Dr. McCancercure OR Caitlin Has Cancer (Surgery) Part II : Loopy but Good but Loopy OR The Never Ending Quest for Sleep, Private Hospital Rooms, and Edible Food

Caitlin has been out of surgery for a couple of hours now and she looks well. The attempted operation to transform her into half-cyborg half-super alien has been unsuccessful, but they did still manage to get rid of that nasty cancer thing that was growing inside her. But seriously, all good news and I think I speak for everybody when I say that we're grateful that somebody as wonderful and awesome as her can fight and win against something that she was so unlucky to have in the first place.

Caitlin Has Cancer (Surgery)

Caitlin was wheeled away to the Super Luxury Platinum-Level Operating Room here at Sloan-Kettering a couple of hours ago. I, your newly christened guest blogger, have spent the last hour learning how to put shots into her after she's back home, among other fun stuff. We haven't heard anything from any of the surgeons yet (guessing no news = good news?), but will keep everybody updated when I do, when she's out, how she's doing, etc.

Update: Just got done talking with the surgeon who did the actual removal and everything went well. There was no cancer in her lymph nodes, as far as they could tell at this point, and they've passed her on to the reconstruction stage. We'll be hearing back from the reconstructive surgeon in a couple of hours.

My Lumps

I'll be going into surgery tomorrow morning to have some lumps removed, both the ones I grew and the one that grew inside the ones I grew. I'll also be getting some new lumps, which will be sort of fun to wake up to. I won't be able to post updates about how surgery is going or how it went, since I'll be busy being surgered or "recovering" by making rockstar-worthy requests of everyone around me. Luckily though, the official "Caitlin Has Cancer" intern will be hard at work letting you guys know what's going on when I'm in surgery, when I'm out of surgery, and where I am so you can stop by or send whatever it is people with cancer receive while in the hospital. (I think I read somewhere that the traditional gift is designer luggage stuffed with clothes, diamonds and tickets to Fiji.)

SPECIFICS:

I will arrive at the hospital at 11:15 am, and my surgery is scheduled to begin at 1:15. It should last 4 or 5 hours, after which I will go to the recovery room for another hour or two. I will be moved to my inpatient room sometime around 8:00pm. Someone will hop on the blog to post my room number, or I believe the hospital can look it up if you call and ask.

ADDRESS:
Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center
1275 York Avenue (between 67th and 68th)
New York, NY 10065

While you're waiting, below is a video of someone else talking about their double mastectomy. I'm not the only one who thinks it's really not going to be so bad.

Don't Get Excited

But the results of my lymph node biopsy came back, and they didn't find cancer in the lymph node they tested. While that's awesome, it still doesn't mean there won't be cancer in another lymph node, a bunch of other lymph nodes, or even in the same lymph node and they just missed it. So while this certainly isn't bad news, it's not quite good news either -- more like un-bad news. So here's to un-bad news!

Out With the Old, In With the New

This morning I met with the reconstructive surgeon who will be making me some new chestpieces. Apparently the whole process takes about six months or so. First, during the mastectomy, they put in 'tissue expanders,' which are basically big plastic bags. Slowly over a few months, they pump you up by filling the bags with saline. When your skin and muscle is all used to the the new positioning (another few months), you have another surgery to exchange the tissue expanders for implants. Ta-da! You then have boobs. Most people wind up swapping out the implants every 10-15 years, as they either leak or pop or just get old or the technology advances to the point where they can make them look better or something. But besides that, it's all done.

I also had pre-surgery testing this morning, which basically just ensures that you're healthy enough to get surgery and have anesthesia. Except for uncontrollable cell division, I am fit as a fiddle. (PROTIP: If you have multiple doctor's appointments every day that require you to be undressed "from the waist up," dresses should stop being part of your wardrobe. Unfortunately, I forgot that this morning so I had to hang around with a sheet wrapped around my waist.)

This afternoon I'm also meeting with a reproductive specialist, since as some of you may know, chemo might wind up doing a number on your reproductive system. Since the non-mutated parts of my genome are definitely worth saving, I am looking into ways of doing that. I'll spare the readers of this blog the details, but if you would like some specifics, feel free to ask me directly. Suffice it to say that should I one day decide that I would like my home to become a germy, slimy, baby-food smeared catastrophe, I will be able to do that. Oh, and I will also be able to safely pass on my genetics without fear of producing another cancer time bomb baby mutant.

Chubby and Unremarkable

After three hours of waiting and minimal fanfare, I got my lymph node biopsied this morning. I did manage to drink three cups of coffee and nab two bags of pretzels to snack on in the Sloan waiting room though, so the morning wasn't entirely a loss. Either way, everyone who looked at my chubby lymph node today said that it was pretty unremarkable, and if we didn't already know I have cancer nearby, no one would even look at it twice. Chubs could be larger for any number of reasons, even just allergies or a cold. I should expect the results on Tuesday or Wednesday, but really, the results are more for the doctors to plan out my surgery than anything. If there is cancer in my lymph nodes, I'd be finding it out on Friday when they take some out anyway during surgery anyway, so this is basically just a sneak preview.

