Hey y’all, I’m back and better than ever. Just kidding, but I’m back and trying to recover as best as I can. Of course, I’m back upstairs at my makeshift desk pretending to start my two papers which are now due in 4 days. Unfortunately, it looks like I’m only going to be able to type for a few hours at a time so why not start a blog instead of my paper, obviously! But I did want to update you all on some of the things that happened in the past week. Last week at this exact time I was in the operating room sound asleep while my parents had severe panic attacks in the waiting room. The surgery was very successful and they said things went great but I want to start at the beginning of that story because now looking back it was a huge relief compared to what happened yesterday. After I wrote that last blog I went to my final night of yoga before the surgery, it was called “Slow Flow” and it was a class I never attended before. This also happened to be the night after the awful events in Las Vegas which I think affected everyone in that class and that was the focus. I obviously was a huge emotional wreck, panicked about my surgery and also shook up from the Vegas massacre. To top all that off while me and my mom were driving home from somewhere as we were about to turn onto our block we saw a woman fall off her motorcycle at an intersection. The bike fell on top of her and she was clearly struggling to get up. Not ONE person got out of their car to get out and help her, except for me crazy cancer lady who immediately swung the door open as my mom is screaming at me to wait until she parks. We both got out and ran over to her, not sure how we could help but wanting to try. Finally a Massapequa Momma jumped out of her huge Escalade to help and she helped us walk over to the side street so the girl could sit down. She was obviously more embarrassed than anything and said she was fine and pretty much told us to leave so we did. But it just hurt my soul that not one of the many men in their huge muscle cars got out AT A RED LIGHT to help this poor girl. People suck and my heart hurt. So this, vegas, and my fast coming surgery did not help out with my yoga practice. I straight up silent cried during the entire practice. I felt like I was in an episode of Scrubs during shavasana, I couldn’t keep my eyes closed and stared straight up at the dimly lit ceiling. You know when JD has some big event happening and he’s just staring into the camera and everything is moving around him at super speed, that’s what I felt like. It all felt like too much and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I came home and cried some more while packing one outfit and no makeup for the next few days.
Tuesday morning I went into the city with my mom for some pre-op testing which included having a seed implanted and dye injected with some pictures taken. That literally feels like a million years ago at this point, I just had to call my mom cause I honestly forgot what both of those entailed because I think I was blackout walking through the hospital. First up was a seed injection which I had no idea what to expect but I was ready. It didn’t really hit me that surgery was the next day at this point anyway so I sucked it up and sat in the waiting room and finished my homework which was a nice stress reliever. Then some women brought me in the back to take my vitals and that’s when it kind of sort of sunk in. She was also part of the breast cancer survivor club and talked my ear off about her experience. Honestly throughout this whole experience I have never met more people affected by this terrible disease. I mean clearly now they’re all coming out to me because I also am one of the soon to be survivors but it’s honestly alarming how many of us there are. More about that later. I was then taken into another room where they did an ultrasound of my lymph nodes and I finally figured out what was going on. The doctor who looked younger than me came in and told me that they were going to implant a seed near the enlarged lymph node to help out Dr. Simmons with the surgery. They were going to do this with a needle so it was pretty much like another needle biopsy. Great, just what I wanted. It was painful and took WAY longer than I expected. They couldn’t find the lymph node for quite some time and then even when they found it AFTER the needle was in my arm they lost it for a little so she was digging around longer than I would have liked. After that they made me get another mammogram just to confirm that the seed was near the lymph node and I was off to the next appointment. This was the dye injection which I also had no idea what to expect. I was taken into another area of the hospital and put in what probably used to be the old children’s wing because there were animals all over the room I was in. I was waiting in there for what felt