Report from the kitchen sink

I'm seeking clarity. Today I saw doctor Gorrebeeck, my oncologist. It was a party of two and we made sparkling conversation for a long time. 

Following is a medical update on me:

What about that damned report from surgery three that still shows a margin?

I just had my third lumpectomy. (Didn't even hurt - I am a surgery rock star!) The oncologist was surprised and "bummed out" that the pathology report from this last surgery shows that there still cancer inside of my left breast. Ductal carcinoma in situ. She thinks the surgeon definitely needs to do another surgery, and that said surgeon may consider a mastectomy now because the margin that was left last time was completely "positive" not just "close."

Why would I still have cancer cells left my breast after I just went through poisonous chemical warfare?

Dr. G says the reason chemotherapy didn't knock out what was left in there is because what's in there is a noninvasive type of cancer (DCIS), and chemotherapy only kills rapidly dividing invasive cells. 

Ok, if they're non-invasive why do anything?

However, the cells are also what's called "high-grade" (like grade A beef? Prime rib!) which means that they could develop into tumors, and she think that's what happened with the tumors I had before. So...not ok to ignore.

(Interlude)

GET THOSE MOTHERFUCKING CELLS OUT OF ME STAT!

Back to calm medical questions:

Is it insane that I've had not one, not two, but THREE surgeries already and how do I deal with my friends and family and strangers that tell me that my sugeon must not be doing something right, like they say "Can't she CHECK WHILE DOING SURGERY? GOD!!!!" and stuff like that?

Dr. Gorrebeeck assured me that Dr. Nelson is the best surgeon in Austin. I know this too. And no they can't check right there in the operating room (you're thinking of that skin cancer surgery called Moh's named after Dr. Moh - google it). These kinds of cells (google DCIS) cannot be seen or felt. It takes having the tissue (eew) shipped to a lab, then sliced into many tiny sections, stained different colors, and examined very closely for a long time by a pathologist who does nothing else, and who then types up an extremely long and detailed report (before going out for a chicken BREAST sandwich? Nah - he's probably vegan). Takes DAYS.

What next?

My surgeon and my radiologist are together at a conference right now, so Dr. G thinks they are probably discussing my case while there. Maybe even right now over a glass of VERY GOOD wine. (I hope). So I will have to wait till they get back next Monday and they communicate with me what they think I should do. So no radiation or tamoxifen until that is resolved. Right now I have NO PLAN. 

(Nobody knows).

How do I feel?

I had a very nice meeting with my oncologist, and I feel good about that, although now I feel nervous in a whole new sort of way. And something else is happening. Several times today. It's kind of like numbness, although not really numbness, it's sort of like I am turning into vapor and I'm not really there, physically, in the place that I am at the time. Like in a chair, or my car, or the grocery store. A vibration. I think this is mental, not physical. However, if you see me and I start to fade out visually, to pixelate, please let me know. I may have discovered a wormhole. Where shall I go?

Please read

No one has done anything wrong. I have excellent doctors. I have confidence in my doctors. The human body is hella mysterious and complicated, and any doctor worth their salt will tell you that the world of medicine has barely scratched the surface of understanding the human body. Cancer is also very complicated. And any treatments that are done to a patient with cancer (chemotherapy, surgery, nutrition, voodoo, drugs, herbs, carrots, the kitchen sink, radiation, snorting cabbage patch dolls, etc) are done on one specific body with its own variables (hormones, constitution, ecosystem, sensitivities, physical state, age, plumbing, previous screw ups, genes, jeans, flaws, immune system, mental state, insurance, blood, intelligence, addictions, propensities, diseases, fat, skin, bugs, etc,) and millions of other variables and circumstances. 

Every single case of cancer is completely unique and separate from every other single case. 

I am no exception to this. There are no fixed protocols or rules. Cancer is complex and even within that complexity, apparently my case is one of the more complex ones. It's befuddling, confounding, annoying, rude, irreverent, and unclear.

I am tired. My red blood count is low, my iron is low, my liver enzymes are low. But I'm also tired in another way. Mentally.

I am managing this as well as I can. It keeps evading me - it being "the case of Amy's badly behaving bucking bronco of freaking supposed stage one breast cancer" and evading meaning "continuing to not have the damn clear end date that I want." 

