Protected: Visiting Planet M
Protected: Cranky
Okay, I know a lot of you are thinking, and not in the creepy 1-900 kind of way, “What are you wearing?” I am wearing a post-surgery camisole. The particular brand is Softee. It is made of super soft white material. There is also a little ribbon bow in the front, just like the undershirts we used to wear as girls. For an irrational reason, this bow irritated me so I removed it. There are four pockets on the Softee, two on the exterior and two on the interior. Soft prostheses can be placed in the exterior pockets depending on whether you have a unilateral or bilateral mastectomy. Each prosthetic is filled with the same polyester stuffing that you can buy at a fabric store. You can adjust the amount of stuffing as needed. They are not exactly a perfect match but a reasonable visual facsimile for a breast until a more realistic prosthetic can be used (they are too heavy and hard to use now) or until reconstruction is completed. The interior pockets are designed to hold the surgical drain. This is a very handy feature since otherwise the drain would hang free and the tubing, which is attached to the drain, would pull against the skin. (Sorry, squeamish readers, I am keeping this as non-gross as I can. A function of my blog is educational and designed to demystify this process.)
So for now, the surgical camisole is my bra-facsimile. As for my main other clothes, I am wearing very soft PJ’s. Technically, I believe they are considered “lounge wear” because I could hypothetically wear them outside of the house. I will test this hypothesis on Tuesday for my two medical appointment. Today’s PJ’s (which to be truthful were also yesterday’s PJ’s) feature a loose smock in zebra print over stretch capri pants. I consider these to be my “dressy” PJ’s. Between the black capri stretch pants and the animal print, I believe I would fit in well in Palm Springs, especially if I carried a tiny dog in a pink leather purse.
In a couple of weeks, they’ll remove the surgical drain and I will have slightly more style options. I am insanely happy about this. Cancer is making me wear pants! That’s the last straw! Evil cancer! My body is made for dresses, not pants. I’ve been asked more than once by patients, “Dr. Elizabeth, why do you always wear dresses?” Rather than answering, “If you ever see me in pants, then you’ll know”, I say something about that fact that dresses feel more comfortable to me and that I like the way they look. Now before you all start posting comments like, “You have a beautiful body”, “I’ve seen you look good in pants”, yada, yada, yada, just know that I report the facts. (See, I filed this post in the “facts” category.) I happen to believe that I can be beautiful and still not look good in pants. Pants and I can be friends but we have different needs. I need them to be dresses and they need me to be a quite different shape.
When the drain is removed, I can move on to my one piece lounge wear, a collection of super soft t-shirt dresses, which were also purchased from the PJ section of Target and online from Sierra Trading Post. I favor micro-modal fabric. It is really soft and drapes nicely. It is a type of rayon but doesn’t wrinkle so much. I have pretty sensitive skin so when my medical oncologist, Dr. Rinn told me that I needed to invest in some super soft post-mastectomy clothing, I knew exactly what to get.
I’ve posted pictures below. Also, check out the clothing made by Chikara Design for women who decide not to do reconstruction or to use a prosthetic. I think the designs are elegant and clever.
The utmost in post-mastectomy glamor! (Actually a very handy garment to buy your own visit http://www.sierratradingpost.com/chetta-b-jersey-print-dress-v-neck-short-sleeve-for-women~p~4059u/?filterString=womens-dresses~d~257%2F&colorFamily=02)
To buy your own zebra sleep set http://www.sierratradingpost.com/calida-wave-capri-pajamas-stretch-micromodal-jersey-short-sleeve-for-women~p~4439c/?filterString=womens-pajamas~d~594%2F&colorFamily=01
- Anyone who decides they must get me a toy poodle to accompany this outfit will be swiftly put on my “ex-friend list.”
Protected: Lovely, normal Saturday evening
Protected: 2000 Explosive Hits!
Protected: Trust
Tomorrow is the day that I say goodbye to rightie, the ta to my other ta, the oonga to my baz, and the crenshaw to my honeydew. And you don’t have to tell me that it’s sad because I already know. I do need to move forward and the sooner I have this surgery, the sooner I can get over the next round of painful and yucky stuff. My outward appearance with go from Elizabeth 1.0 to Elizabeth 2.0 to Elizabeth 3.0 by the time the holiday season comes upon us. (Just pretend that I was never a baby and I started out life as a 46 year old woman. Be creative.)
