monday morning (september 9th) was my bone and CT scan (two separate scans). my friend serena picked me up in the early morning and whisked me to riverside in rush hour traffic. bless. i went through registration for the bone scan about half an hour earlier than necessary. he was going to take me straight down to nuclear medicine, but i stopped him. uh, i can eat and drink like normal, right? yes, you can. so... can my friend and i hit up starbucks first? oh sure! just come back and i'll lead you down for the bone scan injection. HEY, PRIORITIES, PEOPLE. we head to the in-hospital starbucks, procure our caffeine, and head back for my injection of radioactive dye at 8:30am. do you have any questions?, the nurse asks, after she gets the IV and dye started. will i turn into a superhero? she responds in the negative. i am disappointed. the injection takes around three hours to course through my body, and i am to return at 11:30am to get the actual scan. in the meantime, we head up to radiology for my CT scan. i appreciate the efficient use of down time.

i had been under the impression that the CT scan would take 15 minutes and then we would be free to wander the cabin until the bone scan. this was not the case. i am told i will need to drink some contrast mixed with water. it is confusingly presented to me, but i finally figure out that i will be drinking three perfectly timed cups of contrast water (9:15, 9:45, 10:15), and the CT scan will begin at 10:45am. so, instead of hanging out on couches, serena and i talk and catch up in bay 4. i have to pee three or four times by the time the test begins; the theme of the morning. the CT scan does, indeed, take about 15 minutes. then back down to nuclear medicine.

i am told to pee again (no problem!), then basically take a nap while i lay on a table. a very large square scanner comes towards me from above, hovering, as the table slowly slides me under it, getting a full body scan of my bones, full of radioactive dye. a low lit room, quiet, not at all unpleasant. appointments are over, serena and i lunch, she takes me home, and i head into work.

tuesday, i am scheduled for an EKG at riverside, then for chemo training at the oncologist. the EKG technician is almost finished, then tells me she can't quite see everything she needs to, and that we need to run an IV to inject some fatty lipids (gross) so that she can get a better image. i freak out a little, mostly because i just don't want to be late to the next appointment, partly because i just don't need anymore new surprises, thankyouverymuch. everything turns out fine, but i show up a little rattled to the oncologist's office.

andy meets me there, and we sit down with the oncologist's nurse. she gives us a binder of all the information about my treatments, the possible side effects, issues that may arise, what to expect in the infusion room, how long infusions will take, when to alert the office, etc.  at some point she is explaining that mouth sores are a common side effect, and that they usually administer cryotherapy to combat it. i raise my eyebrow at cryotherapy, and she says that they give patients a cup of ice chips to suck on during infusions. i interject. "wait, wait, wait. are you telling me that if i go eat ice cream, i can say i'm 'having cryotherapy'? hey, andy, let's cryotherapy and netflix tonight!"

for some reason, i feel overwhelmed that day. there are plenty of restaurants around, but i can't decide on one, it is unbearably hot out, i am hungry, nothing nearby sounds good. the only thing that sounds good to me is burger king, which is nowhere near where we are, but is somewhat on the way back to my work. i attribute this craving to everything in my life currently going topsy-turvy and full of unknowns; burger king was the only fast food place in my hometown growing up for years and years and years. familiarity is what i need. so andy and i head to our respective workplaces; on  my way, i pick up a double cheeseburger and apple pie in which to drown my sorrows. it was a hard day for no particular reason, and i realize i will probably have a lot of those.

later that afternoon, the oncologist's nurse calls with updates on monday's bone/CT scan. she stated that they see "something" on my left adrenal gland, as well as possibly something on my pelvic bone. dr. m, the oncologist, is going to order a PET scan to hash it out. dr. h, the surgeon, also calls while i am on the phone with the oncologist's nurse, stating the same about the adrenal gland. what about the pelvic bone thing?, i ask. she stated that the bone scan came back fine and i shouldn't worry, and also that she expects the adrenal gland scan to be benign. okay, then. i do a little googling, and it is indeed rare for my type of breast cancer to show up in an adrenal gland, and even if it has, it does not seem like treatment would change much. i choose to take it as good news that my entire body is not riddled with cancer. still, another unknown. i don't like it.

wednesday: no appointments!!!

thursday is mediport installation day. this is a medical device that will be implanted under my skin, on the right side of my upper chest, and will allow direct access to my bloodstream. it takes the place of getting stuck with constant IVs, it will spare my veins, it is where all future blood draws and chemo infusions will take place. it is a good thing, but i have never truly had surgery, and i am fairly anxious about the whole thing... i am usually cool as a cucumber, but i don't do pain well.

