Surgery and Recovery

After arriving in Pre Op, I was given a gown, and a numbing cream to rub around my nipple in preparation for the nuclear scan of my lymph nodes. I just waited, and Chuck wasn’t allowed to be in the room. Finally I was taken by wheelchair to the scanning area. I had to sit outside the door and wait while wondering about a needle entering my nipple area and grieving the loss of my breast. I thought I was alone there, but discovered later that Jesus was standing behind the wheelchair. It seems that I waited there forever. I was finally taken into the room, and went onto the table. The injection was not painful, and I was put in many different positions to get the best possible pictures for my surgeon. I was then taken back to Pre Op, and Chuck was able to join me in the room. Not long after, the anesthetist arrived as did the surgeon. Dr. Mc Cuaig told me the nuclear test didn’t work because of scar tissue from the first biopsy. She would try another procedure in the operating room. I was given medication to relax, and I remember being wheeled to the operating room. Surgery is funny because I remember being wheeled to the operating room, and waking up later in the recovery room. My first thought was “it’s gone,” the breast and the cancer. At some point the surgeon came by to give us an update. Blue dye was injected into my breast and massaged to get it up to the sentinel nodes. She was able to identify two nodes, and they were removed for analysis. The nodes were cancer-free. Struggling, I woke up more. I was given juice, and vomited which is normal when I have anesthetic. We were given instruction on how to empty, measure, and clean the two drains coming out of my chest, and Chuck was told to go get the car. I guess I got dressed, but I was dizzy and still don’t remember much detail. They helped me into the wheelchair, and I said I was dizzy. The nurse’s aide was told to push the wheelchair slowly because I was dizzy. We arrived at the van, I got in, and Chuck and I headed home approximately five hours after I went into surgery. When we arrived home, Chuck got the walker out the garage for me to use, and I went in and laid on the sofa. Chuck needed to go to Target to get my pain medication and some ginger ale for me. Our neighbor and friend, Judy, came over and stayed with me while Chuck was gone. I don’t remember going to bed, but I remember waking up thirsty. I didn’t want to wake Chuck up, so I got myself up using the walker. I made to the great room before I lost my balance and fell bringing one of the dining chairs down with me. Chuck later wondered if I fainted, but I remember going down. I think I stayed on the sofa the rest of the night, but I don’t remember. In the morning, I didn’t feel like eating but Chuck said I needed to take a Percocet. I have a low tolerance to medication, so I only took half of the recommended dosage. Everything seemed fine until I need to go the restroom. I felt weak and mentally weird, so Chuck helped me into the master bathroom. I still laugh about Chuck telling not to worry because we have plenty of toilet paper. When I finished, I called Chuck and he helped me to get up. In the process, I ended up on the floor. I thought he had dropped me. Later I discovered that I had fainted. For some reason, Chuck left the room, and I said I was fine. I was just holding on to the framing for the closet door. Next thing I knew, Chuck was back, and I was on the floor. Fainted! I was also nauseous, and lost whatever was in my stomach. It was impossible for me to get off the floor, so Chuck rearranged to the bath rug, and I laid on the floor with my head in the carpeted closet floor and my lower half on the tile floor. I laid there for what seemed like hours. I remember the home nurse calling, and I told Chuck to tell them I was laying on the floor. The home nurse arrived, and said I’d had a reaction to the Percocet. By then I was feeling a little better, and Chuck and the home nurse were able to get me into bed. Later that evening, Karen from church brought food, and we were able to eat for a few days. My drains were removed on Friday, and I returned to work the following Monday. I was off work four weeks. There is no state disability in Arizona, and I had used up all my vacation time. The surgeon said my surgical area was now at sprained ankle stage. I was stiff and sore, and working as a payroll clerk didn’t improved my condition. When I returned to work, I discover that my manager was going on vacation in two weeks, so I needed to learn things that he did that I had yet to learn. I was determined to get everything done that week, and by the end of the week, I was exhausted. I had run on