April 3, 2014: A year later

One year ago I got my diagnosis.  I've spent a lot of time wondering how I was going to feel when this day came.  Earlier this week I felt some of that anxiety from last year came back.  But all week I've kept forgetting what Thursday represents, which I think is a good thing.  I might think about it here and there tomorrow, but I don't anticipate that it's going to consume my day.  I got the call from my doctor just after seven, and I have a work thing tomorrow night, so I imagine that will be a good distraction for the actual anniversary of "the moment".  All in all, I thought I was going to be more reflective.  But I'm not that interested in reflection.

Ever since treatment's been over, I've just wanted to look forward.  I love that there are people I've met in the last few months that have no idea what I went through--they just think I have short hair.  More than anything, I'm thankful for the new friends that I gained as a result of last year.  A lot of people came in my life last year and I'll always be thankful for that.  We couldn't have gone through the last year with all of the amazing support that we received.  Many of those people have faded back to their lives and I'm not in contact with all of them, but I'm lucky enough to count some of them as better friends who are in my life a lot more.

This is my 48th entry.  I had a busy few weeks of prep sessions with the plastic surgeon, follow-ups with various other docs and an MRI (which was clear).  I have a mammogram coming up and a check in with my oncologist in May, but other than that, I'm mainly looking forward to our vacation to California at the end of the month!  In the interest of blatant self-promotion, don't forget my new blog!

A visit with the plastic surgeon

Every once in a while I think, “Maybe I shouldn’t share so much.”  Especially when I’m moping about things post-surgery.  Because when I read some of posts after the fact, I sound pretty pathetic.  But you need to understand—I don’t like taking breaks.  I find getting things done and being active relaxing.  So being forced to sit and do nothing is very frustrating.  I’m told that not everybody is like this.  Now imagine having to live with somebody such as myself and you can imagine some of the challenges that Aaron faces as my husband.

Earlier this week I had a trip to the plastic surgeon.  As you know from past posts, this is always a fun experience for me (please note my sarcasm).  As somebody that likes to connect with people, I get frustrated when I don’t.  I’m pretty sure this guy doesn’t smile.  Ever.  I have to remind myself that I don’t have to like him.  He does amazing work, that’s the point.  I don’t dislike him as much as I did when I first met him, but I still dislike him.  To make matters worse, this visit was…awkward.  He took pictures, which was uncomfortable.  He did that at my initial visit, but he wanted updates.  Everyone's staring at you, you feel violated.  I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.  Needless to say, I more than earned a glass of wine that night.

A prize for my visit to the plastic surgeon

 

The surgery is tentatively on for August 18.  I'm just waiting to get the confirmation from the surgeons.  They will move fat and tissue from my belly and these will be my new boobs.  Some people have asked if I have enough fat for this.  It's very sweet of you to say so, but the answer is yes.  The plastic surgeon got a good feel of my fat yesterday too.  To his credit, he did say they’d be small.  A little tummy tuck and a lift?  Sweet.

This recovery will be the most difficult one out of all the previous surgeries.  It’s four to five days in the hospital.  I really hope I have a better roommate this time around.  Similar to last time, I won’t be picking anything up for two weeks.  He said to expect to lay low for about four weeks.  I keep telling myself I’ll be better this time around, but who am I kidding?  It will be so weird to be in the hospital for that long.  If I’m lucky I’ll be home earlier.  Although since I’m probably a low readmit risk, I’m a good opportunity for the hospital to make money.  The last sentence is a joke for those of us in healthcare.

Eventually I’m going to run out of things to talk about that are cancer-related.  Really the only thing left is my reconstruction at this point (hopefully).  I imagine I’ll do a post when I hit my anniversary too. Which is a good segue to a post I wrote a few weeks ago about my new blog—book reviews.  Let me know what you think!

Moving on

Okay, enough with self-pity and guilt.  Thanks for all of the support the last few days.  Today's a new and better day.  I have President's Day off for work, so it's an another day to relax.  I went for a little walk, hopefully I'll be able to catch up with an old friend later today, and we'll see where the rest of the day takes me.  We'll take the girls to my in-laws tonight and the girls will have a blast there for the next two days.  I'm ready to go back to work tomorrow.  It's time to move on with my life.   

Frustrated

Yesterday was a boring day of more bed rest.  I got up this morning ready to spend the morning with the girls.  Two and a half hours later, I'm back in bed, not feeling great.  The surgeon wasn't kidding about the importance of not picking up anything more than eight pounds.  This is extremely frustrating.  I know it's irrational, but I feel like a failure. 

