I think I should have blogged this earlier today because now, I'm sad and I can't really be as descriptive as I'd like to be.
Suffice it to say... if you ever have to have a pet scan, prepare yourself to suck down about a quart of chalk water with berry flavoring (barium suspension) and also... be ready to lay still for about 20 minutes with your arms above your head as you get shoved back and forth in a big tube.
The ct scan, not much better. The upside is that they did them both together... but the down side was that the fluid they shot into my IV, made me warm and tingly in places that I wasn't quite prepared to feel heat in. Might have been a good time if I had gone to my appointment with my boyfriend instead of my mother. :)
I don't know what I'm expecting from people when they learn that I have breast cancer but whatever reaction I'm looking for, I'm really not getting. The nurses and techs today were pleasant... but early in the day, one of the nurses kept giving me the sad pitiful face... and it was really unnerving to me. She remembered when my surgeon had gone through all the same things that I was going through (remember she's a breast cancer survivor, 2.5 years now). I guess it was because she was an older black lady, she felt a bit more compassion for me. Or maybe I was looking pitiful this morning and she fed off that energy. I don't know... but by the time we parted -- after I was put into the "meditative room" to rest while the radioactive fluid had time to circulate through my body and I drank my chalk water -- I thought I was going to cry. It didn't help that the room they leave you in while you are preparing for the scans, is very quiet with low lighting.
Honestly... I don't think that's what is bothering me.
*sigh*
My films were reviewed by some great doctors at NIH today... and they agreed with Dr. Siegel... its not looking good for saving my breast. I swear, every time I think I'm getting this down... something comes along and shifts me again. A really sweet sister who is in my email group, made the offer to have the doctors at her job review my films, just to get another perspective about my treatment options. Just a small thing she did for me out of the kindness of her heart.
I don't know what I was expecting... but somehow I think I thought it would make me feel better for someone to say... "hey... those doctors you have now are good but there are super-doctors out here who can swoop in to save the day...and the boobie!"
Not gonna happen.
Though they weren't giving me a real "second opinion" they gave me a good insight into the possibilities for my future with my "girls". Basically... Fred is a bastard and not only did he move in without an invitation, and bring friends... he has the nerve to be moving beyond his own borders. Which means (just like Dr. Siegel told me weeks ago)... having a lumpectomy would not be the best move. Fred might just be the tenant from hell -- and come back -- unless the entire breast is removed.
**blank face**
Can I scream now? Cry now? Shout now? Sure. Will any of that make it better for my boobie-friend? Not likely.
The news left me deflated. And the air has been slowly leaking out of my tires all night. I'm anxious, I'm itchy (the skin around my port is irritated by the bandage adhesive I've been wearing all week)... I'm hungry (couldn't eat last night and haven't had anything satisfactory all day). I'm just ... ugh. Deflated is the best word I can use.
I am all over the place right now. This would have been a good night for a hug...