Elizabeth 1.0 did have a proper send off today. As I walked into Trader Joe’s, I received not one, but two compliments from the Trader Joe’s employee who was working out front. First he said, “Have a good time shopping” followed by, “I like your dress.” He may have even been younger than me. As an extra bonus, he was not one of the drunk guys at the bus shelter in the Junction, ergo the flirting was not the least bit creepy or boundary violating. The bus guys seem to be my main fan club. (And drunk guys, I haven’t heard a lot from you lately. Middle aged ladies need a little encouragement.) So hey, Elizabeth 1.0, you still got it and with a sober guy, too!
I am not going to be bringing my computer to the hospital tomorrow so I may not post anything until I get home on Thursday. John may have his computer and if I am mentally with-it enough I may be able to get him to post on my behalf. Otherwise, please be patient. I’m not sure what I am going to be up for communication-wise for a couple of days. I am confident that surgery will go well and even though it is likely to hurt for awhile and to be very upsetting, I will be okay. During my meeting with Dr. Beatty last Thursday I said, “I’m going to thank you now because next time I see you I may have lost perspective.” His reply was, “No, you won’t.” He’s probably right.
Goodbye, Girl; hello, long and healthy life.
The Trader Joe’s guy has an affinity for prints, apparently. I do think I looked better in this dress for the obvious reason. My whole head showed rather than being semi-headless like this model. To have an entire head is more aesthetically pleasing. I learned that in my art history classes. I do like her earrings, though. Buy your own dress at http://www.sierratradingpost.com/chetta-b-jersey-print-dress-v-neck-short-sleeve-for-women~p~4059u/?filterString=womens-dresses~d~257%2F&colorFamily=02
You remember who was in the chorus of the Gene Wilder musical classic? Yes, the Oompa Loompas. And what color were the Oompa Loompas? Yes, they were orange. And what color were my roots after using an unfortunate shade of Clairol Natural Instincts? Yes, they were a very deep shade of overripe cantalope. “Natural” Instincts, my ass!
I’ve never messed up a hair color before but I haven’t done it myself for several years and apparently, Clairol Natural Instincts uses a totally different formula as they did when I last used their products. And they are on a melon kick! Not to be seen in public (other than going to Target to get a fix for this), I used a non-permanent, normal looking reddish brown dye today. Ah, much better. Most of the melon is gone.
The Oompa Loompas would say that my parents are to blame for this mishap (“…the mother and the fa-ather”). However, the same thing happened to my mom and she warned me about it. When did I remember this? After I rinsed the color out of my hair! So, I’ve decided to blame Roald Dahl.
It will be so nice to be able to go back to the salon. It will happen.
P.S. The color was just like this except MORE orange. No lie.
The Oompa Loompas after disobeying their lax parents in the Clairol Factory and falling into a vat of Natural Instincts “Dark Auburn.”
This afternoon I met with Drew Welk, M.D. a plastic surgeon at the Polyclinic. We had a good meeting and it was interesting to shift from a physician who focuses on disease treatment to one who focuses on aesthetics. I found out that my incision is not in the best place to which I replied, “Yeah, my cancer insists on being all kinds of inconvenient.” To his credit, he laughed at my ribbing. I did learn that I have very favorable “breast geometry” with only a little post-partum loss of muscle tone. Yay, my breasts got complimented! They’ve been a little starved for positive comments lately, especially the right one, which is currently looks like a more than a little like a dented tin can these days.
Dr. Welk is talking to Dr. Beatty tomorrow to share his input regarding the best way to make incisions for the mastectomy so that he has something reasonable to work with later after the fat has been removed from my skin, the latter of which I get to keep. He took pictures in the clinic photography booth, which was set up like the DMV, except for the fact that I was partially disrobed and he had his choice of three different expensive looking cameras. (Or maybe the other cameras belonged to other surgeons. That makes more sense.) He took the last picture after he’d drawn a little incision map with a Sharpie.
It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be and I liked him. Plus it was a surgery day for him so between his energetic demeanor and the fact that he was wearing scrubs, he looked like a surgeon action figure. (Not to be confused with 1973’s surgeon Barbie and yes, she was real; click the link. Also, not to be confused with an action figure for the character, Surgeon from Hellraiser 2. Mom don’t go to that link: That surgeon doll is heinous.)
Okay, so Michelangelo is probably not the best sculptor to reference in this post. He was criticized for the way he sculpted breasts, basically that it looked like he’d thrown a couple of softballs on top of a suspiciously manly shaped torso. A better sculptor might be the 20th century artist, Lachaise. That man knew how to sculpt realistic breasts on refreshingly substantial looking women. Hmm. “The Lachaise of La Twins”? I’ll stick with Michelangelo for the alliteration. My cousin, Beth favors Bernini breasts herself. Bernini’s sculptures are absolutely breath taking but the first thing that comes to my mind is “the Rape of Persephone”–not the image I want in my head when thinking about my breast reconstruction. Beth conceded that Bernini tended to show women on the run. But I present exhibits A, B, and C for your consideration:
One of Lachaise’s fabulous, “Standing Woman” I think this is a clear winner. Unlike “Dawn”, Lachaise’s sculptures of women actual look like a woman modeled for them. Also, Lachaise’s women look like they could fend off a Greek god or random creep in the bushes, unlike Bernini’s stunningly beautiful but nearly defenseless damsels.