adrenaline the entire week. After one week back at work, I was back at the surgeon’s office because I had painful swelling near the areas where the drains had been located. I had Seromas, and they were drained. She said I may need to come back again for more draining, but when I returned she couldn’t get any liquid, and said it looked like I had some lymphedema. On March 20, I saw my oncologist. Because I had the mastectomy, there was no need for radiation or chemotherapy. I was also given the choice about taking the anti-estrogen medication. My aunt is taking the medication, so I know there are many side effect of the medication. My doctor said a normal woman has a 1 in 8 chance of getting breast cancer, and without taking the medication my chances of getting cancer in my other breast is 1 in 6 or 1 in 7. My surgeon said there wasn’t much difference, and I chose not to decide, so basically decided not to take the medication because I still needed to be able to work. I saw my primary care physician and cried. She couldn’t believe I was working full time so soon. One of her other patients had the same surgery and was still only able to work part time. My doctor said I need to go onto FMLA so I would be able to take time off when needed. I told my employer this and was told “we don’t do that here.” I said I would be happy to have Fridays off because I wasn’t healing properly. Four day workweeks were the normal for the next four weeks. I returned to full time thinking I was doing fine. By the end of May, I was in serious pain. I discovered I was using my muscles incorrectly because of the surgery and my job. My Pectoral Minor was doing the work for the Pectoral Major, and what I thought was surgical pain was the muscle underneath. It wouldn’t improve without help. God’s provision had me see the part time Chiropractor that fills in at my Chiropractor’s office. He is 78 years old, a real character, and one of my good friends. Dr. Nickel had breast cancer when he was younger, and he knows my pain, and where I need adjustment. It was discovered that I had injury to my shoulder muscles from the surgery. We have been working together now for over a year to get my muscles back in shape. Massage was also added, and my rotator cuff is 99% healed as of February, 2015. I spent months trying to work and act normally when I was not normal at all. I would sit at work and stress about how my job was making my arm and shoulder hurt. I was concerned that I was doing more damage. I had been carpooling with my boss since May of 2011. After my surgery, Chris did all of the driving except the weeks he was on vacation. In August of 2014, construction began on the Scottsdale portion of Loop 101, and we lost the large space between the HOV late and the median wall. In Arizona, cars can enter and exit the HOV lanes at any time, so my stress level increased. In December we saw two serious accident occur while driving home. In order to have Christmas Eve off, payroll needed to get three day’s work completed in two days by working overtime. The second day, I had a major anxiety attack at work. Looking back, I can see I’d been having them for a while. I didn’t know what was wrong, I went back to work the day after Christmas and was fine. That was Friday. Monday was my 60th birthday. It was a difficult day for me, because my mom died from cancer when she was 59. I felt guilty for outliving her. I had another anxiety attack. I still didn’t know what was wrong. This time it didn’t end, but continued for several days. I missed work on Tuesday and Wednesday. Thursday was New Year’s Day. By then I knew I was having anxiety attacks. On Friday, I went into work and gave my notice. The following Tuesday, I woke up with another anxiety attack and went to the doctor. She put me back on antidepressants and gave me Xanax. I took a whole Xanax, and went to work Wednesday. I was so tired from the medication, and my boss asked if I would like that day to be my last. I happily said yes. Since that time I was been on a physical, mental, and emotion healing journey. After about three weeks, I was able to go off the Xanax and I grew stronger. In February, I was told my subscapular muscle was finally healed. That muscle had been the problem child for months. I went back to work at a new job at the end of March, and I enjoy this new job. I’m working a temp job as an Administrative Assistant, and for the last two weeks I’ve working part time because of the company’s budget issues. It is now June 28, 2015. I am still on my journey. As I’m finishing this, I’m starting to cry. This has been an assignment from my counselor as a healing tool. I didn’t think I could do this, but it’s done.

