So, I go to see the surgeon. Not what I expected. I thought it would be an older, more serious, pompous dude. I mean, he is well known across the country and has lines of people waiting to see him. Oh yes, be prepared to wait-he's got a reputation for that but when he charges $600 for an office visit and everyone else is there because their doctors have operated repeatedly without success, you wait and suck it up. 5 hours was my longest wait but that was after his partner was poached to head the cancer center for an amazing university. Instead of rescheduling everyone, he volunteered to be double booked and see everyone.
So, I have no idea what to expect. In comes this smiling early 50s guy with an amazing bedside manner and a quick joke or smile. He could tell me I'd die tomorrow and I'd thank him and give him a hug. (Not that that is my goal, but that's how I describe him to people.) He's very easy to talk to and puts things into very basic terms. Dave wants to go to a bar with him sometime. My first surgery took longer than expected because the node holding the cancer was way up into my shoulder and they had to go carefully to avoid damage. He came out and told Dave it took so long because they had a hard time getting that 'bugger'. Dave liked that he talked to him like a friend and didn't use all of the Doctor Speak.
He looks at the mole and decides he's not going to take it off in office. At this point, mole/lesion is bleeding almost all of the time and even has some pussy stuff. It's changing and changing fast. I think it knew it's days were numbered and wanted to do maximum damage. I need surgery. Ok, fine I say. He also sends me for a battery of tests. We have bloodwork, chest x-ray and the ever fun, lymphoscintigraphy scan. This scan is enough to make you want to grab your friends and scream "Get checked now!" before you have to do this. One friend needed to be held down to get the job done. I was on my stomach and they come in with these big needles full of radioactive stuff. They inject it 4 times right into the mole. Holy Pain Batman. I cried, held my breath and grabbed the table so hard. It's basically a severe chemical burn into the mole. It lasts a short time but I think it was the worst hurt, worse than the surgery. Then they lower this plate inches from your face and do the readings. Every 15 minutes they slid you further under the plates to record all lymph node activity. The goal was to find out where my mole was sending crap. They discovered after about two hours of testing that it was going to a lymph node under each arm. These little nodes were my cancer catchers. They grabbed the cells and hung on tight. I love my lymph nodes for doing that for me.
Thankfully the Cancer Institute has schedulers. They do it all for you. Doc orders the tests and the scheduler gets to work. Through their magic powers, they are able to schedule the visit with The Shark, preadmission testing, chest x-ray and Painful As Hell radioactive test for one day. Excellent. One full day but it's done. I don't think my Dad knew what he signed on for that day-we were in a few different buildings and had no lunch.
So, that day I meet The Shark. I really like her and she is no nonsense. She also teaches future nurses. I'd be afraid to be in her class. She sits me down and goes over all of the procedures that will be done on testing day. She asked if I had kids when trying to describe the radioactive test. I guess it must feel like 4 epidurals, never had one of those. She tried for bee sting then but I think she means mutant bees who are radioactive. Well, she tried. She is very realistic about things and scared the crap out of me. I guess that's her job so I follow directions. It worked. I was out walking the day after surgery to prevent blood clots, I knew when I could shower and I had a complete lesson on how to deal with things after the surgery.
I call her The Shark because she takes no crap and makes it clear she knows a lot. After surgery #2, I was supposed to see the doctor 10-14 days after surgery. You call the day after to schedule. Well, I call that Friday and am told it's a three week wait. I don't take the appointment, instead I call The Shark and leave a message. She calls me Monday morning. (I had called earlier that morning to try again for an appointment and they accommodated me.) She asked for my version of what happened. I tell her. She says she had quite a long conversation with the schedulers to remind them how to count to 14 and that her patients are to be seen when she tells them they are to be seen. I would not have wanted to be on the receiving end of that lecture.
So, to back up a bit, I see Doc 10 days after Surgery #1 and am cleared to go back to work. I had about 80 stitches in my back in two layers......dissolved thankfully! I also had both underarms glued where he took out the lymph nodes. Oh yes, guess which of my favorite tests needed to be repeated on surgery day......yup, this time with dye instead so the receiving nodes were blue during surgery.
Doc also says he needs to go back in because the right armpit had some little itty bitty cancer cells in the glowing node. Left armpit nodes showed no cancer.
I go back for round two of pre-admission testing, but no lymph test this time. I meet with The Shark. Doc had said I'd be out of work for a week. Of course this surgery falls just before Memorial Day weekend. The last one was Holy Thursday before Easter. I ask The Shark for a note. She says I'm not going back at all and laughs hysterically when I say Doc said one week. She tells me he's a great surgeon but after that, it's her show. She pulls out her notepad and writes me out for three weeks which she predicted would becomes the rest of the school year. She was right, it would take me two full months before I felt myself again. She also scared me again about blood clots, gave me a lesson in having a drain hang out of my boob, explained the visiting nurse thing, and gave me exercises I'd need to do in order to avoid frozen shoulder. Phew....my head was spinning but I knew I had to do it-she means business!!
I go back 2 weeks after surgery, hoping the drain can come out. This may be TMI but I was tired of emptying it and measuring it and it was awkward to have pinned under clothes and hard to deal with while dressing. Nemo was obsessed with trying to bite it. I couldn't take a real shower (Glad Press and Seal......easy solution) and I could not wear a bra. He looks everything over but decides the drain needs one more week. So, bye bye school year. The drain comes out week three. I thought it would hurt but it's out in seconds before I realize it. I actually ask for a warning before he pulls it out but he shows it to me and says it's been out a few minutes now!!! He and the resident are impressed with my arm's range of motion....I worked my butt off to get my arm back in shape. So, no need for physical therapy. We also have a great discussion about Paris since I mentioned I am going next summer. He sees no reason why I can't go and says it will be their goal to make sure I get there. A few more funny comments and he gives me paperwork to see the person for treatment. He recommends a particular doctor, I make my appointment and my 6 month appointment for him and am on my way.
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