Normally I'm stoked about the arrival of the weekend because it means I don't have to go to work, but now I'm just stoked because it means I can't have any doctor's appointments. Happy Friday, everyone!

Lymphatic News (Plus Bonus Information!)

I had a sonogram of my lymph node yesterday, and despite my best efforts to shame him into a crash diet, he was unfortunately still fat enough that they want to biopsy him on Friday. It's like lipo for my lympho.

But for a bit of fun triva: Antioxidants thin your blood, so you can't drink green tea, eat acai berries, put vitamin E oil on your skin, or consume anything particularly antioxidant-rich for two days before surgery (or biopsies). My rate of aging over the next two days is going to skyrocket. By the time I get in there, that "How to Prevent Falls" pamphlet they give out standard to breast cancer patients at the hospital is actually going to be relevant to me.

He Isn't Fat, He's Just Big Boned

So that's why they tell you to get second opinions (and why they say Sloan K is the best hospital to be in). The Sloan gang looked over the results of the MRI I had last week and noticed something NYU apparently missed - one of my lymph nodes is fatter than the rest of them, which (I guess) means it might be chock full of cancer. So I have to get back into Sloan asap (Monday at 10:00am) to get a targeted ultrasound of the area and maybe have it biopsied if things look funky.

Anyway, cancer in my lymph nodes would be bad news bears (ie extra surgery and longer chemo), so lets all hope this lymph node is just big boned.

Some News

I met with the gang at Sloan Kettering today and figured out some what's what. As it turns out, I am BRCA-1 positive, which means I have that weird cancer gene, which gives me a really high chance of getting breast cancer again on the other side at some point. So, in the interest of getting things done and only having to do them once, I figure I'll just get rid of all the things that want to cause me cancer. I'll be having a bilateral total mastectomy on Friday, June 25th, followed by some chemo about a month later. Oh, and I get new boobs. I'm thinking cone-shaped like 80s madonna.

In Which I Get Weird and Preachy (Just the Once, I Promise)

So my roommates and I agreed to ask someone to help us keep the apartment up to snuff for a while, since we figure I'll be a little too wiped during chemo to effectively bleach the grout lines between the kitchen floor tiles and line up the bottles in the medicine cabinet. We asked M, who I used to have help at my old apartment, and who I love, love, love.

This morning when she showed up we got to chatting ("chat" is an extremely generous description of what I manage in Spanish), and she told me that she had just had an abnormal mammogram and is undergoing further testing, but expects it to be cancer because she has already had breast cancer seven years ago. I spent my whole subway ride to work thinking about what a weird and unfair world it is when two people can potentially have the same problem, and be entirely differently equipped to deal with it. I got breast cancer and my pressing concerns were how to keep my apartment well-dusted and lavender-scented, and whether I should get some cute summery highlights in my wig. Someone else could have the same problem and still take the subway down from the Bronx to bleach grout.

This morning was an extra reminder that I am very lucky to be in the position I am while dealing with this problem. I live twenty minutes from the best breast cancer center in the country (the world?), I have a super Cadillac insurance plan, and I have an enormous support network (I can't say it enough so I'm thanking you once more, guys). While I appreciate so, so much all your thoughts, prayers, and well wishes, it would be great if you could subtract a minute or two and instead direct some of that positive ju-ju toward M and toward other people who may not have the luxury of dealing with this problem from a position of similar comfort. Even though this whole cancer thing sometimes seems daunting and scary, compared to most other people in the world, I have it really, really easy.

Because Cool Kids Make Two Blog Posts in Twenty Minutes

I just got a phone call from Dr. Beth Siegel at NYU with the results of all my scans (PET/CT, MRI, mammogram), and it looks like there's no cancer anywhere else in my body, including my lymph nodes! So it really is just the one funky lump and nothing else, and my cancer seems to be a Stage II.


BIG FAT CELEBRATION!

I'm Dense

I had a mammogram and an MRI yesterday, and learned the following:

1. They let you listen to LiteFM during an MRI, which does not drown out the insanely loud clicking noises.

2. Mammograms are basically pointless on young women, and on me in particular, because I have "dense breasts," which the doctor who analyzed the slides felt the need to illustrate to me by gratuitously poking at my extreme density through the hospital gown. Go ahead, doctor - my chest belongs to science now.

Now I just have to get the results of all these tests together in one place and ready for my appointment at Sloan Kettering on the 10th. Until then, I get to go to work every day and be normal for a while - yay!