Two Steps Forward One Step Sideways

I went to see Dr.s Cut Them Off and Build Them Up this morning. They are both doing well, I can tell by the number of patients in their waiting rooms and by the number of minutes late they show up to appts. Really, it wasn't too bad compared previous experience, the ratio of time spent with Dr.s versus waiting for Dr.s was at about 15 and 10 minutes seen in face to face time versus 45 minutes spent waiting.

First up was Dr. Build Them Up. He asked if I was ready to get rid of some drains or would I like to keep them for a while longer? Deadpan, no silly grin or anything. The guy is a real jokester, I can only forgive the lack of magnanimous personality because of the highly impressive degrees on the wall and the appearances in numerous Best Surgeons off The Year magazines. I gave him my most sarcastic "Seriously? Are you kidding me? I'm all done impersonating a jelly fish with tentacles. Remove them all." He replied, "Oh no,only 2 today and 2 next week." Ugh, I explained that since I am the overacheiving patient, I thought they'd be removed today. He once again appeared academic, and explained something about chronic puddling of painful liquid drainage if drains are removed too soon in mastectomy patients. You had me at chronic puddling of drainage, I concede.

I am still a jelly fish. But only for one more week.



These are my remaining tentacles. Complete with a little bit of my lymphatic fluid. You aren't eating lunch are you?

After 2 drains were removed he whipped out about the biggest needle with syringe I've ever seen. Oh God, I just knew he was going to stick that in each foob to fill her up. Now, it is a somewhat surreal experience to be sitting in a Dr.s office with your husband there while a pedigreed but still stange man stands over you weilding an immense needle and syringe pointing it directly at the chest area you have spent a solid week sheilding from even the slightest brush of a touch because it is just that sensitive.

On one hand I couldn't believe the Muffin Man would simply sit there and let this guy aim that huge needle in my breast direction without getting up from the chair to give him a black eye. And, on the other hand I am so freaking vain that I was sitting there sceaming in my own head, "I don't care how much it hurts, just fill up the foobs so I don't look like a freak forever," Dr. Build Them Up from Princeton.

And then it was over. Foobs filled. Dr. most happy with his work. I left feeling like in addition to my 2 leftover tentacles, I also had the addition of an elephant sitting tightly on my chest. Dr. Build Them Up asked if I had any narcotics left. I said, "Yes lots, I am the superachiever patient whose been on advil since Thurs remember?" He said, "Good, go home and take one."

I then hopped off the table, stuffed my tentacles into my mastectomy tank top and headed on over across the hall to Dr. Cut Them Off.

It was anticlimatic. He apologized for leading the Muffin Man to believe that he had saved my nipples on surgery day when he talked to him right before Dr. Build Them Up took over. The Muffin Man and I told him, no worries much the same as if he had told us, oh, sorry the wife and I couldn't make it to your bar-b-que. Cest la vie, right? Nipples, easy come easy go.

Then he told me since my path reports came back 100% clear, I have taken my risk from another breast cancer from about 60-90% down to about 1%. Oh, and he never wanted to see me again. That is why I love that guy, and let him have another opportunity to work his magic after he did my lumpectomy in 2000.

Right on, never see him again. Closing up A Cancer Story, Chapter 2. I told the Muffin Man to take me home and feed me a percoset.

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