October 27, 2016 - Kisses on the boo-boo

This is a trivial thing compared to anything else in the mastectomy process, but it should be mentioned because you won't suspect it in foresight. And it catches you off guard. Trust me, I am in for seven times now and I still have the exact same emotion. EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. So this is what you need to know, no matter how many times you have stitches in your boob, it never feels normal. I don't necessarily mean physically, honestly you can't feel the actual stitches. Remember, early on, you have very little feeling your breast after the initial malignancy. It take some time (if at all) for feeling to start to return. and it doesn't return for everyone. So this isn't an aspect of how the stitches "feel", but rather how you feel about the stitches. It's just not normal to be walking around with stitches in your boob. Sure you have stitches in your knee from the tumble you took off your bike as a kid, no problem.  Kisses on the boo boo from your mom and little ice cream and you are good to go. I realize there may be a little obsession with it and the bandaid as kids do, but as an adult, you rarely if ever think about the stitches in your knee. Your boob however, well, a little different story.

First you constantly "think" you feel the tug of the stitches. no matter how big or small the incision. I would say my very first incision (for the mastectomy itself) was/is between 4 and 5 inches long. Not a trivial incision and totally reasonable that it would be on your mind almost every minute of every day for the time period your stitches are in place (even if you have a glued incision instead of actual stitches). What surprised me though was that 7 procedures later (6 surgeries, 1 biopsy), and despite this new incision now being only about 1 inch (a far cry in size from the original incision), It still sits on my mind  a good bit of the time. Particularly in the shower. Particularly when changing clothes, particularly when the bandage comes on and off, but even just as I am going about my day, it is there in my mind. Additionally, while it is in MY mind, I also totally assume YOU can see straight through my shirt, my bra, my bandage and can see every stitch in all it's glory. It's an absurd thought to think YOU can see my stitches, but it goes to show how abnormal your thinking can be while walking around with stitches in your boob. Ron once said to me "I wish I could understand why a stitch can get you all out of sorts". I get it, it's weird that it can always be on your mind. But it is. And I don't have to be able to explain it for it to be fact, but it is something that I think you should be aware of for when/if you find yourself in those mastectomy, reconstruction  or biopsy shoes. You aren't strange, you are just getting through it. And there is no shame there. (You will be surprised how much stuff sits on your mind, but you certainly in foresight don't expect stitches to fall in to that category).

But guess what!? The stitches come out tonight after a day of work (or came out today depending on when you are reading this) and the thoughts of stitches forever being in the back of my mind will be gone with the stitches. And that, my friends, makes me a happy gal. Because with those stitches go the thoughts of biopsy too. It's truly a "throw it all out in the trash" kind of day. And life gets to go back to "Pre-Boob-Lump" mode, complete with it's on issues, but different issues, and sometimes it's fun to focus on something other than boob.

Now, I won't lie to you, all 8 hours of my day today at work will be laden with the dread of stitch removal. I want them out, but don't want to actually be part of the experience of their actual removal. I loathe these things and I detest having stitches taken out. I can take you back to my very first memory of stitch removal when I was six (cleft lip repair), and I can still feel that thread being pulled through my lip. It makes me want to yack. No yacking today. Easy cheesy (and a lot of head holding). By the way, I have no trouble at all watching YOU get your stitches, it's getting my own stitches out that cause me to lose the lunch.  Stay tuned.



(This post is focused with the mastectomy reader in mind. I realize it is less applicable to the average reader. You are a trooper to still be following me. I would have left me a long time ago. Smile. Also, I rarely share pictures because it's the boob and tastefulnees matters. Tried to be tasteful here so you can have an idea what to expect if you have a biopsy. Note, biopsies differ greatly so this is only one of many possibilities.)


To access previous blog posts - click HERE.