And now for a poetic interlude:

The Whole Mess...Almost

By Gregory Corso

I ran up six flights of stairs

to my small furnished room   

opened the window

and began throwing out

those things most important in life

First to go, Truth, squealing like a fink:

“Don’t! I’ll tell awful things about you!”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’ve nothing to hide ... OUT!”

Then went God, glowering & whimpering in amazement:   

“It’s not my fault! I’m not the cause of it all!” “OUT!”   

Then Love, cooing bribes: “You’ll never know impotency!   

All the girls on Vogue covers, all yours!”

I pushed her fat ass out and screamed:

“You always end up a bummer!”

I picked up Faith Hope Charity

all three clinging together:

“Without us you’ll surely die!”

“With you I’m going nuts! Goodbye!”

Then Beauty ... ah, Beauty—

As I led her to the window

I told her: “You I loved best in life

... but you’re a killer; Beauty kills!”   

Not really meaning to drop her

I immediately ran downstairs

getting there just in time to catch her   

“You saved me!” she cried

I put her down and told her: “Move on.”

Went back up those six flights

went to the money

there was no money to throw out.

The only thing left in the room was Death   

hiding beneath the kitchen sink:

“I’m not real!” It cried

“I’m just a rumor spread by life ... ”   

Laughing I threw it out, kitchen sink and all   

and suddenly realized Humor

was all that was left—

All I could do with Humor was to say:   

“Out the window with the window!”

Gregory Corso, “The Whole Mess ... Almost” from Herald of the Autochthonic Spirit. Copyright © 1973, 1975, 1981 by Gregory Corso. Reprinted with the permission of New Directions Publishing Corporation.

A Drink With Something In It

There is something about a Martini,
A tingle remarkably pleasant;
A yellow, a mellow Martini;
I wish I had one at present.
There is something about a Martini,
Ere the dining and dancing begin,
And to tell you the truth,
It is not the vermouth--
I think that perhaps it's the gin.

Ogden Nash

Dirty Face

BY SHEL SILVERSTEIN

Where did you get such a dirty face,

My darling dirty-faced child?

 

I got it from crawling along in the dirt

And biting two buttons off Jeremy’s shirt.

I got it from chewing the roots of a rose

And digging for clams in the yard with my nose.

I got it from peeking into a dark cave

And painting myself like a Navajo brave.

I got it from playing with coal in the bin

And signing my name in cement with my chin.

I got if from rolling around on the rug

And giving the horrible dog a big hug.

I got it from finding a lost silver mine

And eating sweet blackberries right off the vine.

I got it from ice cream and wrestling and tears

And from having more fun than you’ve had in years.

“Gregory Corso, “The Whole Mess ... Almost” from Herald of the Autochthonic Spirit. Copyright © 1973, 1975, 1981 by Gregory Corso. Reprinted with the permission of New Directions Publishing Corporation.

A Strange Wild Song

by Lewis Carroll

He thought he saw an Elephant,
That practised on a fife:
He looked again, and found it was
A letter from his wife.
'At length I realise,' he said,
The bitterness of Life!'

He thought he saw a Buffalo
Upon the chimney-piec e:
He looked again, and found it was
His Sister's Husband's Niece.
'Unless you leave this house,' he said,
"I'll send for the Police!'

He thought he saw a Rattlesnake
That questioned him in Greek:
He looked again, and found it was
The Middle of Next Week.
'The one thing I regret,' he said,
'Is that it cannot speak!'

He thought he saw a Banker's Clerk
Descending from the bus:
He looked again, and found it was
A Hippopotamus .
'If this should stay to dine,' he said,
'There won't be much for us!'

He thought he saw a Kangaroo
That worked a coffee-mill: 
He looked again, and found it was
A Vegetable-Pi ll.
'Were I to swallow this,' he said,
'I should be very ill!'

He thought he saw a Coach-and-Fo ur
That stood beside his bed:
He looked again, and found it was
A Bear without a Head.
'Poor thing,' he said, 'poor silly thing!
It's waiting to be fed!'

He thought he saw an Albatross
That fluttered round the lamp:
He looked again, and found it was
A Penny-Postag e Stamp.
'You'd best be getting home,' he said:
'The nights are very damp!'

He thought he saw a Garden-Door
That opened with a key:
He looked again, and found it was
A Double Rule of Three:
'And all its mystery,' he said,
'Is clear as day to me!'

He thought he saw a Argument
That proved he was the Pope:
He looked again, and found it was
A Bar of Mottled Soap.
'A fact so dread,' he faintly said,
'Extinguishe s all hope!'