Worst day yet

05 Oct 2010 10 Comments

by Carolyn in breast cancer, coping, family, treatment, update Tags: breast cancer, family, treatment

Dear Dr. Love,

I’m writing to request an excused absence for Friday, October 1, 2010 which was Blog for Your Breasts Day. I need an extension.

I haven’t intentionally tried to be Miss-Merry-Sunshine over the past two months; I’ve genuinely felt optimistic. My cancer was discovered very early, my tumor was teniny /tē-ˈnaɪ-ni/, my prognosis is practically glowing, and I’m surrounded (literally and virtually) by the kindest, most generous, most encouraging, and/or most prayerful people on earth. I have every reason to be merry.

I had planned all along to blog on Friday; I even wrote a reminder on my calendar (If I don’t write things down, they never happen!). I invited friends who blog to participate. So, what happened to me on Friday, you ask?

Thursday, September 30, 2010 turned out to be the most wretched of days. That very day, North Carolina experienced record-breaking floods, generated by the remnants of Tropical Storm Nicole. I drove through torrential, unrelenting rain to Wake Med in Cary for the third time in five weeks for what was expected to be a minor procedure. I’m told that “subcutaneous port” surgical placement normally requires no more than twenty minutes. My veins are the size of the Trans-Alaska Pipeline, so both my doctor and I thought this episode would be quick and easy.

However, my humongous, overconfident veins kept collapsing and spasming. What should have been a 20-minute procedure demanded two agonizing hours. I had local anesthesia, so it kept wearing off, and they’d give me more. Even so, I was in pain throughout the operation. A nurse wiped the tears as they streamed down my face. They did praise me for my remarkable ability to remain still even though they knew I was miserable. I told them they should, indeed, be impressed with that particular accomplishment because I am diagnosed with attention deficit disorder with hyperactivity, and I had intentionally not taken my Ritalin that morning; if I had only known I would be required to concentrate and remain absolutely immobile for two excruciating hours, I might have taken a double dose.

The worst part (well, other than the pain, of course) may have been the fact that I could hear every word the surgeon and nurses uttered. They were highly professional and empathetic, but every time a vein collapsed again, for the umpteenth time, I could hear their frustration and discouragement. While I wouldn’t have intentionally chosen to be put to sleep again, being unconscious does seem to have some advantages.

To make matters worse yet, the air conditioning in the operating room was malfunctioning. A nurse said she thought I was going to pass out at one point. Once they finally managed to persuade one of my veins to cooperate, and they were successful, the doctor removed his lead suit (They used x-ray or sonogram or some such technology to guide the wire thingy to wherever it was supposed to go); he was soaked through to his skin with sweat. There just ain’t nothing good about a sweaty surgeon. He had a prescription pad in his scrubs pocket which was a total loss.

Thursday should have been a minor event, but it was the worst day of all so far. My arm was blue, purple, black, yellow, and quite swollen for four days. Because of the ordeal in general and the ensuing pain, I was despondent; Pollyanna left town, and Sylvia Plath moved in.

While my arm still looks dreadful today, I do seem to be past the throbbing, and my spirits are much improved. I spent the weekend with my sweet family and dear friends at one of my favorite places, which certainly influenced my adjusted disposition. I see the surgeon for follow-up on Wednesday, and chemo will most likely begin next week.

So, Dr. Love, you can see why I failed to write on Blog for Your Breasts Day. I’ll make it up this week. I promise.

Kindest Regards,
Carolyn

P.S. A couple of friends wrote beautiful posts on Friday. You should definitely read their eloquent contributions to the discussion:

Breast Cancer: where words run dry—Group therapy and videoconferencing for breast cancer survivors by Molly Castelloe Fong, Ph.D.

A Collective Writing Experience: Blogging For Your Breasts Day by Megan Cutter

A Blog for Your Breasts by Carrie Lassiter