Chapter 12: Who Moved My Surgery Date

And wait…
Okay, it was now July 2nd and I had done my little bit to save the world, now I had to save my mind. I had too much time to think and feel sorry for myself. At this point I could have spent a lot of time on the internet getting more information about cancer and mastectomies. I am pretty good at surfing the net. At work I helped students find information for their homework all the time, but I was leery of the internet. For every good piece of information that I found, there was an equal amount of bad information. I found some statistics on line that stated that in the year 2000 there were 2,100 deaths from complications and adverse reactions to anesthesia in the United States. Which I learned meant that anesthesia kills 1 out of every 250,000 people who go in to an operating room (like I really want to know this, as if I was not scared enough). I decide to turn off the computer and find something else to focus on.
My family is of course the center of my life, but thinking about them made me think about their life without me. Well, that didn't help my mood much. It was time to turn to my old stand by, books. I usually try to read about three books a month. This time I went on a reading frenzy. Among the books I read was one called "Absolute Power" by David Baldacci, I enjoyed it very much. I remembered that Clint Eastwood made a move from the book, I make a mental note to find a copy of the movie (can we say, based 'loosely' from the book?). Next I read "Pride and Prejudice" by Jane Austin and I now understand why the book is considered a classic, it was great. I like different kind of books; I am very eclectic in my reading. I also read a lot of non-fiction. Next I read "A walk in the Woods" by Bill Bryson, a man who would become one of my favorite writers. Who knew that hiking could be so funny?
It was around this time that I found a book that profoundly affected my life, called "Who Moved My Cheese" by Spencer Johnson. It was strange that this book should catch my eye at this time of my life. I became aware of the book because of its high circulation. The book was being checked-out of the library all the time. "Who Moved My Cheese" is a small book that the average person could read it in one sitting. The story was about change and how different the four individuals in the book reacted to it. At one extreme is someone who embraces the change and handled it well. At the other extreme was someone who was so frighten by change that he was unable to react at all. Then there were the other two who were somewhere in the middle. The book asked-which one are you? I guess I was about to find out.
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My boss wanted to know how much time I would need off from work. Our library is small, there were only fifteen employees, so my being out would effect the scheduling. Because each time I couldn't work someone else had to work in my place. Luckily it was summer and the library had shorter hours, so filling in for wasn't that difficult. I figured that I would need about two weeks to recover, but before I said anything to my boss I wanted to check with Francis.
"Six weeks is what you will need." She told me.
"SIX WEEKS!!! ARE YOU CRAZY?" I responded.
"Six weeks." She said with an emphatic tone, then continued “a trans-flap is a serious operation. You have never experience such pain. You will need time to recover."
"Pain-HA." I said indignantly, "I gave birth to two children-HA!"
"So have I, and I tell you there is no comparison." She told me looking down at the floor and nodding her head. Francis had given me outstanding information up to this point so I started to turn white and feel a little bit faint.
I asked my boss for six weeks off. My co-workers told me to take all of the time that I needed. Wow, I worked with some really great people.
In her book "Just get me through this" author Debbie Cohen wrote horror stories about women who had breast cancer and who were given a very hard time at their jobs. Ms. Cohen cites examples of women who were treated as if they just had a lobotomy instead of a mastectomy. She wrote of co-workers who didn't want the cancer survivor returning to work. When the survivor did return she was treated cruelly or like she was a leper. Not me, my co-workers were kind and helpful.


And wait…
Meanwhile I was starting to get depressed again and started planning my own funeral. Again Diane came to my rescue. Both the church people and my co-workers knew that Diane and I were friends and they kept approaching her to ask what they could do to help me. Diane and I brain stormed and came up with an idea. She offered to coordinate special meals-on-wheels for my family. Starting July 13th anyone who told her that they want to do something for me could sign up to bring my family dinner. We figure five, maybe six people tops would sign up. As soon as people heard about the list they started signing up. Even a few of the mothers of my kid's friends wanted to cook. Diane told me that I didn't have to think about making dinner for a month. Cool.

