#5 October 25-31

Oct. 25-31

The Continuing Adventures of Life with Temp.

This has been a very frustrating week.  After feeling such a high over picking my surgeon, I have since been in the Twilight Zone of information.  I have a very strong feeling Rod Serling is standing off to one side saying, “Suzanne thinks everything is settled now for her breast cancer, but she doesn’t know she has entered The Twilight Zone.”

After making the tentative surgery date for Nov. 5^th, I waited to hear about the pre-op anesthesia clinic.  On Monday Oct. 26^th, I emailed my surgeon that since I was going to the Naval Hospital on Tuesday as my husband had some appointments, I could pick up the CT Scan that was done in 2012 if no one had already sent for it.  They needed this to compare to my recent CT scan since there was a question about a nodule on my lung. She emailed back that it would be a good idea for me to pick it up, since she didn’t know if it had been addressed.She also CC'd several people at the breast center about this.

Tuesday, I picked up the CD with the scan and replied to all that I had it, and should I bring it with me when I attend the pre-op anesthesia clinic. My surgeon responded and said to give it to Temp who would submit it. Then I waited to hear from Temp or anyone else. Nothing.

Wednesday, I call and speak to the secretary who transfers me to Temp. I tell her that I haven’t heard anything.  She says she’ll get back with me.

Thursday, I get a call from someone new (cc’d on the email from my surgeon) who asks me if I have the CT scan CD. I tell her that I do, and she wants me to bring it down to them. Evidently, the “team” met, discussed my case, and wanted to see the CD. She asks me if I can bring it Friday, and did I sign a form releasing this to be read by another radiologist.  I say no, I didn’t sign any form, but I’ll bring the CD in today - anything to get something going.

We pop in the car, and I get to the breast center, and hope everyone isn’t out for lunch since it’s right at lunchtime.  Luckily (?) Temp is in.

She grasps the CD and says, “This is what they’ve been waiting for.”  I tell her that I’ve had it since Tuesday, and could have brought it down then, or Wednesday or even earlier this morning if someone had just asked me to bring it. Then Temp tells me that the surgery date that had been tentative is still only penciled in, and they can’t schedule me for the pre-op anesthesia until they get a hard surgery date. She dismisses me, and I ask her, “Isn’t there a form I’m supposed to sign?”

Of course, she doesn’t have that form, and we must go to the front desk, where the girl there rummages around until she finds one. I sign it, and then we go back to Temp’s office. Her desk is littered with papers. She asks me if I have an email address, and she wants to write down my email address, but she can’t find a post it note. Meanwhile, I notice the envelope with the CD and the release form are not even together on her Fibber McGee desk, so I put them together, find the post it notes, and give her my email address. 

I tell her that I am ready to get this show on the road, and that we need to get that pre-op clinic and surgery scheduled as soon as possible.  She tells me that if she hasn’t called me by 1 p.m., on Friday, that I should call her.  I tell her, “don’t worry, I will.”

Friday, about 11:30, she calls to tell me the pre-op is Monday, and my surgery is Nov. 13^th.  I thought I was penciled in for Nov. 5^th! Nov. 13^th and of course, it's a Friday! Did Rod Serling just disappear around the corner?

Oh, well, at least it’s now on the schedule for good. She double checks my email address, and I ask her to email me all this information, and she says she will. Friday, 7 p.m. – no email yet.

If I didn’t feel so strongly about this surgeon, and their program and knowing Temp is temporary, this kind of thing would definitely send me back to the first place who diagnosed my breast cancer.

How the Mind Really Works

During the day, I have found the best way to deal with having cancer is to busy myself with various things – household chores, reading, TV, video games – and to pay no attention to the Man Behind the Curtain.  I just try to keep the curtain closed. That doesn’t mean that I’m pretending it doesn’t exist; I just compartmentalize. When it’s time to deal with BC, I open the curtain a small amount, deal with it, then I move on.

  

At night; however, I find that I wake frequently only to have the curtain wide open with all the doubts, fears, and worries rushing past like a slide show. What if . . .? What about . . .? Will I . . .? Sometimes it is very hard to close the curtain. As a result, my sleep patterns are all screwed up. Will I ever get a full night’s sleep again?

Miscellany

I looked at my wedding ring, and I realized that not only had I not removed it in many years, but also, it looked much too small for my finger.  With the worry of lymphemdema present in my mind, I realized that I needed to take steps. 

I soaped my hand thoroughly - no go, rings sticks just below the knuckle.  I tried hand cream, same difference. I turned to trusty Google, and lo and behold, a method for removing a stuck ring using string.

It seemed to make sense, so I thought I’d give it a try.  Anything would be better than having to have it cut off because my hand had swollen to twice its size.  I have some crochet cotton, so I followed the instructions and pushed the string under my ring leaving a long tail, then began to meticulously wind the string one thread at a time around my finger above the ring. 

Of course, my finger began to turn blue as the circulation was removed, so I quickly finished the thread winding, and took the tail that had been pushed under my ring and began to unwind in that direction.  It works! The ring begins to microscopically slip up my finger, one row of crochet cotton at a time.

What Google didn’t say is, that as it hits the tightest part of the finger, it begins to hurt quite a lot.  I kept unwinding expecting to see the string turn pink and then red (at which point, I would have quit,) but the string did not change colors, and eventually (quite quickly actually) the ring moved above my knuckle and slipped off. 

My ring finger began to pink up immediately, and although it was swollen, red and tender the rest of that day, by the next, all of that had disappeared. Now I just have an indentation where my ring used to be, and a very funny feeling because it’s no longer there.  Once I get through surgery and healing, I will have my ring resized, hopefully in time for my 47^th wedding anniversary.