How I got to Mastectomy (June 2012)

June – August 1012: How I got to Mastectomy (below is a post from a few years back summarizing how mastectomy landed on my radar)

Back in June, on a Thursday, I was sitting in clinic waiting to see a patient. The Attending Physician I work with had just returned from a national oncology conference and was giving us the low down on some of the hot topics of discussion of the past week. Now let me step back, it's interesting to note I'm only in clinic two days a week. The rest of my week I'm in another building with another life. So had this physician returned on a Monday, I would have missed this discussion in its entirety and be none the wiser for some time to come as the news filtered itself out into the general public. So the timing of these events is not lost on me. Back to the day's events, he was telling us about all the new pediatric oncology research that focused on exposure to radiation therapy and long term outcomes. We've always known radiation therapy is a yin and a yang, particularly when used in children. It's a terrific modality for curing certain tumors, but it carries its own potentially negative risks while propagating the positive curative ones. Historically, Hodgkin's lymphoma patients received very large doses of radiation to the chest region, where primary tumor most likely lived. And we've always known these large doses, while needed for tumor kill, can lead to secondary risks later in life. For female teenagers, breast cancer is one of these risks. We've known this for years. What we didn't know was the magnitude of that risk.

Back to the meeting highlights, the Attending Physician began quoting off the new statics on the radiation data. Well, let's just say my ears perked up when I heard numbers that were much higher than previously published. (I had been treated for Hodgkin's Lymphoma when I was 16 so this was not only professionally relevant but personally relevant.) Simultaneously, while he was speaking to the few of us in the room, I went online to the meeting abstract to pull the data myself. And there it read - females treated with 20 gy doses of radiation carry at least equivalent risk for breast cancer as women who carry the BRCA gene for breast cancer. As I continued to read, and mentally calculating my own dose of more than 40 gy (being double that number reported in the meeting abstract), light bulbs start going off in my head like that on the red carpet. Percentages ranging from 30% up to >90% as you advance in age. What?!?!?!?!? We had thought it like 10-30%. That was a risk I had known and even prepared for. Roll the dice, it may happen, but more likely not. I've done cancer once, surely not twice. But 90%???? Are you kidding me? That's a whole other ballgame. That not a statistic, that's a prediction! That's...terrifying.

I quietly try to gather my wits and think rationally about this data while I am listening to the physician transition over to other topics from the meeting. But my mind keeps racing back to what he has said. I formulated an email to a breast oncologist I work with in my other job. (Reminder, this life altering conversation happened on a Thursday when I happened to be present in clinic; I started working with this breast oncologist  I am now email only six months ago. God's timing in this story is already starting to declare itself.)

"Breast Oncologist, have you seen the new breast data that was just released for Hodgkins patients? What do you think about me doing yearly mammograms in addition to the yearly breast MRIs I'm already getting? I had lymphoma and was treated with more than 40 gy doses of radiation to the chest as a teenager. (details summarized)"

"Sally, yes, I saw the data. I didn't realize you were a lymphoma survivor. I think you need to see a breast surgeon......" And at that very second I mentally checked out. Stopped reading. Had tears pool at the bottom of my eyelids.

Excuse me? What in the world did he just say??? A breast surgeon? What do you mean a breast SURGEON? Didn't you mean to say "yes, please schedule a mammogram at your earliest convenience."? Why in the world are you mentioning a breast surgeon? Ok Sally, check back in, compose yourself. Wipe the fluid from your eyeball and retype the email.

"Breast oncologist, did you mean to write the word surgeon in your email? I'm a little confused. Did you mean to say oncologist?"

"Sally, I think it would be wise for you to meet with the chief of breast surgery to discuss mastectomy options. Let me talk to her today about your case and I will get the appointment set up for you as soon as possible." (Paraphrased email verbiage) 

Hyperventilate. Mind racing. Punch in the stomach. Oh my gosh, please don't let me throw up right here in my laptop in front of everyone. Hold it together. Pull up your boot straps. Got-to-get-some-air-now. Walk out of the room to the bathroom and ball your eyes out. And then it also hits me while standing in that bathroom....Ron!

Let me insert here that all of this unfolded in a matter of about 3 minutes from the time the attending physician walked in all excited about the conference he just attended to me being set up in an appointmentt with a surgeon. How does that even happen?