like FOREVER after they told me to undress. Some nice nurse came by and saw that I was literally shivering and gave me a blanket. I also had no phone with me and it’s honestly amazing to think what we all did before cellphones were glued to our faces. I was so bored the craziest things started going through my head. There was this cute octopus on the wall and I kept saying, if this goes well I’m going to get this tattooed on me. Like, why Kim? Finally the doctor came in and once again explained what was going to happen. I felt like I was a mute at this point. The waiting made me so much more nervous so I barely spoke. He injected some nuclear dye in both of my boobs to make the surgery easier and then they needed to take pictures to make sure that it went through the way it was supposed to. Also after everything each doctor did they marked me with sharpies with their initials. This doctor made a joke about it, “it’ll come off, don’t worry it’s not a tattoo.” Uh yea, I didn’t assume that your pen that says sharpie on the side was a magic tattoo marker. HUGE EYE ROLL. After a little bit of the awkward, “Just massage your boobs so that the dye travels to your lymph nodes faster” moments I went in for pictures. The man in charge of these machines was probably my favorite person in the world, He was wearing this INSANE outfit with a rainbow tie and this very bizarre head scarf/head band, I don’t know. But I loved him, he kept checking on me cause the dye apparently wasn’t moving fast enough and they had to keep retaking the pictures. After that I was exhausted and ready to go home but of course I couldn’t. We got a hotel room for the night so we could be there ready for surgery at 7:15AM the next day. We got back to the room around 5PM and then I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t bring any clothes to go out on the town but I also didn’t want to be trapped in the room until the next day so we decided to go get some dinner for the early bird special. We went to some mediocre Italian restaurant and all I kept thinking was if this is my last meal on earth I’m gonna be pissed. I definitely cried a little more that night but then I was up ready for the day.
Wednesday morning, I barely remember getting ready at the hotel, I just know I was up way to early and out the door about 30 minutes before we needed to; I was just ready to get it over. We were there before the check in room was even open so I was first in line. When they opened they took my vitals and I was handed similar clothing to when my eggs were extracted, which included the pants that did not fit over my big ass thighs. Although I have been very open with how big I’ve gotten, I was still too proud to ask for a bigger size so I sucked it up and hoped they’d be coming off soon anyway. I also told my mom to make sure they don’t try to put these back on me while I’m asleep because they won’t be able to. Little did I know I’d be pants less for the next few days. Anyway, we got put in the intake area with just curtains between me and all the other patients getting ready for surgery. That day I was fine, ready for this all to be over. My parents on the other hand looked like they were watching my execution and literally couldn’t keep it together. Every time the nurse or doctor came in I watched both their eyes well up and I had to keep screaming RELAX EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE OK. Like shouldn’t I have been the one crying? All I kept thinking about was how hungry I was and I couldn’t wait to wake up and eat, surprise, that also didn’t happen. My surgeon came in to explain what was going to happen and I legit didn’t recognize her without her glasses and her scrubs on. She left and I said “who was that?” Good start to the day right. Then my plastic surgeon came in, ya know Broccoli teeth? And he again explained his part of the surgery and then I needed to undress from the bottom up so he could mark where he would be cutting. BUSTED, my pants were not on all the way. Secret was out. Literally this was the last thing I needed to worry about but I was so mortified. Then all I kept thinking was, oh my god, what if I call him broccoli teeth when I wake up from surgery. I apparently enjoy talking when I’m coming out of anesthesia. One time when I was still in the music industry I had to go in for a little procedure and I apparently woke up screaming WHAT TIME IS IT I’M LATE FOR MY TRAIN. Mostly because my anxiety has never been worse than at that time and I guess that panic attack proved it. So, they had a small procedure before me and nurses kept coming over to let me know they were cleaning the room but I’d be in shortly. Then it was time to go, I had to hand over my glasses to my mom and then I was off, slightly blind. For those of you who think you get rolled into the operating room, we are very wrong. They