Bernini’s Apollo and Daphne. This is Beth’s submission. In this case, Daphne is so desperate to get out of Apollo’s stalkeresque clutches that she turns herself into a tree!
Michelangelo. This is a sculpture I’ve seen in person. It’s from the Tomb of the Medici’s in Florence. This figure is supposed to be “Dawn” Looks like a man named “Don” with softball boobs, am I right?
These are the three words I started saying to myself about seven years ago. At the time, I had started Weight Watchers and found this trio helpful in motivating myself, dealing with set-backs, and staying the course. I ended up losing 43 pounds, then gaining 10, then gaining 10, then losing 20… I have also used them to deal with other life challenges. To me it conveys a learning process–knowing when to stop and wait, when to keep trying, all the while working toward a peaceful place of balance.
I think a lot about balance. My balance right now is tenuous. The three P’s are being put back into place in a major way. Dr. Beatty called last night to give me a brief overview of the final pathology report. He had given me preliminary results on Monday, which were confirmed. The tissue removed in my last surgery contains stage 0 cancer and one area of invasive cancer. The areas are not contiguous, which suggests that I have multiple cancers in my breast. Dr. Beatty prepared me for this on Monday and I made an appointment for a plastic surgeon for next week for an initial consultation. Dr. Beatty is recommending a mastectomy and I am scheduled to have it on August 8th. I don’t know the full pathology report and I have many questions to ask him. Although I’m not happy about the news, one bit of relief is that their finding another invasive tumor makes it easier for me to decide to proceed with surgery. As you may recall, the results of the 1st pathology were somewhat inconclusive. The pathologists described a 2.5 cm area of breast tissue as, “atypical ductal hyperplasia bordering on ductal carcinoma in situ.” ADH is not cancer but DCIS is cancer, albeit a non-invasive cancer. Basically, they weren’t sure but came down on the side of treating the area as DCIS.
As a diagnostician myself, I understand this. Sometimes my diagnoses are not slam dunks and there may be some discrepancy or lack of clarity. Sometimes I recommend further evaluation, or monitoring and later reassessment, the latter because time can often provide additional diagnostic clarity. But other times, I am unwilling to risk a child not having access to a potentially highly effective treatment. In those cases, I use my clinical judgment. The risks are greater for these pathologists so I imagine that they often take a “better safe than sorry stance.” I was fine going with “ADH bordering on DCIS” for a second lumpectomy but was unsettled with the prospect of a repeat this time and giving up my entire breast based on those kinds of results. But this second pathology report is clearer and I feel that my decision-making is more soundly grounded in “what is” rather than “what if”.
My next big results are the oncotype testing results. I really hope they come back as low risk for recurrence so I don’t need to have chemotherapy. The prospect of losing some of my very best physical features is discouraging not to mention just feeling dead dog sick. I remember how much I enjoyed the nausea, vomiting, and crushing fatigue of pregnancy. I enjoyed it so much that I’ve formed an informal network of friends who like me, love children, especially our own but did not enjoy pregnancy at all. I won’t name any names because it can be stigmatizing to admit that pregnancy wasn’t the powerful earth mother experience that others talk about. I did have a good childbirth experience, although I did ask for medication early and often, which is also a controversial thing to do. Although I have seen some women friends proudly post on Facebook things like, “little Johnny was born weighing 7 pounds following an unmedicated birth”, I haven’t seen anything like, “little Zoey was born weighing 8 pounds after blasted out with a cascade of petocin followed by my OB using a plastic stick to manually break the ambiotic sac, followed by the administration of some opiate that did nothing for pain, followed by a botched administration of an epidural (if the anesthesiologist misses the epidural space, the drugs don’t work), followed in an hour by an effective epidural, which left me in such relief that as I saw the I.V. bag empty down to just what was left in the tube leading to my arm, prompted me to ask twice, “Are you sure there’s enough in there?” and to reassure hospital staff that I would be good for the money if my insurance wouldn’t cover another bag of magical drugs.
Okay, triple P’s. I’m hoping, waiting, and breathing.
My Eyes Are Up Here 