Adaptation

You know that saying about how men keep everything in separate boxes with tidy labels and the contents of the boxes never, ever touch each other? And how women keep everything in one huge box with all the contents jumbled together, rubbing shoulders and rubbing off onto each other?

Yesterday I told a friend that I felt like my box was taped shut and then rolled down the stairs. 

Not as bad as this but rolled down the stairs? Yes. And no, I claim none of the credit for the movie or the video clip. That is not my box.

I suppose this post is just in case you feel like I'm always sunshine and daisies. While I am probably most of the time, I'm not always. Incidentally, some friends sent me some daisies and they were so cheerful. I was very impressed with their longevity, as well. 

My friends who are moms are some of the most adaptable people I know. Moms seem to be able to roll with the punches in an amazing way. I'm astounded how well things generally happen the way they're supposed to because once you add kids to a mix, you seem to end up with multitudes of schedule changes. Toss some doctors' appointments in there, sprinkle some play dates, oh yes- school conferences, part time jobs, there's a concert when again, and you can have a recipe for disaster. That's not even counting the adulting stuff you have to do like remembering car maintenance appointments, paying bills, getting laundry out of the washer and into the dryer, remembering the stuff we're out of that nobody has put on the list for the second week...

Here's the Moment of Humility: I understand my mother a little better now. 

She used to insist that if it wasn't on the family calendar, it wasn't happening. Drove me CrAzY. How can you be spontaneous if everything has to be written down in advance? Mind you, this was also pre-cell phones, which have completely changed the way people can interact. Gonna be late? Fire that short text saying so. Can't make it? Same thing. 

Pretty much if you have thumbs, everyone else can know the details of why plans are changing. Again.

Which is only part of why I've felt like I'd been in a dryer on the tumble dry setting. 

Last week my surgeon called with pathology results. The left side was completely benign, just dense tissue, which was what we expected, so thank you God for that! The right side had mostly clear margins except for the axillary (armpit) area, which is part of why radiation is still in my future. The tumor was a bit larger (2.5 cm x 1.5 x 1) than the MRI indicated (around 1.8 cm). This is not unusual as the pathology part is very precise whereas things can be a bit more elusive on an MRI. I just learned that, haha, so don't be giving me too much credit. The main tumor's edges were clear. Surgically speaking, we were supposed to be done.

Last Thursday I had my usual every-three-week infusion of Herceptin and Perjeta. I was told I am healing remarkably well. I apparently have an allergy to the nickel that is in some jewelry, as evidenced by an itchy rash around my neck from a necklace I'd worn for the first time a few days previous. My adorable doctor told me I was to inform Dada I needed gold jewelry for Christmas. Okiedokie! Sign me up! 

This Monday I met with the radiation oncologist who also was very pleased with how well I'm healing. It was three weeks to the day since surgery, and he said that radiation usually starts 4-6 weeks afterwards. He said I wasn't quite completely healed, but I looked right on schedule based on what he was seeing. And then he shut his eyes and said, "your port is on the right side." I said, "Yes, I know." He said, "it needs to be on the left side. I'll call your surgeon." I said, "I know he does surgery on Mondays and Fridays." He said, "good, maybe he can get you in on Friday and we can do the simulation* the next week."

Um.

Hiccup.

It's a hiccup. Some of you are yelling, perhaps in your head, "it's another surgery!" Yes. That's true. But it's one I've had before and know what to expect this time around. It's under general anesthesia and that means I can chitchat my way through it like last time and have absolutely no memory of the conversations. I'm truly not worried about it. I don't even remember having to sleep in a chair afterwards the last time. I am going to have the coolest scars when this is all said and done. 

The craziest part is that my shoulder ached more after the port surgery than anything hurt after my bilateral mastectomy. I suppose it's all about the positioning, but I still find it amazing. Again, now I know what to expect!

So I'm waiting for the surgeon's office to call to schedule me. I'm learning that like a watched pot never boils, a cell phone stacked on top of an opened planner never rings. It's okay. It's not a waste; my right side port has performed fabulously for five whole months. Five months of not needing sticked (except for a time or two) in my arms. It's been doing exactly what it was supposed to do, my good and faithful servant. 

I was initially relieved when I found out the port was on my right side. Yes, my seat belt lays directly across it when I'm in the passenger seat, but I drive a fair bit and thought it'd be worse to have it on my left side. Well, now it's going to be on my left side, but initially I hadn't known I'd be using a pillow anyway between the seat belt and my mastectomy incisions, so really it's not going to be a big issue. Whereas my mother and some of my good-things-come-in-small-packages Girlfriends sit on pillows when driving, I shove one under my seat belt.

