All of the big decisions had been made. I was going to have a bilateral mastectomy and immediately have reconstructive surgery. I’d only have to go under anesthesia once, so essentially we were killing two birds with one stone (Is that even a saying anymore?). After you’ve made all the choices, you then have to wait, wait for the date of your surgery to arrive, wait for the whole terrible process to start…waiting for something like this is not fun, at least it wasn’t fun for me. I had to work really hard to keep busy and distracted because all I wanted to do was sit on the couch and scroll on my phone pretending I had no problems. It’s crazy how getting a diagnosis like Breast Cancer can take all the wind from your sails, but also hand you an ore so you really have to work for forward movement. My sails were windless, but my ore was making strokes, sometimes in circles but there was movement.
During this week I had appointments, pre-ops with the plastic surgeon and my oncology surgeon, a marker placement (more on that later), and a brain MRI. With every appointment my understanding of how hard this was going to be became sharper, less blissfully blurry. Maybe this was a mistake, but I didn’t google anything, I just spoke with my doctors and nurses and had them tell me what to expect. I couldn’t read any horror stories about what I was about to experience. (Yuck, that just sounds terrible, even now!)
My first appointment was with my plastic surgeon and we were going to finalize my chosen implant size. I didn’t want fake boobs but I also didn’t want to go flat (I just wasn’t ready for that kind of bodily transformation) so getting implants felt like the lesser of the evils. I really liked my OG boobs so I asked her to make the new ones look as close to the original as possible. (I didn’t realize what an unrealistic request that was, but I’d figure that out after I healed from the surgery.) My plastic surgeon educated me about the drains that would be hanging from tiny opening in my skin to extract all the liquid that would accumulate after surgery. She showed me how to empty the drains and I made a bad joke about being a human juice box… it was gross and I almost regret it now, but she chuckled. (The comparison never left me and I said it often during recovery.) She informed me about special waistbands that would hold my drains at my tummy, kind of like a kangaroo pouch, she explained how helpful it would be for the couple weeks that I would be a human juice box. I bought one and prepared to feel like a marsupial. I know she told me about a lot of other things that I’ve just forgotten, the juice box thing and kangaroo thing are the only strong memories I have of that appointment. I do remember that I walked out of that appointment feeling kind of numb. I didn’t want to lose my boobs, they were a part of me, a part I felt proud of. Breast cancer is a real downer and I had to push the thought from my mind, I had too many other things to deal with before surgery.
Looking back, I wish I could hug that Emilie and tell her I’m proud of her and how brave she was being. That Emilie was so overwhelmed, she had uncharted waters ahead of her and she was trying her best not to be paralyzed by anxiety. Past Emilie was at the beginning of a transformation, whether she wanted it or not she was going to be changed. Thankfully past Emilie decided to make it a change for the better. Images of butterflies and their metamorphosis were filling my thoughts and had been for at least a month before I got my breast cancer diagnosis. I knew I needed to take it to heart, to allow myself to become “cocoon goo” and come out the other side transformed into something even more beautiful. Past Emilie decided that she was brave enough to not fight the transformation but she was just beginning to understand the level of bravery she was going to have to muster.
After that appointment I needed a treat, so I rewarded myself with tacos and a margarita at Torchy’s Tacos on my way home. I did this several times during the early days of my cancer diagnosis. All of my appointments just happened to be very close to a Torchy’s and tacos and a margarita are always a good idea, especially if you are sad. So I sat at a table by myself and ate my food and drank my drink, allowing myself to feel sad. I took a picture to commemorate.
My next appointment for the week was a marker placement procedure. They basically had to insert, with a tubular needle, a rice sized thing into the lymph node that was biopsied and showed to be cancerous. I can’t remember exactly why, but it was something I needed to do so that the oncology surgeon took out lymph nodes in the correct area. I had to have a doctor perform the placement so it was low level invasive (low level for cancer treatment, it still sucked). It was like a sci-fi movie having something like that forcefully inserted into your body. I did get local anesthesia, that was nice. The only thing I really remember about the procedure was chatting with the doctor and nurses while I laid on my right side with my left arm above my head. It’s a strange way to have a conversation but my anxiety took over and when that happens I get chatty, it’s a nightmare. While I was getting dressed afterwards I had this strange feeling like I was living someone else’s life, like there was no way this was my life and I was at the one having to do all these cancer things. It was shocking to realize that this was actually my life and I had just had that weird procedure performed on ME! (I’m still finding it surprising that this is MY story to tell. I’m still a little bit in disbelief).
I closed the week out with a brain MRI. I snapped the above picture in the dressing room after I changed into my MRI outfit (my hair was soooo long!). I was tired and ready to have it over with. I don’t really like MRIs because they’re a sensory nightmare for me, ESPECIALLY MRIs with contrast, I hate the “peeing your pants” feeling the contrast gives you as it spreads through your body. By the time the MRI was over I was heading into Memorial Day Weekend, a long weekend with my whole family. I took the kids to Inside Out 2 that afternoon and it was a good start to a great long weekend.
I didn’t take any pictures of that weekend but I did save this quote. I thought I’d share it because it’s good and always timely. Things might not work out how you hoped, but it’ll work out the way it’s supposed to.
