Tuesday, September 5, 2006

This weekend was awful. I was so upset after the doctor appointments, I cried and cried. I went to bed early Friday, about 6:00pm, got up Saturday and took a shower then cried and cried some more. I called Mom and said I'd go over, but then spent more time crying.

Finally I thought to take something, and after that kicked in I was able to stop crying. It had been like finding out about having cancer all over again, and it felt like the chemo had been 16 weeks of false hope. The tears are still just below the surface, but I've been able to get mad, and I seemed to find some clarity in the post crying, Zanax-induced calm.

I'm mad at both doctors for not paying enough attention to the films, and just going on what they could feel. I'm mad at both of them for not having enough communication between them (I don't feel this surgeon is fully on the "breast preservation" bandwagon). So I'm going to ask the radiologist at the imaging center on Friday to show me both sets of films again before the biopsy, so I can look for the things that I remember the first radiologist back in March pointing out to me. If there is cancer in any other spot, I'm not doing the surgery (mastectomy) without a second opinion. I am not happy w/ my surgeon right now.

If I hadn't said something about the other spots on the films, they would just done the lumpectomy (or as my friend DJ is now calling it, the limectomy, based on the size of what will have to be removed…haha) and not even thought about the other spot, which is still not the calcification spots I remember the radiologist in March showing me. So that's my plan. I'm sure I'll be more mad at them both after how painful this needle biopsy will be, which, by the way, they should have done months ago before starting chemo and before telling me they though they could do just a lumpectomy. Then depending on the outcome of the biopsy, I either yell at them both, or refuse surgery and get another opinion. Mad and stubborn works better for me than crying. I cried so much Friday night and Saturday that from the sniffling and such causing movement in my chest muscles I guess, my port tube was all swollen around and sore. It's ok now though. And that's another reason this surgeon is not getting any slack from me…I think this three-inch scar on my chest is about 6 inches toward the center of my chest farther than it needed to be…now it will show forever. Not a happy camper here.