I'm Over Myself

Thanks for the kind words for my pity party, but now it's closing time. Party's over. You don't have to go home folks, but you can't stay here.

Yesterday I had a lovely day of demolition, installation, shopping (five trips to Lowe's!), Starbucks, and take-out food. I met Mom at Lowe's at 7 a.m. for a sidewalk sale. We'd met Keith, the lighting department manager, earlier in the week and he showed us some of the things that would be marked down and told us to come back early Saturday. I got track lighting for the bar in the kitchen, a "Tiffany-looking" floor lamp for the den, and a ceiling fan for my bedroom, all for what it would've cost me to get just the floor lamp at regular price.

Then I came home and watched my dad, mom, and husband take down a cabinet in the kitchen and demolish the soffit above it, right down the the attic floor joists. The man who lived here before us put those cabinets up to STAY. I've never seen so many nails in my life. I wasn't allowed to do anything but watch and fetch things, so I went out back and spray painted the chain for the swag kit for the dining room chandelier. (Back to Lowe's for spray paint.)

Then Mom and I started looking at the ugly, cracked fluorescent light fixture in the kitchen and wondering what we could do about it. We figured, we're going to have to repaint part of the ceiling anyway, might as well replace this fixture while we're doing it. (Back to Lowe's.)

We didn't like any of the fixtures there that would give us the same amount of light as the fixture I already have, so Keith is going to help us out with that on Monday. Poor guy. Then Mom said, "I have another little question," and Keith said, "The answer is, 'The parking lot is that way.'" I think he was ready for us to go! We ended up with another ceiling fan for Ryan's room at a deep I'll do anything to get these women out of my store discount. I love Lowe's. Which is a good thing, because I had to go back again to get ceiling medallions to put above the ceiling fans because I refuse to paint another ceiling when it still hurts to lift my arm over my head. There was another trip to Lowe's in there somewhere, but I can't remember what it was for. Oh, Mom and I also went to Ace Hardware and Starbucks.

Dan and I were up until two this morning putting up the dining room chandelier and the two ceiling fans. Well, Dan was up. I fell asleep in Ryan's bed (he slept in his brother's room) and only woke up when I heard Dan drop something so that I could hand it back to him.

It was a great day and a great way to get my mind off my drama. Now, off to church...

Bitter with a side of Irony

For those of you who watched West Wing, you might remember that whenever they had to deliver bad news to the nation (or things that they didn't want lots of media attention about), the White House staffers would make the announcement during that kind of dead air zone on Friday afternoons. They called it taking out the trash. Well, I have some trash to take out this afternoon.

Looks like I'm going to have surgery. And, the news just keeps getting better...I'll probably have to miss the first few days of school.

My attitude right now kind of sucks, so I'll apologize in advance. I feel guilty even complaining because at this point they don't really think it's cancer but just suspicious cells that may or may not be precancerous. Some of my friends are breast cancer survivors who have been through much worse than my wimpy little procedures. First of all I'm very glad that I have insurance. I'm also grateful for early detection and all that, but right now I'm just pissed off that this is going to mess up the beginning of my school year. I don't have tenure, so I really don't want to have to ask my principal for time off during the first week of school. I'm sure she'll be okay with it, but I hate having to ask. After all the chaos of the last year, I want a smooth start with my new class. I want to be able to experience the first days of middle school with my sixth grader. I want to take my third grader to school with me on the first week. Instead, I have to be cut on and stressed out and I'm bitter about it. I'll get over it later, but right now I'm going through an angry phase.

Here are the details: the surgeon said that there are atypical cells present and they're in an atypical pattern. If it were just one or the other, they'd probably take a "wait and see" approach, but that's a whole lot of suspicious-looking stuff going on at once for them to feel comfortable waiting. The radiologist said that even though he got a lot of tissue, he's concerned that he didn't get enough for a representative sample of what's going on in there. The mammographer thinks that they're not seeing everything on the pictures.

The surgeon is going to perform a lumpectomy, even though it's really not a lump, but an area of microcalcifications. Then they'll send it off to pathology and see what we're looking at. Best case scenario, it's nothing and we continue to watch it closely. Worst case scenario: it still looks like suspicious pre-cancerous cells, but they've removed the lesions in question. Then they'll probably want to check the lymph nodes, maybe cut a little more, and watch me closely.

The really ironic part is that I just donated my hair to Locks of Love on May 4th, and now I'm facing my own breast cancer scare. I click the Breast Cancer site to donate mammograms to underprivileged women every day, and here I am. My sorority's national philanthropy when I was in college was the Susan G. Komen Foundation. I'm used to being on the giving end of the "find a cure" team; not the receiving end. Now I just found out today that my brother might be sick too. Ugh. This sucks.

