Order Up!

As I prepare for surgery, I can't help but feel like I've just pulled up to the drive-thru at a fast food restaurant. Only the choices on this menu are quite different than the usual artery choking options that you find on those big illuminated boards.

"Welcome to Surgery King. May I take your order?"

Me: "I'll take the #2: Lumpectomy with a side order of a few removed lymph nodes."

"Oh, sorry ma'am, that item is no longer available."

Well, no real surprise there, a lumpectomy was taken off the menu months ago due to the grade of the tumor and stage of the cancer -- but, it was worth a try. Not to worry, there are still plenty of available options to choose from. Immediate or delayed reconstruction? Implants or your own tissue? Tummy (TRAM flap) or back (latissimus dorsi flap) tissue to rebuild? Perhaps some of the newer types of flap procedures...DIEP, GAP or TUG? Whoa, slow down...I'm still trying to figure out if I want "fries with that." Silicone or saline implants? Whopper or double whopper?...oops, I mean...single or bilateral mastectomy? The choice to the last question IS a whopper (no, a double whopper) of a decision -- not to be made lightly. The choice will ultimately decide the following: a) needless additional surgery now; b) having to go through this all again years later; or, c) none of the above.

To make the decision even harder, I'm not ordering from the high-risk menu. Meaning: there is no family history of breast cancer or existence of those notorious BRCA 1 or BRCA 2 cancer genes -- just to name some of the risk factors -- which would make the decision for the bilateral mastectomy a no-brainer. My doctor said, "How a woman makes the choice of having a single or bilateral mastectomy is a gray area." No kidding... also I don't do well with "gray" areas. I'm a numbers kind of gal. Give me the cold hard facts. Will I cut the odds of cancer returning by 10% if I have a double mastectomy? 5%? 1%? C'mon doc, I'm young, have a husband and three kids to consider -- give me a number. Hell, tell me that there's a 0.5% chance that I don't have to go down this road again and I'm sold...take the second boob.

Unfortunately, it doesn't work that way -- there are no guarantees when it comes to cancer. I knew, no matter how hard I pushed, my doctor wasn't going to and, for that matter, wasn't able to commit to any of the percentages that I was throwing around. There are no assurances that removing my healthy breast will avoid any further matches in the ring with the big 'C'. So, there you are left in that gray area forced to make a major decision that you hope, at the end of the day, will allow you to sleep at night.

Obviously, it would be a lot simpler if I knew what caused my cancer -- just cut out those unhealthy foods and/or life style choices and move on. But, of course, nothing is easy with cancer. Who knows what I can attribute mine to...the more than occasional glass of wine that has passed over these lips? a decline in exercise over the years? the consumption of one too much prime rib? or maybe it was a smorgasboard of them all? Or perhaps it was just a case of:

Whatever the cause(s), the long term and permanent choice to hack off a healthy breast doesn't seem like a choice that should be determined by a person who questions her short term decisions minutes after they are made -- like ordering the quarter pounder as the option least likely to have me crouched over with indigestion hours later...which, by the way, I should have went with the chicken sandwich. But, thanks to my husband, after much discussion, we were able to come to a decision that I feel is right for me.

"Would you like that order super-sized?" Hmmm, now that's an interesting question. Years ago, a friend of mine said to me, "Lisa, if you had boobs (referring to the kind that spill out of a plunging neckline) you would be dangerous!" Here I am decades later and those words are spinning around in my mind. After four and a half months of chemo, the stronger woman who has emerged may not be feeling dangerous but definitely a bit spunkier. Maybe I should go with the triple Ds:

One day at chemo, a nurse overheard me joking around with a friend about monstrosities like these that I was threatening to get. "Oh Lisa," she cried, "You would topple over!"

Ouch!

Ha, ha - yes, she's probably right. Plus, I can see the disapproving look on my plastic surgeon's face now. No, this isn't the route for me...but it's fun to think about nonetheless.


And, I'm not going for the happy meal either...

I have outgrown the child-sized portions and toys that come along in those boxes.

*I couldn't resist including the Hello Kitty training bra as a shout out to my youngest who loves everything about this cat -- not sure if she's going to be humored by the tribute years from now. ;)

Yep, let's just say, when this is all said and done, I will be left with a set of jugs, that as my blog name suggests, are "uplifted". And, more importantly, ones that are, fingers and toes crossed...cancer-free.

After a bunch of scheduling problems, the wait is finally over. I have a date with the O.R. to put the decisions that I have made into action. At long last, the person behind the headsets is instructing me to pull up to the next window...

Order up!

  

Cancer you don't stand a chance....