The Countdown to Doomsday.

I'm sure I've used the term Doomsday or D-Day more then a few times during the course of my journey with Cancer. However, I feel that this might really be the most emotionally trying surgery I'll have had for a few reasons. One, I'll be losing more of my lung this time then the last time. Two, I have no clue what type of surgery I'll wind up getting until I wake up from it. Three, there's a strong possibility due to the location of the small tumors that I will wind up with another major surgery. Four, knowing the torturous recovery I went through less then 7 months ago (that I'm still suffering from), the possibility of having to relive that all over again is causing me to take more then a few xanax every day.

I've said it once and I'll say it again - it's the not knowing part that makes it the most difficult to deal with. At least when you know exactly what is going to take place, even if it's the worst possible thing you can think of, you still have time to mentally prepare. When you don't know, you don't know what to do. Do you pray and hope and wish for the best possible scenario and then have it be a total slap in the face if it turns out the other way? Do you just prepare for the worst even when everyone around you is telling you not to?

The "problem" with me is that I'm a realist. I've said it before that some people may take this as me having a negative side but I do not feel that way at all. For me, it's easier to examine all possible outcomes and prepare for the worst but hope for the best rather then expect the best and feel totally devastated when it doesn't turn out the way I want. Of course I am hoping for a slight miracle - that they can be removed laparoscopically (and that my tattoo won't be ruined...). But what if they can't? I'll wake up from surgery and hear that they had to cut me open again and I'll be heartbroken. Just the thought of having to go through that horrible recovery AGAIN kills me...but I feel that it's better to be prepared for that possibility then to pretend it won't happen.

I received a call on Friday, 12/30, from Sloan telling me that I need to be at the hospital at 7am. I'm quite happy with this because I'm hoping I'll be the first surgery of the day. The last time I had to be there much later in the morning/afternoon and they didn't wind up taking me into surgery until like 4-5pm because they were running behind. Do you know how horrible that is? You can't eat after midnight the night before plus you have all these terrible thoughts running through your mind all day. So basically, you're on the verge of insanity. I don't know why they do that to people.

Side note: the person from Sloan that called me was some Joe-Shmoe off the block and not a nurse. Not that I don't know what to expect but I did have a few questions that I could've used an answer to. She told me she couldn't answer them. Um, is it me or would you think a nurse would call telling you what to do to prepare, what to bring, what to wear, answer questions, etc.? Once again, maybe I'm asking for too much. I feel like I'm always asking for too much when it comes to medical things. Like, is it too much to ask that my Medicaid Representative call me back after four consecutive days of leaving messages and faxing her? Apparently. Someone finally called me back after the 4th day stating my Rep was out for the week. How nice. Perhaps her voicemail should've stated that. Whoops - there I go again. Asking too much. Anywho...

At least this time hopefully I'll be taken right in, start my recovery sooner, be able to eat/drink something sooner and GOD WILLING be able to leave that fucking hospital as soon as possible. I've come to both love and absolutely loathe Sloan-Kettering. I know I'm in the best hands but at the same time just the thought of trekking into the city for doctor appointments, blood work, injections, surgery, etc...makes me want to stick a fork in my eye.

By this time tomorrow I'll know what kind of recovery I'm looking at. Again, I'm hoping/praying for the best outcome - if only for the sake of my boobs. If I need another full-fledged-cut-me-open-bend-my-ribs surgery the Ladies are going to be on their own for quite a while because I'm honestly not sure when the next time they'll be able to reunite with a bra will be. For all the women out there who are well endowed, I know you feel my pain. It's not easy living a bra-less life.

Anyway, in preparation I've cleaned my entire house, my room is spotless, my bedding is in the dryer so I can climb into a fresh-sheets bed tonight and I've packed a bag for the hospital that will allow me to stay for one-five nights. I will be bringing a nice supply of xanax

I just want to get it over with already. My next entry will either be an incredibly happy or incredibly angry one. Hoping for the first option. Tonight I will be enjoying my "Last Supper" of sushi and hibachi and I have scheduled a massage for myself after that. There's nothing more I can really do. Hoping for the best, preparing for the worst. Hear we go again. I'm hoping to kicking off 2012 with something that I can be happy with rather then upset about...I guess we shall see tomorrow.