Team Work and Tattoo

The next Wednesday, while working in Santa Fe, I received the “we have results, please come in this afternoon” call – that’s when I really knew I had cancer. Realizing that the results would probably come in that day and that it could be difficult, I planned accordingly and packed my, hold onto for dear life and only take in emergency, supply of valium. They were so old that only chunks survived; no novice would have been able to identify them in a PDR. I chose a chunk that looked to be about 1/3 of a pill and swallowed. I’m stoic, to a fault, and rarely need such indulgences (which is good because when I need them they work great in small doses) but I decided to make it easy on myself that day. I felt the Valium kick in while driving to the radiology clinic and breathed a sigh of relief thinking, “Okay, I can do this now.”   

A woman I hadn’t seen before ushered me into a reception room and she sat down with me. It took a while for the Doc to arrive. I felt sorry for the woman knowing it must be her job to handle freaking out patients. The radiologist came in sat down and said, “The results are in and they indicate something we never want to hear.” It was a bit of a blur  but what stuck out is, “stage 3 with positive lymph nodes, this is curable, you will have this team of doctors, if this were happening in my family, this is the medical team that I would choose.” As he finished he looked at me and said, “You are taking this calmly.” I felt a bit guilty not sharing about the valium but instead said, “Well, it’s no surprise.” He said, “I guess not.”  With that they ushered me into another room with a lovely nurse navigator (a title, being healthy, I had never heard) who handed me a small garish orange with sport print flannel pillow and packets of information on breast cancer. She had made or was in the process of making appointments with an oncologist, surgeon and oncology radiologist as well as for an MRI and further testing on the biopsy sample.

After that, I was so busy there was little time to think. I saw my oncology radiologist and he asked me if I had fallen in the past several months, “Weird question,” I thought. I said yes, I fell three times last weekend. His eyes got big and he asked the circumstance and when I explained that I had been skiing steep bumps he laughed; he’s a skier too. It turns out that they ask you if you’ve fallen because clumsiness is an indicator that your cancer has invaded your neurological system – the brain. He let me know that I will have a 30 or so consecutive days of radiation after my surgery heals for a couple of weeks. On to my surgeon who was great as he let me know that I would become a uni-boob while enjoyed a full mastectomy (he really was wonderful, as they all were, compassionate without being patronizing.)  Then I drove to meet with my oncologist, Dr. Sidhu (whom I adore.) She had the hard job.

Dr. Sidhu sat me down and started going over the actual cancer data. “You’re Her 2+,” she said, “that’s bad, but we'll use Herceptin. We will start you on Adriamycin and Cytoxan every 3 weeks for 12 weeks and then you will either have surgery or start the next series of Taxol and Herceptin. I want to get some Herceptin in you before surgery.”  Then she said, “ We need to have a port surgically implanted in your chest ASAP. You have to have a MUGA (heart function test) before starting chemo because it is cardio toxic. Oh, and by the way, you will lose all your hair.” (and they mean ALL your hair!) I was told we would schedule the first chemo for next week’s Friday.  She asked me if I had any pain and I said, “Not really, but I do have some off and on pain on my back behind the right scapula, nothing unusual.” I should have kept my big mouth shut because then she scheduled me for PET and CAT scans. (The scapula area showed clear.)

Here’s an excerpt from my journal on that day:

The Tattooed Lady

Today, after visiting the surgeon I thought about how I always wanted to have eyeliner tattooed and now was the perfect time since loosing my eyelashes would mean eye makeup wouldn’t stay on. And, I can't do it after starting chemo (from now on referred to as nectar or alchemy.) I called a friend of mine that had it done and asked, where and how? She hooked me up with her girl and there was an opening for tonight.  I'm early for the appointment and there is a Taco Cabana right in front, it's been a hard week and I know they have 2-dollar margaritas so, what the heck. I decide to go in and have a margarita and read my book.

I’m not much of a drinker and easily effected by alcohol....  I go in. The tattoo lady and I chat about what I want and she says, what about your eyebrows and I say, “Well, I hadn't thought about that. I guess so.” So she did. Holy Shit, the next two hours were pure hell, excruciating pain, like why do they do water boarding when they could get info easy this way.

Finally, she has me sit up to look in the mirror and it was even HOLIER SHIT!!!  My largely natural hardly ever-plucked eyebrows are black as coal, arched lines that look like the joker's in batman but with black shoe polish. Or, have you seen the skinny old ladies who hang out in bars smoking cigs with these eyebrows they've painted on with the black eyebrow pencil that comes in the cheap read plastic?  That's me now. Tattoo lady is very sweet (Michelle) she can tell I'm freaking and keeps assuring me that it will fade. It still really hurts. (The eyebrows ended up being great.)

Lydia the Tattooed Lady by Groucho Marx -

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uVBBxptpSY8