Surgery Day: April 17, 2009

Hi Everyone!

So, I met with the surgeon today, and I instantly liked her. By instantly, I mean instantly.

This is my Surgeon. For Real.

Dr. Glowaski



This is Dr. Kerr, who will be assisting her.

(Is this a smile???)

She's shorter than me ,well rounded (read: not stick-thin like so many other floridians in this area), with long brown hair. Her personality bubbles: not in such a way that she appears phony but she sincerely bubbles. She's got a great personality and she's funny -- and experienced. She totally GOT ME, and understood everything I was saying and thinking and worrying about. She is very down to earth and reachable. I like her a lot. And, she's a hugger -- not the obnoxious type of hugger that I don't like, but a sincere hugger whose hugs somehow don't permeate my personal bubble. And: she wears this goofy band around her forehead with a big circular mirror around it, then she uses it to reflect the light where she wants it when she looks at your throat. This makes her look like either a very funny cyclops or a unicorn whose horn had been sanded off... both of which I kind of like and made her all that more likeable.

We discussed the procedure and the options. Then we scheduled it -- for Friday. I'll be in the hospital most of the weekend.

How do I feel about it? Well, I don't really know. Today felt so surreal -- I just was going through the motions, going from one pre-op medical appointment to another. This process quite literally took all day. I don't think it's hit me yet: the fact remains I'm terrified of anesthesia anyway. But, I will be ok, and besides, I like my surgeon: she looks like a cyclops or an injured unicorn... what's not to like?

In all fairness (and insanity) I am having a difficult week. Monday I discovered that after THREE WHOLE WEEKS of chasing down different physicians to have them fill out their portions of the FMLA (Family Medical Leave Act) forms so that I can secure my job (think: secure my health insurance as well!) I finally met with the last, and final, physician who needed to fill out my forms. It was my primary care doctor and it appeared he must have just had a colonoscopy because he had something stuck up his butt (think: ATTITUDE!). He didn't really want to fill out the form, and then had the indecency to imply that I'm depressed (By imply, I mean he gave me some samples for an antidepressant). In the end he did, however, fill out the necessary paperwork and I left, samples in hand.

Now, just because it irritated me, I have to mention: I am seeing a psychiatrist and a psychologist (most cancer patients do) to help deal with the cancer. BOTH my psychiatrist and my psychologist think I'm doing very well and my spirits are fine. So when I informed them of the prescription from my primary doctor (a good old-fashioned GP, btw), they both told me not to take it, and one of them rolled her eyes and said, "Wait!? That's my job!" This, of course, I found to be subtly amusing, and I was glad to hear from a mental health professional that I didn't seem like a depressed person.... because my meeting with my primary doctor just didn't settle well with me. What was going on with him???

Anyway, so I went back to the hospital to turn in the final of these forms, and waited and argued with the receptionist for twenty minutes trying to see the disabilities coordinator for the hospital. When she finally did emerge, she informed me that not only was I not eligible for FMLA, but that there was NOTHING she could do to protect my job position -- which is already technically in jeopardy because I've missed so much work thus far. So, having finally reached my threshold, I had a minor meltdown in their office, then went back up to the 8th floor where I work and had a major meltdown on the unit... frustrated with everything.

Basically, the hospital was telling me I had to choose between my health and my job: a brutally unfair equation because my job is (a) what is giving me healthcare benefits and (b) what is feeding my child. Thus... I need both (a) and (b). But I also need my health, and if I lose what's left of my health then I can't work anyway. So I talked with my dear friend, and voice of reason, Everett, and he said that my plan was simple: have the surgery, recovery as quickly as possible, and get my butt back to work (these are my words, not his!). This is the plan.

So I went to bed last night feeling like the weight of the world was on my shoulders, and I woke up this morning and went to meet the surgeon, and then spent hours at the hospital doing pre-op stuff, and literally didn't get home til 6:40 pm. Ironically I still have the hospital band on my wrist. It reads: allergies: morphine.

I think I'm ok. There is somebody I wish was here, but it's okay. I'm a big girl. I'll be okay.

And thats my story. And I'm sticking to it.

So Friday is my surgery day. I should probably get some rest tonight I only have a few days left.

Much love,
Rachellie