The Dodge entered the circular driveway; the daughter and I alighted at the front door while the husband went to park.
The glass doors to the building were massive and quietly slipped open as the sensor captured our presence. The waiting room was huge and attractively furnished. Directly ahead behind the glass partition, two staff members waited to serve.
Louise arrived almost immediately and the husband appeared at the same time. More paperwork needed to be completed; I've thought about running duplicate copies of one and handing it to whoever I see sitting behind a glass enclosure....maybe the guy at the parking garage would like one? I jest...
Soon we were escorted back to be an inner office where I was weighted and vitals done.
The oncologist walked in and introduced herself. She is a petite brunette with the brightest blue eyes. Dressed in a black vest over a black shirt and slacks, her footsteps could be heard approaching the examining room. The husband, the daughter and Louise were seated around the room while I sat on the examining table.
She opened her laptop and began a history and physical on me. The CT scan jacket was on the table beside her. She didn't mention anything about the tests that were done on me but she did say "it looks like breast cancer." At this, I suspected the CT scan showed no evidence of a primary and the breast was the primary which was a major relief.
The first thing she said is "we can fix this". There was not a dry eye in the room. She told me to forget about my oncology experience..things have changed. I asked if they were still giving Taxol for breast cancer and she said "no". She wanted to know why I asked. I remember having to watch our patients closely for cardiac arrest while we were administering it and I was always on my toes when it was hanging.
Before we left, she escorted us around the outpatient chemo room. She wanted to show me a medi port, forgetting that I had accessed and worked with them many times in the past.
I am to be scheduled for an appointment with a surgeon to have a medi port placed. The surgeon will examine the area to see if he wants to operate first or if the chemo is to be administered first. There will be surgery, there will be chemo and there will be radiation.
Did I mention it's March? March 2009 I had a Total Knee Replacement. March 2010 I had an achilles tendon/bone spur surgery and here it is...March 2013. At least it is easy to remember when filling out all those forms on admit.
One step at a time for the present. One procedure at a time. I'm so thankful for family and friends and all the support I have received. The husband and the daughter are always with me on this journey. Louise is there too. Wanda, the X sister in law has offered to come from WV and my old school pal Kathy in Myrtle Beach has offered to be here for me. I appreciate these good friends.
It has been said that the number of really good friends in one lifetime is 4 to 5 people. I count those listed as such.
Friday, March 8, 2013
Friday and The Oncologist
Yesterday an old friend visited. We worked together on the oncology unit. Louise is a spiritual sole without the baggage of an organized religion. Her belief is at one with mine. It's all about how you treat others. She knows how I feel about religion so she was tentative about the cross she gifted me with yesterday. She has just returned from Costa Rica last week and this was a cross she had bought back with her. She was quick to explain it symbolizes hope and she wanted me to accept it on that premise. I love the kind of person Louise is. She made a trip to Machau Picau a few years ago and said it was the most peaceful feeling and a spiritual rejuvenation for her. That's Louise.
She called and asked if she could visit. After she left, the tears stopped. I went outside and washed my car. I pulled some clover for Bugsy and held her for a while and I was able to eat a couple spoons of the potato soup, my favorite, the husband had cooked a few days ago.
Louise will meet us at the doctor's office at 1100 this morning. The husband and daughter will be there too.
A slice of toast and a cup of coffee and then to the shower. Moving on...
She called and asked if she could visit. After she left, the tears stopped. I went outside and washed my car. I pulled some clover for Bugsy and held her for a while and I was able to eat a couple spoons of the potato soup, my favorite, the husband had cooked a few days ago.
Louise will meet us at the doctor's office at 1100 this morning. The husband and daughter will be there too.
A slice of toast and a cup of coffee and then to the shower. Moving on...
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Wednesday and the MRI
The daughter met us at the house and we all boarded the Dodge and headed to St. Mary's Imaging Center. I used to work here so I was familiar with the staff.
More paperwork and then Don the MRI tech showed up. A big hug was exchanged and I introduced him to Fidel and April and said my goodbyes to them. April went to the back with me while I shed my jewelry and clothes and got into the gown we are all familiar with. I had taken a Klonopin so I was feeling calm and only wished for a place to sleep.
Blanche the nurse, and Don walked me back to the MRI room where Blanche explained the positioning for this test. It was done while laying on my stomach, my breasts placed in cup like holders, my chin on a holder with a mirror that reflected out into the room. I could see Don sitting behind the glassed wall that separated him from the MRI room.
20 minutes into the scan, the dye was injected. As soon as the taste reached my mouth, I started vomiting. I called for Don, waved my hands outward and waited for him to notice. Apparently he was entering some data into his computer and hadn't noticed I was in distress.