give you a “walker” to walk you in so after my parents hysterically cried into my arm as I was screaming BYE I NEED TO GET INTO THE ELEVATOR NOW. I was alone + the man next to me who was already clearly woozy and being wheeled in and both our walkers + the elevator man who was singing. I don’t know why but this is when I panicked. They wheeled out the guy first and then it was my turn. I don’t even remember if we went up or down but there were no windows and I truly felt like I was walking to my death. It was this weird part of the hospital which must have been filled with operating rooms and people in scrubs + people in weird hospital gowns like myself all walking themselves to their own operating room. It was BIZARRE. I guess my “walker” could sense that I was fully freaking out cause he then whispers loudly to me “you see that girl over there, she has a crush on me.” “NO I DON’T, HE’S PLAYIN, HE LIKES ME YOU KNOW HOW IT GOES.” As they both are hysterically laughing to each other. Cute love story, thanks for the break, as I nervously laugh. “See, got your mind off of it for a little, huh?” No! Cause now I remember again. He walked me straight up to the door which I wasn’t allowed into until they confirmed it was me. I didn’t have my glasses on and everyone in there had masks on so I literally had no clue who anyone was as they’re all going “we met upstairs.” Yea, sorry I was trying to relax my parents and now I’m blind so I don’t remember. The only person who I could pick out was my surgeons PA who is the sweetest woman I have ever encountered. Legit night and day from that nightmare of a PA from Sloan. If this wasn’t confirmation that I made the right decision than I don’t know what is. They didn’t even make me countdown all I remember was the oxygen mask over my face and boom I was awake again with Dr. Broccoli holding my hand telling me everything went great. Also, I woke up IN THE OPERATING ROOM, even though it was only for half a minute I didn’t think that was supposed to happen. Actually, maybe I was awake when they rolled me out? I don’t remember but then I was in recovery under some hot ass blanket with an IV in my arm. And then all of a sudden the nurse goes “Does your arm look swollen to you?”
Um, I don’t know, I’m drugged up. Kind of. YEP SWOLLEN AF. Apparently when they put the IV back into my arm they missed my vein and it was going straight into my arm tissue. Then on top of being under this hot ass weird blow up blanket I had to keep my arm propped up and they had to poke me a million more times to try and get the IV back in. Also, you know in the movie where they’re like if you have pain press this button. I got a button! I didn’t really feel like I was in a lot of pain then to be honest I was just SO HOT. I had a million blankets on me plus that stupid blow up blanket and all I wanted to do was go to sleep. After about an hour they let my parents come and see me and all I had thought about from the second I woke up was “I’m gonna trick them!” Which is really messed up but I was hysterically laughing to myself as I was planning this. My mom comes up to me and with a confused look on my face I say “Who are you??” KIM YOU DON’T KNOW WHO I AM?!? I couldn’t keep a straight face, mostly cause I felt bad but also because the nurse gave me a look and I didn’t want her to think I was serious. Who knows what could have happened. After a few minutes, I really just wanted to sleep so I kicked them out and waited until I could get into my room. My mom being paranoid purchased a private room, but honestly THANK GOD. They said if we didn’t have a private room she wouldn’t be able to stay with me overnight so we went the extra step and purchased one just in case. Of course, we found out that I would have gotten one anyway but then we found out they could upgrade our room for no extra charge and it came with a concierge and a private chef. WTF OK. After a while someone rolled me through the hospital for what felt like an hour and as I arrive on this dramatic private floor my parents and Shaney were waiting for me. After they set me up in my bed they were allowed to come into my room which I apparently wasn’t happy with when I got there. THIS IS A PRIVATE ROOM THAT COST SO MUCH MONEY, IT’S THE SIZE OF A CLOSET WHAT IS HAPPENING (it was not small). I think the drugs made me angry because EVERYTHING my parents did pissed me off that night. Also on top of my utter rage of the quality of the room, some sort of alarm started going off and they kept saying “CODE RED” on the loud speaker. My mom was instantly panicked that they were going to have to roll me out somewhere else, and in her panic, I started panicking. But really, imagine if there was some sort of emergency? What would they have to do? Roll all the patients out to the street? It was scary and definitely was going off for what felt like an hour.
