The day is set, the calendar has been marked, it’s a very important date. It’s the date when my breast will be removed. A sobering statement to make, even more so to write. So before we get into that, I will share a bit about our time in Portland.
As I had shared in my last post, this trip to Portland would be a turning point in this breast cancer journey. The point where the count down would begin.
My husband and I left early on a Wednesday morning (my parents were bringing the kids up to meet us later in the day). We love road trips and being just the two of us was a great opportunity for us to enjoy the road, music, conversation, some normalcy before our lives would be met with a kind of finality that we hadn’t yet experienced.
We were scheduled to meet with doctors at 3 different facilities, all accomplished, professional, superior surgeons and all had something different to offer. First appointment was with a plastic surgeon. The office was adorned with soft and puffy couches, fluffy pillows, billowing white curtains, it was glamour and luxury, everything that my other doctors offices were not. There was no hint of cancer anywhere. It was in this stylish waiting room that I felt the full weight of the cold hard ugly truth closing in. I was in this beautiful and sophisticated office to talk about implants, scars and mounds where I currently have breasts. I am not a perfect candidate for a simple and easy reconstruction. I am plus size and I am currently a DDD cup size and they do not make implants in this size, they normally come up to 800cc’s which would “be like a mosquito bite” on me, according to the nurse. The good news was that this doctor had recently been approved for a trial to use larger implants, and I was a good candidate. Finally a glimpse of light in this dark tunnel.
Our next appointment was with a breast surgeon/oncologist. The office walls were beige and boring, it was your average sterile environment, quite the contrast from the last office. My husband and I were taken to a large room with a firm vinyl couch where we sat distracting one another, joking and laughing. A tiny sweet and spunky woman joined us about 15 minutes later, we immediately loved her, she was warm and funny, she put us at ease. Like many other doctors she was intrigued and excited by my case and my history. She was confident in my surgery and the outcome and she was ready to schedule my surgery after spending an hour of undivided attention on me. We left there hopeful, feeling positive and in a hurry to get to OHSU in time for our next appointment.
Initially my husband and I had high expectations for our meetings at OHSU, the facility is amazing, the doctors are on the leading edge. This was the place for us, the other appointments were just to do our due diligence. We were sure of the team at OHSU, they would surely have options we hadn’t yet heard. My hopes were honestly way beyond reason, fantasy like even. These hopes were stalled from the moment I checked in, I’m not sure if it was the uncontrollable eye rolling that came from the neon blue eye shadowed clerk at the check-in desk or the fact that she couldn’t be bothered to look up from her social media to speak to me in a decent manner. Either way her surly attitude made me want to run away. This was all feeling too real and much too harsh.
Our time at OHSU that day would prove to be a giant mess, my appointments had been moved around and mixed up, there was confusion and frustration on our side and theirs. We were able to meet with the plastic surgeon, and while she has a quirky personality she was warm and delightful. She focused on me, my situation, my future and giving me the best outcome she could for my long term. She had ideas and hopes that no other doctor had dared with me, she had a long term plan. She was not afraid by my medical stats, but confident and determined to give me the very best outcome possible, even if it would be a longer process. She wanted to keep one of my nipples and minimize my scars. My husband and I couldn’t believe these were even possibilities after everything else we had been told.
The encouragement we walked out with was equal to the fear we had of the procedures and the time that this would all take. As well as the frustration we felt over the way we had been treated. We were not able to meet with the breast surgeon/oncologist at OHSU and had to reschedule our appointment. Which meant another trip to Portland, more waiting, more uncertainty. Was it even worth it with the way we had been treated?
There was so much to think about, so much to consider. My physical health, my emotional health, my future.
That night we stayed in a hotel, we relaxed, we snacked, played with fidget spinners and got stuck in the iphone/ipod dimension. We disconnected from it all. When it was time to come back to reality my husband and I knew that we just had to make the trip back up to meet with one last doctor, and we were so glad that we did. The doctor knew my case, she had reviewed all of my scans, she knew my family history and had discussed my situation with a panel of doctors and specialists, they covered all possible options. She knew me. She was honest, yet maintained a warmth, she understood my genetic diagnosis and the medical care and testing that will be necessary for me. She wanted to make sure I was set up with all the very best specialists for further screening and testing. She didn’t brush anything under the carpet, not the difficulties and pain that come with the reconstruction or the other mass that was found in my left breast.
Every other doctor said it didn’t matter, the breast would be removed anyway, they would figure it out at that time. However that was not the case with this doctor, she cared too much about the very minor possibility that it could be a very serious cancer that would need chemo right away. She wanted to be prepared for what she was going to find while doing my surgery. She wasn’t willing to take any chances with my life. She was determined to give me the best care she could provide. She sent me for more imaging right then and there. In that moment, facing an even more startling and terrifying possibility we knew without a doubt this was MY doctor.
Fortunately, the other mass was more of the same kind of cancer, so nothing more to be concerned about. Now we are looking onward to the next phase… the mastectomy and beginning of the reconstruction process, which has been scheduled for September 11.