Email Ron frantically. Email my sister frantically. Wait for response from oncologist. Pull up data on BRCA gene. What in the world, a prophylactic mastectomy? Women actually do that????? I really don't think I had any idea that women were finding out about BRCA gene results and scheduling mastectomies (since the timing of this blog post Angelina Jolly and countless others have scheduled mastectomies to reduce their breast cancer risk). Why do they do that? And why would I do that? That is radical. That is crazy. That is taking matters into your own hands. Do I not trust God's plan for my life? If I'm destined to have breast cancer, we just deal with it when it comes. I'm not someone to run from trouble. I like to roll the dice and trust God in the decisions in life. I've got this. Mastectomy, no way. (This, another free flowing train of thought spanning about 45 seconds).

Keep reading the article, Sally…unlike brca gene patients "hodgkins survivors, having already reached the maximum doses of radiation, will have limited treatment options for secondary breast cancer..." (paraphrased) Let me re-read that. Again. One more time.

Frantically email Ron a second time. Desperately watch the clock. I've GOT to get home! This room is closing in on me. I'm of no use to these patients today. Devastated. Confused. Frightened. Surprised. Blow to the stomach. (Little did I know that Ron was having the exact same experience sitting at his work desk as he later told me).

So it was no longer IF I was going to get Breast cancer, but more likely WHEN. And when that were to happen, my treatment options would be limited to no radiation.

Long story made semi short. Two weeks later, I'm sitting in an exam room with two surgeons discussing my mastectomy plans. Two weeks! Who gets an appointment with the chiefs of breast surgery and plastic surgery in two weeks? God does, with a little of "it's all who you know" thrown in for balance. By the end of the appointment I had a surgery date scheduled for August 7. The delay only because one of the surgeons was headed away on vacation for two weeks. Those four weeks would become very challenging for me with me subconsciously processing the what was to come. The radical procedure was going to happen! I chose the crazy option!

I should insert here, I'm a unique case. I got massive amounts of radiation as a teenager. Dose is everything. Timing and age of exposure is everything. Not every radiation patient has these risks. There is a lot of data that has to be sorted through for any given patient. I am NOT advocating mastectomy for radiation patients. I'm not even advocating mastectomy for hodgkin's patients. I'm advocating that you research the data. Determine your risk. I'd bet for most women, mastectomy is a bit drastic for your statics. For me, it became a very reasonable option that dropped my risk from up to 90% with limited treatment options down to about 5%. Less than that of the average reader reading this post. Then, I'm advocating support for women who choose this crazy life saving option. This is a radical life changing choice, and women need support in that. No judgment. No gossip about the "did you hear". No questions about implants and a boob job. Don't ever ask "how big are you going!" Support! Encouragement. Belief that this hard choice is able to be done successfully. Cheers of "you can do this" should be shouted through your telephone, your open front door, across the restaurant table as she sits there telling you her incredible dilemma and support that she can be open about this extremely personal journey. Understand that this is an awful decision to have to make and that this surgery is not knee surgery. She needs Love. She needs to know what she feels is justified, even if on some levels it seems trivial.

What she (now me) is feeling is something i never previously understood. Fear of the what ifs. Guilt for her thoughts of vanity. Shock that this is happening. Concern over her spouse and what he may think. Disappointment over reconstruction options. Guilt for feeling that disappointment. Shame that having no boobs affects her like it does. Shame that this journey impacts her like it does when she didn't even have breast cancer like some women have to struggle through both BC and mastectomy. Confusion as to why this affects her so drastically. Worry that God may have wanted her to choose differently. Frustration over the physical limitations now present. Anger at her lack of control. And the list goes on. Trust me, it's best to just sum it up and say "She feels a lot!"

Anyway, back to the original point of all if this. In order to process the big picture, I have to understand how those first few weeks played out. How timing is everything. How God chose a Thursday for this discussion to take place. (Reminder, this was brand new literature your average person would not know about for quite some time to come. I work in oncology.) How God, not even six months before crossed my path with that of a breast oncologist that I work on several projects with. That God would grant Ron and I wisdom to recognize His role in placing me at the right place at the right time and his offering this option to us. That Ron would make his decision that I should go through with mastectomy before I would and that they would match up. Maybe God had a specific plan not only to save me from a tremendously difficult journey with breast cancer, but to change me, challenge me, grow me. Was Sally going to let fear of a drastic surgical procedure guide her? Was Sally going to trust that God had big plans for her or even someone else by choosing the hard road? Who was Sally going to put her faith in?