Waiting is hard, so I get it as to that being one reason I feel so off. Another is scheduling anything around what you're waiting to hear about. Yet another is scheduling just about anything involving other people: a sweet friend from high school let me know through Facebook that there are cleaning services who clean for free if you show evidence from your doctor that you're undergoing treatment. I looked into it, discovered that there was a partner in my general area, gave them a call and set up a time for yesterday. However, life kept moving on and I also had to schedule the radiation oncology appointment for yesterday before the crew would arrive here. During the confirmation call, it became clear that they were coming earlier than expected and in fact while I was to be at the doctor's office, so Dada stayed home late to let them in.

Have I mentioned that our address is being changed over a period of two years from a county address to a city one since we are just inside the city limits? Even though we're not moving? Have I also mentioned how many people that throws off?

Apparently the crew I'd set things up with were looking for the new city address while our mailbox still boasts the numbers for the old address. Being on a tight schedule, they gave up and headed to their next stop- not that I blame them. We were in touch and tried to reschedule for today but their scheduler was dismayed to find that some of them are calling in sick and others are calling in with kids who are sick. I get it. Tis the season for germs, especially with the weather doing it's wacky let's-be-almost-90-and-then-drop-to-freezing-at-night-in-the-span-of-a-week trick. Bleh. We've rescheduled, not a big deal and certainly a first world problem, but the constant schedule/reschedule/"yes, you have to answer the phone sometimes so pull up your big girl panties already" was wearing on me. I'm a Hobbit with Wood Elf tendencies and I like to hermit once it drops below 70. Because it's cold. And I hate talking on the phone. We've covered this already. And emailing is no better as we have had the same email for almost 20 years and there are over 1000 unread emails in there. (And there goes my mother. Hi Mom!)

Again, it's not a big deal. It's a very nice gesture that has been delayed. Happens the world over. Just a hiccup. 

But winter is coming (ha) and I'm already feeling... not grinchy, not yet, but something. Maybe it's the hormones being out of whack because of the chemically/chemotherapy induced menopause. I've been getting angry over things that I should be able to brush off. I feel like all of the Thingz' tempers have been flaring faster than usual, too. Two of them have had either excessively difficult homework or what seems to them to be an overwhelming amount of homework lately, which every parent knows does not merely weigh on the child who does the assignments. Accordingly, we went nowhere and did next to nothing this weekend, partly for recovery reasons and partly because we rarely get to just stay home and play and relax. We needed the sleep and the space. But I don't feel like it restored us like it should have. 

I'm not sure what it is, but I hope it doesn't plan on staying. I feel like I could use a vacation, but I can't schedule anything until I know when the new port surgery will be. And I can't set anything up for the rest of this fall until I know when radiation will be, as in every morning or every afternoon- five days a week for a total of 33 times, which I don't know because that can't start until the surgery is over and I'm healed. 

Ring already, darn it. 

If I'm being completely honest, part of me is wondering if my surgeon is booked into back to back appointments today or if he is hesitating to call because he feels bad for making a mistake-ish. Yes, I realize I'm projecting, but it is possible. Surgeons are people, too, and while many do wonderful work I'm sure they don't all intend to have to do wonderful work twice. Kindness just about kills me, as I've mentioned before, and if he is all apologetic about going through this again, I'm hoping I don't start leaking and make us both feel terrible. Drat that Perjeta anyway. It's hard to have good feelings towards something that is helping save your life on a microscopic and therefore unseen level when the very obvious side effects are watering eyes and the need for Imodium within arm's reach. It seems to be much better than it had been when chemo drugs were also in the mix, thank you Jesus, but I'll hold my breath before I say things are back to normal. 

Ah. I get it now. 

"I hate waiting."

PS Sorry you're hearing about it here first, Mommee & Daddee; I've been trying to keep the dratted phone free! 

PPS Those of you who are participating in the BraBurningParty, it's ON unless you hear otherwise! If you can't make it and want to mail one to be tossed in the fire in your honor, let me know!

*Simulation: you guys, this sounds so cool! Apparently I lay down (lie down? whatever) in something similar to a bean bag chair which molds to me. The doc will put some wires on me that tell the computer to plot out a 3D image of me so that they can pinpoint exactly where the radiation needs to hit. I can't wait! It sounds fascinating! Then there is a verification appointment where they check out how the computer did versus the real me. The doc went over the short terms side effects and the long term ones, they will be discussing skin care because apparently you can't just use any old lotion, and he reminded me that multiple trials have proven that people live longer with radiation treatments than without. I'll have a total of 33 treatments: 28 to the chest wall and lymph nodes and an additional 5 just for my scars. Everything on this medical adventure has been interesting and the more questions I ask the more fascinating it gets. Our bodies are astounding, the science is so cool, and yay God for putting these incredible medical staff in my life when I need them!