They said the anesthia might make me nauseous but after a little while I was like I am a champion and am never nauseous, let me eat! So I ordered food, along with my dad and Shane ordering steaks? Like what is wrong with you two, we’re in a hospital not Peter Lugers. They did say it was delicious. I wouldn’t know because I was SO SICK. I ordered wonton soup because that’s my go-to anytime I’m sick and I literally smelled it and immediately started gagging. No thank you, I will watch you all eat instead. Then of course my mom’s like, Do you want toast, do you want a bagel, do you want a potato. NO I’m going to vomit thank you. After the wonton soup, I decided I was hungry again so I ordered a milk shake. WRONG CHOICE KIM. I think it was mostly because I was sweating to death, oh yea, I forgot to mention that they still had me under the Sahara blanket. They said this was to keep the circulation going in my chest so I had to leave it on until the next day. WHAT!?! You know when you’re nauseous and you start sweating, well now imagine that while you’re under a million blankets that you can’t take off, the literal WORST. Every time a nurse came in I asked if I could take it off, “no” “NOPE” “Sorry hun, no.” Also on top of the nausea, the hot blanket, and the too many people in my room, I had these cuffs on my legs that kept circulation going in my legs. Every few seconds they would squeeze them and then stop. It was probably the least annoying of all the things but it all added up. Then I found out that I had a catheter in which is why I didn’t have to pee. To be honest, that was fine. It was like nice not having to get up to go to the bathroom. Wouldn’t mind if we all were just born with one and never had to pee again. After a few hours everyone but my mom left they brought her in a cot to sleep in the room next to me. The nurses also switched at this point to the “night team,” now I’m no nurse and I don’t ever want to become one but my night nurse the first night was awful. They had to empty my drains every few hours and take my vitals. First, night nurse #0 messed up emptying my drains and in the morning the breast team came in and was like "what happened to your drains?!" I don't know ask the lady in the scrubs. The next morning I needed to get blood taken to make sure everything was going ok . Since they took out lymph nodes they put big pink alert bracelets on both of my wrists so as to not take blood pressure from there or take blood. But queen night nurse decided to ignore this and at 4AM she stuck me with a needle twice in my arm. It was so god damn early I didn’t even realize until I looked at my arm and was like WAIT, she wasn’t supposed to do that. So I asked her, and she was like WELL, WHERE ELSE WOULD I TAKE IT FROM. UM SWEETIE, I don’t fucking know, you went to nursing school not me. I’m also pretty sure you could take it from my leg or my foot but JUST GUESSING. There were negatives about this private room situation, aside from stupid Sarah (her name was Sarah if you didn’t get that), because I wasn’t on the “breast” floor with all the other breast patients, I don’t think the nurses were completely used to cases like mine. It also felt like they were completely understaffed. Also, the doors were allowed to be completely shut and they were very far from the bed with no window. Now, I’ve never had to stay in a hospital overnight before but I always pictured nurses like popping in every once in a while, to check on you or peeking in to see how you’re doing or to make sure you’re breathing. I wasn’t hooked up to any heart rate monitor that I was aware of so I don’t know how they would know if my heart stopped. The room next to me also had a sign on their door that said “Do NOT disturb until 9AM.” Like, is that allowed in a hospital? I don’t know but the whole floor was very confusing. If I pressed the nurse call button sometimes the concierge and not a nurse would come in. It took forever for them to let me get up and walk around, it was very frustrating at some points and we decided for the next surgery I would not be staying on that floor. After they unhooked me from everything and I was able to get up and move around without that hot blanket on, I felt much better. I was finally able to eat and kept thinking “wow I haven’t eaten in over 36 hours AND I threw up, am I skinny yet?” No Kim, you are not. Although I haven’t put on jeans in over a week so I feel skinnier but I’m sure when I eventually put them on I’ll feel disgusting all over again.
We decided to stay an extra night, just in case but by the next morning I was ready to get home. I wanted to get the hell out of the hospital and into my own bed, in my own clothes. Of course as soon as I was discharged I started feeling nauseous again but I refused to be there anymore so I sucked it up and went home. The first night was the hardest but every day I feel a little better. I have four drains on and they are probably the most annoying part. Emptying them out is not as difficult as I thought but sometimes when there’s little blood clots in them I gag (if you want pictures just ask! Just kidding). I’m hoping they’ll be out by next week when I see my plastic surgeon.