I'm changed. I'm challenged. I'm broken. I'm restored. I'm accepting my new breasts…as strange as that sounds. But most importantly, I'm allowing this journey to be whatever vessel God chooses in growing His kingdom. I may kick and scream along the way, but I'm still moving forward. I take steps back. I doubt things, but I'm committed for the long haul. Come what may.

Now, pray that these next few weeks are smooth. I have a great bit to accomplish in a short amount of time. Pray for my transition back into life. Monday, I start removing some of my restrictions. In two weeks, back to the surgeon to assess everything. Will the skin survive, is my mobility and strength back, have the impostors settled in their new home. Is the swelling and pain gone. Can I handle going back to work? Can I drive? Can I shower in my own without falling apart emotionally in the process?

A lot happened in three short weeks. More than I could ever have imagined. I hope to be a better person on the other side of this. I hope you found a new understanding of preventative mastectomies. And maybe you saw a glimpse of God's provision in the awful (and incredibly amazing.)

 ------------------------------------------------------

Timeline of events that followed are listed below. You can read posts around that time frame if you find yourself in similar situations and need more information about each event. 

August 7, 2012 - Surgery #1 Double Mastecomy

August 20, 2012 -  Surgery #2 Breast Reconstruction

April 6, 2013 - Complication: Breast Infection (cellulitis); Surgery #3 -implant removal surgery

April 29, 2014 - Complication: Breast dimpling and thinning skin; Surgery #4- lipografting surgery

October 16, 2014 - Complication: Implant Slip; Surgery #5 - Skin tuck to lift implant

August 6, 2015 - Complication: Scar tissue constriction  Surgery #6 - Scar tissue removal surgery
October 13, 2016 - Complication: Breast Lump - Breast Biospy



To access previous blog posts - click HERE.

October 13, 2016 - The Controlled Burn

Good riddance, Breast Lump! Your job here is done. I am back home with my feet propped up while Ron is outside staining the deck. (Poor Ron! I may or may not have a huge grin on my face because I can’t participate). The shocker of the day is I have laughed and laughed and laughed until my sides hurt, all while having something cut out of me. You can thank Ron, you can thank Lead Plastic Surgeon (LPS), you can thank Surgical Nurse, and you can thank our cumulative warped sense of humor. This is how the day unfolded. We arrived and we waited. Then we got called back to the procedure room. Then I got undressed. Then I put on the hideous gown that I loathe….and then… the laughter began. It started first when Lead Plastic Surgeon walked in the room and I made him do his typical promises of “best work ever” (you will have to go back to one of the six surgery day posts to understand the back ground on this). Mind you, this was the 7^th procedure ( #1 double mastectomy, #2 double reconstruction, #3 cellulitis/infection debridement and implant replacement, #4 lipografting, #5 breast tack up for slipped implant, #6 scar tissue removal, and now lucky #7 biopsy) all of which I made him promise to do his best work ever.  So he got a chuckle when I told him I was refusing to sign consent today until I had his promise once again for his work to live up to my expectations.  He rolled his eyes, as he always does when I ask this, and made his promise complete with a high five. (In all seriousness, you will never fully understand the fear I had of mastectomy scars going in to all of this. The thought of those scars would puddle me into tears after I made the mistake of researching them on the internet. Trust me, scars have come a long way in the past decade so no worries there. But my plea to him originated from an intense fear which later drifted to an ongoing joke that he has to continually exceed his previous work with each new surgery I found myself in.) With that squared away we could move on to marking up the area with the trusty green sharpie and then insert the big old needle to numb the area. Now while the ole sharpie markup and needle insertion was going on, in order to distract me and my anxious state seeing a needle come at my breast we all took guesses as to what we thought the lump was going to be.

• Sally: Hubba Bubba Bubble Gum dropped in by LPS during the previous surgery.  
• Surgical Nurse: The infamous Seinfeld Junior Mint.
• Ron and Lead Plastic Surgeon: They teamed up and decided it was a CIA tracking device for which LPS profusely apologized for as he never thought I would find him out.

