I had my first surgery… ever. From this I learned some valuable information: I bleed more than the average person, I metabolize local anesthesia faster than normal, and I am allergic to the fancy tape they use to dress the incision wound. The nurse said she would have sworn by my reactions that I was a natural redhead. Umm..compliment? Anyway, I now have a port in my chest with a tube that goes into my jugular vein and a catheter pointing toward my heart… so that’s awesome. Well, actually, it’s pretty great that it will be used to administer chemotherapy and I won’t have every vein in my arms completely sclerosed from repeated stabbings and the frying effects of chemo’s PH, or get any more bruises from people trying to draw blood out of my tiny, baby-veins. But right now, all I can think is, “Damn, this stab wound hurts”
Now, for some good news... results of the PET scan are in. The lump and the lymph nodes in my armpit are the only places that have cancer. No rogue cancer cells have broken off and set up residence in any other parts of my body.
And on the chances of future motherhood front, we went to the fertility folks yesterday and got confirmation from my oncologist that we’ll have enough time to harvest eggs before I start chemo. I have begun medications in prep for this, which I have to give myself…by way of a needle… in my abdomen… twice a day. This = A whole new level of respect for my diabetic friends. The $7,400 price tag feels immense right now, but the odds are high enough that chemo will destroy my eggs, and doing the embryo thing seems worth it to get a shot at the future I’ve always wanted.
It will be so lovely to take a break from cancer for a bit and enjoy the state fair tomorrow. Everything fried, in my face.