The Breast Lump Chronicles: Mastectomy Monday

Maybe my journey is coming to an end. My dance with breast cancer. My experience with a disease that at one time was a death sentence. My brush with medical advancements. We've come a long way, Baby!
In preparations, I spent my birthday being 'pre-admitted' to the hospital. I'll be having my mastectomy Monday July 7th so paperwork, lab work and a chest x-ray were done a week in advance to make sure my surgery goes as quickly and easily as possible. No admission delays. That's standard now. Plan, check-in, arrive then cut. Wasn't how I had planned to spend my birthday but then again, it was definitely something different. 
My 'check-in' time is for 6 a.m. My surgery is scheduled for 8 a.m. so by noon tomorrow I'll have been taken from the recovery room to my hospital room with 'two less things' to worry about health wise. I'll even have a new figure!
I wasn't a candidate for a lumpectomy so a mastectomy was my only option. That's just fine with me. Who needs breasts that will 'betray' you like mine have me? Well, actually the right breast is the 'offending one' but if removing both will reduce my chances of getting cancer again then get to it! Life is more important than trying to preserve a pair of double D's. Besides, I can always have reconstruction surgery. I could even get a two-for-one by having a tummy tuck and use the belly fat to create new boobs!! Oh, the wonders of science! A belly flat and a bra filled! Glorious!
Just between you and me, I want this over already. I wanted it over the day I went to my family doctor--who incidentally told me that my breast lump was 'nothing to worry about.' She was wrong. Cancer was in me and it needed to be gone! In my mind there are cancer cells bumping into each other in my right breast and right axilla nodes looking for other places to reside. Get 'em out! Get 'em out! At long last-they'll be out tomorrow.
Mastectomy Monday.

The Breast Lump Chronicles: Biopsy

A week after I had the mammogram confirming there was a lump in my right breast, I was scheduled for a biopsy. Actually, two biopsies. One for the lump in my breast and the second for the one in my armpit. The second was so small that an ultrasound was the only way it would've been detected I was told. I consider myself very lucky.
Someone once sang, "The waiting is the hardest part" and it certainly has been for me. I want this condition seen, diagnosed, treated and done with already! Enough with the waits! But that's not realistic or healthy. Breast cancer is conquered one step at a time.
My next step was the biopsy. Ultrasound with a needle chaser! The idea is far worse than the actual procedure. You simply lie on your back with the 'questionable' breast cleansed with Betadine then it's draped with a thing that looks like a kid's 'Goodnight' pad with a hole in the middle and then the inside of your boob is onscreen. If you're lucky (or inclined) enough to have proper position, you get to watch the entire procedure. Once they numb you with a Lidocaine injection, you don't have anything else to do but watch--you certainly can't feel anything. Watching made me feel better somehow.
I watched as the dark space in the ultrasound was pierced with a device that took a sample of the mass in question and sounded like something at the dentist's office. Drill baby drill! Felt a little pressure but no pain at all. The lump in my armpit or axilla was a little deeper, a little harder to sample but the procedure was done properly and painlessly.
After everything was done, I was patched up with sterile dressings, given instructions to follow for the sites' aftercare and given two cute little discs that turned out to be mini icepacks. Now, another wait begins.
Only I could have scheduled a biopsy on a Friday! Why not? Wasn't I the genius who had a mammogram on Friday the 13th? But this was particularly maddening because my results would not be ready before Monday or "the next business day." CRAP!!!
I was given an appointment with a surgeon 'just in case.' These people specialize in this area, they already knew what the outcome was going to be and were being proactive.
My weekend was spent worrying about what could be. 'Imagine the worst,' right? I was prepping to restart a career--now that would have to be put on hold. Luckily, I found a remarkable book called "A Breast Cancer Alphabet" and it's been a godsend. It covers everything you can imagine in 208 pages and is written by a woman who writes as if she's known you all your life. Anything you can ask, she can answer. The author got me through the weekend. I'm ready.
Monday the news came.
I have breast cancer.

