Follow-Up Visit

Last Wednesday, January 18th, was my follow-up visit since my surgery. It is with great pleasure that I can actually report that everything was (almost) as smooth as a baby's bottom. My appointment with my doctor was at 10:30am so they told me to arrive by 10:15am for my xrays. I was in and out of my xrays by a little after 10:20am and in the room waiting for my doctor around 10:45am. Miracle of Jesus? I think so.

When my doctor came in the room I met him with a grin from ear to ear telling him what a fantastic job he did with the placement of the incision through my tattoo. He smiled and said, "Yes, you reminded me for the fifth time to be careful with it as you were crying before we put you under..." I mean, I told the stupid lady I wasn't drugged up enough while being wheeled into surgery! What the heck did they expect.

He handed me a report of the operation which I don't remember getting from my follow-up the last time. He informed me that my margins were clean and that my xrays looked great - I am healing well and properly. As I read through the pages I saw the Pathology report. It stated that both masses were, in fact, Leiomyosarcoma. So, the "questionable" one they weren't sure about turned out to be Cancer as well. I'm glad he removed both.

When I asked how much of my lung he removed he said, "Minimal - about 2%." I was super happy. He originally told me it would be more like 5-10% before the surgery. Since my mother couldn't be at the appointment she armed me with a list of additional questions to ask. One being how much metal I had in my body in case of MRI's in my future. What I was unaware of this whole time (and perhaps it was foolish of me not to realize but whatev) was that I had/have many staples in both my lungs from the surgeries. He said during many or most surgical procedures people wind up with these. It still seems odd to me to have staples in there. He basically said they were like a normal staple you would see on a sheet of paper. I just find it weird to think about - that a staple is holding parts of my lung closed. Wouldn't the tissue rip? Clearly, I'm no doctor.

Because it seems stupid to me to travel into NY for my CT Scans following this being that the only reason I would do so is to meet with a doctor afterwards (and since my current doctor is my lung doctor, technically he wouldn't really be "examining" me by looking at my healed incisions), I asked if he would care if I went to the NJ Sloan from now on for my tests. God willing they will be clean moving forward and I won't have to worry about getting bad news delivered to me again. However, the only time I ever went to the Basking Ridge location was the CT that showed the tumor in my left lung...soooo, I don't have the fondest memories of that place. I can only hope this last year was the worst and it'll be better from here on out. One can dream, no?

As I was making my CT appointment for April, I made sure they were for my abdomen, pelvis and chest - the same CT's I've literally been receiving for over three years now. The girl (most definitely younger then me) behind the desk tells me that they were only ordered for my chest. Um, why?

I had a little tiff with some other older chick behind the desk when she stated with a slight attitude that it was all my doctor ordered after I calmly said that I had never had this issue before. "It's not an issue, I just need to clarify." I turned to my dad while she was still standing there and asked if I said anything with an attitude because I thought I was just simply asking a legitimate question. Why must there always seem be someone unpleasant that I wind up speaking or dealing with? I just don't get it. There is no way in hell I would accept only getting CT's done of my chest when the ONLY reason they found the tumor in my lung after almost three years of being Cancer free was due to a test that technically I didn't need. My Cancer was vaginal - technically I should've only been getting pelvic CT's done. My (extremely smart) doctor that performed my second surgery of the margins around where my initial tumor was removed in my vag ordered the additional CT's knowing that the lungs were an area it could possibly show up in again. There is no way in hell I would go without getting all three areas scanned. The additional scan saved my life - in my eyes, anyway.

After some discussion the three were ordered and my appointment was made for April 18th in NJ. Now comes the waiting period. Last time around I was hoping to start my "Cancer Free" weekly/monthly/yearly counting but clearly that didn't work out too well for me. Hopefully I'll be able to do it this time.

When New Year's 2011 came I said to my friends that this was going to be a good year - it had to be. At that time I thought 2010 wasn't the greatest of years and 2011 could only get better. Ha. I obviously don't have very good intuition when it comes to things like that. This New Year's I was hesitant to even think silently in my head that it had to be a better year. Look where it got me last year! Sometimes it's difficult to stay positive when it seems like you keep getting kind of beat down. I'm trying to look at this last surgery go-around with a smile...and I am, I really am. But what's next? I'm a little afraid to find out. But I guess it is what it is and I'll take it as it comes to me. What else can I do?

As my dad and I were leaving, I looked over and said how crazy it was that we were actually seen on time and leaving the hospital with most of the day left instead of spending hours upon hours in the waiting room. We were going down on an elevator with like, six other people. It stopped on two floors and then hit floor #2. No one got on, no one got off. The doors closed. A few seconds went by and they opened again...on floor 2. No one got on. The doors closed again. A few more seconds went by. The doors opened again...on floor fucking 2! Once again the doors closed, seconds went by, doors opened and we were still on the same floor. My foot was now in my mouth since I had obviously spoken too soon. Only me, people. Only me.

My dad and I along with a few others got off to wait for another elevator. Someone passed us and went in our elevator. Expecting to see them a few seconds later I told them it wasn't working...but wouldn't you know the doors didn't open showing the same people. They didn't open at all - because, of course, it was working now. Seeing an Exit Sign I decided to use the stairs being that we only had one flight to descend. I was greeted by someone that worked in the hospital telling me that no one was allowed to use the stairs unless they were staff. I wish I could've had an out of body experience so that I could've seen the look on my own face. Um, only staff was allowed to use the stairs? What kind of total bullshit is that? So, what if there's an emergency? I've never heard something so ridiculous in my entire life, I said with definitely not the most pleasant tone.

By this time my dad's temper was in full force and he was ranting and raving about how there's no way in hell it was possible that only people who worked in the hospital were allowed to use the stairs. We waited for what seemed like an eternity until finally, the same elevator we were originally in opened. You're kidding me, right? Needless to say it was now miraculously working and we were finally free. Well, hallelujah.

As for the healing process, I'm doing well. I still get pain from time to time but now it's just more so mending and tenderness rather then real pain. Except a few days ago I had another episode where I guess I slept wrong and woke up in an insane amount of agony as to where I could barely breathe. When I tried to take a deep breath a sharp, intense, shooting pain shot through my lung. This caused me to breathe as shallow as possible, causing my anxiety level to rise and so I immediately downed some percocets and xanax. My lovely morning breakfast cocktail of pills. Good morning!

Other then that, I attempted strapping on a bra and though it's not complete torture, it's still not a pleasant occurrence so I guess I'll have to wait a little longer to return to complete normalcy. I've also tried singing and that's not going too well. I can't hold out a note to save my life so I sound like crap but that will come back in time. In all honesty, compared to the last recovery this one is a walk in the park. I'm just looking forward to being able to drive myself (they tell you you shouldn't drive for 4 weeks in case of an accident - you could be held accountable...no thank you!) places and start living normally again. I'm getting there.