Okay, I'll get over my little private pity party tomorrow. Today I just needed to roll around in my angry little bitter mood just a bit more.

The Fun Continues

Mom and I went to work in my classroom today because if I had to sit around my house waiting for the doctor to call I would lose my mind. We painted a bookshelf with some "oops" paint from Home Depot (only $1.00 a can!) and reinforced another bookshelf and stayed busy while waiting for the phone to ring.

So after a while my doctor called, but I still don't have a definite answer. ARGH! She said that the tissue samples they took from me are "most likely" benign, but the radiologist is "concerned" about the shape, size, pattern, or something about the tissues. He thinks it might be some kind of something or other that might indicate precancerous cells. She used a really big word and I didn't have my medical thesaurus handy to translate.

I have to go see a breast surgeon specialist at another hospital tomorrow morning (after stopping by the other hospital first to pick up my films) for a consultation. She will compare the biopsy with the mammogram films and decide whether or not she'll need to perform surgery to excise the lesions.

Gee, a breast surgeon who makes her living performing breast surgeries. Hmmm, what are the odds that she'll recommend that I need one of those? I wonder.

Anyway, keep those prayers coming while the fun continues. Thanks.

Eggplant Parmigiana, Anyone?

Okay, so remember that bruise I had back in May from the dunking booth at the school carnival? Well, now I have an even better one, but I can't show it to anyone. I'm telling you, it's the most amazing shade of deep purple I've ever seen. Not the band, Shelby, my skin. More specifically, my breast.

I look like I shoplifted a tiny little eggplant home in my bra.

And this was after I iced on and off all day yesterday. The swelling is ridiculous too. I kinda wish I could keep that part, if only it didn't hurt so much. And if only it were symmetrical. Sigh. Unfortunately, those of you who have breastfed will relate to this, it feels totally engorged and ouchy and icky.

But it will all be worth it if I hear good news tomorrow. If you have a minute, would you please say a little prayer that I will?

Ouch.

I'm back from the hospital and thanking the makers of ibuprofen for their little orange pills. Ow!

This was not a pleasant procedure, but at least it's over. I was a little shaky when it was finished, both from the epinephrine/lidocaine injection and from the muscle aches from being forced to lie completely still for 45 minutes with my breast in a vice and a giant needle sticking in me. They gave me some peanut butter crackers and sent me on my merry way. I was fine when I was driving home (with an ice pack in my bra). It didn't hurt until I got home and the numbing meds started to wear off.

I have to do the ice on/ice off thing until I go to bed tonight. Otherwise, I am under doctor's orders to do nothing all day. I'm actually fine with that, since I hurt too much to do much else. I just wish I'd gone to the bookstore first. I'm rereading a bunch of my favorite romantic comedies--nothing too emotionally charged because I can't handle tears right now.

Dr. King and Kim (the mammographer) were really great. Kim kept patting my back and cooing over me. I resisted the temptation to ask her to pet my hair and sing me a lullaby, but just barely. They inserted a tiny little titanium clip into my breast to mark the spot where they removed tissue. (An entire petri dish full!! Like I had any tissue to spare!) I asked them, jokingly, if I would set off the metal detectors at the airport now. Do you know how hard it is to lie perfectly still after you tell a joke and everyone else in the room is cracking up?

After the procedure I had to lie on my back while the doctor applied pressure to my breast. It was very strange lying there on a table, shirtless, while I man who is not my husband held my breast very tightly for FIVE FULL MINUTES and chatted with me about the world's worst movies of all time and Mystery Science Theatre 3000. Bizarre. Just for the record, Dr. King gives that dubious honor to Planet 9 from Outer Space. In case you were wondering. I still think it has to be The Two Jakes, mostly because Dan made me go see that movie when I wanted to see something else and because I've never seen Chinatown.

Anyway, the radiologist was pretty sure that I'd need surgery, but I don't know what he's basing that on. I should hear something from my own doctor on Thursday. Until then, I'm supposed to take it easy, not lift anything over five pounds, not walk the dog, or do anything strenuous. The doc said this would not be a good time to take up jogging.

Well, it'll be a challenge, but I believe I will follow the doctor's orders.

A Wee Little Whine

Why, yes, I would like a little cheese to go with my whine. Thank you for asking. I'll use it to sedate myself in the morning.

Tomorrow I'm going to the hospital to have a stereotactic biopsy. Go ahead. Click on that link and see what fun I'm going to have. I'll wait.

Doesn't that sound like fun? My favorite part is this:

At most facilities, a specially designed examination table will allow you to lie face down with your breast hanging freely through an opening in the table.

