Radiation Post Mastectomy

During my post mastectomy follow-up visit, my surgeon said we had really good margins, meaning big mamma was 1-2 millimeters from my skin (apparently that was a good margin).  Although the surgery was successful, radiation therapy was still recommended.  She proceeded to tell me that no mastectomy is perfect and that there could be cancer cells left behind.  The solution, and best way to be sure any remaining cancer cells were eradicated, would be through radiation therapy.

The thought of radiation made me want to vomit.  I had done it a few years earlier on my spine and rib (see posts from 2011 Radiation and Pictures...finally) and it was not a pleasant experience.  However, I didn't want to deal with another tumor, so I bit the bullet. (little did I know I would do it again in Oct 2017 for another mass)

The preparation plan goes like this: mapping, tattoo's, radiation.

During the mapping you are lying on a table (gown open) as the team takes images and makes markings all over your skin in preparation for the tattoos.  The reason they use tattoos is for accuracy. They want to line you up exactly so they can radiate the same spot each time, and since most radiation treatments are over several weeks, they need a marking that is durable. For those of you who have tattoos, you know how painful it can be, and even though mine were little pin pricks I wouldn't recommend a tattoo to anyone! However, I wasn't nervous about the tattoos, I was anxious about was the 25 treatments over 1.5 months, the nausea, fatigue and burned skin.  The treatment itself was quick and painless, usually less than 5 minutes, it was the side effects that got me down.

Radiation works, or at least it has for me, but it has been the most miserable treatment.  No matter where on my body I am being treated, all of my insides feel like they are being microwaved. In fact, I feel a little nauseated just thinking about it.  Once during treatment, I met with my radiation oncologist and mentioned my stomach had been bothering me.  His first question was, "Do you have the flu?"  They didn't believe that my stomach would be upset from radiation in the breast, er, where the breast used to be.  Anti nausea didn't work, or at least for more than an hour or so.  I always had to have something in my stomach, but if I really wasn't feeling well, I had to make sure I was eating food that wouldn't be so bad coming up. On top of the flu like symptoms, my skin burned severely.  They gave me ointment that is only given to burn victims and some semi adhesive foam pads to put over the burned areas to keep it from rubbing against anything.  Can you believe I agreed to this? Sometimes I question myself, but in the long run I have to remind myself that radiation works, at least for me.

Any time doctors give you a prescription or treatment plan, they explain the possible side effects.  I had all of the most common side effects for radiation, and they hit me hard.  Apparently being a young female increases the chances of side effects of most of the treatments I have had. So I have to remind myself that I am young and have a strong body.  I have been able to endure many treatments that an older woman wouldn't have tolerated, and I am still here to tell the story.  In fact, I had my one year follow up from radiation this week and everything looks good. I have healed well and I don't need anymore follow ups.

I have a lot to be grateful for, it is just remembering those blessings when I feel discouraged.  Yes, just like everyone reading this, I get discouraged at times.  But it does no good to dwell on those feelings.  We can ask God "Why me?!" all day long, but that is not going to change our circumstances or give us comfort (trust me, I have tried).  Radiation therapy was a rocky road all 3 times, but it took away my pain and allowed me to continue to live and breathe in a world full of laughter, love, beauty and light.  There are so many sweet things in life but sometimes to appreciate it, we need to experience some of the bitter.  Cancer is my "bitter," but I am grateful for it because without it, I wouldn't appreciate all the little sweet things. I appreciate all the conversations I had in the waiting room with all the other women doing radiation.  I appreciate the fact that I don't always feel like I am on the verge of throwing up and have more empathy for people who do. I appreciate that my body was healed from being severely burned and that I don't wince every time something rubs on my skin. I appreciate that my energy level has been restored enough for me to work full time again.  I could keep going, but you get the idea.

I would love to hear from you, what is your "bitter" and how and why are you grateful for it?

MASTECTOMY...AT AGE 28?

Before I had cancer I didn't know the difference between a mastectomy and a vasectomy...and neither did the girl in the bra shop when she offered her condolences for my vasectomy.  So for those who don't know what a mastectomy is, Miriam Webster defines it as a surgical removal of all or part of the breast and sometimes associated lymph nodes and muscles. And for your reading pleasure a vastectomy, affectionately known as "the snip", is male sterilization.

