Cancer, Get Thee Behind Me...

So when I last left you I had blogged about my mom coming to me in a dream sparking my not canceling a gynecological appointment...this is the post: "Listen To Your Dead Relatives."

Since that post things have been a whirlwind to say the least. I saw the gynecological oncologist the first week of September. From there I underwent pre-testing for surgery to take place on October 13th. I was very nervous about the pre-testing as I had never had an ekg or chest x-ray taken before. I worried that they would see something that would halt the procedure from taking place. Since I did not receive any phone calls and did get the results sent to MyChart, I felt there was nothing serious going on. Even my blood work looked good, and my A1C was only 5.8! The only real problem was degenerative discs in my spine, which would not stop the operation. Upon googling I realize that maybe that's why my legs go numb and I have lower back pain. Certainly something to look into down the road, but for now, one medical malady at a time please.

Upon check-in I was brought back to pre-op where I waited and waited and waited. I was the second surgery scheduled and the first was not as quick as they thought it would be. That was okay with me. Take your time. Help the case before me. Rest. Have lunch. Relax. Then start on me. Of course I was starving because you cannot eat from the night before, so my stomach kept growling.

No food did not stop my system from working and after I went to the bathroom using the single ply cheap toilet paper I didn't feel "clean" enough for surgery. I remembered there was a wipey container on the sink outside the bathroom so I asked my husband to get it for me. The top was already opened but there were no wipes sticking through it so I asked him to unscrew it so I could retrieve some from the bottom of the container. He did. They were soaking wet so I squished a couple and then proceeded to use them. Holy mother of God! I about hit the ceiling. They started burning my butt. My daughter came to see what I was yelling about and I told her those freaking wipes are burning the shit out of me. She grabbed the container and said, please tell me you did not use these on your body. Uh, yeah, I did. She started yelling at me that they were not body wipes but industrial strength hospital surface wipes.

I start screaming to get me a rag and wet it down. My husband had a shop one in his pocket so I saturated it and tried wiping myself while hooked up to IV. It was quite the scene. My daughter is hysterical...my husband is frantic...I'm burning. The girl starts reading the container whose wipes kills pretty much everything. Worried that I really screwed up I'm yelling at my husband for not reading it. Poor thing looked distraught! The nurse comes in and I tell her what I did. She looks at me like I'm crazy, and says, "You Brooklyn folks really are tough!" I'm sure the operating room staff had quite the chuckle over my burning bottom.

It wasn't much longer until I was wheeled back in to the operating room. They were using the DaVinci surgical system and I really wished they hadn't told me how I would be practically upside down while they operated. I get dizzy if my head is not elevated with three pillows! We still did not know if I had cancer or not so the plan was to have a radical hysterectomy and check to see if cancer was present while I was still under. What would happen next would be up to the oncologist and team. As I was wheeled down the hall I prayed to Mary and Padre Pio for their assistance.

Next thing I knew I was being woken up with six hours lost. They said the operation was a success, and I did indeed have uterine cancer. They also had to remove my appendix which was not part of the original plan. The surgeon did not remove any of the lymph nodes as he felt the criteria was such that I was in more danger if he had at that time. He felt the cancer was contained within my uterus based on a number of factors including the pathology report during surgery which he said has a very high accuracy rate. They still send everything out to be checked further so there is still a chance I may have to undergo more surgery but as of right now, no. I will know more at my follow-up appointment next week.

They wanted to keep me overnight in the hospital and possibly for another day. The bed I was in moved constantly and I felt like I was on a canoe on a rolling river. It made me sick. I begged them to stop it but they said they couldn't and that it was to prevent bed sores. I told them I plan to only be here overnight so that's not a worry. Nope, there was no off button. WTF? I understood the leg things blowing up constantly to prevent blood clots but this rolling rock bed was just too much. I literally did not get one minute of sleep and I knew if I stayed there more than a day I would get sick because my immunity would be compromised from lack of sleep. I begged them to let me go home.

Once they took the catheter out I had six hours to urinate on my own or I would have to undergo some sort of bladder procedure. Within two hours I was out of that bed and into that bathroom. I begged them for food and this midnight ice cream treat was the best tasting ice cream I've ever had!

I asked the overnight nurses to walk me around but they said it was too soon. I told them there was no way I could sleep in that bed so at least let me sit in the chair, which I did. And let me just say one thing that did annoy me a wee bit...the support staff asking me constantly where I was from. I've been living in Roanoke 21 years, so I'm from here now, but yes, I was born in Brooklyn. Hearing that they were constantly talking about it is not amusing, even if one of them tried to convince the others I was from Floyd County. Yeah, that's hysterical.