Ron and him agreed his mistake was putting it on the top side of the implant, where it now could be felt, rather than UNDER the implant. They bantered this back and forth a bit longer than I expected actually, then Lead Plastic Surgeon blurts out “Hey, did you ever see the game show “Let’s Make a Deal?”. Well now we are picturing a boob with all of these random contents in it being pulled out when Wayne Brady (in present day) asks for a pair of panty hose, or a toothbrush, or a roll of scotch tape. We all lost it again in barely controlled laughter.

Now before you scold me for this type of banter in a professional environment, I want to remind you of a few things: 1) The patient, in this case me, was fully involved and also the instigator. 2) I have had a ridiculous week, having lost my beloved pet and after having waited 2 months to know what this thing was in my chest, and I deserved a little laughter. 3) This is my seventh procedure with this surgeon. Usually he sees his patients once in the OR never to be seen again. Well, LPS, Ron, and I are on year 4 of our surgical relationship and we have come a long way. 4) LPS has the same sense of humor I do and it certainly tones down the fact that you are flashing your breast to a room full of people.  5) I needed to cut the tension I was feeling and what does that better than laughter.  Please know he is totally professional until Ron and I push him not to be.  (Side Note: the surgical nurse who I was meeting for the very first time suddenly exclaimed “I like her a good bit”, so she was ok with our banter and started joining in after we egged her on). So it was a day of laughter and I really needed that. After our laughter subsided a bit and before we started the actual procedure  itself, I pressed him for his guess of what he really thought this was going to be.  He voted on a cyst and I agreed that seemed pretty reasonable based on how it felt. This is where he left the room because we had to wait for the area to completely nunb (20 minutes).

Here I am perched up on the table in a gown under a blanket and big OR lights while Ron decided he better run to the restroom before we get started, not knowing how long it would take. I told him he better make sure he takes note of which room I was in because the last thing he would want to do would be to to walk back into the wrong room catching some poor unsuspecting lady lying on a table. He responded with a gesture of holding his hand over his eyes but peeking through and saying “Sorry M’am. But that’s good work!” (flashback to the Christmas Boobs post from a few years back). Well, I just lost it all over again. I was laughing so hard, no doubt everyone in the building could hear me, and just when I would settle down the image would flash right back into my head again and it would start all over. I was out of control laughing! Of course that is the time Lead Plastic Surgeon and Surgical Nurse walk back in again and then they started laughing too and it just went on.  I again refer you back to the 5 reasons above so you don’t pass judgement on our semi-unprofessional demeanor. I also want to take this moment to apologize to anyone who is ready this blog for the very first time. This isn’t my usual writing and you are not yet used to my candid transparency.

Ok, so now back to the meat of it all and what you really came here to find out.. Let me say, this procedure is not delightful. This was the first time I was fully awake for a procedure. It almost took my breath away with the pulling and tugging that goes on when you are looking for something which requires a little digging around because you don’t know exactly what you are looking for . In fact, I will call it pretty awful. The surgical nurse kept asking me if I was ok seeing the look of dislike on my face. Bear down and get through it was my response and my face reflected that! In addition, I kept hearing the snip-snip of the tissue and the pulling of the skin….I almost lost my lunch. I also was the perfect example of a 4 year old asking “Are we there yet? Are we there yet?” over and over again as he continued to poke around.. But then the glory happened when I heard him say “Sally, I found it. It’s the alloderm sling.” (Go back to my August posts to better understand this and what that is). The edges had in fact rolled up on itself and created a peanut shaped fold. He bantered back and forth with us in the room trying to decide if he should cut it out and I very firmly said “yes!” so he did. He found 3 additional spots that had rolled up as well so to play it safe he cut all of those out too. So I will now shout it from the roof top! There is no tumor! And the other silver lining there is no need to send anything to pathology and no more waiting two more weeks for results. We absolutely now know it is the sling! But you aren’t off the case yet. We now need to shift our prayers that this won’t turn into an infection. He exposed the area to open air so there is a risk that the breast could get infected (this happened before for me after my first reconstruction procedure) and we don’t want a repeat.  He wants me to watch the area carefully. The stitches will stay in place for 14 days and then back to see him again to check the area and remove the stitched. Praises as this is the best news we could have gotten today and even he was surprised at what he found. Feel free to clap loudly. This is worth celebrating!