Um, hello? I don't want any part of my anatomy "hanging freely" to be poked and prodded or, in this case, squished into a pancake. And that whole "automatic, spring-loaded needle" or "vacuum- assisted device" part? I think I just got a little light-headed, and I've never had a fear of needles. I have blood drawn every six months and it's never bothered me. But this? This bothers me immensely.

Okay, yes, I'm grateful that we have technology that allows doctors to detect abnormal cell growth and remove those cells for testing. And, yes, I'm glad that this type of procedure has saved countless lives through early detection. And, yes, I'm lucky to live near the state capital, so I don't even have to drive far for the procedure.

BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN I HAVE TO ENJOY IT!!

Wah! I don't wanna go.

I'm Back. Deal With It.

Now that I'm back in my old hometown I feel it is important to warn the residents of a few things about myself.

1) I sing in the car. With feeling. I used to stop whenever I pulled up to a stoplight because I didn't want the people in the car next to me to see me belting out a show tune and think I'm weird. Then I thought, "Wait, I am weird," so now I keep right on singing. And I don't mumble the words or make any attempt to appear as if I'm not singing either. I rear back, open up, and let it fly sister. I sing it loud and I sing it proud and I don't care who knows it. Oh, and I've been known to tweeze my eyebrows in the car too, but I don't get to sit in the car rider line these days. Deal with it.

2) I talk to my dog. In complete sentences. When we walk through the neighborhood we're carrying on a conversation, you're just not advanced enough to hear her side of it. But, believe me, she's talking back to me. It usually goes something like this:

Me: No, Lilly Belle, we are most definitely NOT going to jump in the lake.
Lily: But, mother, the water looks so very cool and refreshing. I would very much like to go for a dip. (while pulling my arm out of the socket to get to the water)
Me: No ma'am. (jerking the leash and trying not to go for a swim myself) We. (jerk) Are. (jerk) Not. (tug) Going. (pull) For. (jerk) A. (jerk) Swim.

(splash)

Okay, I haven't fallen in yet, but it's probably just a matter of time.

3) I've been away from Hendersonville for twenty years, so I keep running into people from high school that I don't remember. If I do remember you, it's probably because you fall into one of three categories:
a) I only remember your name because you were popular and everyone knew you but I never really liked you.
b) I actually did like you in high school and I probably would've hung out with you if I hadn't had a job and a boyfriend and a 4.0 GPA to maintain.
c) I actually did hang out with you in high school and just lost contact with you when I went away to college and worked three jobs, had a 3.93 GPA to maintain (stupid B in math), joined a sorority, got involved in the drama department, met a man, and married him.

4) I have a terrible memory for names. If we went to high school together and I don't remember you, I'm not going to pretend that I do. I'll simply say, "I'm sorry but I'm a moron. Who are you?" Because I hate when someone pretends to remember me and we're standing there talking and I'm thinking, "This person has no clue who I am. Why doesn't he/she simply admit that he/she doesn't know me from Michael Jackson's cat?" I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings, but I didn't go out and party much in high school. I worked. I studied. I visited my boyfriend. I read a lot. I wasn't a snob, but I didn't hang out with a lot of people. Deal with it.

5) I love garage sales and Goodwill. If you come to my house and say, "Oh, I used to have a (insert random household item here) just like that," then the chances are good that the item is the very same one you used to own. I'm cheap and proud of it. Deal with it.

6) If you knew me in high school, then the odds are pretty good that you knew my high school boyfriend too. I have not had contact with him in many, many years. I have no idea where he lives now or what he's doing with his life. He was my past. My husband and kids are my present, my future, and the center of my universe. Just so you know.

7) I teach at the same elementary school I attended. Yes, it's strange. Even stranger, I had the kids of former classmates in my room this year. Rest assured that I'm a great teacher, but the fact that I knew you twenty years ago will not affect my relationship with your child, unless you were a butthead to me back then. Just kidding. Your kids still have to do their homework. Deal with it.

8) My parents, grandparents, and brother's family all live in town too. My mother doesn't drive the "Hippy Van" anymore (may it rest in peace), but she still has spies all over town.

9) When I left Hendersonville in 1987 I weighed just under one hundred pounds. I won't mention what I weigh now, but let's just say it's considerably more than that. I'm just telling you so you won't be surprised when you see me at the grocery store you won't do a double take and I won't have to see the "Wow, she's really let herself go," expression on your face.

10) I do not put on makeup and get dressed up to go to WalMart. If I run into you there, I will not be looking my best. I do clean up fairly well when I put some effort into it, but you will not see that best effort at Wally World. Deal with it.

Okay, so to sum up...I'm back. I don't embarrass easily, so don't waste your energy laughing at me.