my way home.

I was able to walk up the stairs without assistance, but Christine was right next to me just in case.
Once I got settled at home, I started to feel some discomfort and just a teensy bit of pain.  I thought it might be wise to take the Vicadin...but only a half tab.  I hate that stuff!!!

I started to feel nauseous and the ace bandage around my chest was really starting to bug me.  It was time for Christine to go.  She'll be back in the morning.  I was feeling a bit spacey but okay.  So I had 1/2 cup of my Orange cappuccino - yummm...and lit a cig.  Beeeg mistake!

I staggered into the bedroom, fired up the 'puter and got my music playing.  I plopped into bed (by this time it was around 9:30 PM) and I konked out.

11/21 - I woke around 2:30 AM and the only pain I had was in  my back, so I carefully walked into the kitchen holding onto walls, chairs whatever and gulped down my Motrin and then I think I was on the computer for a while...I really can't remember.  By 4:00 AM I was back in bed, with a pillow propping up my left arm.  The next thing I knew it was about 9:00 AM.  And now the waiting begins for the path results.  I'm supposed to have them on Friday...that's tomorrow.

My sweet daughter finds me lolling in bed.  I'd tried to get up but wasn't quite able to manage without PAIN so it was good she arrived so early.  I asked her to please help me get the ace bandage off because I felt I was being suffocated.  She did that, working behind me, in the bathroom.  I noticed she carefully kept her eyes averted from the mirror.  I don't know if that was to give me privacy or if she just felt she wouldn't be able to handle whatever she might see.  That's okay.  With the ace off, I was able to take deeper breaths and all I can really see is a thick dressing.  She got me settled with some cranberry juice and then dashed off to the store to get me mild stuff I could eat.  Since I've not been able to eat much of anything for the past two weeks, I'd already lost weight and I could see she was concerned.  After she left, I took my Motrin and that knocked out whatever discomfort I was feeling.  Christine returned with cans of chicken broth, soda crackers and Cup of Noodles.  I feel I just may be able to get some of that down.  She visited for a bit and I started becoming anxious for her to go.  The surgeon said I could remove the dressing and shower.  Christine wanted to stay in case I had problems, but I encouraged her to leave because it was confrontation time.

I managed to get my pajama top off over my head without any difficulty.  Then I turned to face the mirror with my eyes closed.  Will I be able to handle what I see?   No choice really....I must be able to handle it.  It took a bit of doing but I got the dressing off.  And I stared and stared.  My stomach started to pitch so I turned away from the mirror, put my sports bra on and sat myself down until the nausea and shakes passed.

It's ugly ugly ugly.  Even though my breasts had taken a downward turn in the past year or so, I still thought they were pretty.  Not anymore.  I guess there was no way for me to envision how much of my breast would be hacked out.  It's about one quarter gone...no longer there.  I can see that under the steri-strips, which are already bugging the shit out of me.  I sit and ponder what I've just seen and then I go back for another look.  That makes my stomach heave.  To add insult, I have a 4 inch "burn" across the base of my throat.  It feels bruised and burned at the same time.  I have no clue what caused that but I'm wondering if I tried to get off the table and they had to tackle me by the throat to hold me down?  Nah, I'm thinking I had a reaction to the tape they used to hold the warming blanket in place.  I'll investigate.

It's time to jump into the shower.  Gosh, that felt soooo good!!!  Hopefully this will rid me of the BAD B/O coming from under my left arm.  I don't understand...my right pit seems to be fine.

I manage to eat some of the noodles and my tummy settles down.  I'm having a lot of discomfort in my arm pit, but it's mostly annoying.  It also stings and I'm sweating a lot under there.  Again, my right pit seems to be without these irritations.  I check in with the office and tell them I'll be in tomorrow.

I post on the board, but I have no idea what I said.  I take a very long nap, try to eat/drink more and I manage to stay up til about 9.  Before climbing into bed, I go to the mirror again.  I tell myself, well, that's no SO bad.  At least most of it is still there.  I'm already compromising.  I think of the women who've lost one or both breasts and I give myself a mental smack upside the head for being so damn selfish.  What the hell am I complaining about!  I'm alive, I'm able to do for myself....get over it!!! 

I climb into bed with a book and my arm propped up.  The tears start and just keep flowing.  It's time for my first pity party and I completely indulge.  I feel alone and lonely.  I feel deformed and I feel ugly.  I HATE THIS!
I plan on being at my desk tomorrow.  My path report should be in.

11/22 - My alarm goes off at 6:15.  I stagger into the bathroom, pee and brush my teeth.  I take another look in the mirror and now I'm really really pissed off!  What the hell did I do to deserve this?  A fleeting thought:  I should quit agonizing over losing a chunk of my breast and GET that I have a life-threatenting disease.  So what!!!!  My ignorance tells me I probably have a greater chance of getting smacked by lung cancer than by dying of breast cancer.  If I go down, I refuse to let it be this.

There's no way I'm going to work.  I feel drained and my stomach is again churning.  Today is when I find out where in this continuum I really am.

Christine checks in a couple of times.  The office checks in.  I really just want to be left alone.  I post, I get comforting and supportive emails from the ladies...none of that helps.  I'm watching the clock.  I'm pacing, smoking, pacing; I try to eat but my stomach heaves so I give that up.  It's 5:00 - no call.  It's 6:00 and I take a really hard downward spiral.  Maybe I'll get a call tomorrow?  Surely they aren't going to make me wait until my post-op appointment on Wednesday....are they?  Doc said Friday...it's too late now to expect a call.  I really wanted to hear today, while I'm home and feeling "safe".  I take another look in the mirror.  I HATE THIS!!!  My arm pit is stinging and smells awful.  I take another shower.  Ten minutes later it's stinging, the steri-strips are poking me and I stink.

Wouldn't it be nice if I could just slip into sleep like I did before the operation and then it would all be over.  No fear, no anxiety, no having to possibly face another surgery, no chemo, no wondering if I'll have a recurrence and then really be in trouble and dying an ugly death.  Just nothingness.  The kids don't really need me...they have their own lives.  Kevin would barely remember me, if at all, and that would be okay.  They would all go through some sadness but they would move on with their lives.  I wouldn't have to be worried about how much longer I'll be able to work.  I wouldn't have to worry about being a burden to the kids.  And, they would no longer have to worry about what they're going to do with mom when she can no longer take care of herself, she can't work and she's pretty much broke.  All of that would  not be an issue anymore...if I could peacefully go to sleep.  I'm not afraid of being dead...I'm terrified of the getting there.

11/23 - I need to keep myself occupied but I can't focus on anything.  I haunt the boards, just to not feel dis-connected.  Christine checks in, George checks in.  He's really taking this hard.  This freaken disease is hurting my children.  I HATE THIS

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