….and all through the house,

not a creature …well, the boys are sleeping ….the dog is out…. ah, screw it, I can’t even get past the first line! hehe

So tomorrow morning, I will get up and head to the first of two buildings of U of M hospital.  My first visit is to nuclear medicine, where they will inject a dye into my leg to find the node that they need to remove and take x-rays or photos or something of said dye-injected leg.

By mid afternoon, I will be at my second building for the actual surgery (x2).  The surgery (-ies) will remove fairly large area around the mole that was originally removed to make sure there is no remaining melanoma in the surrounding cells; the second surgical area is wherever they find that node, but probably right in the crease of my leg.

Here, in no specific order, are my concerns:

1. That they will find additional cancer cells in either the surrounding area or the node (obviously)
2. That they will screw up and use steri-strips, thereby giving me hives
3. That they will either screw up, or be unable to find, an antibiotic that won’t cause an allergic reaction.
4. That I will be nauseous after the surgery (I don’t do well with feeling good after anesthesia)
5. That I won’t be able to use the crutches, thereby falling on my face and hurting the crap out of myself post-surgery.
6. That I won’t be able to move around effectively enough for Mike to go back to work on Monday.
7. That I’ll pass out from being STARVED for so many hours (and that I won’t be able to eat – see #4)

So I am nervous….cautiously optimistic….hoping for the best, preparing for the worst. Honestly, it doesn’t seem real. I mean, almost like it’s not a real cancer – seriously? a freaking mole?? How can that be serious?

Here’s the thing…I know it’s CANCER, but compared to what my cousin went through, it’s almost nothing.  He is a vision of strength; he has come so far in a year and I am amazed by him.  I’m not discounting my own experience, but any person that can go through 13 hours of surgery to have a tumor removed from his brain and go back to work as a firefighter has my utmost respect.

Alas, it is still a fairly major medical procedure and I do truly appreciate all of the thoughts, prayers, good mojo, whatever that you all are sending out there for me.

I’ve got my iphone loaded with games, music and videos (Alias, I’m looking at you to get me through this!).  I intend to tweet as I go, lean on my love who will be spending the day with me in waiting rooms (but at least HE gets to eat and drink!), and keep everyone updated.  I have a stack of magazines waiting by the couch and Canada Dry in my car (my go-to sick drink).

See ya’ll after!

xoxo

For those of you wondering, I did hear back from the surgeon.  Here’s the rundown:

I have a pre-op physical scheduled for Aug. 20th.

I have a 10am appoint in Nuclear Medicine to have dye injected, that’s supposed to take about 2 hours, and then I’ll head over to the actual surgery.  That’s scheduled for August 26th.

So there we go. 

———————–

I’m slightly nervous, but not so much about the surgery (x2) itself or even the results of the lymph node biopsy (cautiously optimistic).  My big fear? Allergic reaction. I had horrible allergic reactions after both c-sections to the antibiotics AND the steri-strips.  I was MIS.ER.A.BLE. I also had a reaction after I had my wisdom teeth out, so we know of AT LEAST 3 antibiotic families, in pill form anyway, that I cannot have.  And last week, after I had my stitches removed, it was confirmed that I am also allergic to steri-strips.

Seriously, the misery of surgical recovery is NOTHING compared to the misery of surgical recovery with hives ALL OVER resulting in continuous swelling and itching and annoyance. And this time? No sweet, cooing, adorable, yummy smelling baby at the end of recovery!  So, in addition to good juju and vibes for them getting it all, no complications, and smart doctors, send some out that they can find an antibiotic that won’t make me want to tear my skin off!! I’d appreciate it (and certainly, Mike would too!)

———————

In the meantime, I haven’t planned my sons’ birthday party, our trip to the beach, or any number of other summer things we need to get done before school starts.  At least I know when those things CAN’T be though, right??

10:31 Let the waiting commence!!! Sitting in a lovely (hospital) gown, waiting for my melanoma consultation. Nursing staff nice, cancer center nice, room freaking hot!

Bored. Not enough signal to tweet or email; Mike is reading the only good magazine. My pants look lonely over there on the chair. Heh.

In other news, my brother is on day 2 of his bar exam, so sending him kick butt vibes (results not til Nov though!).

My dad’s wife actually offered not only to come with me to this appointment but also asked if I needed help with the kids! Be aware people, the world must be coming to an end!

Did I mention it’s fracking hot in here?!
———-
10:56. Been in room and undressed since 10:25. BORED. Come on doc!!
———-
11:23 consultation complete, checked out, heading to lunch with my love.