Shifting gears a little, I want to take you back to some thoughts I have been having over the last 2 weeks (this is not necessarily for the everyday reader but targeted  for women who find themselves in these situations. That is the whole purpose of my blog, to equip you with information about mastectomy.) I almost blogged these thoughts earlier in September in the middle of it all, but it didn’t happen for whatever reason.  I’ve been reflecting back on this journey of 6 surgeries and now one scary moment of a breast lump AFTER mastectomy. I’ve done lymphoma and that lymphoma took me to this high risk of breast cancer, which took me to this double mastectomy, which took me to the 6 surgeries, which took me to some very scary moments like the first shower and now 4 years later a lump, which took me through so many roller coaster emotions that I wasn’t prepared for in this journey, and which took not only me, but my whole family, to places we never anticipated. Now, as I reflect back and as I navigated the last 2 months specifically,  I’ve started to see each of these moments as a type of “controlled burn”. I am realizing how God takes us (as believers) or allows us to go through some potentially scary and uncertain moments in life. But unlike a deranged arsonist who is out to create burning flames invoking chaos and evil resulting in mass devastation, instead, God (when we allow him) carries us on a controlled burn with totally different outcomes. Let’s look at controlled burns, as used in nature, specifically and literally for a minute. They are known to:

·         Promote healthy regrowth

·         Reintroduce healthy nutrients back into the soil

·         Prevent massive uncontrolled fires with huge devastation

·         Limit the spread of life-inhibiting plant disease

·         Reinstill forage for wildlife

·         Improve the habitat for endangered species

·         And the list goes on

There is so much richness there in the good of a forest fire, when controlled and done in specified time frames compared to the harm of an unexpected and uncontrolled wildfire. My mind has been mulling this around in how this is applicable in my circumstances these last 4 years (and many more). Aren’t these crazy moments in life the perfect breeding ground for promoting healthy regrowth? Do we not come into the event haggard and full of burn out, emotionally stripped down to the bare bones, and full of worry and fear? And somehow, in the middle of it all, when we give over control we start to see these subtle shifts in our maturity, understanding, and character? Do we not often come out on the other side deepened with more layers and facets? Not necessarily noticeable in the meat of it all  but often when the emotions play out we can see how the burn of life, when we place our faith in God’s plan, becomes a controlled burn saturated and rich with benefits to us and those that go through life with us? Whereas,  when left unchecked,  our worry and fear instead fan the flames and create dangerous shoot-out runners pushing out and away from “controlled” and unfortunately in to a devastating uncontrolled spread.  Any situation can start or become and uncontrolled burn, particularly when left to our own vices, but we have the choice to all God to orchestrate and refine us via a controlled burned. He can take what is intended for harm, from living in a sinful world, and turn it into a controlled burn ripe with life changing greatness. Don’t get me wrong, the ground is still burning. It’s sweltering and unbearable at times (if not most of the time) on ground level.  But as the fire spreads under His control, and then recedes, and is finally extinguished you start to see sprouts of life pushing up through the ash. I’ve said it 1000 times and believe it to my core that if we push aside the worry and fear and instead cling to his promises while we wait it out, His plan for our lives is 1 trillion times better than what we map out for ourselves. God will bring blessing. And triumph. And PEACE! And none of that relies on the circumstance itself, but rather our choice to let him transition our moment to a controlled burn. I’m not saying this because I got good news to day. It has been a whopping 4 years of less than ideal news. But in these uncertain and scary moments God has created a Sally that I never could have conjured up on my own. He has softened my edges and blunted my sting. The burn of life has brought about regrowth. I’m a little less judgmental. A little more understanding. Less afraid of chaos. More embracing of change. An eager seeker of outcomes. More confident and accepting in my imperfections. More resilient in my marriage. And the list goes on and on and on. I am magnitudes better as a friend and a co-inhibitor of your biosphere that I ever would have been before mastectomy….and reconstruction…and complications…and infections….and lumps. (Side note: I am still fully flawed so this is not a personal bragging fest of look how far I’ve come, but rather a testament of the growth that can when we allow God to do his thing His way. I’m simply moving forward on a continuum and if it can happen for me, it can happen for anyone.)

