Thanksgiving
I had a great Thanksgiving weekend, due to my family. Mom, bro, sis, sis-in-law, niece: thanks for coming to Chicago this time around. And, I'd like to bestow a special Green Badge of Courage to my niece's boyfriend, who tolerated hazing involving a certain cruciferous vegetable with good cheer.
My surgery is scheduled for this Thursday. The surgeon, Dr. B, still thinks we can manage a lumpectomy, despite the discovery of a suspicious spot closer to the nipple. The greatest physical trauma will occur when the fat pad in my armpit is removed, along with a number of lymph nodes. Recovery will be painful, and there is an elevated chance of permanent edema and swelling in my right arm. Will I be very disfigured? I can't help but wonder.
In discussing the growth of the tumor, I alluded to the fact that it had been growing for a year. "Oh no, this has been growing for three or four years, at least," he corrected. That really floored me. I had this thing in my breast for that long? What is the point of getting regular mammograms if something like this can go on for so long without being detected? I'm still trying to take something productive away from that discussion, but all I can muster is that the diagnosis techniques which I thought would protect me seem nearly useless.
5 comments:
Good luck on Thursday, Elisa. Let me know if you need a special delivery of chocolate, Izzy's, Netflix videos or just plain ol' companionship (or any combination of the above). I'll be thinking of you and your lady bumps.
Ah Izzy's...you're the best, Celia! btw, I do wear that little cap you gave me. The head gets cold in the evening.
Hi,
I tried to leave a much longer comment yesterday, but it didn't take. Then I tried a comment that simply said "test." That worked, apparently, and was removed by the blog administrator.
Anyway, Erica and I want to wish you the very best Thursday. You are in our hearts.
My longer comment involved my memories of riding "The Happy Bus" while growing up along the lakefront during the 60's and 70's.
Before the proliferation of today's express routes along the lake, there were only 3 routes: 151, 153, and 156. We didn't own a car, so my father took either the 151 (Old Lady Express) or the 153 (Do ya? as in "do you go to...) bus to get to work at his ad agency job in the Palmolive Building. One of the drivers, a middle-aged black man, drove the "Happy Bus" - he greeted people, sang songs, even showed us a handmade happy bus glitter sign while stopped at a red light. To a 7 year-old kid, that made quite an impression.
Thanks for keeping me in your thoughts, Larry. Let Erica know that talking to her really helped give me some peace of mind.
Your story reminds me of the conductor who used to announce on the "Love Train," remember him? "You're cruising at 35 miles per hour at an altitude of 45 feet..." Bless both of those good souls, whatever happened to them.
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