Today was a rotten day.
I had my mediport removal scheduled and when I saw the surgeon, he decided that I was upset enough about everything to wait until I could be completely knocked out on Tuesday morning for the removal. It seems he's also concerned that since the mediport was so hard to put in originally, it might be best to do it in the outpatient surgery center. I have these vivid memories of the back of my head covered with dried blood. Mediports can be stubborn, as mine was. What should have taken 1/2 hour ended up taking 3 hours. There's a post somewhere back in September about that whiplash nightmare.
So outpatient surgery, here I come! I'm all for that, thanks so much!
So that's scheduled Tuesday for very early in the morning. That should be fun, as will Jackie waking up to no Mommy and Daddy. She'll have Mimi here and if I know my baby, she'll be a princess and behave perfectly for Mom.
Why am I complaining? It's the implant. I just can't believe that I am having such a hard time getting anyone to listen to me. I want it swapped out for a new temporary implant. It won't hold enough fluid to match the right side. It's squishy and sloshy. I know I'm gonna end up waiting 5 months for this, I know it. I just don't understand why it's so hard to fathom that I just don't want to have my boobs mistmatched for months and months.
The surgeon even called the plastic surgeon to try to, as he put it "tag team" my issues on Tuesday. We were told to meet with the plastic surgeon on Tuesday afternoon. How am I supposed to do that? I'll be a mess from the mediport removal. I feel like throwing some dishes.
Breast cancer takes everything that you are, throws it on the floor and stomps on it. Nothing is routine anymore, nothing is calm, nothing is normal. Everything is a freaking crisis - so much can go wrong. I'm just so angry right now.
I cried my way home from the Doc after yelling at Bill because no one is listening to me. I can't have anything done once I start radiation so it needs to happen right now in this little window of time. And yet I have to wait for a Tuesday appointment when my surgeon had the man on the phone and Bill did too. If my plastic surgeon didn't formerly head up the BC reconstructive unit at Hopkins, I'd find another one.
I'm seriously hoping he is mistakenly thinking I'm having radiation on the left side and that's why he's so concerned about healing. It seems unbelievably stupid to put me out once on Tuesday for a mediport removal then another time to replace my leaking implant.
The whole point of filling up these implants was to stretch my skin for radiation. Guess what? They don't fix the left, they can deflate the right one too. Makes me want to bang my head on a table.
You wanna talk gross? I can feel the bubbling on occasion right below my sternum. Feels like there are bugs crawling under my skin.
I can't for the life of me understand why women get implants when they have no reason to.
What else can I complain about?
I'm tired. Way tired. Way more tired than I was last week. It's starting to make me mad. I had the perfect day with no kids yesterday to write, write, write, and I slept, slept, slept. And then slept some more from 9:30 on. Today I cried so much I ended up exhausted and took a nap from 4:30-6:30. Wonder if I'll make it to 10 p.m. tonight.
Steffie has officially driven me up the wall with arguing about everything under the sun. She finally ended up in timeout for an hour after school and writing "I will not argue anymore with anyone" 50 times. I heard contrition in her voice this time, I hope. I hope it sticks or I'm taking things away seriously. She's totally taking advantage of me in my weakened state here. It's either wash her mouth out with soap for being so argumentative or take away things. For some unknown reason, she thinks we're running a democracy in this house. Isn't that funny?
Maybe I ought to throw some dishes just to get everyone's attention? Except then I'd be mad if my set only had 6 or 5 plates inside of 8. Damn my logical brain.
I'm not a happy camper right now.