By the time the first doctor came around at 7:00am the next morning I told her I was ready to go home. She said I had to walk first and I was like, damn, I'll run if I have to! So they walked me around the ward, and agreed to let me go home. It was too depressing to be in the cancer and palliative ward. My heart ached for those patients and family members holding vigils. After every room I passed I asked Padre Pio to provide comfort for them. I actually had to wait for my husband to bring me clothes or I would have been out of there even earlier than 11:00am.

Today is the fifth day after surgery. I still do not feel like myself. I feel dizzy, disoriented, and slightly nauseous. I finally slept four straight hours last night. The only pain medicine I've been on is two Tylenols every six hours. I am unable to drive in a car for two weeks because of the blood thinning meds. I am walking around the house as much as I can. The hardest thing has been keeping Bella away and from jumping on me. She is a smart dog so she remembers what "Boo-Boo" means. We used it when my daughter had her surgery and had to be away from her. And after the first night of me saying, "Mommy has boo-boo" she is leaving me alone and letting me sleep in the spare room without banging on the door all night and crying for Mommy.

No, I'm not myself yet, but I am alive! I am thankful to be alive! I am thankful for my family...for my mother coming to me in a dream...for my gynecologist who recommended my tests...for my oncologist and surgical team...for Padre Pio and Mother Mary, and I am thankful my intuition once again led me down the road I needed to go. Don't know if I'm totally out of the woods yet, but it could have been so much worse. These past couple of months really made me realize what's important in life, and that is, life itself.

Hey, cancer, get thee behind me...you're not getting me yet...I'm from Brooklyn...I'm a fighter, so fuck off.

One Week After Surgery

Only she could rock a hospital gown!

It's been a week since my daughter had her surgery to remove what we thought were only two to three osteochondromas from her right hip. She had been in extreme pain for a couple of months, likening it to having a huge rock in your shoe that you couldn't remove. This was the worst pain she had ever felt since it didn't matter what position her body was in...there was no relief. All of her prior surgeries on her leg and finger -- twenty two tumors total removed over three surgeries -- were done at UVA in Charlotesville by a wonderful pediatric surgeon. Unfortunately, since she is now 22 he would not take her case so we were forced to "pick" someone in Roanoke.

When I first met the surgeon from Carillion I thought he was maybe "too young" and worried if he'd be up to the task. My daughter didn't mind his age and felt that maybe that would be a good thing since he probably knew newer techniques. She even stated that folks say she is "too young" to be a news director and she excels at her job. I understood. The surgeon was in no hurry to operate and tried physical therapy first which seemed to exasperate the pain. She underwent the normal routine of tests, x-rays, catscan & contrast MRI.

The MRI showed a potential problem with one of the tumors that we didn't even know was there. Since it "lit up" the MRI it was possible it was cancerous. The surgeon hoped it was just fluid giving us the hot-spot but wouldn't know until he got in there. The plan was to open her up, which entailed an incision from her backside down to the right thigh. Once he looked at it if he thought there was a possibility it was cancer he would take a biopsy and close her right back up. If he thought it wasn't he would continue with the scheduled operation to remove the other tumors. He felt there was also a possibility that she would lose the artery in her leg and perhaps have some nerve damage as the tumors have a way of getting wrapped in them. He would do his best to preserve whatever he could. I found out he was not only an orthopedist specialist, although not really in hips, but in feet, but he also was a trauma surgeon. That is a good thing...that means he works fast and is used to expecting the unexpected.

The check-in at Roanoke Memorial hospital was quite smooth and she was taken back for prep at the exact time she was supposed to. This was a huge difference from prior surgeries at UVA where one time she had to wait seven hours, starving, before she was even taken back. My advice to those getting surgery is to push to have the first of the day. I gave the staff my cell-phone and they used it to call me back into pre-op. When I went back I thought she was all ready and I was just going to say good luck. When I got there she was in tears as there was a problem with her getting an IV. The nurses tried both hands and her arm but it kept failing. They finally got it to stay in the arm but that was after "digging around" a bit. She's just like me...we hate needles. It was a pretty traumatic experience and they gave her something to calm down before wheeling her in. I kissed her and then began praying to Mary and Padre Pio for her.

Ouch!

About forty five minutes later I received a phone call from one of the OR nurses who said they were going ahead with the whole operation. I breathed a sigh of relief as that meant it didn't look like cancer. It was about three hours later before she was in recovery. I was surprised at how aware and awake she already was. My fear is always that she won't come out of anesthesia, or that they give her too much and she suffers brain damage. I always make it a point to speak to the anesthesiologist and tell them they are the most important person on the team. They truly are.