And wait…
Seven more days…I found myself scrubbing my house, I want it to shine. Cleaning house before I left it for a few days goes back to my airline days. I found that it was much nicer coming home from a trip to a clean house than a messy one.
"Hon!" My husband said to me, "My mother just called and wants to know when you are having your pre-admittance test done?"
"What's a pre-admittance test?" I asked him, I had no idea what he was talking about.
"My mother said that before any surgery a patient has to have certain tests. You better call you surgeon."
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"Hi this is Traci calling and I am scheduled for surgery on July 13. Do I need any test dome before the surgery?"
"Of course you need pre-admittance," the woman on the phone said to me, her tone implied that I was stupid. She continued, "Everyone needs pre-admittance test, we told you all about them."
"No you didn't"
"Yes, we did."
"N-o, y-o-u d-I-d n-o-t!!"
"Y-e-s w-e d-I-d!" We sounded like five-years-olds.
"Whatever." I said. At least now I sounded like a teen and not a pre-schooler. "Just tell me what test I have to have done and how do I schedule them?"
"I'll set every thing up for you and call you back with the when and where. After all there is no hurry, as you know you're surgery has been changed until the seventeenth, bye." Click.
" WHAT!!!"
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And wait…longer

A few days later I found myself back in the Memorial Hospital, in the pre-admissions department. The women who worked there were great. They helped me fill out all of the forms, including a 'walking will' which stated what I wanted or did not want done medically if something went wrong during the surgery. This paper did not helping me to feel any better, I was getting more and more frighten of the surgery every day.
While I was filling out all of the paperwork, one of the women asked me if I had seen any of the cancer counselors. I told her that I had not, so she made a call. A few minutes later the counselor walked in to the room and asked me to follow her. We went in to her office.
She introduced herself as Grace, she looked a little younger than me, and she was trim, with long brown hair. She was very professional looking, but she had very kind eyes. We stared to talk.
For the first time I understood what was going happen to me. Dr. Sullivan explained the surgery part fine, but I had no idea what my stay in the hospital would be like. Up until now the only time that I had been admitted to a hospital was when I gave birth to my daughters. In maternity wards, women are pampered. The surgical ward would be different. I would not be getting my own room. There would be many people who would need a lot more attention than I will.
Grace walked me through the surgical process. She told me when and where to check-in (for once I will not be an out-patient) how I would be prepped, and what things would be like after I woke up. Ahhhhh, waking-up, I like the sound of that. Then she showed me this weird tube thing that everyone gets after they have surgery. It was some kind of breathing tube. She showed me how to breathe in to it then she made me try. I felt silly. As I breathed into the tube, I saw a little ball thing measuring how hard I was breathing. She told me that this silly thing would become my best friend after my surgery.
Grace then gave me information about the National Cancer Association and arranges for them to contact me. She also gave me some meditation tapes and books. I didn't have the heart to tell her that I am no good at meditating. Whenever I tried, either my minds wanders to a book that I have read or I day dream about winning the lottery. Mostly I just fall a sleep. I took the tapes and books and thanked her. She asked me if I had any questions.
"Well," I said, "my mastectomy will be on my right side, and frankly I have had problem with chronic pain in my right arm and shoulder for most of my life and I didn't know if that would effect my surgery." I told her about the odyssey of doctors I had gone to, none of whom could do anything about my arm. I said that I had learned to live with the pain.
"Have you told your surgeon about your arm?" Grace asked.
"No, I haven't"
"Then I suggest that you call him…today." I left the hospital in a much better mood than I came in with.
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I called Dr. Sullivan as soon as I got home and left a message with his staff, hopping that they would remember to give it to him. To my surprise, he called me back with in an hour. His staff maybe inefficient, but he was not. I told him about my arm and shoulder, he listened patiently, and then asked me one question, did the pain limit the use or movement of my arm. I told him no. He said than that whatever the problem was; it should not his effect his approach to the surgery. Good.
And wait…