When he looked up and noticed, he shut down the scanner and rushed into the room. A few minutes later Blanche was at my side. Cold towels were offered while I continued to dry heave. When asked "When was the last time you ate something, I replied "Three days ago."
Immediately my IV was flushed and a bolus of Normal Saline was administered. This test was not going well. Dry heaves and an awesome headache lasted for another few minutes and the test was resumed. Unfortunately, with the time lapse after the dye was injected, the information they were looking for would be lost and this test might have to be rescheduled. They were going to check with the radiologist and the oncologist.
Later that afternoon the Imagine Center called to say the test would be put on hold until the oncologist was seen.
Still later that afternoon the oncologists office called and moved my appointment up to this Friday instead of next Tuesday. I don't know if that means good news or bad news.
Things are moving along at such a rapid pace. We are just making it through one day at a time.
More paperwork and then Don the MRI tech showed up. A big hug was exchanged and I introduced him to Fidel and April and said my goodbyes to them. April went to the back with me while I shed my jewelry and clothes and got into the gown we are all familiar with. I had taken a Klonopin so I was feeling calm and only wished for a place to sleep.
Blanche the nurse, and Don walked me back to the MRI room where Blanche explained the positioning for this test. It was done while laying on my stomach, my breasts placed in cup like holders, my chin on a holder with a mirror that reflected out into the room. I could see Don sitting behind the glassed wall that separated him from the MRI room.
20 minutes into the scan, the dye was injected. As soon as the taste reached my mouth, I started vomiting. I called for Don, waved my hands outward and waited for him to notice. Apparently he was entering some data into his computer and hadn't noticed I was in distress.
When he looked up and noticed, he shut down the scanner and rushed into the room. A few minutes later Blanche was at my side. Cold towels were offered while I continued to dry heave. When asked "When was the last time you ate something, I replied "Three days ago."
Immediately my IV was flushed and a bolus of Normal Saline was administered. This test was not going well. Dry heaves and an awesome headache lasted for another few minutes and the test was resumed. Unfortunately, with the time lapse after the dye was injected, the information they were looking for would be lost and this test might have to be rescheduled. They were going to check with the radiologist and the oncologist.
Later that afternoon the Imagine Center called to say the test would be put on hold until the oncologist was seen.
Still later that afternoon the oncologists office called and moved my appointment up to this Friday instead of next Tuesday. I don't know if that means good news or bad news.
Things are moving along at such a rapid pace. We are just making it through one day at a time.
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Wednesday, March 6th
It was Tuesday. Yesterday. The daughter and the husband and I made our way to OLOL Imaging Center. We sat together in the waiting room while I did the usual paperwork. The wait wasn't long. I was called to the second waiting room where I was given barium to drink. Two pints were left sitting on the table while the staff bought me a straw I had requested. The daughter joined me to wait. I managed to get 1 1/2 of that stuff swallowed before I felt as though all of it was going to come back up.
The tech arrived in about 20 minutes. I nixed the bra and the slacks and in my t shirt and the paper shorts supplied by the tech, I climbed up on the CT table. An IV was started with a butterfly needle. The scan was done without contrast and then via the needle the iodine contrast was sent mechanically into the vein. This test went much faster then anticipated. We were out of there and back home to wait for the second test which is today at 1100. An MRI of the right breast is scheduled.
The emotional roller coaster has been wicked. My daughter is inconsolible. As an only child and no siblings to lean on, this is especially tough on her. It is still too early in this diagnosis to know how to deal with it except to cry.
My general practioner called yesterday and prescribed some Klonopin and some Lexapro. I was grateful. The thoughts never stop. Projection is difficult not to do. We are all frightened.
I could go on but yesterday was a day of numbness for all of us on what was going on around us. We have been compressed into one little area with one big fear. It's smothering.
The tech arrived in about 20 minutes. I nixed the bra and the slacks and in my t shirt and the paper shorts supplied by the tech, I climbed up on the CT table. An IV was started with a butterfly needle. The scan was done without contrast and then via the needle the iodine contrast was sent mechanically into the vein. This test went much faster then anticipated. We were out of there and back home to wait for the second test which is today at 1100. An MRI of the right breast is scheduled.
The emotional roller coaster has been wicked. My daughter is inconsolible. As an only child and no siblings to lean on, this is especially tough on her. It is still too early in this diagnosis to know how to deal with it except to cry.
My general practioner called yesterday and prescribed some Klonopin and some Lexapro. I was grateful. The thoughts never stop. Projection is difficult not to do. We are all frightened.
I could go on but yesterday was a day of numbness for all of us on what was going on around us. We have been compressed into one little area with one big fear. It's smothering.
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