I saw my surgeon Dr. Simmons for my pathology results yesterday and to see how I’m healing up. Good news is that apparently, I’m healing up very well, although it doesn’t feel like it and apparently my pathology was good news as well. Although it definitely doesn’t feel like it. I’m not sure what a not great pathology report would be. The good news is that I get to keep my nipples and they only removed two lymph nodes on both sides. On the right side, everything was negative. On the left side, there were multiple cancer spots and the two lymph nodes they took out, one was cancerous and one was clean. Also, the margin percentage, or something, I don’t remember what it’s called, was close. This means that the cancer was close to my skin so as a precaution my surgeon recommended radiation. She doesn’t have the final say and referred me to two different oncologists to make that decision but that news made me feel like I had gotten shot in the chest. I’m not sure why but I guess with all the good news coming my way I had my hopes up that I would be in the clear in regards to radiation. They told me chemo worked from my MRI and everyone was ecstatic with that result so I really thought radiation would be a no-go. It also doesn’t help when I told people my MRI results and their immediate response was “that means no radiation, right?” No, it does not but having everyone say that also pushed me towards that mindset as well. This just confirmed that this is going to be much longer and I am really ready to reach the finish line. I haven’t really cried in what feels like a while but I really couldn’t stop yesterday, I felt and still feel really defeated. My dad keeps trying to get me to look at the positives which I’ll admit there are many in this shitty situation. I get to keep my nipples, the scar looks like it’s going to be very minimal, my tattoo is still in tact, the cancer is out, the chemo wasn’t for nothing, my hair is starting to grow back, one surgery is done and went well, the list goes on. But it feels like a huge setback. Should I have done more chemo? Should I have worked harder through chemo? Should I have not drank those two glasses of wine? Should I have gone to yoga more? Should I have been tougher? Deep down I know it’s not my fault that this is just the cards I was handed but I am devastated. I feel like I took one step forward and two steps back even though in reality that’s not the case at all. I know radiation will be nothing in comparison to surgery and chemo but it’s really not the pain of it all or the fatigue because I know I can handle it. It’s the time it adds on to everything. Although radiation could potentially only be a month and a half, waiting for my skin to heal before the second surgery could be up to six months. In the grand scheme of things, including my health and forever, it’s not that long but right now those additional potential eight months feels like a lifetime.
In my miserable despair car ride back from the city yesterday I also kept thinking if I’m being too much in this cancer bubble I’ve created for myself. I feel much different than I did during chemo, maybe because I feel closer to the finish line but I feel different in a way that’s hard to explain. I just keep wondering if maybe I’m being too big of a baby during this and wonder how other people would handle it. Thankfully I’m fortunate enough to live home during this ordeal and take a break from work, other people wouldn’t be so lucky. But is it really lucky? Should I be trying to get back to work and stop being in this misery bubble waiting the days out. Like this potential year of my life feels like such a waste, just throw it out. Don’t count my 27th year on this planet and wake me up when it’s over. I know people say that all the time about relationships or jobs or whatever “Oh, this was such a waste!” but that’s not true because you at least learn something from those situations, usually. Is that why I got cancer? Was there something I needed to learn? Was I an awful person before all this happened and is this supposed to make me better? To be honest, if that’s the case, it definitely hasn’t worked yet. I’m still the bitch I was before this started, sometimes I think about things before I say them, but I still say them. I mean I definitely have a soft spot for sick people now that I didn’t have before. Is that what I was supposed to learn? I don’t know but I once again feel like these additional months are going to put me in the dust compared to everyone else at my age. My career has taken a hit, my schooling has taken a hit, I just want to be able to start everything soon. I’m not sure if I’m making excuses but when I describe feeling behind, my dad says that I can start looking again which is true I probably can start looking for jobs soon but then I think, who the hell is going to hire me after I was just out of work for a few months AND potentially going to be out of work again when my second surgery happens? In my mind, no one. I couldn’t even get a job when I was “healthy” how the hell am I going to get one when I’m sick? Would other people try? Am I letting cancer defeat me to a certain extent? I don’t know but I feel pretty defeated at the moment.
And now as I sink back into my misery, let me try and at least defeat one of the two papers I need to do. I have some more updates but I will write tomorrow when I’m pretending to do my homework again.
Until then
xoxo
Kim