August 31
First time meeting with the plastic surgeon who will do my reconstruction. The appointment almost didn't happen thanks to the local flooding from Hurricane Irene and all the power outages in Morristown. The office manager called in the morning to say there was no power in the office building, but we could still be seen. As we approached the office building the power went back on after a three hour outage. A sign from above?
This highly respected surgeon is the second coming of Doogie Houser. I secretly pictured him fitting nicely in one of the girls' car seats. He probably gets carded at the liquor store and at the movies. Would he need a step ladder to reach me on the operating table? But Ivy League educated and highly regarded. With a bright white smile and calm demeanor, he took nearly two hours with us to explain the various reconstructive options. Explained how surgical breast reconstruction came to be. How mastectomies were performed 25 years ago compared to today. And why one option would not be optimal because of my post-op plans for radiation, and why yet another option is not suitable because I do not have sufficient tissue to transfer (and yeah, that is the first time a doctor ever told me I do NOT have "sufficient tissue in this area" or any area, for that matter, to make any sort of transfer - ha ha).
Then for my first nudie photos while standing in front of a strange blue screen. No, these will not be posted anywhere so relax people! And even if they were, none of them show my head to maintain my privacy. No coaching from the side, drunken poses, blowing fans or stilettos needed for my first shoot. And you also won't get to see my rolled eyeballs, stuck-out tongue or money shots with my come-hither pout. Confident that the after shots will be as good - maybe better with some scarring - as the before shots.
A few pre-op tests will be needed before the surgery, to be scheduled after my last chemo hump subsides. Major surgery - two separate surgeries on the same day really - to last about 7-8 hours. About 5 days' hospitalization. Nursing care after I'm home. I know it will be a tough haul. But strangely, I'm looking forward to this new challenge that has already rendered a new and better me. And in a bit more than a month, a cancer-free me too.
September 8
Last chemo day. Amazing. I've been thinking about this day for months! I would have thought I'd be I-Just-Won-the-Megaball-Lottery happy. I am, but it's more complicated than that. I am realizing this experience is not really ending today. There is peace in this truth and it's a little scary too. The gravity of my experience thus far is starting to weigh heavily. I am such a different person after this chapter. I don't recognize the old me or the new one. That is not necessarily bad. Forever I will now note times in my life by "before cancer" and "after cancer". What I have put my body and my mind through! Staggeringly frightening and miraculous all at once.
Still, not including a little extra napping the last two weeks, the level of my real physical discomfort each round can be measured in minutes for the first four rounds, and up to a few hours after round 5 and really nothing else. For this I am truly blessed and fortunate. Doctor tells me my treatment protocol is "probably top 5 toughest" cancer treatments anyone can get. I am inspired and exhausted all at once. Strength is tiring! However I have spent far more energy perhaps tuning out my physical symptoms and dismissing them completely in order to more existentially consider this experience and how it has left me. I guess I have officially entered a phase of self re-discovery. What will I find? What do I want to find? What have I lost? I simply don't have the words to explain this. Maybe someday. Back to the day-to-day, for now.
The nurses and all the staff at the Simon Center are special people who made my last day of chemo a wonderful experience. We got a couple of fun ideas to celebrate this milestone. (Best one: Amex Gold...the possibilities are literally limitless!) Sean and I played cards, again, and after four rough hands the husband pulled out the victory. But he was heavily handicapped! Come on, after five hours, two failed port flushes and six drugs through a shoddy port that still wouldn't give a proper blood sample? And why do I always beat him at home when I can have a few fun cocktails I can actually sip?
I've been so good these last few months, I can think of nothing but really bad food. Especially in light of my embarrassing public loss at canasta. Deep dish Sicilian style pizza. Dinosaur BBQ. Milk chocolate. Really heavy saucy spicy Indian food with lots of naan. Taylor ham, egg and cheese on an sesame bagel. Macaroni and cheese. Almond pastry. Sense a trend? Carbs and sugar.
When the needle came out for the last time, I was ambushed by the Operation Bling Foundation (www.operationblingfoundation.org) and asked to choose a piece of jewelry to celebrate the completion of my chemo. A pair of delicate sterling silver amethyst gemstone antique-inspired earrings became mine to wear home. After a few hugs and waves out the door, I managed to hold it together until I got on the elevator, and read the message included with my earrings:
What Cancer Cannot Do...
It cannot invade the soul
It cannot suppress memories
It cannot kill true friendships
It cannot destroy peace
It cannot conquer the spirit
It cannot shatter hope
It cannot silence courage
It cannot cripple love
It cannot corrode faith
-author unknown
One rather impressive pair of earrings. Couldn't agree more. Now onto the next chapter! Or at least, a bowl or two of really amazing paneer saagwala.
