Today is the most exhausted I have felt since I was diagnosed with breast cancer on May 26. I think adrenaline has been keeping me sharp and focused on getting all the tests done and lining everything up for tomorrow’s surgery. Now that it is upon me, and there is nothing left to do but show up tomorrow, I feel mentally and physically drained. Doubts and fears are creeping in about the whole thing and I feel a sadness thinking about this being the last night with my body looking and feeling the way it does now. I know I will have a new normal, but it will take a while to adjust. I am scheduled to arrive at Sibley at 5:30am for prep, with surgery scheduled for 7:30am. I should be coming out of surgery around 12pm and will spend the night at Sibley on Wed. night and come home on Thurs. I am praying that all goes well and that my lymph nodes are clear. This whole thing is surreal.
I had a physical exam today and my pulse clocked in at 112 beats per minute…I am just a tad anxious. I also had some radioactive dye injected into 4 areas of my left breast that will travel to my lymph nodes so that the surgeon can identify them tomorrow. The doctor walked in with a little yellow chest marked radioactive material. I turned away and stared up into a blinding fluorescent light. I felt like breaking down and crying but I held it together. He asked me if I was OK, and I nodded, he smiled, patted my shoulder and said I would be in good hands tomorrow with Dr. Magnant.
When I arrived home there was a beautiful bouquet of flowers on my doorstep from my fellow “spots” at Threespot where I work. The timing of their arrival was perfect and really reminded me again how much love and support I have. As one of my favorite relatives told me from way up in Cape Cod, she would be “in my pocket” tomorrow. I know I have so many friends in my pocket tomorrow giving me strength and keeping me safe. I love you all.
My dad just left and gave me a big hug and I broke down crying for the first time in a while. Dad, I remember happy things like walking hand in hand with you looking for “signs of spring” and building Max’s doghouse. I am looking forward to getting past this and doing more happy things with you. I love you dad. (Of course, this last paragraph is dedicated to my Dad, but there will be plenty more paragraphs dedicated to my “skeleton crew” through this whole process).
Side note: I gave Tiggy a really cold bath with a garden hose on Sunday and now he has what they call “Limber,” “Cold,” or “Dead” tail. Its a little bent at the top, painful and he can’t sit or wag it. It is relatively benign and will clear up in a week or so, but he is on pain medication and an anti-inflammatory. Now we can both look pathetic together while we recuperate. He had to steal my thunder!