High Anxiety and Small Victories

So, I had this crazy idea (and some time, and a cell phone) and decided to try to reach someone at the hospital who I could talk to about the whole IV/hand issue.  (Thanks to my friend Lois, whose comments about her surgery encouraged me to do this.) 

After several transfers, I ended up with the Anesthesiology department.  The secretary gave me to the nurse-practitioner, who told me she would call me back, as she was with a patient.  I didn't hear from her for all of the next day (which was Friday) so I left a quick message explaining that there was "no rush" but I was hoping to figure this out before the surgery in a week's time.

That evening at 5:30 as I organized things at our book fair in advance of the "browsing only" evening, she called me back.  It was her day off but she said she felt bad that I wouldn't hear from her for the whole weekend.  I didn't even have to explain everything; she had read my entire surgical history, knew about all my hospitalizations, and understood right away what was going on - and when I asked why the IV always seemed to go in the back of the hand she said that it was "easier for the person putting it in."  How about that?  She said she was terribly sorry and that she was putting a big note in my file saying that my IV should be in my arm for my next surgery.  Yessssssssss.

Next up - tamoxifen.  In 2006 when I was diagnosed the first time and had my lumpectomy followed by radiation (the radiation that proved to be Louie's undoing,) there was no lymph node involvement at all at the oncologist had said at the time that she felt the potential side effects were not worth the benefits.  Then in 2008 when they found the LCIS (not a cancer, just a marker) she said maybe it was time, and wrote me a prescription.  Which I promptly misplaced, then found, then contracted Lyme disease, which took a few months to resolve.  Then I lost it again.  Fast forward to the current situation.  Dr. Ligresti says "NOW you'll take the tamoxifen." 

She wrote me a new prescription, which I needed to send in to Medco, the mail order place where we send all long-term prescriptions.  I finally sat down to fill out the forms, and couldn't locate the little blue piece of paper!  (Seriously? Really? )  I finally found it, exactly where I had put it for safekeeping, and sent it in.  The bottle showed up on Friday, along with its page-long list of potentially serious and not-so-serious (but still aggravating) side effects.  In much the same way as I waited to take my first shower post-Louie-removal in the morning (so as not to spend the night thinking about the experience if the reality was too jarring,) I waited to take my first dose until I was at work and about to get on with a hectic Sunday school.  No spending the night wondering if/when a side effect would pop up, and I think I'll continue my strategy.  (I am also heartened by those of you who have done this and had no ill effects.)

I worry what position I will (and won't) able to sleep in for a while,  I need to find a long-line bra (remember those?  I don't really) for post-op back support, I have to figure out how to shower on Friday morning because the surgeon has to do the markings on me late Thursday and I'm not supposed to risk them by washing them (but I'm going to get clean somehow,) and I'm fixating on how I can get out of the hospital on Sunday instead of Monday (nurse said 48 hours maybe; doctor said 72 hours maybe.) I'm still working on whittling down my anxiety components.

IV not in hand, check.  Rod to occasionally bring me food that is yummy from the cafeteria (i.e. a BLT, a salad, decently seasoned soup, etc.) and a chilled supply of ginger ale and Activia yogurt, among other things, check.  Comfy pajama pants so it's a quicker trip across the room to the bathroom (no awkward robe needed to cover a potentially embarrassing gap in the hospital gown,) check.  My Nana's beef and barley soup simmering to be frozen in small batches for a "comfort food" protein kick to aid the healing process, check. 

So many things to worry about, so little time.  But I'm going to keep shortening the list, because it's what I can control - and there's so many other things I can't.