Radio City

Met the radiologist today. In the initial 5 minutes, I didn't think I'd like him. I was right. I loved him! Hah!

Super clear, super honest. He recommended radiation, but not the whole shebang, just partial. Not even any lymph! Hallelooooooyaaaahhhh! We discussed the pros and cons of Doing vs. Not Doing. I'm scared as all hell to Do, but I am convinced that it's the best course of action.

5 days a week for 6 weeks. What the hell was I thinking???

So there it is. I feel like a resident at the cancer centers. But like a young person who lives in a retirement home. It's not ALL old folks, but seriously. Oddly enough, my building is like that, so I'm used to it.

We had deep discussions about the Tamoxifat. Basically, he seems to think that I will kick ass on it. But, he admittedly doesn't know my system like I do. My system hates medication. But, he has had patients who are fine on it even if they hate all other meds. And he said: Stop taking it if you hate it.

Just like our Plastic Surgeon said yesterday.

But, he doesn't want me to start until after the radiation. So that saves me almost 2 months to gear up.

I asked if the radiation would make me lose the 10 lbs. of stress and surgery weight since diagnosis. He said "Sure!" and I thanked him for lying. Because, maybe I can find a way to convince myself that it WILL help. Maybe the smell of burning flesh every day for a month and a half, and the pain of my torn up skin will help. Hopefully I won't smell like Kramer. Though, the poultry thing is still not appealing for some reason, so I'll just hope that Newman isn't hanging around in the 'hood.

He also said something very telling. I had a moment, hubby was crying and I started. I apologized for my raging PMS. I then asked if I should have just had both cut off. He said no way... blah blah blah... you made the right decision... and then after a while he said something to the effect of "I can laugh at you because your prognosis is good. If it was bad, I would be in the hallway crying right now". And I realized, that once again, we have found a good doctor. One who wants to save me with the best outcome coupled with the best quality of life.

He also recommended calendula for the radiation site during treatments to help repair the skin. I mentioned that I had a spray bottle of it and he asked me to bring it in. I also mentioned my obsession with Creme De La Mer since my daughters first surgery at age 4 months. It made the redness of the scars disappear immediately, literally, immediately. I started using it on my face and I really have noticed a difference, or perhaps no difference - after over 10 years of using it. My skin seems to not really age. I have had mild sunburns where I apply the creme and it instantly feels better and is usually gone by the next day. The crap was invented by a NASA scientist who totally got screwed over with a chemical explosion in his face. Um, yeah. It works. And a 1oz jar lasts me at least 6 months so it's not as awful an investment as it may seem (I only use it at night). I am sure that it will be disappearing a lot quicker during this ordeal, but of course, it's going to be totally worth it to save my skin. I really, really, really hope that my skin can handle this. It's generally resilient but I'm so scared of this.

Duh. I'm scared of it all. I asked if the Sharpie was going to hurt. Kidding, of course, but I'm so used to everything being painful or creepy now.

Our breast surgeon came into our appointment and it was super amazing to see him. We love him so much. He is the kind of person that deserves a Nobel type of prize for best bedside manner. But it's not even something that he consciously does - it's who he is.

The oncologist... remember her? After letting the visit sink in, well, on our list of docs, she ranks last on the Homecoming Queen ballot. We may just stay with her, I feel like her job is to write the prescriptions and pick who needs chemo, who needs hormones. All of our docs say that another doc would say the same. Perhaps delivering it in a nicer way. But, years ago, after I stopped nursing my girl, I was put on a very low dose of anti depressant, apparently between my unemployed and useless husband and the hormones, I was really pissed off and couldn't stop crying. You know how my body goes stupid on meds? The lowest dose of welbutrin worked like magic, and the psychiatrist said it was too low a dose to do anything, but there it was. I told her. Duh. Anyway, our very expensive visits consisted of this conversation:

"So, how are you feeling?"
"Same."
"Any thoughts, feelings or concerns?"
"Nope."
"Ok. Here's your prescription."

At the 6 month mark I told her I was done. She hated that. I guess she wanted me to keep coming back for our Groundhog Day conversation. She told me that I'd have to wean off the pills, but... I was on the lowest dose. Not much to wean off of. So that was that. Goodbye, Doc.

I'm thinking this is my oncologist's role. Check in, write a script. And she's in the same building as our Superstar breast surgeon and radiologist. And if I tell the Tamoxifat to shove off, I may pass her in the hallways occasionally and ask how she is. Because I have a feeling that I'll be spending a lot of time there, for a long time, even after the exchange surgery. Which is now going to be in April instead of February. Crap.

I was so looking forward to a brand new breast for Valentine's Day. "LOOK BUT DON'T TOUCH!" Well, it will still be that scenario, but instead of a new implant, I'll have burn marks and probably some nastiness with the skin.

Dear Hallmark: Please make a card for cancer patients.

"Sorry to hear your boobies got hacked off. I still think you're hot"
"The flame of love got just a little too close to your heart"
"You're so hot, your breast is on fire!"
"Nice new implants. Wanna go steady?"

I really can't think anymore. I just finished my Pumpkin bread marathon. A dozen loaves are wrapped and ready for teachers and a load of Pumpkin muffins are bagged up for the front office folks, and the crossing and security guards. Shoot. These people are watching over my kid. The least I could do is feed them! I even type up a little label with all the ingredients in case folks have allergies. Yeah, I'm a dork.

This is the first night my girl has gone to bed before 10. It's been really trying, with the late homework and crap. But, today she did something so amazing - she auditioned for the school play!!! Something I would never have done at her age. Yeah, I'm a musician, but that allows me to hide in a group. I don't do that anymore, but back then? Heck, yes.

She asked me to come in. It was awkward, as I was the only parent. But, she seemed to not know the kids, they were all older than her. She barely practiced her audition piece but she MEMORIZED it. I typed it for her and made little signs to show here where to breathe, slow down, enunciate. I'm SO proud of her, no matter what happens! One of the teachers was excited to see her audition as well. My girl said that if she didn't get that role (it is a really huge one - Mrs. Peterson) that she would be cool with being a screaming girl. Or building sets. THAT seems like something she would really enjoy. Who knows? I was definitely nervous but I think she was fine. I wanted to cry several times, because I have RAGING PMS but also, because I'm so proud of her. She is becoming so brave. Way more brave than I will ever be.

Off to wrap the last loaf which has hopefully cooled off. I'm packing the bread with my CD's. A new crop of teachers, and I feel it's my duty to remind them that I'm a musician - and if they want some musicians for the pit of the play, maybe they could talk hubby and I into it. Maybe we'd even bring Pumpkin bread to the rehearsals. Huh.