It snuck up on me. I knew it was coming. Its ALWAYS on my brain. Always. But the call came to schedule a pre-op appointment with my surgeon. Today, I went. I knew exactly what to expect. I knew all the things that were going to happen. Blood pressure is great. Oxygen level is great. Temperature normal. Take off your clothes "from the waist up."
We discussed the next steps - it is basically the same; full mastectomy, with nipple sparing to be determined by my reconstruction surgeon (there are many variables here with needing enough skin in the left breast for a matching pair). Saving a nipple has low risks, as the blood flow is sometimes not enough during recovery for the nipple to survive. I listened and nodded. I understand.
After examining the nodes under both armpits, doing a vigorous examination of my breasts and noting that healing is going really well, we discussed not going after the left lymph nodes as the amount of DCIS found (and taken) was so small that they do not expect to find anything invasive and don't feel the risk to digging into lymph nodes is worth the possible side effects of the digging.
She made sure that I understood that she would be following the reconstruction surgeon's directions on where to cut ("I just color in between the lines"- my amazing surgeon) and that all the decisions for what to do with reconstruction would ultimately be decided by me and my reconstruction surgeon. Post-op would be with her, but ultimately any issues with healing would be with the reconstruction surgeon as well. So, it was the same surgery as last time. I was feeling pretty at ease.
She asked if I had any second thoughts. I said no. And then I began to think.......
I don't. I really do not have any second thoughts on my decision. It was at that point that, which saying I did not want to jinx anything, asked if we could just be done after this surgery. That I am planning this big Cancer Free Party and if we keep prolonging the wait, its going to get bigger and bigger and bigger. She smiled, laughed and asked what I had planned. (I'm going to keep all that a secret for the sake of an AMAZING surprise party for you all). She asked when it would be. I said, "February, please!! When pathology comes back clear and I am fully recovered." She mentioned some hilarious guess that random hook ups could be super fun. I truly love my surgeon. She is real. She is funny. She is human.
She left, made sure that I knew my only job was to stay well (don't get sick, kate!!!!!) so I could have surgery, and that she would see me in a month.
Paperwork next, getting my soap. That is a smell I won't forget soon. But I desperately hope its the last time I have to use it. Desperately. It stinks.
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