Of course, Aaron is going on his first work trip in two years on Tuesday.  This didn't feel daunting until after this morning.  I was planning on asking for help.  Since I can't pick up the girls, I was going to need somebody to help get ready in the morning and somebody to come over at night.  This is mainly for Addie--Belle can get in and out her bed, car seat, etc. fine.  But Addie's still in her crib and can't climb into her car seat.  But at this point they're just going to go to my in-laws while Aaron's gone.  This bums me out a lot but I know it would be extremely difficult to work all day and take care of the girls.  I'll miss them all like crazy but at least I'll get some time to myself.

I hate admitting that I'm mortal and need help.

Post-surgery update

Hi all,

It's me, post-menopausal Rachele.  Not feeling too bad two days post-surgery.  Much better than I was feeling on Tuesday.  Tuesday had more of "I feel like I'd been beaten up" feel to it. Today it's more of a "I did a really hard ab workout".

I definitely didn't prepare myself for how long this was going to put me out of commission.  No strenous exercise for at least two weeks.  Maybe I can start jogging in two weeks, but no heavy lifting (more than 10 pounds) for more like a month.  A month????  I can't pick up my girls for a month?  If I do, I risk a hernia, which I definitely don't want.  So fine, I'll rest.  Belle stayed home from school on Wednesday because she wasn't feeling great and because of the snow, both girls will be home this afternoon.  So no rest for the weary. 

Another idea for a new blog

You might remember my post about what I was going to blog about when this whole thing was over.  I have to admit, a few weeks ago I actually started a new blog and wrote a post about my conspiracy theory about Ke$ha. You can read it for yourself, but it didn't feel right.  Part of me felt guilty because I was reminded of the conspiracy theory when she went to treatment for an eating disorder.

Anyway, I had a new idea--book reviews.  I don't have the faintest idea if people would be interested in my book reviews but I figured I'd try anyway.  I sort of feel like I need some sort of shtick (for lack of a better word).  Anyway, let me know what you think. 

Adios ovaries

I didn't realize it had been over a month since my last post.  We celebrated Belle and Aaron's birthdays, work's been busy and life's been busy.  I even got my first haircut since I lost my hair!  And as I'm trying to write this on a Saturday morning, I'm reminded that it's very difficult to write a blog post with a 4- and an almost 2-year old bombarding you with questions and requests.  So if parts of this post don't make sense, as usual, I'll blame my children.

This Tuesday I'm getting my ovaries removed.  Because of my BRCA2 status, this is a preventive measure.  Despite my earlier scare, there's nothing wrong.  A few people have asked me how I feel about this.  I can't say I've been spending a lot of time reflecting on it.  The decision to have more children (or not) was really taken away from us back in April when we met with the fertility doctor the day after I got my diagnosis.  (Note: I thought I'd written about this in a past post but I couldn't find it.  So I'll write about it now.  Or again.)  Anyway, we'd spent an exhausting day in Boston meeting with my surgeon and my oncologist and then getting a second opinion at Dana Farber.  Then we had a last minute appointment with a fertility doctor.

We were so worn out by the time we got to the fertility doctor.  The fertility doc started running through our options and after a few minutes I tuned him out.  It was so overwhelming in terms of the process of harvesting the eggs, the price to store the eggs and the low chances that the eggs would even be "fresh enough" (my words, not his) to fertilize given how old my eggs were (his words, not mine).  Did I want to have more kids?  Call me crazy but yeah, I sort of did.  I was exhausted with the two that I had, but I loved the idea of more.  I hated pregnancy but I loved being a mom.  So for me it was worth it for me to suck up another few years of exhaustion.  Of course, there was the minor issue of whether we could actually afford another child.  My point is I wasn't sure it was going to happen, but it was nice to have the option.

Anyway, I tuned him out because it was too much.  I was still reeling from my diagnosis and I just couldn't process what he was telling us.  I didn't want kids enough to go through everything that he was describing, especially if the chances of successfully getting pregnant weren't that great.  And then when we got home my new oncologist called me in a panic and said that there was no way she was going to let me off Tamoxifen to have another baby.


If in a few years we want more kids, we could adopt.  That being said, I've heard that the adoption process can be stressful and I'm a little worn out on stressful processes right now.  Another disadvantage is I don't think adopting is cheap. Sometimes I get crazy ideas that maybe we could be foster parents one day. The latter usually happens when I see the Heart Gallery at Jordan's Furniture.

So there you go.  A long answer to the question of how I feel about my surgery.  I'm not psyched to be post-menopausal before 40, but it's worth it for the peace of mind that I won't develop ovarian cancer.  I'm sad that the option for more children was taken away from me, but oh well.  I have two healthy little girls that wear me out every day and I'm thankful for them.