It's funny - even when what you are doing isn't particularly fun, when you've been doing it regularly for almost two years it becomes an integral part of your life; one that you feel you'll miss when it's gone.
Of course, I probably wouldn't say that about routine waterboarding or being forced to go to classic car shows every weekend, so it's all relative.
Who knew chemo was more fun than looking at old cars?
As I settled into my barcalounger, I loudly announced my upcoming surgery to anybody who would listen, and even those who had headphones on.
Hey, not everybody gets this surgery, you know? People should hear about it.
There was lots of interest and people said they'd pray for me.
As an aside, I am no longer the youngest woman in the chemo room. One young lady is being treated for stage III breast cancer. She is 26 years old. I wish that I was still the youngest person in that room, I must say. It's not because she's cuter than me and I'm jealous of all the cancerous old men eyeing her. It's awful that anybody gets cancer, but in truth, it's more awful that she got it than me.
As the last drip slid into my vein, I said a temporary good-bye to my fantastic nurses and my chemo acquaintances, and I walked out the door, free of that shabby yet familiar infusion room until at least a month after surgery.
Speaking of - I have a lot to do before surgery, including paperwork. My advanced directive is done but I need one more signature to make it legal. My FMLA paperwork has to be signed and I need to get the doctor to do his part. I'm going to splurge and hire a housekeeper, even though my house shouldn't be shown to strangers. Two years of cancer has rendered it pretty dirty, and I wasn't exactly Alice to begin with. It's time somebody does it, and it clearly won't be me.
I also need to rent a recliner to sleep in for my post-surgical recovery. Getting up and down out of bed is always the hardest after surgery so I'm going to get a chair with a lift. I'm no dummy
I don't know if I can wear my own clothes in the hospital or not but maybe I should buy some loose, low rise sweat pants. I have a history of flashing hospital personnel and it's not because I'm pervy. It's totally their fault - the hospital johnnys they always make you wear are way too big for me. Even the small size wraps around me twice, and for some reason they never have smalls. So, I get the large johnny that I have to wrap around myself three times and the armholes are right where your breasts are and the pants don't tie tight enough to stay on so they slide down when you sleep, get out of bed, etc.
On the other hand, this is a teaching hospital. I'll be visited by my high-powered Super Doctor, fellows, residents, interns, med students, nurses, nurses-in-training and others who will need easy access to my long incision, so maybe clothes you can swim in is good, even if you end up showing your girly parts, both missing and intact, to all who come in.
Hey, if that guy on Dancing with the Stars doesn't mind showing his burned face to the world on national TV, I shouldn't mind showing my misshapen reconstruction and short and curlies to a few medical professionals. I will draw the line if an accountant shows up.
I also need to make arrangements for my family to stay...somewhere. Ouch. A week in a San Francisco hotel and it's not a vacation.
That might hurt more than the surgery.
I also found out I can request a private room, and they are given out when available. I'm doing that tomorrow so I can prevent the assault of daytime TV that I know any roommate I have will perpetrate upon me.
I'll beg, cry and bribe to get a private room.
Do you think playing the cancer card will do any good?