breast cancer humor

I realized tonight that picking the right doctors for my medical team is a lot like how my guy friends select their fantasy sports teams – and if I hadn’t already used the photo, this would have been the perfect blog post for my hot football player. Oh well.

First, you rely on the experts – The guys watch what the recruiters and coaches are doing to build their pro teams for the coming season, much like we take the referral paperwork or appointment card given to us by either our oncologist or primary care physician and trust that the surgeon they have selected is the best one for our procedure(s).

If that appointment is at least twelve hours from the time you get the surgeon’s info, odds are the next step is Google. Looking at the medical practice’s website, checking the feedback from other patients on assorted sites, checking credentials, read articles by or about the surgeon and forming an opinion.

If there are no big red flags, you go to the appointment – and this, this is where everything can change.

And that is completely okay – It’s your body. Nothing is more important. This is your life. Don’t worry about hurt feelings. Do what is right for you.

In fantasy sports leagues, guys don’t get face time with their picks, but they can watch interviews and gauge integrity, drive, passion and to an extent ethics – for example, if the player is in handcuffs while he’s talking to the reporter, there might be a bit of a problem.

I did my research before my appointment. Dr. Wrong had formerly been a Medical Director for a hospital breast cancer center, had numerous lovely comments about how kind and caring she was on multiple review sites, and solid medical credentials. She seemed to be an excellent choice on paper.

In 3-D reality, well, not so much.

I arrived slightly early for my appointment so that I could complete the New Patient paperwork that the front office staff had been unable to either fax or email to me to do ahead of time. The waiting room was filled to the point of being standing room only. The receptionist said she was sorry, but that everyone had arrived for their 4pm appointments at the same time. All those people had the same appointment time I did. Even allowing for family groups there were a minimum of five people with simultaneous bookings. It was so crowded I had to take the clipboard out into the hallway to sit on the floor and fill out. I waited…and waited… and waited. Around 5pm I was the last remaining patient when I was called to the back. She had seen all those patients in an hour – roughly ten minutes per patient for their pre-surgical consults.

Her consult with me was no different. A very brief overview of the mastectomy focusing mostly on the steps for testing the lymph nodes. The she dropped the bomb that I might have to wait 6-8 weeks until sometime in September for surgery.

Here I am still wrapping my mind around the fact that I have cancer and all that entails, and she is very nonchalantly telling me that because I want reconstruction to plan on at least that long. I asked about doing delayed reconstruction instead, and she said that I wouldn’t be happy with the end results and that I should wait. When I expressed my concern over waiting, this was her response.

“I do this every day. I know its a big deal to you, but I can tell you that cancer isn’t that fast growing. It really won’t make much difference if you have to wait a few weeks or even a couple of months until we can get you scheduled. It just isn’t that big a deal.”

By 5:15pm the surgeon had conveyed all the information she felt was necessary and sent me on my way.

Even giving her the benefit of the doubt for my being the last patient of a possibly long day, her lackadaisical attitude was not one I felt comfortable with. Yes, it is in fact a big deal to me. I have something growing in my chest that has the potential to kill me. Granted it won’t put me in a grave tomorrow, but at some point it could. C-A-N-C-E-R is not something I want to screw around with.

So I did what the fantasy football boys do – I trusted my gut and started looking for someone else to fill that spot in the line up.

It’s odd how different things are important to each person.

As I spoke with survivors about their experiences with the different types of surgery, reconstruction and chemotherapy, there was one big question that loomed in my mind regarding the first couple of weeks at home after surgery –

Would I be able to wipe my own butt?

I know, it seems like a silly thing to think about. It might even be a little bit of displacement behavior on my part, diverting attention from the big issues to something that on the surface is trivial. Let me put it in context for you:

In 2011 I had neck and spine surgery spending most of the year in one or more braces. If the body braces weren’t bad enough, I had one additional small complication – the pressure on my spinal cord prior to surgery was so severe that it resulted in permanent nerve damage. I had partial paralysis of both arms for the first few weeks after surgery.

It was then that I realized there are some basic day to day necessities that no one talks about when you’re getting ready for surgery and signing the huge stack of forms and disclosures. How you will be getting in and out of bed, feeding the dogs, and showering to trying to read your smart phone with progressive lenses when you can’t move your neck. Think that last one should be easy? Try it, the effort drove me crazy (okay, crazier).

But the butt was the single most important thing that I failed to prepare for. There is nothing quite like the first time you are in the bathroom and it hits you that you have to pull the help cord to have one of the nurses come wipe you. Truly horrifying. I decided then and there that my personal milestone for being able leave the physical rehabilitation facility and go live alone at home was WIPING MY BUTT!

I have learned from my mistakes! That is STILL my main criteria for being home during any recovery phase and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t play into my decision on the type of reconstruction I wanted.

Option 1: Mastectomy / no reconstruction or delayed reconstruction – one night in the hospital, go home taped up in a surgical bra with a drain, big scar, can always be covered with beautiful tattoos

Option 2: Mastectomy / Immediate Reconstruction (DIEP Flap) – 8-10 hour surgery, four or five days in the hospital, go home with a surgical bra over taped up chest, hip to hip slice across abdomen plus tape & surgical corset, four drains, can’t be alone 24/7 for the first one to two weeks, can’t drive for several weeks. Its an investment in time and endurance.

Option 3: Mastectomy / Immediate Reconstruction (Implants) – shorter, more simple surgery and easier recovery

I seriously underestimated the amount of assistance that would be needed after surgery and for how long. I have a lot to think about between now and my appointments with the general surgeon and the plastic surgeon next week.

Now don’t worry friends, whatever I decide I’ll have a contingency plan so that none of you will be faced with a full moon after I get home.

Just curious – if you don’t or didn’t have a spouse to help you in a situation like this, WHO in your circle WOULD YOU ASK to WIPE YOUR BUTT?

Days 10, 11, 12: Finding Dr. Wrong

Days 7,8,9: Will I Be Able To Wipe My Own Butt After DIEP Flap Surgery? #breastcancer #breastcancerawareness