Birthday Wishes

Hello ladies and gentlemen, as you all have guessed, I survived my total thyroidectomy.  It wasn't easy nor pretty (seriously, my scar looks like a lady's body part on my neck).  The first night after my surgery was pretty awful.  First, it took them about four to five hours just to find me a room, and I ended up being the last person out of recovery.  As they were wheeling me to my floor, I saw my sweetie when the nurse pushed me around the corner.  The moment I saw him - bammmm.  I threw up all over myself.  It was like a freaking horror movie.

Loving boyfriend appears on screen.

Heroine pukes on herself.

And scene.

The anesthesia and I ended up duking it out that night, and I lost.  I couldn't stop getting sick and couldn't hold anything in my stomach.  The second trip to the little girls' room I made that night - it ended with me passing out and waking up to eight or so medical professionals surrounding me.  The nurse's aid was helping me to the sink.  I could feel myself getting weak and everything was getting quieter.  She asked if she needed to go get a chair for me.  I said yes and please get it quickly. 

When I woke up, I was wondering why they were waking me up from such a lovely dream.  I was surrounded by so many unfamiliar faces, telling me, "DON'T CLOSE YOUR EYES, LARA."  It was very nonsensical to me.  I was so sleepy - of course I wanted to close my eyes.  The nurse's aid told me that when I passed out and I was falling to the chair, I hit my head on the back of the wall.  I was also told later that my blood pressure was very low and I was hypocalcemic.  They kept injecting me with anti-nausea meds (one of which caused a nasty allergic reaction on my arm, ugh), and waking me up every hour to check my vitals.  They came close to moving me to a monitor floor, but ended up just putting me in a wait and see mode.

My surgeon told me around 8 that morning that my night O terror won me another night in the hospital.  Fantastic.  My roommate was an 80 something woman with dementia who kept yelling at the nurses.  At first I thought she was a little cray-cray.  After being woken up numerous times that night and the next, I understood why she kept yelling at them.  "Why won't you let me sleep?" she kept asking the first night.  The next night, I kept asking, "Why won't you let me sleep?"  Hope you're doing well, Gertrude.

I got released from the pokey around 10 in the morning on the second day, also known as my birthday.  My calcium levels are still low but my surgeon thinks I can manage it myself.  I was told if my extremeties start to go numb, I have to go to the emergency room and get on an IV of calcium.  So far, so good.

I don't know if it's the drugs or the fact that the fuzz on my head is really noticeable now... but I was in a fantastic mood yesterday for my birthday.  When my sweetie and I got home last night, I popped some painkillers and watched television.  He gave my birthday gift: the newest Harry Potter on DVD/Blueray.  Sweet!  Just what I wanted.  We ate the mini-cake my stepmom bought me for my birthday.  It was exactly the kind of birthday I wanted to have.

Every birthday from here on out is going to be special to me, but definitely not cause for celebration or partytiems.  I'm done with that - seriously.  This is going to sound completely sentimental of me and even borderline cliche.... Every birthday I have after my cancer diagnosis is a giant FU to cancer.  I was 30 years old when I was diagnosed, and now I'm 31.  Every year I get older, the more I can say, "I'm a X amount of year breast cancer survivor."  I think that's pretty darn cool. 

Thank you everyone for the birthday wishes and the general get well sentiments.  I really appreciate it.  I promise you and more importantly, I promise myself that this is the year I'm going to get stronger.  30 sucked and I have a feeling that 31 is going to be the year I get better. 

And the winner is...

What a week.  I had my first consultation on Tuesday, and that was with my radiation oncologist.  I am going to name this doctor Duke Nuke'm (thanks twin).  Out of all of my doctors, I like this one the most or maybe I'm seeing him in a super favorable light because he's spearheading the final phase of my treatment.  He recommended that I have my thyroid removed prior to radiation.

Which leads us to my Wednesday doctor's appointment.  I met with the surgeon who specializes in thyroids.  He agreed that it's time to take my thyroid out, and we scheduled my thyroid removal for this Tuesday (only two days before my birthday).  I don't care - the thyroid has to come out soon so I can still start radiation within the recommended time frame.  This body part of mine has been a pain in the ass for too long, so it needs to GTFO now.

I know I've written about this before but I'm done celebrating my birthday.  I wanted 30 to be my last birthday celebration, and that's still the case.  30 had some awesome moments - jet skiing, parasailing, white water rafting, getting a puppy.  30 also had some really shitty moments, so it seems almost appropriate for me to end this year drugged out of my mind on pain killers, haha.  I'm keeping my fingers crossed that 31 is the year I get stronger and on my way to recovery.

How I'll celebrate my birthday.

This week

A lot is going on in Laraland during this week.  I have my first appointment with the radiation oncologist on Tuesday, a follow-up appointment with a surgeon who specializes in thyroids on Wednesday, and then a consultation with an oncology surgeon who specializes in breasts on Thursday.  On top of all of this, I'm allegedly getting a fence installed on my property.  I say allegedly because the jagoff contractors said they'd be coming three days ago and informed me (after I called THEM) that no, they are coming this coming Tuesday or Wednesday.  If they don't come this week, then I'm unleashing so much rage onto someone.  

I really hope the radiation oncologist, who has yet to be nicknamed obviously, can let me know when I'm going to start radiation.  I want to start treatment yesterday.  I know I should be grateful that I have this time off to rest and recuperate.  I am, but I really want to know the end date.  I think knowing the end date to all this cancer crap would make the waiting game a lot less excruciating.  It seems like a good 20 or 30 percent of my life since being diagnosed has been waiting.  So yes, I am very anxious about Tuesday's appointment because once I know the end date and what the onco thinks I can and cannot handle, then I'm just one step closer to The End.

The consultations with the thyroid surgeon and the breast surgeon are also big ones.  My thyroid has to come out.  When I was getting my mammogram done last year, I was also getting tests done on my thyroid.  I have six nodules on it - five being hot and one being cold.  Or maybe it's vice versa.  Whatever, one of the nodules is suspicious for cancer, so I want this body part to GTFO of my body.  

I'm also seeing a breast surgeon to discuss if I ever come to the point I want to have a double mastectomy.  I never really talked with a specialist about that or my options in general.  I'm a couple of weeks away from turning 31 and I'm wondering what I have to do to make sure I live to see 40.  If it means taking my boobs and living the rest of my life as a No Cup, then so be it.  At least I'd be alive.  I'm optimistic that my aggressive treatment beat the snot out of my cancer but I'm also realistic.  I'm the daughter of a woman who fought a five-year battle with this disease and died a couple weeks shy of her 41st birthday.  I have to do what I can to make sure I live much longer than her.