Basic information – they are going to do additional surgery – 2 at once, actually – to remove about 1-2 cm around original mole removal site AND remove the connected lymph node in my groin area. We pretty much expected that, so there was no big surprise (well, except the lymph node area/removal, as we weren’t sure about how that worked). It’s outpatient surgery (honestly, would rather stay overnight given my general reaction to anesthesia and antibiotics, but since my insurance is covering everything, I’m not going to complain!  The surgery itself should take 1-2 hours, but they will be injecting dye to find the right node (technology is COOL) beforehand, so I’m sure it will be an all day affair. I’ll keep you posted!  The surgeon is going to call me to schedule. Hopefully we can get it done sooner than later.

After the surgery, they test the lymph node to make sure the melanoma hasn’t spread (chances look good that it hasn’t) and if no spreading, I get to see my dermatologist every 6 months for like 3 years to keep an eye out for an other suspicious spots.  If it has spread….well, we’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.

Thanks to all of you for thinking of me here, in person, and on twitter. You are my rocks. xoxo

So ever since my failed attempt to give blood last week, I have been

• exercising
• limiting Coke
• limiting junk / fast food
• drinking more water
• checking my blood pressure

Today I had a doctor’s appointment with my PCP.  Dr. C is pretty cool. He’s quick with a joke and a smile, friendly and generally seems to know what he’s talking about.  And he’s big on notes…if you go in for a flu shot, you’ll leave with one of his very neatly written notes on what happened during the visit and what should happen after. No excuses that you didn’t remember; he’s got you covered.

My blood pressure today? High again.   I told him about trying to give blood and that my bp was 140/110 that night.  He was mildly concerned and we discussed ways to get it a bit lower.  First, I’m to continue with the exercising….that’s his big thing – fitness, not weight.  His theory is if I’m exercising, the weight will naturally come off – he wants slow and steady.  Of course, watching what I eat (though he made me promise not to stress out about it or that would have an adverse affect on my bp!).  He started to tell me to reduce my stress, but then laughed and said that he knew better. That cracked me up. And then he took some blood.  A mere three vials, but he’s running the ER special (CBC, Chem 7 hehe) as well as thryoid to make sure it’s not something wonky.  And then? He wrote me a prescription.  BP meds. Lowest dose available, but still.

And if I keep working out and eating better?  I’ll possibly be off of them again with 3-6 months.

Now I have a goal.

And I need a pill organizer, because he also made me promise to take my vitamins and calcium supplements every day.

Getting older sucks. But at least I have a doctor who makes me laugh and takes away my worries…all for a mere $20 copay.

My friend, Sunshine, and I, go out to dinner once a month to catch up and get out. Yesterday, she called and we decided to go out tonight – but before dinner, we were going to go donate blood at our local Red Cross center. It had been the requisite 56 days for her; I can’t remember the last time I gave. Appointments were made. I was looking forward to finally giving – my mom {sheepish} works for the Red Cross and always gives me a hard time for not donating {/sheepish} and it’s truly such an easy thing to do to help.

We got there early and read the warnings and laminated booklet with all of the questions – have you been out of the country? have you taken any of these medications? did you ever live in any of the 34 countries? Then signed our names and went to wait.

So there are blood services people who check people in – they take them into little rooms, check their temperatures, verify identity, check iron levels, blood pressure and re-ask all the questions. The rooms are stark; the blood services person I got? Not all that friendly.

The visit started good enough – she asked my name, asked for id, verified that I knew the information on my id {SIDE NOTE: do people actually fake identity so they can give blood??}, verified that I knew I was female (was totally trying not to laugh) and where I lived. Then she stuck a paper thermometer under my tongue, pricked my finger to check for iron levels and took my blood pressure. Then frowned. Then typed in big numbers, frowned again, and asked if I had a history of high blood pressure.

Sometimes this adoption thing sucks, yo

She checked my bp with the “more accurate” cuff {yeah, don’t be afraid of using that the first time, eh?}, and still, numbers were too high. Meanwhile, my tongue is starting to be chopped up by the damn paper thermometer, so I pull it out to speak. She’s printing paperwork, telling me I can’t donate and I still had that damn thermometer in my mouth!!

Apparently, with high blood pressure, giving them blood would be “dangerous”. No more information was offered. I was handed a piece of paper, told to check back another time and dismissed.

And beyond disappointed.

With the process, with her lack of compassion and explanation, with myself.

I guess I had been waiting for a sign; something to kick my ass into gear to start eating better and exercising regularly.

Denial to give blood at the Red Cross beats a heart attack or stroke or something else, I guess.

Tomorrow I will exercise, one way or another. And then on Friday? I’ll worry about Friday. One day at a time, I’ll get in better shape, get healthier.

One day at a time.

Dammit.