Katie the Great and July 20th

I have to hand it to my sister. I haven’t mentioned her a lot in this blog, but she was with me through most of this ordeal. She gets a gold star. For real. She’s not the most touchy feely, “let’s talk about our emotions” kind of a gal. I give her warning that I am going to engage in human contact with her before I hug her, you know, just so she can mentally prepare herself.  She is small and petite but is scary as shit. I’m pretty sure she ruled a country in a past life. The best thing about Katie is she has the power to verbally mutilate anyone, yet she’d pass out if she saw them bleeding from a paper cut. In fact, for Christmas she received a pocket knife when we were little. I remember her opening it and going to the bathroom with it. A few seconds later I heard a loud “thunk”. She had cut her finger and passed out on the floor when she saw the blood. I would like to dedicate this post to her because she had to truly operate outside of her comfort zone during this whole ordeal. She was a huge support for me and had a very logical and easy approach with everything. She was here to go to appointments when I needed her, here to watch Marco when I needed and served as the largest piece of Kleenex for me a few hours after my surgery. I even made her hold my mastectomy drain full of blood just to f*@$ with her. I need an element of fun in everything I do because I get bored. So, Katie, if you are reading this, I love you and appreciate you being there more than you’ll ever know. I’m sorry I got snot all over your cute outfit you wore to the hospital on surgery day.

I’m seven days past my mastectomy and feeling good. We got the news yesterday from my surgeon that as of this moment I am cancer free! Thank goodness I opted for the mastectomy because two additional tumors were found underneath the cancer on the outside. I ended up with two different types of breast cancer. Every time I think about that, I just sit feeling stunned. Had I opted for a lumpectomy, those tumors would’ve turned invasive and I could have been a goner. When we received the good news from my surgeon we all hooped and hollered in the office giving each other (Dr. included) high-fives like we just won a game of beer pong where the winning prize is life, instead of a really bad hangover and weird viral infections from a dirty ping pong ball. I felt such a sense of relief but am well aware that I wasn’t fully showing it because I don’t feel like I can completely relax yet. I honestly feel like I am going to have a huge meltdown in the future where everything comes spilling out or wonder if I am going to have some form of PTSD because this was a trauma in a way.

The night before my surgery, I was worried how Darin, my mom and my sister were going to do in the waiting room. I had the easy part of getting knocked out, they on the other hand, were going to have to sit and wait and wait and wait. I decided to write each one of them a card in the hopes to reassure them during my surgery and to reinforce to them how much they each mean to me. I write the cards, then write a special note for Marco to have in his lunch because he will go to preschool to keep things as normal as possible for him. I covered all my bases except for someone very special. My poor infected boob that I’ve been tight with for 34 years. I take my shirt off, say a few words in the mirror and snap a photo, just for memories sake. However, I couldn’t quite stop there because the natural instinct when one has a photo of a body part on one’s phone is not to keep it private but is to share it, obviously. I find my select chosen trusted compadres, create a group text and attach the photo with the caption, “Adios, Motherfucker.” Yes, my mother was included on that text.

In the morning, I wake up at 4:00AM and get ready to head to the hospital. I feel calm and ready, almost like I am getting ready for a battle. When we arrive at the hospital Darin and I go back to the prep station and I get changed and meet with a group of nurses. My surgeon pops in and we laugh and joke a little bit. The breast cancer nurse navigators come by and want to make sure that I am sound in my decision and that I have been given all my options. I sure as hell hope I feel sound in my decision, I am under an hour away from having a body part removed, sort of important to feel confident with that decision! I remember laughing when she was asking me questions and to be honest, I probably came off as a little bit of an asshole. If any nurse navigator reads this blog, please know my intention was not to make any of you feel bad. I guess I assumed that by the time I would be hooked up to my IV with my big beautiful purple hospital gown and super comfy tread lined socks that I would’ve considered all my options. My vitals are taken and my blood pressure shows that I’m “cool as a cucumber”. Darin says, “holy shit, you weren’t kidding, you are calm.” I smile, because…duh. Two separate nurses come in to review my file and both confirm with me my procedure and I get that look everyone gives me when they realize that I was diagnosed while pregnant. I never get comfortable with it, but I can’t let it sway me because I am in “go-time” mode. I am wheeled back to the operating room and can hear Of Monsters and Men playing on my surgeon’s iPod. Way to start the party! I start talking about Marco and then, lights out.

I wake up feeling great, except the pain is pretty high. I immediately ask how the baby did and was told her heartbeat was perfect and that she was very strong like her mom. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes because I was more worried about her, than myself. I am then wheeled upstairs to Labor and Delivery (just in case). Everyone on the L&D floor, went above and beyond for me. The nurses were very concerned and asked a lot of questions. I could see the genuine concern on their face and that was very touching. The nurse supervisor came in and started asking me what happened. As I began to review the timeline and everything that happened, I could feel the anxiety kick in. My throat tightened up, I began sweating and I could tell that a very large let down was starting to happen. I held it together while I spoke to the nurse, but the second she walked out the door the tears came flooding down my face uncontrollably and for one of the first times that I can remember my sister was standing right next to me and hugged me. She’s always been there, but this time she was “there,” fully present and ready to process emotions. I balled. You know that type of cry that comes from deep down in your stomach? The type where you can’t distinguish between hysterical laughter or crying? That’s what happened. In fact, we both cried. I had held so much in and only would let down little bits at a time, but this time a drugged up cry came spilling out of me and I was absolutely exhausted when I was done. I’m not sure how long that lasted for, but I was so proud of my sister. She let her guard down and was there for me without question when I needed her the most.  

Coming up next…the mastectomy after party!