This is Chapter 8 in the Cancer Memoir. Catch up on previous chapters here.
Ringing the bell marked the end of my chemotherapy treatment on May 30, but not the end of my cancer fight. Within minutes of celebrating this milestone with my family, Jeremy and I would head over to my plastic surgeon’s office to discuss the next steps. My next mountain to face was surgery.
I never thought I would find myself in a plastic surgeon’s office in a million years. Just saying aloud, “I have to meet with my plastic surgeon,” felt nothing like me. But then, this year has been a lot about rediscovering and redefining myself: Stacy 2.0. Once those words were spoken to me on November 15, 2023, “You have cancer,” the person who I used to be was forever changed. Part of this change was getting a handful of new doctors.
I have sat in many, many doctor’s offices this year, and I have really come to dislike plastic hospital gowns. They stick to you, and somehow, well, for me, I am freezing in them but also sweating like crazy, so it was a joy to me when I was handed a cotton hospital gown waiting for Dr. V., my plastic surgeon, to come in.
This was not the first time we had met with him. Jeremy and I had previously met with him while I was going through chemo, but this appointment was the one where I’d be making my first of many big surgery decisions.
With my diagnosis of Stage Three Invasive Ductal Carcinoma (IDC) breast cancer, I decided to have a Double Mastectomy (DMX), and Jeremy 100% supported this decision. Now let me just make one thing very clear, this is NOT a free boob job. For the past seven Fridays, I have given you all the opportunity to witness a little bit of my life, a look into a breast cancer thriver’s life. I think you all can attest that there is nothing “free” about a woman with cancer choosing to remove both breasts surgically. The emotional, physical and psychological toll of a breast cancer journey is profound.
Dr. V told me that I had a couple of options for reconstruction after my DMX; I could go straight to an implant or have tissue expanders placed. I chose the tissue expander route because I liked the idea of taking this process slowly, and I needed slowly. I knew I needed more time to accept this change and wrap my head around it while also being able to see my new chest. The tissue expanders would be placed and over several weeks he would “fill” them to expand my skin.
Jeremy and I left his office on May 30 with July 9 booked. I would have two surgeries that day. My general surgeon would be removing my cancerous tumor and performing a lymphadenectomy, which is a very long word for lymph node removal. My plastic surgeon would be performing my double mastectomy and placing tissue expanders.
For 40 days, I would have a break from being a cancer patient, and boy, did I take full advantage of that break. I spent some much-needed downtime with my family, watching movies, playing board games, going to soccer games and having mini-family road trips. I traveled to Walt Disney World for work in June and attended my first DoD Warrior Games, one of the most memorable and inspiring experiences I have ever had. If you have not been to a DoD Warrior Games, you need to go! It truly is an inspirational event. Then, from Florida, I hopped on an airplane to meet Jeremy and the kids in Oregon for my sister-in-law’s graduation, flying back home to Kentucky just in time to complete my pre-surgery stuff. As I said, we packed as much as possible in these 40 days.
Jeremy and I have been extremely mindful when it comes to our children and my cancer journey. Our children are amazing military kids, and as many of you know, this military life has added stressors. Now, having another stress layer added: a mom with cancer can be a lot for any kid to handle. Having my children watch me go through chemo and all the changes that brought, (the biggest one was me losing all my hair) I felt like it was enough for them to handle. So, the weekend before my surgery date, we met my mom and dad in Texas for the kids to spend two weeks at Grammy and Papa’s house, Camp Kubenka, as we called it.
July 9 was here, and I was nervous. I jumped into the shower and took an extra-long shower, which pretty much emptied the hot water tank as countless thoughts ran through my head. I sat on my shower floor, crying. You see, going through chemo, it was something that was happening to my body. I was about to make a massive change to my body, something I could never take back, all in the name of saving my life. With the water beating down and hitting the new hair growth on my still pretty bald head, I got up and started washing myself with the chlorhexidine gluconate surgery soap.
After putting on my most comfortable pants and my “Be Brave” tee, I grabbed my packed hospital bag, and Jeremy and I started the 45-minute drive to the hospital.
My surgery took 5 hours. I woke up with a very tight compressed bandage around my chest and four drains. I was sore, and my pain level was about a six out of 10. Jeremy was sitting there next to me. He told me everything went well and that my general surgeon said I was able to keep all but the affected lymph node, which was the best possible scenario.
The lymph node she took out came back negative, the best news we could have received, but she still would have to send it out for testing. I missed ordering dinner for our hospital stay that night, and I was okay with that; I was not hungry at all, just exhausted. A nurse brought me a ginger ale, water, and an incentive spirometer to help remove anesthesia from my lungs. I was hooked up to so much stuff, and extremely weak. Jeremy had to help me to and from the bathroom.
This man, my husband, my best friend, had become my caregiver again.
I awoke the following morning, July 10, to the fantastic smell of coffee. It was our 18th wedding anniversary, and Jeremy had ordered me coffee to celebrate; it had never tasted so good. We sat together, sipping our coffees and enjoying the slow morning early start in my hospital room. Time seemed to have frozen for a minute, and I completely forgot all about cancer and the surgery I had just had. It was just Jeremy and me.
My nurse came in to let us know about the day’s goal: getting me discharged. This meant getting up and out of bed, moving, and making laps around the nurse’s station. With a pain level at about a seven, I started slowly moving. Before lunchtime, my general surgeon came in with a very comforting smile, told me I looked good, and told me I was cleared from her to go home. My plastic surgeon soon came in; he took my bandages off my chest, and I could not bring myself to look down. I was not ready to see how my body now looked. We changed out my bandages for a very stylish, supportive granny-looking bra. I was to wear it for the next couple of weeks. We went over drain care for my four new accessories, which meant stripping the tubes and logging output. He then said I was good to go home.
Jeremy and I drove home; he did his best not to hit bumps or make sudden movements. I held tightly onto my mastectomy pillow. We made it home safe and sound, and I was ready to relax, recover, and look at my new chest. I had envisioned the worst, some Frankenstein-looking chest; I should have had more faith. My plastic surgeon did an excellent job. I definitely looked different, but not bad at all.
I had a follow-up with my general surgery on July 15; little did we both know the terrible news that was going to hit. The lymph node she took out ended up coming back positive with cancer, and she would need to take me back to surgery the next morning to remove 14 more lymph nodes.
Not the news we wanted to hear; I was barely a week out of major surgery and would be going under anesthesia again, getting another new incision, and a 5th drain.
How do you handle bad news or challenging times? One way I handle bad news is to blast some of my favorite songs in the car, singing as loud as possible!
Until next time, my friends, SHINE ON!