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Dog and Knee Update

I had the knee surgery yesterday morning and it went well, although I am not exactly reaping the benefits just yet. Yesterday I felt great which led me to think I'd been the recipient of a miracle cure, when in reality I'd just been the recipient of lots and lots of really good drugs, including an anti-inflammatory and plenty of local anesthetic put right into the joint before I woke up. Today has been a bit tougher and I'm told tomorrow will likely be similar. Oh, well. The offending torn cartilage has been cleaned up and I should be getting 100% function back once it heals, including back to running. This is hard to imagine right now when I'm living from one dose of Vicodin to the next, but it's definitely something to look forward to. Despite the temporary misery I'm glad I had the surgery because the problems in there were not going to fix themselves.

I really misjudged what the recovery from this would be like. My surgery experience up until now was limited to the mastectomies. As awful as the idea of having your breast chopped off might be and for all the disconcerting pity responses it tends to elicit, it's actually not very hard to recover from. I didn't even need painkillers afterwards. This knee thing almost requires a home health aide. Really. I'm sitting here with Estelle's walker next to me, and I'm grateful to have it.

The dogs are getting along better which is a huge relief for us. Gus seems to be accepting Patches as part of the family and has been close to her a few times today with no attacks. I think our close supervision and clear, strong messages that attacking her is not okay have been very helpful.

Patches will definitely be a great running dog- she needs a couple of runs a day at this point so I better hurry up and get over this knee thing. She's been pretty lively around the house- lots of energy and creativity. She likes to collect things, especially if she's a little bored- you can see her looking around for something to carry off- a pen, a DVD, baby clothes, a jacket, a book off the shelf. She hasn't chewed anything up...yet, and she's been good about handing over whatever she's taken in return for a Nylabone or plushy AKC toy. None of this is unexpected but it sure is a workout.

Calling all local friends. Please don't hesitate to come by if you want to play with her or go for a walk!

Alive, well, and burning bras in the backyard

So much for daily blogging. I've been too busy these past couple of weeks- setting up my new office, doing the Women's Triathlon in Farmington on September 14th, and having the much awaited second (and last) mastectomy surgery on September 16th. The surgery went very well and the results are all I hoped for and more. I LOVE being even and not having to wear the revolting bras and the even more revolting prosthesis. I worried a little the night before surgery about not feeling well afterwards but these worries were unfounded. I went into the operating room at 7:45am, was out by 9:15am, eating sandwiches by 11am, and was headed home by 2:30 pm, ready to eat Thai food and play Word Twist. By Thursday I was feeling pretty much myself and had a full day with Anna and Jim. We went out to lunch at Evalina's and stopped to show Anna my new office (and for me to gloat over it some more). We topped this off with a trip to Wonderland Books in Putnam, a walk in the woods, and ended the day with a ritual burning of my most hideous mastectomy bra, while the family, dogs, and chickens (far in the background near the edge of the woods) looked on.

   

one is the loneliest number or "make mine a double"

The dogs and I are just back from a walk with Crystal, my neighbor and triathlon training partner, and her 2-year old son, Ethan. Today has been one of those warm, golden, late August days that makes me wish that summer could go on forever. All three of us were tired, having not slept well last night for various reasons. Normally Crystal and I would be out for a bike ride or a swim but today we are just dragging around. The walk did us all good. I saw the giant mushroom at the end of our road that Crystal had been wanting me to see, she got a break from chasing Ethan around, and the dogs got some exercise. There seems to be an inverse relationship between the amount of exercise I get and the amount that they get. Since I have been doing a lot of training this summer there been a real decline in the canine fitness around here. Message to self: make sure Gus and Wendy get their daily workout too. Anyhow, all five of us were more energized by the end of the walk than we were starting out.

The time outdoors redeemed the day for me-at least somewhat. I was feeling frustrated and resentful of having spent the better part of the day, all morning really, on the task of having my remaining right breast evaluated (for the third time in nine months) at the Faulkner-Sagoff Breast Centre in Jamaica Plain, MA. It's about a 100 mile round trip from here but I've been willing to go there rather than someplace local because my oncologist has confidence in the quality of their imaging. After my adventures with the other breast I am all for getting the best imaging available. So, I spent half the morning chauffeuring my breast around and the other half of it having an ultrasound and having more mammogram films taken.

The radiologist's final verdict was that she “thinks” it's okay. I got the bright yellow form back with the “Normal/Negative-no evidence of cancer,” box checked. I did not find this result to be as reassuring as one might expect, although it was certainly better than being told that she thought there was a definite “problem area” warranting yet another level of evaluation. Still, I am a dubious recipient of so called "good news" since my former left breast was also deemed apparently free of disease even as the cancer it was harboring was making its merry way to six of the lymph nodes under my left arm.

So, as a person experienced with breast cancer and over well-acquainted with its idiosyncrasies, I know that the little checked box saying “no evidence of cancer,”means just that, no evidence of cancer. It doesn't mean you don't have it. This is particularly true in the case of lobular breast cancers like the one that invaded my former left breast, and which went undetected by two mammograms and two needle biopsies.

Because of the tendency of lobular breast cancer to evade early detection, I have been on a schedule of alternating mammogram/MRI every six months since finishing the initial treatment for the cancer in the other breast. I've been through the cycle only once, with an MRI in January and the first set of mammogram films in July, but I'm already tired of it. I was especially tired of it when I got the call back two weeks ago to come in for this follow-up ultrasound to check out an irregularity the radiologist had noted.

My reaction to getting the call (irritation, a “here we go again” feeling) drove home the truth of how I feel about hanging on to this breast (or rather it hanging on to me) and having to have it checked all the time. I don't want to. Period. My mind was made up even before the ultrasound results that I'm done with it. I've lost sight of the breast's good points or any redeeming qualities, and see only its liabilities as an inconvenience and potential hotbed for potentially fatal disease.

The decision to part company with my remaining breast is also driven by cosmetic considerations- basically that in my opinion one breast looks stupid by itself, even more stupid than no breasts look. The mastectomy side really looks okay, not just to me but even to others. This was an interesting surprise and also a relief. Having a breast cut off for the first time one tends to be a little bit nervous about how it is going to look and how one's appearance will be received. Anna, my daughter, upon seeing my new look said. "Hey, I want that!" Patty, my brother Jan's girlfriend, tipped her head to the side and said, thoughtfully, "You know, it really looks kind of exotic."

Excellent- I am not a victim, I am the the one-breasted goddess of Rawson Road.