One minute at a time

Unknowing, my one minute at a time started in July when my coworker, Debbi, was diagnosed with ovarian cancer that metastasized to her brain. She died Labor Day weekend. In late September or early October, another coworker, Lisa, asked for prayer as she underwent a breast biopsy. At this time, I realized I needed to go have my own mammogram. My last mammogram was in California before we moved in 2009. On October 18, 2013, I went for my routine mammogram at SimonMed in San Tan Valley and left thinking I was done for year. Two weeks later, I received a letter telling me some calcifications were found and I needed a diagnostic mammogram and possible ultrasound. The letter also said most findings are benign. My internet ready mind was already Goggling breast calcifications and found most are benign. Not unexpected, but still upsetting, my dad went to Heaven on Nov 4, 2013. The routine for the diagnostic mammogram is to perform the mammogram and if anything shows, perform an ultrasound. This was my time at SimonMed in Gilbert on Nov 14, 2013. I really didn't except to need the ultrasound, but that was the route I needed to travel. The ultrasound showed the calcifications and also showed the remains of an old cyst. On to the biopsy; but still in denial. The biopsy was scheduled at SimonMed in Scottsdale on Nov. 20, 2013. As I was leaving the house, I got a call from SimonMed canceling the appointment because the facility had lost power. I explained that I needed to do this today because I had taken the day off from work. My appointment was changed to the SimonMed in Mesa (Greenfield). I went to the appointment still thinking all was fine. As I lay relaxed on the table, I could hear a woman crying in the next room. When the doctor came in, she said she was late because the other woman was upset that she would have cancer and miss seeing her grandchild growing. I told the doctor, I too, had grandchildren. The doctor said my spot was miniscule, and if it was cancer, it would be easy to fix. I was given an icepack for my bra, a list of instructions, and sent home. I was concerned about the lifting restriction because I was flying to California on Friday, Nov 22 for Emmalee’s first birthday party. I was told I could lift the suitcase, and the Lord provided the kids from GCU on my flight to lift my luggage for me. Everything is good, and on to California. That Friday started a busy season. Flying to California on Friday night for the birthday party then flying home on Sunday. I would be flying back to California the next Friday night, Nov 29 for my dad’s memorial service scheduled for Saturday, Nov. 30. This was Thanksgiving week, and when my boss heard about the memorial service, she let me have Friday off, so we changed our flight and flew into LA on Wednesday night. I returned to California with a new piece of information: on Tuesday, Nov. 26, I received a call telling me I had breast cancer. After returning from California the second time I met with my primary care physician and was told I had noninvasive DCIS in my right breast. December brought an appointment with my new oncologist and surgeon. My oncologist said it was a small area of cancer, so I should be having a lumpectomy. Radiation would cut the risk of a recurrence by 50%, and five years on Tamoxefin would cut the risk another 50%. He also said I would need an MRI to determine if there were other areas of concern. We set an appointment for the end of January when I would be fully healed from my procedure. I met the following day with my surgeon, Dr. Katherine Mc Cuaig. She scared me to death that first day. I went alone to the appointment which was a mistake. I was told about different types of cells and how they multiply. She explained about lumpectomies and the possible need for a mastectomy because multiple lumpectomies greatly disfigure the breast. We decided to schedule the MRI and surgery after Christmas because she was going out of town. The holiday time had me pondering which path would be better for me. I spoke with a friend of my sister who had a lumpectomy and radiation several years ago. Pam is doing great, but she said the radiation was little tiring. This helped with my decision. Chuck and I met with Dr. Mc Cuaig in January about the best choice for me. We decided lumpectomy with radiation. I would only be off work a few days, and I could leave early every day from work so I could have the seven weeks of radiation close to home. The final decision maker would be the result of the scheduled MRI because if anything else showed up, it would change to a mastectomy. The MRI did show another area of concern in the same breast. An MRI guided biopsy showed that this area was atypia cells that may progress to cancer at a future time. This sealed my decision to have a mastectomy because I didn’t want to be constantly worrying about this new area. Throughout this process, I got so tired of trying to juggle work and doctor appointments. Having radiation would have prolonged this situation. Some of my family disagreed with my decision, but ultimately, it was my decision to make. Because of all the time that passed, I rescheduled my oncologist appointment for March 20. On Thursday, February 6, 2014 began my before and after. Before I left that morning, I had a shower and washed my hair. (I didn’t know it would be over a month before I could take another shower without being encumbered by protecting incisions and drainage tubes) I also said goodbye to my right breast. I drove to the hospital with Chuck as the passenger and went inside when we arrived. The ends the before part of my journey. The after part will be another blog.

Please call me Lady: I love cocker spaniels

I get my hair cut and colored once a month after Chuck's Social Security check arrives.  For 3 or 4 months, my hair artist, Laura Jenkins Wallis, has commented that skin looks so much better.  (I have mild psoriasis).  I thought it was because of my new Origins skin cream.

This month I told her my last haircut had been wonderful and easy to work with; she returned that my hair texture has changed from very coarse to soft making it easier to style.  We were trying to figure out a reason for changes.

Later in the day I realized for the last 3 to 4 months I have been taking excellent fish oil pills from the veterinarian that are made for dogs.  I take 3 day as prescribed for a 100 lb dog.  So.. . now I have great skin and shiny coat.  If I start barking, please call someone for help.