The Breast Lump Chronicles: Discovery

I'm watching our local NBC affiliate's news program when the co-anchor reminds viewers that "it's 'Buddy Check Day.' Call your buddy and remind them to do a breast self-exam." Nice public service statement. They do it every tenth of the month. Okay, I wasn't really doing anything anyway, I was alone so I thought 'why not?' I 'assumed the position' of left hand behind the head, right hand on the 'boobie' and circle the entire area with my fingertips. Nada. Nothing. Just as I suspected. As I began the same movements with my left hand to my right breast, something felt strange. Hey, wait a minute. Am I actually feeling a lump? No. Can't be. Probably just imagining it. Drama momma and all that. But dammit, something is definitely 'not right.'
The next morning, I called my doctor and in typical fashion I started with, "This may not be anything, and I'm probably just wasting your time but is there any way I could come and get a breast exam? I think I found a lump."
"Come right on in." the receptionist said. Wow, I thought, they must not be busy at all today--or they need the business. Either way, lucky me!
In the exam room, the nurse practioner asked me all the routine questions. No, I don't have any family history of cancer. Yes, I get a mammogram every year--well, not for the past two years but I'm pretty good about self-exams so not getting screened for two years isn't that bad, right?
After a rather prolonged and might I say thorough exam, the NP said, "I definitely feel something but I'm not sure. May not be anything but I'm going to schedule you for a diagnostic mammogram." Okay. No big deal. Any good doctor or NP would do the same thing. So I got dressed and waited at 'check-out' while the staff made my appointment. After about fifteen minutes the receptionist handed me a card and said, "You're scheduled for a mammogram at Tennova Imaging for this Friday." Great, I thought. I'm going to have a mammogram that could change my life on FRIDAY the 13TH! Wouldn't you know it?
Woke up that morning, did all the prep work I was allowed to do pre-mammogram (no lotions, powders or deodorant) and proceeded to drive--in the pouring rain--to the medical center. I arrived, checked in, gave all the routine info and waited in their lobby which just so happens to be named the "Peyton and Ashley Manning Center." For some reason, knowing the couple had made a donation to make a difference in people's lives made me feel better...and I'm a #18 fan.
The mammogram led to an ultrasound which led to the confirmation of a lump in my right breast and the discovery of one under my right arm so small it wouldn't have been felt in a self-exam for a long time. Wouldn't you just know it? What a Friday the 13th I was having!
On second thought, it might turn out to be the luckiest day of my life.
Next week, I am scheduled for two biopsies. My right beast 'gets a needle' and so does the area under my right arm. I'm a little scared. I'm also pretty much alone in this. Support from friends/family will be minimum at best and I know it. Besides, conversing about this with the blogging universe will give me all I'll need. Everything will be alright, right?
Now comes the first in what promises to be a series of "waits." I have to wait for the biopsies to be done, then wait for the results, wait for a consultation and so on. If you don't have anything else to do, want to wait with me?

Mom's In A Home UPDATE

When Mom was admitted to the nursing home, it was as her aftercare rehab from a fall, heart attack and renal failure. As her condition improved, she was no longer covered by insurance because dementia does not qualify for "skilled nursing care." This meant her social security benefit of $708.00 a month would go directly to the facility for her 'extended care.' Basically, she is residing there because she can no longer live independently and has no family able to give her 24hr care.
The nursing staff have been great caring for Mom and even used the fact that she used to be a certified nursing assistant in their nursing care plan. For example, Mom "made rounds" and was given "charts" to fill out. This gave her a sense of purpose and a feeling of usefulness.
Mom fell one Monday morning on the way to the bathroom. Her injuries were nothing more than a scraped knee and a little embarrassment. The following Wednesday, she fell again breaking her right hip. She was hospitalized and required a right hemiarthroplasty. The procedure was simple and basic so Mom was able to return to the nursing home that next Monday. Unfortunately, she has fallen out of bed three times since she returned despite every precaution the facility and staff implements. At least she hasn't fractured or re-fractured anything.
Meanwhile, Mom's bill collectors are circling. While I have cancelled her phone, electricity, rent and mail, one group of bill collectors remain. Payday loan reps.
Mom fell for the payday loan folks who send elderly people checks through the mail. Living alone and slowly losing brain function enabled her to cash these checks then either keep it secret and/or forget the transactions altogether. Her total with interest comes to approximately $3500.00. But now that it's 'time to pay up,' I get about 25 calls a day from these companies.
I understand that there are probably people who take out this type of loan with no intention of paying back the money but to 'decide' that EVERYONE who gets a loan like this is trying to get out of paying is horrible. Calling me every day is also horrible. To be honest, sending these types of checks to a specific population like the elderly is also horrible. But she DID cash those checks...as their representatives remind me.
When this month is over, finances will be a lot easier. Mom's insurance has resumed covering her care and her monthly check will go directly to her bank account and can be used to take care of some of her outstanding bills. Even though she has credit card bills and payday loans none of us knew about AND no one but she is legally responsible for them, I have been trying to repay them--with little to no success.
It just adds another level of sadness to realize that there are businesses that send our elderly offers that are 'too good to be true.' I also wonder about my concept of responsibility and tendency to lean towards martyrdom when it comes to my mother. Why would I try so hard to take care of her bills when she never took care of me? Why should I try to do anything for the woman who tried so hard to forget all about me when she was younger and is finally accomplishing that through dementia and old age? All I can come up with right now is--why not?

