The House Part II and the Doctors in Daytona

 Well, the house did not close on Aug. 24^th. Turns out the mold contractor only removed the mold affected wood, but did not replace it. Yes, that’s right. They left the sinks on the bathroom floor, no cabinetry around the dishwasher, and the drywall removed under the dining room window. Back to the negotiating table! Who is going to pay for the repairs to put the house back into its original, sellable condition?

We found a contractor who could make the repairs, but he was on another job until after the Labor Day Holiday on the 3^rd. We weren’t going to make our second closing date of August 31^st or September 5^th. And where was I going to have my surgery?

On Saturday, August 4^th I had a terrible panic attack. I imagined my cancer had spread to my lymph nodes. I had an appointment to see Dr. Harichand, an oncologist at Florida Hospital near Daytona.  Dr. Harichand is a second generation Indian-American, young, very smart, and most importantly, a caring person. She spent a great deal of time with me, feeling under my arm and listening to my concerns. She was extremely generous with her time. She calmed me down and talked me in off the ledge. She said she did not feel any lumps under my arm, but, because it had been 11 weeks since my last mammogram she wanted me to have another one. She arranged for me to have it the following day.

The imagining center did a thorough job of scanning my breast and they also did an ultrasound. I waited in the dark room for the radiologist to come in and when he did he gave me the bad news. My cancer had grown and spread since my last mammogram in Seattle. He was very stern with me, “You HAVE to get this taken care of right away! You cannot wait even two more weeks!” I was back in freak out mode.

I am not afraid of dying of cancer. No, in fact, I would welcome it. But once I told my children, (I was advised on breastcancer.org to tell my children) they insisted I had to live not matter how deformed, mutilated, and maimed both psychologically and physically I would be for the rest of my miserable life.

No, my fear was that I may have been stupid and waited too long, that I was going to lose my lymph nodes and have lymphedema, that I might lose a good chunk of my chest muscle and have to have additional treatment like chemo and radiation.

I went back to Dr. Harichand the following day. She had to calm me down again. She was very kind and patient and explained that there was nothing to freak out about. But, that we did have to make a plan and move forward. I agreed.

She helped set me up with appointments in Daytona. The first one was with Dr. Zamora, the plastic surgeon. But, I really wanted to see MD Anderson in Orlando. They are a well-known, world-class, highly acclaimed cancer center. Dr. Harichand encouraged me to go there, too.

Dr. Zamora is a man in love with his craft. He has had way too many procedures done on himself. His assistant showed me to a room and immediately announced that I would not be a good candidate for the “tummy tuck” breast surgery. This is where they harvest extra body fat from your abdomen and fashion a new breast out of it. The advantage is that is looks and behaves more like a natural breast. It gains and losses weight and moves naturally. I, however, did not have enough belly fat to make a breast. (I find that debatable).

The doctor came in and confirmed that the only choice for me were expanders and a silicone implant. The expanders have to stay in for 6 weeks. You have to go in every week to be pumped up. When they are the size you want, you go in for another surgery and have the implant inserted. 3 months later you go in and have another implant inserted in the other side to make them look more alike. Altogether it is about a year long process.

Then Zamora said to me, “You better get it through your head that your breasts are NEVER going to be the same again. And that they never will look alike. Sometimes the nipple dies and it has to be cut off and sewn shut. A fake one can be tattooed on later. The implant will never have any feeling and sometimes the augmented breast looses sensation, too. If you don’t get used to that idea, you are going to be very unhappy.”

All of the air sucked out of the room. I could barely speak. I slipped off the examination table and stumbled to the car. I could not breathe.