It's been a while because. . . .

Thank you, Jesus, that January is over.

Chuck switched to an HMO Medicare plan because it had no premiums.  It started January 1, 2012.  He started rationing some of his medications in December in anticipation of a lower cost January 1.  He couldn't get any information on what his copay would be for his RX.  Sunday, January 1, we were in Target and spoke to our favorite pharmacist, Chris.  He ran Chuck's card, and it showed we would owe 20% on everything, including is $1500.00 medication.  Chuck said no way, so we spent Sunday and Monday on the phone with everyone we could contact, and discovered that the HMO is the same as Medicare, and what he had before was a Medicare supplement which paid his copays.

This month has been spent canceling the HMO so that it ended yesterday.  Today, supposedly, the supplement will kick in and he can get his meds.  He has been severely rationing his Medicare, and surprisingly told me he feels like he's suffocating (surprising because he doesn't usually tell me these things). 

I've also had a stressful month at work.  All this has combined to diminish my serotonin levels, and I'm starting to have panic attacks again.  It's no ones fault:   at work and while carpooling, my boss has coughed continually since New Years.  (The interior of my car smells like cough drops).  I get home, and Chuck is a mess.

These last few days have been tough because I could see today coming, but I didn't think it could get here soon enough.  I had a panic attack Monday and have been able to eat very little food this week.

Friends on Facebook prayed for me last night, and this morning I had a chat with one of my cousins which helped me.  Talking to her I actually felt hunger pains.

Thank you, everyone for your prayers.  This is truly "One step at a time".

And Chuck agrees

Chuck has agreed that he's getting worse by telling me yesterday to remind him about watering the bougainvilleas before 5:00 when he's not good.

Couldn't finish dinner tonight; it wore him out and he's now sleeping at the table.

I realized today that I need to check the time of our flight back to Phoenix.  I think it's around 5:00.

The Lord is the Rock of my Salvation, and it's His grace that gets me through each day.

I never promised you a rose garden

I just heard something on the tv that reminded me of the song that went:  "I beg your pardon, I never promised you a rose garden."  In this life, we have thorns, but God through Jesus has provided a glorious future in our own rose garden.

Chuck is getting worse.  I've noticed it, but I asked Charlie and Sarah today and they agreed. 

This week I noticed that I had to answer the same question several times before Chuck understood.   He is also tiring more easily and has trouble remembering if he took his medication. 

We've tried three times in the last several weeks to eat dinner at the Queen Creek Cafe on Friday nights for all you can eat fish and chips (Chuck's favorite).  The first Friday night four or five weeks ago and the last two Friday nights we've had to leave the restaurant quickly as he started to "lose it."  Last night people had to help get him out of the cafe and into the car.  Last night he made it into the house easier than other times when I had to run in the house, start his house air, and bring it out to him before he get himself out of the van.  Last night, he made the comment that the restaurant that he couldn't see.  Scary! 

Tonight after dinner at home, he said he could feel it starting again, and was asleep almost before he sat down on the sofa.

I don't expect him to do chores around the house while I'm at work, but he does them.  The last few weeks I've noticed that dishes he said he would do in the morning are not done, and other other things are slipping.  I'm not complaining, its's just concerning.  I've started doing more of the chores, like washing the dishes after dinner, and it angers him because he says he can do it because he has all day.

Chuck has seen both of his doctors in the last week, but he won't tell me what was said, and as I think I mentioned in a previous post, he went ballistic when I said I wanted to go with him to see his pulmonary specialist.

Update

Haven't posted in a while because of time constraints and physical issues of my own. Right now I'm waiting for a phone call sometime this week telling me I have ordinary arthritis and mouth infection (this is unlikely, I've been on meds and since Monday my mouth is getting worse again.), or I have an autoimmune disease.  Blood was drawn on Friday for all sorts of "lovely" diseases.

Chuck just got up from the dining table after sleeping there for two hours.  He doesn't sleep well laying down and is usually up by 3 or 4 in the morning.  At night he is so tired that the next day he doesn't remember things we've discussed at dinner.

I really want to go to the lung specialist with him next time, but he obstinately refuses my request.  Chuck feels I don't trust him and that's why I want to go with him.  I really just want information.

I am trusting the Lord for the outcome of my tests because I need to be healthy to take care of Chuck.