I Passed Cancer Class!

That’s a real thing, you know. At least it is for me. I found it by chance, because I decided to go ahead and go into the boutique at my cancer center, the one that I didn’t want to go into. The lady who worked there is just so nice. Pamela. What a doll. Anyway, she was somewhat horrified that I hadn’t already signed up for the class and was so close to my Boobpocalypse.

Yeah, I said it. Boobpocalypse. That’s exactly what this is.

So today I went to Cancer Class.

I sat and played with the implant samples while one of the ladies just couldn’t seem to stop asking about every possible contingency. Look, my patience has a limit. Telling someone to pull up her big girl panties and quit worrying about what happened to everyone else she’s ever heard of with breast cancer is much easier when said patience has come to an abrupt end. I did it nicely, if that makes you feel better.

I was fitted for and received a mastectomy bra, complete with fillers, just in case the plastic surgeon has to use expanders instead of implants. Luckily, Pamela really is a doll who gave me a big hug with tears in her eyes.

I’ve spent the past couple of weeks resting, preparing. Buying things like gauze pads and palazzo pants. What in holy hell do palazzo pants have to do with the Boobpocalypse you just asked yourself, didn’t you? Ha!

1) I rock them like a goddess. Which is vital. True story. A lady even stopped me at the grocery store the other night to tell me how great I looked. So there.

2) Have you ever tried them on? Holy ultimate comfort, Batman!

3) I won’t be able to move much and won’t have much upper body strength, even to pull on my favorite leggings and yoga pants. (Insert deep sigh) So, palazzo pants to look gorgeous, plus some loose jammy pants and a bunch of button-up shirts and my Boobpocalypse wardrobe is complete.

Why button-ups, you’re wondering now. Well, I won’t be able to raise my arms to shoulder level, much less over my head because I’ll have surgical drains in for about 10-14 days. Ish. It’s gross. Don’t ask. Just trust me. It also means no showers, only sponge baths, no shaving my underarms, and no deodorant. I suggest not visiting to preserve our shared dignity. Anyway, those are suddenly things I must consider.

As for the pre-surgical prep, it goes something like this (at least for me at my hospital):

The night before, take 2 pills to put the nerves to sleep. This will help prevent phantom limb syndrome, and since Left has been aching for a few months and that has increased since the biopsy, I’d like to not have an achy boob that isn’t there anymore and still hurts. Also,  I have to wear freshly washed jammies and sleep in freshly washed linens. I’ll have showered in surgical  wash, too. The next morning, I’ll take 2 more pills with a tiny sip of water (this is specified on both the pill bottle and in my information from the doctor. A tiny sip), repeat the shower with the surgical wash, then get dressed and wait to go to the hospital. I was told to not wear deodorant, lotion, or even put anything in my hair. This is vital, since one should both look horrid and be in complete panic mode before having her tits lopped off.

Then I’ll walk into the hospital, and confirm a few more times that this is, in fact, what I’m doing, have someone put me to sleep, and wake up in a shit ton of pain with the facsimile of breasts. And probably throw up a few times. It sounds like a lot of fun, I know. And maybe it sounds a little dramatic. It is dramatic, dammit! It is.

I have filled my scripts, even the one I can’t use if I enjoy breathing. I have purchased clothes, warned my children’s friends to not come near my house next week, and have lined up someone to watch the kids. Clothes have been purchased and prepped. And I’m filled with a very familiar mixture of dread and calm.

So for now I have to get groceries and a mani-pedi. Tomorrow my shiny new med-alert charm, complete with a QR code that can be updated with all of my info anytime I like, should be here, too. There are things to do, even though my mind feels foggy. I wonder if they’ll let me keep one of the implant samples. It was oddly soothing to play with…..

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This is a bad sign. Also, I so super LOVE Target’s pill bottles!
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My post-surgical supplies. I’m sure I’ll need more.

One thought on “I Passed Cancer Class!

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