My "Sterling" Experience

When the initial reporting of the Clippers owner's remarks began, I was shocked. How could a man who owned an NBA team allow himself to think the way he does AND allow himself to be recorded making these remarks? It's 2014! The guy is a billionaire! What's wrong with the guy? He's in L.A. for Pete's sake--does the name 'Mark Furman' ring a bell, Donnie? When Johnnie Cochran got the detective to admit that he had used the N-word sometime in his life, Mr. Sterling 'shoulda took the hint.':
"Don't say nuthin', won't be nuthin.'"
As the days went on, certain 'news' organizations wanted to turn the focus of Sterling's remarks from racism to the issue of privacy. 'How could this woman secretly record this man?' 'Whatever happened to 'free speech'?' One news program quoted a certain billionaire NBA team owner as saying he, "doesn't want to live in a country where he could say something in private and lose everything he owned." Free speech does NOT mean free from consequences. These statements make me wonder what these people who are more 'outraged' at the taping than the remarks are saying privately. Their argument seems to be that "we all say things we don't want others to hear." But "we all" do not say racist things.
A few years ago, a physician in my hospital had a reputation for holding "certain views" about "certain groups." He was a white, rich son and grandson of  doctors, did a lot of charity work and had  his share of humanitarian awards so rumors of his real feelings towards women, minorities, etc., were written off as jealous people trying to damage a 'great man's' image. When he found out that I was Native American, he started calling me "Red" but he "didn't mean anything by it. Don't be so sensitive." I was told.
I had heard that he only treated white people, had settled a couple of discrimination lawsuits and was married but his mistresses were always African-American. I wondered how someone like that could be granted admission privileges at this particular hospital. Money? Power? Probably. No proof of his true self? Definitely.
That all came to an end when one of his "ladies" recorded the good doctor voicing his opinions in one of their conversations and made it public. In the recording, he 'explained' the physiological reasons African-Americans are better athletes than whites. He states that he 'preferred' white patients because 'having to wear gloves to examine Hispanics and African-Americans took too much time.' Far worse things followed. At one point the woman asks him how he could say those things about black people to her when she is black and he is heard saying, "The only color than really matters is green!"
The firestorm with Mr. Sterling reminded me of this incident because it was very shocking to hear a doctor reveal his contempt for and prejudice against minorities. Unlike Sterling, this man had taken an oath to treat all people with dignity and respect. Right? Maybe like Sterling, this man felt that his life, career, wealth and accomplishments entitled him to feel the way he did.
While the fallout was nowhere near that of Donald Sterling's fall from grace, it did show certain qualities and expectations the 'rest of us' project onto people of wealth and power and what happens when we are proven wrong. We may find out that we're wrong a lot.

