LIVING WITH BREAST CANCER, there are going to be really low points and very hard days. Sometimes they come from one huge bit of bad news or major physical setback, other times they are a result of one medium-sized setback after another, after another, after another that add up until you crack. Kind of like for us women when we find our purse gets heavier and heavier one receipt at a time, one piece of paper at a time, one more lipstick or pill bottle we've thoughtlessly thrown in there over weeks, until ONE DAY, we say "Wow, this purse is so stinkin' heavy, but there's not anything THAT heavy in there??"
THIS WEEK WAS THE FINALE OF THIS KIND OF BUILDUP OVER THE LAST MONTH. In other words, I've certainly been in much more pain the weeks following the mastectomies; and certainly I've been in much more mental strain, the weeks after diagnosis with all the unknowns of my prognosis. But this week was a different kind of hard. As I'd shared previously, I've been concerned about the lymphedema discomfort remaining longer term and have taken steps to deal with that including making an appt. for next week with a lymphedema therapist for massage and direction. The hardest part for me to deal with mentally regarding the lymphedema is that it can be a non-curable lifelong side issue to have to deal with. With the cancer, you're told, "you can beat this, a year from now you'll be resuming your normal life!" (which I find to be a little overstated, considering the 5-years of hormone therapy pill regimen and all that entails.) But, yes, for the most part you pray that the cancer never returns and move on with your life post-chemo and reconstruction. BUT LYMPHEDEMA says "hey, I'm stickin around to be a constant thorn in your side". It might rear its ugly head at any moment you happen to get a little sunburn on your arms, or burn yourself on the oven, fly in an airplane, or even get a bug bite. Another challenge I'm finding frustrating already going for bloodwork and treatments and surgeries currently ongoing, I can't let them put a blood pressure cuff on my arms, nor let them stick me with a needle except in the hand if they can even get it to draw. They are forced to draw from my port which requires an experienced nurse, and that brings me to this week at Thursday's chemo. For those who don't know, a port was surgically placed right near my clavicle/collar bone on the left side of my chest right under the skin. It stays attached to my subclavian vein so that the nurse only needs to stick the needle each time into the port to be able to immediately access the vein.
I'LL BACK UP TO THURSDAY MORNING. Kenny and I revisited my plastic surgeon after three weeks. Bottom line...at my last appt. with him in December, he looked at my "progress" and determined in his opinion that I had a leak in the left breast tissue expander.. I was shocked and sickened as my sister and I questioned him on the what and why. He did not do a fill that day and seemed confident in his appraisal of the situation as unfortunate as it was. He chalked it up to product malfunction and a slow pressure leak that could only be corrected by another surgery to remove and replace the defective expander. This meant reconstruction would cease and surgery could not be done until all my chemo was completed in May or June. Then surgery, 3 months of fills, and the final cosmetic surgeries tacked on the end. Not what I wanted to hear. So for three weeks I've battled and prayed over this setback, fighting to not feel sorry for myself, etc., etc. ...all while not feeling TOTALLY CONFIDENT in his decision. Thursday morning, we readdressed this with the surgeon and he agreed that it was based on an experienced "hunch" and we could continue to fill and see what happens since we have nothing to lose. The leak is only saline water and is absorbed quickly by the body with no harm. I left there "filled" and sore...relieved and livid...all at the same time. That's all I'll say on that. Time will tell. Then we ate and headed to chemo.
WHEN THEY CALLED ME BACK FOR BLOODWORK, I asked them to draw from my port because of my arms and so they called the oncology nurse to take over. They had to take me on back to a infusion recliner because at the last two treatments, my port would only work if I was very reclined and arm hanging down to my side. Even reclined, this time after several tries they were able to draw blood out, but when they tried to push a saline flush in, it was not going, blocked. Getting a little panicked at where this was headed, I kept offering solutions. "I can recline more...let me hold my arm lower, what if I shift?...is there a room I could lay flat, maybe that would work?" The nurse lovingly told me that she needed to go talk to Dr. Wright, that this port was obviously malfunctioning and/or in a wrong position (possibly from my weight loss since surgery), but that it was a danger to inject strong chemo meds into my body should they get released into my surrounding tissue. NOT GOOD AT ALL! She walked away and I unexpectedly cried quietly like a little girl hoping no one around me was noticing. Embarrassing. You want to be strong for your fellow cancer brothers and sisters, though you know they can surely relate on some level with your tears.
DR. WRIGHT AGREED with the nurse and they got me in immediately at the hospital next door for a dye port check in the Radiology dept. At least it felt like home. Now I WAS THE PATIENT getting a fluoro procedure, watching myself on the screen, and laying on the hard cold table. I was a little of a bossy patient, trying to direct it all from my supine position as kindly as I could. I wanted to make sure the radiologist checked everything correctly. RESULT was that my port only worked in supine (laying down flat) position and would need to be replaced. SO, back to Morsani surgical center on Wednesday for Dr. Cox to adjust or replace it. Then I should be back on track for chemo the next day.
YESTERDAY, my sweet and beautiful niece, Brittni, surprised me with a t-shirt reading "I Fight Like A Girl" with pink boxing gloves. She bought herself one too in support of her Aunt Dina. With the love of my family and so many praying for me, I keep on fighting hard like a girl...even if I sometimes have to take a moment and cry like a girl too.