The surgeon came in to brief us on the operation. There were twenty tumors removed. One was as large as a golf ball, another two also big and the other 17 smaller. There were more but he couldn't take out any other as the amount already weakened the bones. So he took the ones he thought would be potential problems down the line. The operation itself entails dislocating the hip (cracking it) and removing the leg from the socket. He then scapelled and scraped the offenders. He replaced the leg into the socket and used screws to hold it in place. He was able to work around the artery so she didn't lose it. He stressed that the hip and leg are extremely weak now and although he thought recovery originally might be around 8 weeks he upped it to 12. There could be no pressure whatsoever on that right leg. It was a total hip impingement operation meaning no weight at all, no crossing ankles, no movement. She could not move more than 90 degrees from the waist meaning no bending, etc. She would need home care physical therapy. I would be her right leg.

She was brought into a room quickly which also impressed me. The nursing staff was great, except for one or two night ones. Nobody was familiar with her condition and I guess they thought it odd such a young lady had "hip problems." The first night was spent in bed and they put her on a regular diet. I was really impressed by a young man she had begun dating two weeks before surgery. Unfortunately, most of the dopes she's dated before him have made her feel like a freak regarding her condition. They tore her apart and her self-esteem was null. This boy seems to be the opposite. He builds her up. He even stayed the entire night with her in the hospital, sleeping in a chair! He's been a God send and I really hope he's the real deal.

Love heals

The very next morning physical therapy had her up and trying to walk. She cannot use a wheelchair so she has a walker. She has to lift her body up, use her left foot to move forward while slowly positioning the right one. It's very taxing on someone who has no upper body strength, but by the time she recovers she will. She walked all the way down to the nurses station.

She still kept her sense of humor while struggling with pain.

I knew she was feeling better when she started complaining about the disgusting hospital food. She stayed another night as did her boyfriend. She got the okay to leave on Wednesday morning after meeting with the doctors and therapist who gave her devices, such as a grasping hook (look I'm Buster from Arrested Development!) a sock device (not gonna happen...I'll put her socks on) a long shoe-horn (shoes? Ha!) and a sponge on a stick (counting down the days to a real shower), to make her daily living easier.

Just getting her into the car was an experience. Of course there was a torrential downpour and I had to navigate through flooded roads and try to miss bumps and holes in the road. Boy was I thankful the hospital was only fifteen minutes from home instead of three hours!

There are so many things one takes for granted until one finds themselves in a position where they're no longer able to do them by themselves. My lower back is killing me from being bent over a good part of the day to help that leg/foot along. She cannot dress herself, go to the bathroom herself, get out of bed herself, sit in a recliner herself. This is so frustrating for someone who is used to not depending upon anyone and is a firecracker constantly spinning in her previous life. My stupid pain is nothing compared to the pain she is experiencing and I feel guilty even mentioning mine!

One of the biggest challenges was keeping Bella away from her. The "normal" routine is Bella wakes the girl up every day and then snuggles in bed with her. Fearing she will crack the hip when she jumps, she has been barred from going near the girl. I hold Bella in my arms and bring her to my daughter so she could give her kisses. I've had to position the walker and crutches (which she doesn't use but they make a good guard) where my daughter is to keep Bella away from her. I keep telling her, no, no baby, she has a boo-boo, and I think the dog finally gets it. My daughter cannot wait to pick that baby up and snuggle.

The first day home the girl did get a message that one of the news casts she directed has been nominated for an Emmy. She directed that show a couple of months ago while sitting on a pile of pillows in the studio as she was in extreme agony. We both cried tears of joy at the news...21 years old and her show was nominated! How cool is that? Well, it was a mixed blessing because she already misses going to work. In fact, I just had to stop writing this post because I heard something tumble down in her room and found her in tears. She hates being bed-ridden. She's frustrated and upset. She hates calling on me constantly. She feels as if she's a burden. Of course she's not. We had a long talk and I said the tears are good to get out, just let them flow. I also told her this is only temporary. Every day she will feel better. I don't mind helping her. That's what moms do. Nothing else matters, except for her. Heck, I even got over my fear of needles as I have to inject her daily to prevent blood clots.

Almost one week later. The incision goes up her backside. The leg is swollen and the black and blue nasty. There is also yellow bruising that you cannot see in the pic.

When she cries she feels useless I remind her to be thankful all the tumors came back from the pathology lab as being benign. I remind her how much she has already accomplished in her life. I remind her there is a reason she has endured this suffering her whole life and when she feels up to it she should begin to write about it. I remind her there are others out there who feel hopeless and she can be the beacon of hope to them all...an inspiration not to give up. She will overcome this and she will find her calling. Of this I'm sure. For now she needs patience..and some visitors wouldn't be a bad thing either.

Found the perfect chaise recliner that doesn't rock and she found the perfect guy  who does rock.