my sister-in-law emily picks me up in the morning, and we head to grant medical center. we finally find the correct valet parking and head inside. we check in and i am pretty quickly shuttled off to prepare for surgery, by a man named bob in a crisp-looking suit. i go through the usual check-in routine. name? birthdate? what are you here for? then i am told to scrub down with weirdly warm and sticky anti-bacterial wipes (legs, arms, torso), and put on the customary gown and non-skid socks. i lay on the gurney and begin my wait. a rotating cast of pre-op medical staff visits me. pre-surgery questions, IV started, fluids begin. the surgeon, dr. h, comes by to review what will happen. she is, as always, efficient and clinical, but also holds my hand as she talks about the surgery, which is a nice calming touch. i mention to her my previous experiences with anesthesia (nausea) and lidocaine (usually NEED MOAR PLEASE). before leaving, she autographs my upper right chest, like a rock star (or, you know, a proactive surgeon). they let emily back to see me, the anesthesiologist comes by, he speaks quickly, i also mention to him the same things i did to dr h. and then we wait. and wait. and wait. my 11am scheduled surgery time comes and goes. we chat and watch whatever mindless morning show is playing on tv. at some point, i am more bored than anxious. finally, around 12:30pm or so, i am wheeled into surgery. i remember the OR and the big bright lights, an oxygen mask, and then i am out.

i begin coming back around somewhere in the vicinity of 3:15pm or so? it is a blur. i must have started rustling, because as i was waking up, emily was already in my post-surgery bay. apparently i was snoozing it up pretty good. (i mean, i AM an expert napper). i feel pretty good, though i ask why my throat is sore. after all my previous mentions of pain and anxiety, they decided to put me under and intubate me, rather than go with the planned twilight anesthesia. i am totally fine with this decision, though i feel badly that it likely extended emily's waiting time. the nurse is.. interesting, and i will leave it at that. as i begin really coming around, she asks if i want a pain pill. i am not in a lot of pain, but i am unsure if that will stay true, so, yeah, sure, gimme a pain pill. (editor's note: THIS WAS LIKELY A POOR DECISION). i take a serving of norco and start thinking of getting myself around to leaving. the nurse helps me into my clothes (when is the last time you had help getting your underpants on? i felt like a six-year-old), and i head to the bathroom. they have a wheelchair waiting for me when i exit, but i realize that i.. need a minute.

i am starting to get a headache, and from my years of motion sickness, i know that this headache is going to go into nausea land. and i have a 15-20 minute ride home ahead of me. the wave of nausea begins, i get a zofran anti-nausea pill under my tongue, cold wet washcloths on my neck and forehead, a puke bag in my hand. glasses off, i lean forward in my wheelchair, and let the waves wash over me. i am always cognizant that if you just go ahead and puke, it makes things better more quickly. i am always also cognizant that that is unpleasant and gross and will avoid it anyway at all costs, despite the benefits. i manage to stave off the nausea, but i likely sat there for damn near an hour doing so. the only way out is sleep, but sleep is a car ride away. the nurse (a different one from when i originally woke up) is patient and kind very slowly rolls me down to the lobby after i finally give the okay. on the bright side, i have taken so long that rush hour is mostly over, so, win? emily gets me home safely, she and andy help my sick sorry ass into the house, immediately upstairs where i fall into bed. emily catches andy up on all the details, and then as far as i know, andy spends the next hour or two laying beside me in bed, holding my hand as i begin to sleep off the nausea. eventually, i know that i need food, and request a can of old school campbell's chicken noodle soup, if we have any. we do! more familiarity. i get through about half of that, along with some plantain chips, gatorade, and ibuprofen, and then curl up on the living room couch for another hour or so. andy sits with me and calls his parents and my parents to update them on the good surgery and bad after effects. eventually, i get up and finish the rest of the soup, then we both head up to bed.

thankfully, i have already called off of work for the next day, and spend the morning sleeping in and recovering. it usually takes me about 24 hours to return to normal after a bout of nausea. i get up around 11am and caffeinate and have a heartier bowl of soup and chips. i follow that up with a shower and start feeling human again. the rest of the day is spent reading, texting, chilling. heat index of 105F? no thank you, i'll stay inside, please.

this weekend will be my last pre-chemo weekend. planning on keeping a low profile and relaxing. PET scan is tentatively scheduled for wednesday morning. (i don't even have any pets. i mean, do i bring our fish? i don't think they'll like it). thursday begins chemo. am i ready? totally unsure. let's do this.