I am cold, kind of relentlessly cold. Yesterday a physician friend of Lee's explained in very helpful terms why my body is not cooperating in terms of appetite, energy, and basic functions beyond healing. She explained that the anesthesia takes many days to work its way out of you, and in the meantime your body deploys all available energetic/cellular personnel to countless tasks related to healing. There simply aren't enough other cellular staffers around to give you a sense of energy. I found that helpful. But I'm still tired, not very interested in food, and cold despite an under-armor winter running hat, rabbit skin earmuffs (sorry! I'm desperate!), a scarf, and three layers. I feel like it's midwinter in my body, and the metabolic oil company forgot to make its delivery. Below is an unflattering earmuff shot by the paparazzi with the iPhone.
Truly, I am most bummed about the fatigue. I had thought of post-surgery fatigue only in the most abstract terms, which means "something that will not actually happen to me." I am even too fatigued to read, which had been my whole indulgent healing plan from the beginning. There is a big bedside pile of delicious books, but they look as unappetizing as most of the food in the fridge. Today was the day we'd been hoping would provide Answers. It was sort of a bust, one of a long string of sorry breast jokes I could toss in on demand. They drained over 250 cc of fluid from my left side. I wish I had had a camera to get Laura's expression, which was kind of like that animated emoticon you sometimes see with the eyes that rotate in syncopated time. This fluid removal was as uncomfortable as the surgery, seriously -- probably because it happens without those nifty heavy narcotics. There is still a lot more fluid in there, enough to feel really sloshy, but they left it, hoping it would get absorbed as time goes by. If not, we go back for more siphoning.
What we did learn from the pathology report follows next. It is very boring, but here goes:
* The tumor had two kinds of cancer cells -- invasive ductal carcinoma and some focal lobular carcinoma. Those are different things.
* The left breast mass was not a tumor, but had some duct hyperplasia, which means that cells there were dividing faster than normal, so maybe it was precancerous. Maybe not. I don't think we'll ever know.
* The nuclear grade was ll-lll, on a scale of l-lll. This is more serious than the original grading, which said l-ll. That's about the aggressiveness of the tumor.
* For some reason, the receptor report is still not in. That's a really important piece, and they don't know what the delay is. It can determine the type of treatment, as can all these other pieces.
* We probably won't see an oncologist for another two weeks! That was the most disappointing of all. More waiting. I have to see both a radiation oncologist and a plain old oncologist (I believe that is how they prefer to be known).
* Options are likely to be among the following: chemo (4 months), ovariectomies (which I REALLY don't want), or long-term medicine (also don't want -- have heard nightmarish things about side effects). It is an odd thing to be lobbying for chemo. Could still be nothing at all. No way to tell yet.
It was really sad to read the pathology report. It describes the dimensions of what they took, and made the loss very real. I read the whole thing aloud to Laura as we drove along, and things like this made me choke with sadness: "Received fresh for intraoperative orientation, left breast, suture marks axillary tail, consisting of a total mastectomy that measures 17x15x4 cm in greatest dimension. The nipple measures 2x2x0.5 cm. The surface of the skin is smooth." That was my left breast.
We set out from the surgeon's, me crying and reading aloud, Laura weaving through Hartford trying to rub my back to comfort me. We were hoping to get me fitted for a pair of breasts, thinking this might be a cheery thing to do. First stop was Hartford Hospital, but insurance doesn't cover Hartford Hospital's cancer center for prostheses for some weird reason, and foobs cost a LOT. Even breasts that are size 36A, which seems kind of unfair. Surely I ought to get some kind of discount for a small pair of breasts. Isn't my ecological footprint just a little bit less than someone who lumbers out with a pair of double Ds?
Anyway, we left a full parking meter in Hartford and tried a store in West Hartford, which somehow insurance does cover. But the kind woman at the store said you can't be fitted until about 6 weeks after surgery, which would have been nice to know from the surgeon who sent us off with a prescription for two prosthetic breasts.
So that was disappointing. But of course. Right. I am very swollen. I should have known. Our bummin' moods required a stop at Starbucks, which helped, but we still left the West Hartford parking meter full as we drove home.
I wish I had more news. My job is to recover enough to see an oncologist or two. I'm working on it -- I'm sure my energy will return soon. Laura's has, following her sushi (barfarooni!) dinner -- she is near the sink playing "drums" on her bottom -- she's got a good riff going now. Laura has untapped talent as a percussionist that shows up at the oddest times. Get her going with a pair chopsticks and some pots and pans and she is my Ginger Baker, size 36C.
I have one word for you. Pot. Yes, pot. I am not quite recommending pot. All my hippie friends were shocked when I didn't smoke pot or do acid with them. Strangers thought I was a plant from the police, when I would pass a giant reefer along without toking. My friends would have to explain, 'she's naturally high...'
ReplyDeleteI am still naturally high. So I am not recommending pot nor anything, as I don't know what meds you are on, or what you are willing to do.
I got myself in a pickle once. No health insurance, and a medical problem that made me lose all appetite. Didn't want to get dehydrated. Since I'm not a pot head, I did one better. Hops is chemically similar to pot. It relaxes you AND gives you munchies. & is legal, which is partly why I am singing its praises here. It tastes bitter. You can just eat the dried herb, smoke it (not great for lungs but fast acting, & it might be fun to go shopping for a pipe), or make a tea. But very very bitter. But works.
Supplements too. Not 12 vitamins, or 32 smoothie ingredients. Powdered supplements from Whole Foods helped me out. One was just soy protein powder, one is called 'Alive!' a vitamin & mineral supplement. You can mix them with a smoothie, milk, water, yogurt, anything.
Be forewarned. The spirulina in Alive makes the drink green, but clearly you have other grossing out factors going on, so I don't think the green color makes it to your list. Also, I'm not giving you medical advice, just sharing what worked for my 2 week long non appetite.
There are also medications that increase appetite if it gets to that.
Am really writing to say I love you & I am thrilled the nodes were clear. And praying grammatically for the nurse who called node centennial. Long Live the USA.