We have a date

DISCLAIMER:  This post may seem extremely negative and hypercritical.  I have debated not posting it, but since many of you have been supportive of posting my feelings regardless of the 'rawness', I have decided to go ahead with it.  Please note that there will be a follow-up post and there also may be a change in attitude.  Last, but not least, please do not forget that any and all feelings are still due to the sledgehammer that hit my life three weeks ago and I am still dealing with the myriad of feelings, good and bad, that accompany such an event.

for the surgery and frankly, I'm scared to death.  While I have accepted that surgery is the best route to start, it's nothing short of an execution date (of sorts) in my mind.  It's the end of this fabulously normal life I have been living and as much as I realize this particular change is necessary, the entire procedure and possible outcomes have me shaking in my boots.  However, considering how I felt at the beginning of the week, even that is a significant upgrade.

We began the week with a visit to a support person near the hospital where I will have surgery.  Peter and I met with C.  in the early afternoon.  Frankly, I was not eager as I was feeling very nervous about the possible follow-up treatments to the surgery (okay, STILL feeling that way) and had no desire for yet another person to try and convince me that they are in  "my best possible interests." So very tired of hearing that phrase.   Peter was also somewhat desperate to meet with her as he felt perhaps she could finally convince me that I should shirk the guilt that I feel over the entire situation.

We met, Peter exchanged pleasantries with her and it went uphill for him and downhill for me.  He ran through my history and then immediately touched on my concerns, from extra treatments to my guilt over the diagnosis and the how it would affect our lives.  She temporarily ignored the treatments (for which I was glad) and jumped right onto the guilt.  She wanted to know why I would feel guilty about 'being sick' and both Peter and I tried to explain about our lifestyle.  He discussed his current tour and then tried to explain how I was upset about possible treatments interfering with our future plans.

C. asked  it mattered if we could not leave the country in August (as we had hoped to do). Peter and I both tried to explain about our lifestyle, how we had planned everything so carefully, and had counted on departing for a new overseas post, as a family, no later than early fall of 2011.  She then asked why we simply couldn't wait or postpone, as after all, isn't my health paramount? (Insert how I still don't 'feel' sick here!)

NOTE: A lot of my angst about this situation is tied to the fact that we love our lives in the Foreign Service and desperately want to live overseas again as a family.  As there are fewer positions (the higher one goes) overseas in my husband's career track, we did everything we could to have the opportunity next year.  Even the unaccompanied tour was going to be leverage towards this overseas posting.  Now, due to my illness, everything is (in my opinion) in jeopardy.   Some folks like want the same house forever with the white picket fences…which is fine.  We, however, love the excitement and craziness of our current life and I can only blame myself for what will likely be the outcome of this current tour. I have nothing against our home country, but we didn't join the FS to live in the U.S. year after year.

I certainly don't fault her concern, but I was at my limit.  I gathered everything I had, all of my love of living overseas, all my ammunition about why were were so dedicated to this lifestyle and it came out in what could have been the most award winning moment of my life:

"Because I want to leave this flipping country!"

Um, yeah.  Follow that up with curling into a ball on a very uncomfortable office chair and bawling your eyes out and said award goes bye-bye.  Instead you might get a look that says you are flat off your rocker.  Peter was less than thrilled with my response, to say the least.

He did his best to make amends on all accounts, but I was livid.  We managed to get through the rest of the meeting by reviewing my now confusing (at best) diagnosis and going back and forth on whether a surgery date had been scheduled, if our date of choice could be had and being handed a slew of information on support groups.  We finally finished and then headed upstairs to the surgeon's office to finalize the surgery date…or so we thought.  

Unfortunately, the person we needed was on the phone and we realized we would never have a chance to talk with her.  We realized I also needed a follow-up appointment with the surgeon and could simply set the date then.  Luckily, we were able to snag a visit for the next morning.  Nothing like starting off the day with a trip to yet another doctor.

The appointment started off quietly enough with the standard exam.  Peter then reviewed some of our questions, and all went well until we started discussing future treatments.  Granted, nothing will be final until the surgery, but we questioned why chemo and radiation (remember what I didn't want to discuss last week?) suddenly seemed not only back on the table, but nearly definite.   I got the standard "You are so young, we need to be aggressive" answer that has done nothing but annoy the heck out of me.  

The real problem is that I am just tired of this entire situation.  I have been inundated with nothing but (mostly) bad news for the past three weeks.  Our lives have been turned upside down and we are in limbo indefinitely.  I am beginning to think there should be some sort of comprehensive list of doctors who "get" the Foreign Service.  It still didn't seem to click  that this is more than just an inconvenience in our schedule, but that we are going to have to revamp our lives in so many ways.

I also don't think it was understood why I was nervous about some of the side effects of the surgery. From swollen limbs from lymph node removal (if needed) to infections, I am simply freaked. The statistics scare the bejeezus out of me, especially considering that this surgery is not something I requested or desire.  I finally just let Peter continue with his line of questioning. We did get confirmation that while it is still the more drastic surgery,  it will be skin-sparing (but, sadly, nothing else).  We finally finished up the appointment with date discussion and got the happy news from the front desk that *maybe* we would know by Friday.

We escaped the office and stopped to have a coffee and review the less than stellar appointment. Our disagreements over what should happen still continued (I fear lymph node removal, not surprisingly, he doesn't) and we had to agree to disagree.  We picked Nicholas up on time for a change (a miracle as of late) and managed to catch up with a friend for a bit in the early afternoon.

It wasn't the best day, but by evening things had become calmer.  Cait had her first school concert of the year and it was a distraction I desperately needed.  I have had this feeling of late that I have "patient" tatooed on my forehead.  From the frequent trips to the hospital, the nerve-wracking discussions about our future and the thoughts about potential treatments, I haven't been able to focus on anything but this situation.  Cait's concert changed that for two whole hours, and I was able to simply be her mom and we ignored everything "BC" related until we got home.  More arguments, more disagreements, and little or no sleep to be had.  Despite all of that, I was still willing and almost eager to meet with Dr. X the next morning.  After all, his job is to make me look better, rather than, well….

Our wait was not quite as long and the visit much shorter and we even had a surprise.  We had not heard so much as a peep out of the surgeon's office, yet the minute Dr. X walked into the exam room, the words "So, we have a date!" flew out of his mouth.  Um, we do?

Sure enough, the surgeon's office had set the date, but we had not received a phone call.  In the end, it didn't really matter, as it was the date we requested, but still…   The visit with Dr. X was fairly routine with measurements taken, a nice pre-surgical photo op (cringe), and a few words of comfort.  He was sure that my side effects would be minimal, I would not have abnormal swelling issues (thus helping me stress less about the possible node removal) and answered question after question about reconstruction.  Due to the possibility of future treatments, it will not be at the same time as the surgery…could be a few months from now, it could (gulp), be next summer.    

We also received the happy news that since I am not having reconstruction at the same time, I have much more flexibility.  I have more time to research my options and can even opt for a temporary implant if we need to delay the 'official' surgery for any reason.  I suppose, ideally, I would do it all at once, but I think the extra time to come to terms with the nature of the primary surgery will be good for me.  For once a visit I could tolerate..and how does one follow that up?

*At some point I may reveal names, but for now I am granting those helping me a certain bit of anonymity.  I do highly recommend Dr. X and will gladly share his name off-line.