Crackhead Revisited

When our son Blake was born, his father Jeff asked me if I thought it would be a good idea if he "made contact" as he put it, with his mother. "If you want. That would be nice" I told him.
 I had never met his mother and he hadn't spoken to her in over a decade and yet he felt compelled to call her and tell her she was a grandmother. He called, they spoke for twenty mins and then never spoke again.
When Jeff started smoking crack, I took "my" son and went back home to Tennessee. Jeff eventually came back too and saw his son a few times but crack use ended up taking over his life and forcing him out of Blake's.
On March 15, my son became a father. Holding his daughter--my granddaughter--in his arms reminded me how tiny he looked in his own father's arms. I wondered if history was going to repeat itself. Later on that evening, Blake asked "Do you think I should find my dad and tell him he's a grandpa?"
"If you want. That would be nice." I said. Those were the same words I had said to his father twenty years earlier.
In both occasions, I didn't think the absent parent deserved to know about either birth but it wasn't up to me then and it wasn't up to me now. So when Blake asked me if I could locate his father, I told him I would see what I could do.
Why not? Maybe things had changed for Jeff. Turned his life around. Gotten "sick and tired of being sick and tired" after all these years. Maybe he wanted to reach out to Blake but so much time had passed he didn't feel it was his place. He never "made contact."
Through the powers of social media, I got a message to Jeff. I gave my phone number and asked for a call.  What if he called? What was I going to say to him? What if he didn't call? What was I going to say to Blake? Which would be worse--telling Blake his father called or that he didn't?
Less than twenty-four hours after my message, Jeff called.
"Hi Dyane, this is Jeff." he said, "I got your message. I thought about not calling but I figured something must be up for you to call."
"Blake asked me to see if I could get in touch with you because he wanted to tell you that he's a daddy now...that makes you a grandpa." I don't know why I said it that way but it's what came to mind. I told Jeff this situation reminded me of when he had called his mother to tell her about Blake. Unfortunately, the woman had died without ever speaking to him again after that December morning over twenty years ago.
But this wasn't going to turn out to be a Lifetime movie where Dad realizes what he'd missed with his son and what he'd gone through with his mother and decides to change. No credits would roll, no happily ever after.
Jeff said that he had read about Blake's athletic accomplishments in newspapers over the years but confessed to still being addicted to crack, homeless, in and out of shelters and jail. He said that every time he got a job, he blew his money, got high, got fired or just didn't show up to work. In essence, "once an addict....."as he used to say.
 The next day I told Blake I had spoken to his father and what he had to say. It actually gave Blake peace. A question has been answered. Life goes on.
Haven't spoken to Jeff since and probably never will.The 'happily ever after' will be with Blake and his daughter--and me.
Roll credits!

The Cashier Comments

Like a lot of incidents, this one starts with "I was minding my own business."
I needed motor oil and The ******* was open just ahead so I pulled into the parking lot, got in a parking space and dashed inside for a quart. As I got in line at check-out, the elderly man ahead of me asked for a pack of cigarettes from behind the counter. The cashier rang up the sale and said, "That will be $4.35---welcome to Obama's world."
"How's that?" the man asked.
"Everything's gotten so expensive now that Obama is in charge of the country." The cashier explained.
The customer said, "Oh, I don't vote."
"Then you're one of the idiots that got Obama elected...not voting at all is a 'bump' for them." the cashier replied.
"I just want to get my cigarettes and go." the customer said.
"Here you go, sir," the cashier said handing the man his cigarettes , "maybe next time you'll 'go' to the voting booth."
Surely, these two knew each other, right?
Neither men knew each other, the elderly man made that clear. But the cashier "decided" that $4.35 was too much for a pack of cigarettes, his customer was an idiot and partly responsible for Obama's election because the man said he didn't vote.
I had never seen an unprovoked attack on a customer before and it was a shock. I'm not that naïve but there are things I see happen between people that surprise me. Maybe if the customer had initiated the conversation with the cashier and it had been 'just talk,' it wouldn't have been so bad but this poor man just wanted a pack of smokes and ended up getting insulted. Embarrassed. I was embarrassed for him.
None of the rest of us in line thought this was a way to treat a customer and told the cashier so. He honestly seemed surprised at us. He was even more surprised when we reported him to the store manager. Yes, all four of us in line reported this cashier to the manager. I'm glad that as four strangers, we took it upon ourselves to stand up for this elderly man. We tried to make him feel better but I don't think we did a very good job. Rudeness towards elderly people is just wrong--worse when it's unprovoked. "The customer is always right," is a bit outdated doesn't the customer "have the right" to shop without harassment?
More than likely, nothing will happen to the cashier and nothing at the store will change. Well, one thing will change...I'll never go back to that store again.