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        Head-spinning.  So bad that it’s giving me a headache and making me nauseous.  I went for my plastic surgeon appointment on Monday, where he was supposed to clear me for chemo.  The drive is almost an hour and a half on the backroads, and my 18 year old son doesn’t like driving on the highway (he’s been my Uber driver through my recovery).  I already felt nauseous getting into the passenger seat, but it got a million times worse when he applied his teenage driving skills to turns and curves.  I seriously thought I was going to vomit.  Oh yeah, and it was like 100 degrees out, so I was really really hot.  I cracked open a Zofran and popped that puppy.  I will never understand why they make anti-nausea medication in the most nauseating form.  You have to let the thing dissolve on your tongue.  Just thinking about it triggers my gag reflex.

        When we finally arrived and I walked into the plastic surgeon’s office, I made a beeline to the bathroom to pee.  I kept repeating “dear God help me dear God help me” in my mind as I washed my hands.  When I got back into the waiting room, the receptionist asked how I’m doing.  “Hot!” I replied.  She offered a bottle of ice cold water, and I about leapt at the offer!  I rolled that bottle all over my head, my neck, my arms.  I finally started to feel better.

        When I went back into the exam room, I got the new nurse.  I know she’s the new nurse because the last two trips out here (to remove Drain 1 and then a couple days later, Drain 2), she was training under one of the other nurses.  I told her that I noticed there was a little leakage from my incision.  She asked me if it was in the areola region.  I told her I don’t have an areola.  Nipple area?  Nope, I don’t have a nipple.  Okay, show me, she said.

        When I first noticed the leakage, I freaked out.  That’s because I first noticed it on Friday, after my port insertion surgery.  Last week, I went to a consultation on Tuesday with the port surgeon, and they scheduled me for surgery on Friday.  Short-notice-surgery face.  This is my life now.  Chris about freaked out because he couldn’t give his job any notice to take the day off.  The plan was to have my 18 year old drive me to surgery, but he’d be my responsible adult–you know, the one that they’ll call when the procedure is over and give all my stats to.  I could only imagine my kid handling this phone call.  First of all, good luck getting him to answer the phone.  He doesn’t even know how to hold a phone to his ear, so he’d be on speaker phone.  Probably out in the hospital parking lot with his skateboard.  If he finally does answer the phone, I could imagine the surgeon going into all the stats, “she tolerated the surgery well, only losing 3 cc’s of blood.  She has absorbable sutures beneath the skin that do not require removal and skin glue over the incisions.  Because of the anesthesia, you or a responsible adult will need to be with her for 24 hours.”  And my son’s response would be, “oookaaay.”

        Thankfully, Chris was able to get that day off to take me for the port insertion.  My 18 year old was quite relieved–he definitely didn’t want to be my responsible adult.  Anyway, after that “minor” surgery (they still put me under general anesthesia, so it’s still nerve-racking), I looked in the mirror.  That day was the first day that I had my bra off for longer than just a shower.  They want me to wear a sports bra all the time–even to sleep–to support my tissue-expanded breast (which, that alone is friggin uncomfortable!!).  After having the bra off for almost the whole day (I couldn’t wear it during the port surgery and I went home braless so the straps wouldn’t aggravate my newly inserted port in my chest), I actually SAW a droplet forming on my breast incision.  That’s when I started inspecting my bras.  Apparently, I had been leaking a negligible amount every day because there were spots on my dirty bras.  For a moment there I thought that the trauma of the port surgery or the length of braless time had caused the leakage, but clearly I had been leaking a little this whole time.

        Anyway, back to the plastic surgeon’s office.  The new nurse went and got the doctor.  He looked at my incision and said it didn’t look like any infection, but if stuff can come out, then stuff can get in.  He didn’t like that one bit.  “Let’s go ahead and do the implant.  We’ll see if we can get you in Friday.”  Whoa whoa whoa.  I thought that radiation is better on the tissue expander and not the implant.  Everything that I’ve heard or read says it’s better to have the tissue expander during radiation because radiation can cause an implant to fail.  The tissue expander is temporary, so it’s okay if it messes up.  We don’t want to mess up the implant.  He assured me it’s fine.  Then he left the room.  The new nurse bandaged me up, which took a little while because she kept cutting the gauze pad to the wrong size.  Then she couldn’t find the right size Tegaderm (the plastic covering that keeps wounds dry and allows you to still shower).  Once she got me all patched up, she said I could get dressed.

        I left the office pissed.  I was at a loss.  Am I having surgery this week?  Does this mean I’m NOT cleared for chemo?  I was so confused.  

