Anne SG and the Big C

This week I had a visit back at the Mayo to have a final follow-up with my general surgeon and to meet with the plastic surgeon. The general surgeon gave me a printed copy of my path report, most of which might as well have been in ancient Sumerian. But she did tell me that I was definitely Stage 2, and though I am HER-2 negative, the cancer is estrogen-positive, meaning that it feeds on estrogen. This makes a lot of sense, considering my symptoms and such. It also means that I’m a candidate for estrogen-blocking drugs like Tamoxifen. While this is wonderful, it means that I will essentially be put into menopause, if I understand correctly. And that slams the door on any more kids.

Now, that shouldn’t alarm or upset me. We weren’t planning to have any more children–our youngest is 5 and we are happy to be out of the diaper stage. But having the door closed for you (and perhaps having chemo would also have that effect) is sort of jarring. It is just another side of effect of the cancer–how it utterly and permanently alters life. Plus, I have NO idea what side effects this drug has.

On another, lighter note: I saw the plastic surgeon and nurse (really, she does all the work–he sits there and looks approvingly) to have my expanders filled. It’s really kind of surreal–she runs a stud finder across my chest (well, it’s a medical device that probably costs a mint but it’s a stud finder, trust me) that lights up when it senses the metal ports where the saline will go. Then she jams a needle through my skin into the port (remember, I have very little feeling so it doesn’t hurt a bit) and pumps 100cc of saline into each side. She calls this her “insta-boob machine” which cracks me up. I keep going back for more until I’m happy with my size. Thankfully, I’m now happy, so I’ll go back Tuesday to tell them this, and they will probably add just a bit more since you generally lose a bit when they temporary expanders come out and the implants go in. Then I wait 3mo or so for the final surgery. I should be all done, I hope, by the time our July Sanibel Island trip comes around.

I’ll be bald, of course, but I’ll have the bustline of a 20 year old

I do worry about the kids; they have been asking lots of questions, like: Is God old? If you go to heaven, can I see you? What do I say if someone teases me because my mom is bald? Is Jesus alive? Are there houses in heaven? Does Jesus really look like that guy in Evan Almighty?

On the up side, Gammy and I took the girls to Jacksonville on an overnight trip since I had to go to the Mayo anyway. We stayed just 4 miles from the Clinic right on the oceanfront of Jacksonville Beach in a nice chain suites hotel that acted like anything BUT a chain–when we arrived, someone appeared with two goody boxes fllled with treats for the girls; there was a “happy hour” with drinks and hot snacks like popcorn shrimp, and a full hot breakfast. Next door was a kid-friendly oceanfront restaurant complete with playground in the sand and desserts like a crab that you paint–a rice crispy treat in the shape of a crab with 2 paintbrushes and 3 sauces (chocolate, strawberry, and I’m not sure of the other) that kids paint and eat. It kept them busy enough that Gammy and I could enjoy our meals. Even my 8 year old, who absolutely adores school (I know, she’s weird), felt it was worth missing a day or two for that adventure.