So onto the mastectomy.

Doctors try to prepare you for the physical and emotional trauma of a major surgery, and they do a pretty good job.  However, even though you know logically what will happen, nothing can really prepare you for what actually happens.  I was nervous before my mastectomy, my first major surgery.  The team of surgeons and anesthesiologists all meet with you.  They make markings on your skin to make sure they lob off the right, or should I say correct, breast. They hook you up to an IV and go over all the medications they will pump into your body while you lie helplessly on the operating table. Then they go over the list of medications that will help with the side effects of the former. There is no privacy in the pre-op visits and you aren't even wearing your own underwear.  All that shields you from everyone is a thin pin stripe gown.  I will say though that the surgical gowns are much better than the typical hospital gowns that tie on the side.  Surgical gowns have snaps on the sleeves so there is no flashing the nurses if there is a breeze when you walk down the hall ;)

Just before they wheeled me into surgery they gave me a shot of valium.  About 1 minute after the injection I had to try my hardest not to laugh at the surgeon/nurse/whoever was talking to me. (Nick has video footage...) This was a true feat that I didn't burst out.  Valium saved me from breaking out in tears before going into surgery, I am grateful for that.

The OR was a very bright, white and chilly room with lots of people scurrying about.  That's all I remember before they put the mask on my face.

The most important part of all this was that I had the strongest supporter holding my hand.  Nick was always steady.  I tell him all the time that he is my rock, and I couldn't be more right.  I can't imagine what he went through during the hours I was in surgery.  I would be a nervous wreck if the love of my life was diagnosed with cancer and had several surgeries.  I would crumble, but not Nick.  He is my rock.

So to relieve some of the stress while I was under, he came up with a list of things to ask me before I was completely out of anesthesia.  He got me to confess how many guys I kissed, in front of my mom, among other things.  Cruel maybe, but it made for fond memories...for him.  I stayed one night in the hospital but was extremely nauseous, something they were able to prevent for the following surgery (surgeries actually, little did I know that one year later I would get my appendix out).

Just out of surgery

It was nice to be home, but at the same time, challenging.  Since I chose to have breast reconstruction post mastectomy, they placed a tissue expander where my breast used to be (see pic below). Because of the trauma of removing the breast and placing the expander, there was so much pressure that I had difficulty breathing.  This was normal.  For weeks I couldn't lie on my back without feeling like I was suffocating.  So it's a good thing we had a billion throw pillows on our couch, which provided me the comfort of being propped up enough that I could breathe and sleep at the same time.  Another struggle was not being able to lift anything over 10 lbs for a couple months.  I felt helpless, but I knew it was just a means to an end. On the up side, I got to snuggle with my puppy and catch up on all those Netflix shows I had been meaning to watch. Anyone else mad they took Everybody Loves Raymond off Netflix?




A lot of people have wondered about the expander, so here is a diagram Mr. Google helped me find that is simple and correct for my case. The expander was placed under the pectoral muscle and then filled weekly with saline.  They did this by sticking a needle through my skin into the port.  Because they had cut the nerve endings, this needle stick never hurt, silver linings. I had about 5 weeks of this before it was full.  Once the expander was full, I opted to do radiation just to be sure everything was zapped before the final reconstruction and silicone implant. Then I had to wait 3 months before they could do the surgery to give my body time to heal.



This was what the expander looked like before any saline was injected.

So the weekend before this all went down, I threw a Bye Bye Boobie party because, why not:

I have had so much support through every step of this journey, and not just from my bra.  You know the saying it takes a village to raise a child? Well it takes a village to carry a cancer patient and y'all got the memo.  Thank you for holding my hand and lifting my spirits with boob cakes, care bears, flowers, meals, books, knitting needles, socks, notes of encouragement and the list could go on.  Being the recipient of service has given me a fresh perspective of why we are all here.  We all need someone to lean on at some point in our lives, we just need to have the courage to step up and make a move.  Move to the person who isn't smiling.  Move to the person who just lost a spouse or child or grandmother.  Move to the person who just lost his job.  Move to the single mother.  Move to the person who is new to the neighborhood.  Move to the person who just had a baby.  Whatever the circumstance, Just Move!