        I decided I’d call the plastic surgeon’s office to verify what the plan was.  Thursday was the Fourth of July, so I was thinking maybe the doctor was a little off his rocker.  I didn’t call on Tuesday because I was still pissed.  I had so many questions, but I was actually angry.  So I waited until Wednesday morning to call.

        “Good morning!  I’m calling to find out if I’m actually having surgery on Friday or not.  Nothing was confirmed or finalized, so I just want to see what the plan is.”  The receptionist knew who I was by the caller id.  “Hi Mrs Hawthorne!  Well, the doctor is in surgery all day today because of the holiday (normally surgeries are on Fridays).  He’s going to be on vacation, so I don’t know why he would have told you Friday.  I’m going to leave him a post-it note.  I’ll let you know.  But he’s definitely not going to be here Friday.”

        Okay.  Now I’m even more confused.  I had texted all my people (friends and family) that I was having surgery on Friday.  I then had to announce that there will be no surgery on Friday because the doctor will be on vacation.  

        At 3:48 PM on that same Wednesday (remember–this is the day before the 4th of July), I got a call from the hospital.  

        “Hi, Mrs Hawthorne?  Yes this is the intake nurse from the hospital.  In your own words, can you tell me what procedure you’re having on Friday?”  

        I responded, “I actually don’t know.  Can you tell me in your words?”  

        She said, “Well let’s start with what you know.  What side is it?”  

        That one’s easy.  “My left.”  

        “Okay, good,” she says.

        Then I explain that I went in on Monday because my incision is leaking and that the doctor had mentioned placing the implant.

        “Yes–that’s what we have here.  Breast reconstruction with implant placement.”

        “Okay then, I guess that’s what we’re doing!”  I explained to her that I was really confused because his office said he was going to be out of town.  “The doctor will actually be there on Friday, correct?  You’re not going to be pulling him off an airplane, right?”

        “He’ll definitely be there.  We were actually waiting on his orders to call you and give you all the pre-op procedures.  Do you still have the port?”

        Still?  I just got it on Friday.  “Yes…”

        “Okay, good. Do you have the hibiclens?”

        Oh the hibiclens.  I’m very familiar with the hibiclens.  It’s the antibacterial soap that they have you wash with the night before and the morning of surgery.  You have to leave it on your skin for five minutes and then rinse it off.  They want you to wash from your neck to your toes–avoiding the face and the genitals.  Yep, I’ve become an expert at the hibiclens.  Three surgeries over the course of a month, I know the routine.

        As soon as I got off the phone with her, I had to tutor, so my mind couldn’t absorb the information.  I sent a quick text to Chris and my sister: “Surgery is Friday.”  What a rollercoaster.  

        I was still angry on Thursday.  I had so many questions and I felt like the doctor was getting me confused with another patient.  We had talked all about delaying reconstruction–not speeding it up.  But my bandage was saturated at that point, so I knew something had to be done.  It was obviously getting worse.

        I had to be at the hospital for 6 AM Friday morning.  We were the ONLY car in the parking lot.  I still had my doubts that this surgery was actually going to happen.  But sure enough, the check-in lady knew who I was.  Apparently there were only 2 surgeries scheduled for the 5th, me being one of the lucky ones.  Yay.

        I got to talk to the doctor prior to the surgery.  I got to ask all my questions.  He was able to explain everything better.  He was going to have to open me up to figure out why my incision was leaking anyway, so he figured we could kill two birds with one stone.  I asked him about the radiation part.  He told me that not only do I have a lung on my left side, I also have my heart, so the radiologist would be angling the laser away from those vital organs, and therefore away from my implant.  That makes sense.  He also warned me that if there was pus, I may be going home with just a “flap.”  That would be a deflated boob.  If there were signs of infection, he would just remove the tissue expander, and we would delay the reconstruction.  Okay, that makes sense too.  What about chemo?  Nope.  Not until this incision is healed.  About another month.

        The surgery was about three hours.  I know I had some scar tissue in there, but I don’t know why my incision was seeping.  I’ll find out more at my follow-up appointment. Until then, I’m wrapped up in this tight gauze tube-top.  No drains this time, though woo-hoo!  But I won’t be able to shower again for a while.  Ugh. And now I’m really going to be lopsided because he was able to place the implant, which is a little bigger than the tissue expander.  And I don’t know how long it’ll be before I can get the lift on the right–it’ll be when all this is said and done. So probably in a year or so.

        The bottom line is, chemo is delayed.  It’ll be at least August.  Right when the kids are going back to school.  Fun.  At least I’ll get to meet their teachers while I still have hair.