We don’t always have choice in what our circumstances will be. Life is going to happen either out of our control or as a result of our choices. But they key point is that it is either going to happen TO you, or it is going to happen THROUGH you. We can be devastating, unpredictable, ravaging “uncontrolled burns” foraging the forest on a path of mass destruction, OR we can embrace that life doesn’t revolve around our greedy desires within us and instead trust God’s plan for our life (come what may) so that he in turn can transition “uncontrolled” into the most glorious opportunity for restoration, regrowth, weeding out, and thriving that only He can bring. It’s a glorious thing. And mastectomy got me here (coupled with many other things that have happened in life). I’m a better version of me in a day by day trajectory to reflect less of my sinful nature and more of what God created me to be. Hopefully, in the process I am also a kinder, gentler, more understanding person in my relationship with you.  I’m currently under construction and emerging from a controlled burn.  It’s been quite the ride.

Words cannot describe how grateful I am you walked with me. Some of you have been there since Day 1 – August 7, 2012. Others I have picked up along the way as God joined our paths either over a blog page or in person in everyday life. I am fully aware there were several times that some of you individually and all of you as a whole carried me from one day to the next. This most recent chapter is now closed.  Praise God that he not only he gave me this incredible outcome in having no tumor, but praise Him for the cumulative journey this has been for me personally. I have no idea if I am done. I thought I was done after surgery # 2. But I’m confident in the plan.

(If you are still allowing me to ask you for prayer coverage, pray that I remain infection-free. That was a really scary moment for Ron and I and we don’t want a repeat. I’m also having a good bit of pain. And I wasn’t expecting that).   





To access previous blog posts - click HERE.

October 7, 2016- It's time for us to start saying our goodbyes

You know what is weird? Walking around for 2 months with an UUO (Unidentified Unknown-Impact Object; my made-up term of endearment) in your breast. It’s not rare that you sometimes see things on a routine scan that are troublesome, but then usually within about a week you are in for biopsy. So you have about a week of stressing about something that could be absolutely anything (as opposed to the stress of the known once you know biopsy results. The stress is different). What is less rare is having a UUO for months on end. I’ve had this UUO since August 10, and it’s nothing short of a weird and awkward feeling (not physically, but emotionally). Now one would argue that if Lead Plastic Surgeon was suspicious of malignancy, the biopsy would have already occurred under emergency situations, so in that we may find implied comfort. But I am here now to say that two months is too long. Not too long for the surgeon, but too long for this blond 40 something introverted extroverted woman who carries it around in her breast wondering what in the world it will be and what it may bring.

It’s not that I am not peaceful (I am), but rather it’s a distraction to an otherwise stress-free zone. Ok, that’s a lie too. I’m not stress free by any means. I am in end-of-life moments with my beloved, sort of faithful (always faithful to Ron), cat who loves me conditionally (for food; unconditionally for Ron) and has won a place in this heart of mine. I don’t have kids to distract this love. So Oliver gets it all. I keep trying to resurrect him with serial lung taps (he has fluid on his lungs, and we have tapped him 4 times now to see if the new medication was working. It's not. Each time the fluid has re-accumulated to 200-300 mls in just a few days). The fluid is winning and the time is oh so near. This causes me stress. I know, Oliver is a cat, but he is my cat, who quite frankly serves me better than some humans, so he matters. And his dying matters. A dying beloved cat combined with a UUO I’ve been carrying around for a few months, well it just makes the days a little “Off”. I dare not mention the other routine things going on in life and even some of the non-routine things like Ron being out of town a lot that has me off balance.  You all have those same things. But they add up when all placed in the very same bucket of life. I am peaceful (about the boob anyway; I refuse to not be peaceful until I have a reason to not be peaceful), but I am also “Off”. Off kilter. Off balanced. Off my A game. Off course. Off emotions. At any given moment I am totally ok. Then the other moments slide into view. They are short lived, but they happen. I’m sure you can relate. It is totally realistic that we can be ok and still not be ok. It’s this morphing of one into the other and then back again. And it’s fluid. Sometimes it’s barely even noticeable, but it happens. Overall, we are ok, but in any given hour of the day “not ok” may spill into our ok. And I see this happen when you are waiting for biopsy to happen and then again afterwards waiting for biopsy results. You will be ok, but you will also not be ok. (Having fluid emotions does not negate Peace. It just makes it a sad peace. Or a happy peace. Or a longing peace. Or an impatient peace. Or a lonely peace. We often think peace means happy go lucky. We are wrong. Peace simply means we aren’t afraid of the outcome and we know God’s plan will suffice for our lives. But we still may have emotions around that and over time those emotions play.) Don’t beat yourself up for having emotional moments. Instead, expect it.

