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By STEPHANIE LAW
Staff Writer Monday, August 06, 2007

Fifth in a series of columns about one woman's journey through the often-scary world of breast cancer diagnosis and treatment.

Seven weeks ago, a surgeon told me I had breast cancer. Although the cancer in my right breast was still in the early stages, a lumpectomy revealed cancer cells were a lot more pervasive than my doctors originally thought. No sign of any cancer cells presented itself in my left breast.

My surgeon presented my options — enlarged lumpectomy, with reconstruction, chemotherapy and radiation; removal of right breast, with same three options; or bilateral mastectomy (removal of both breasts), with or without reconstruction, little or no chemo or radiation.

I was fairly certain I wanted the third option, because it offered the best chance of a cancer-free life.

My first question for the surgeon, though, was which option she would choose if she were in my position. She said, "Answering as a woman, not a doctor, I would choose the same as you. Take them both, heal, get on with my life."

OK, that was settled. Now, when could we do it? We settled on a date about 10 days ahead. The procedure would take about an hour and a half. I probably would spend just one night in the hospital. That was a big surprise, but I guess they won't send me home if I can't wake up long enough to walk to the bathroom.

I had a few other questions. I told the surgeon I thought the nurse anesthetist had given me too much pre-op sedative for my lumpectomy. She looked quizzical.

I explained that after the anesthetist said he was going to give me something to "make my eyeballs stupid," I was out like a light. I thought I would be semi-awake until I was given anesthesia.

The doctor told me I wasn't asleep; I talked a blue streak and answered all her questions semi-coherently. She said the pre-op medicine could cause amnesia and that probably was why I didn't remember anything.

I wondered, did I spill all the family secrets or did she make me quack like a duck? No, she assured me. What a relief.

I also suggested that perhaps we ought to do something different for the anesthesia, since the aspiration of some of it probably caused my breathing problem the last time. She already had noted that I was to be given an endotracheal tube (which goes down the throat).

I already had decided to go easy on food the night before, since that pulled pork sandwich I had at 11:45 p.m. the night before the lumpectomy also could have contributed to my lung problem. Nothing but a slice of toast or something equally bland, I had decided. Maybe a cup of tea instead of Diet Coke.

I lined up my support crew — someone to take me to the hospital and pick me up the next day. My mother planned to come down to stay with me the first few days after surgery. I was as ready as I could be.

I had scheduled time off from work for that week, and now I really needed it – I had to do a major housecleaning before mom arrived. I had to do all my laundry, find the kitchen table (hidden under mail I hadn't sorted yet), vacuum, dust, clean the cat's litter pan – all those jobs I kept putting off. I had just three days to do it all.

Maybe I could leave some things for her to do, I thought. I don't want her to get bored watching me sleep the first couple days I'm home from the hospital. Stephanie Law is a copy editor at the newspaper and lives in Sabattus. NEXT: Thoughts the day before surgery

Contact Stephanie Law by e-mailing: doverfox51@midmaine.com

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