Going back to my original point, it’s simply not normal to have a UUO for any length of time. Get in, get it out and move on with whatever you find. This “wayward” period of waiting it out is, now in hindsight, against the norm and it creates some collateral fallout. Now I dare not say that maybe God doesn’t have some yet-to-be-identified reason for this waiting, but it is a little challenging on the one lying in wait. Even in the best of circumstances, which I feel sure I surely must be in, there still is this inkling of “what if it is malignancy?” And the waiting out of that leaves me slightly “Off”. Or there is the chance this is a ruptured implant, so guess who would go to surgery #7? Yeah, that would be me. And trust me, surgery #7 (or even #3-6) is most certainly also going to be “Off”. It’s “Off” even to think about that possibility of that. Then there is simply the fact that I am walking around from meeting to meeting and from day to day with an actual nodule in my breast. That simple fact alone causes your mind to focus. Or un-focus. Let’s just agree it is a distraction. And it’s time for that distraction to be gone. It’s long overdue in fact. So there is the other thing. Not only might you have fleeting moments from ok to not ok, but you will also always be fully aware that you have a UUO in your breast while you wait for biopsy. And two months is too long. Take the very first appointment they offer you. Trust me on that. (I did take the first appointment. This was truly an unusual circumstance that you, if ever in my shoes, likely won’t repeat).

Dare say the rest of Sally would have less ebb and flow if UUO was already taken care of? My emotions of potentially having to put Oliver to sleep the same week as UUO biopsy would probably be a smidge less. Just a smidge, but a smidge. And the biopsy itself may be a little easier to walk into would I not be putting Oliver to sleep. One affects the other. Just like my awareness of the storms from Hurricane Matthew would be a tad more easy to face and a little less daunting if Ron were to be in town. My awareness of Ron being out of town would be a little less aware were it not for Oliver dying. See, everything impacts everything. We are stupid to think we can isolate off these little sections of our life into little compartments. Everyone says don’t bring home to work. Impossible! Don’t bring work to home. Impossible! Don’t let the stress of your child being bullied affect your relationship with others. Impossible! Don’t let your overwhelming struggles with infertility affect your interactions with friends. Impossible! God didn’t create us to iso-late. He created us to re-late. Relate can only happen when you live your life in the open with other people (maybe a select group of people in certain scenarios). And relate can’t happen to its fullest when we are compartmentalizing our worlds to death. I am a master compartment-alizer. I work very hard to not let my worlds collide. But lately I have been seeing the futility of that and the wasted energy it ensues. This UUO is intended to change me as whole. The death of Oliver will impact me as a whole. Walking out on the other side of chaos will mold me into a better whole. And each of those influence the other, and I in turn am influenced as a whole.

So if I seem a little “Off”, rest assured, there is no shame there. In times like these we need to remember that “Off” is always temporary. Maybe “Off” is exactly where we need to be in order to create a new “On”.  A better “On”, the “On” we have been waiting our whole life for. UUO, I’m so glad you are here. You’ve grown me in ways I actually can pinpoint and in ways that wouldn’t have happened with you. But I won’t lie, your time is coming near. It’s time for us to start saying our goodbyes. And I guess the same goes for you, Oliver. You stole my heart and made me a better whole. 

(On Thursday, the surgeon will give me local anesthetic (what?!??), he will make about a 1 inch incision into the breast and go in and cut out the entire lump. He will then place some stitches and I will go home. Easy like Sunday Morning. Stitches will come out in about 10 days. Now, it’s also not normal to walk around with stitches in your breast, so I can’t say I am looking forward to that, but alas it’s the means to an end. ((Seriously, picture that, walking around discretely with stitches in your boob. Makes me chuckle.)) Then we will await pathology results to come back in about 1 to 2 weeks. A whole different kind of wait. So you might as well just stayed tuned).