Graduate

Today I had my annual checkup with my oncological surgeon.  I was going to refer to him by his nickname, but I went back and read my previous blogs and I realized I never gave him one!  Anyway, I had my annual checkup with he who has no nickname today.

I've come to view these things as more of a nuisance than anything else.  Don't get me wrong - it wasn't always that way.  Until very recently, I couldn't go a day without thinking about cancer.  And maybe these days I still can't go an entire day, but I really couldn't tell you.

Every day I get dressed and I look at my chest.  Instead of looking at two disfigured, mutant lumps with scars across them, I see two shapely, sag-free breasts with nipples.  I even think the redness of radiation has lightened up a lot over the last few months, and that surprises me (I thought it would be that way forever).  There is no doubt in my mind that the quality of my skin and flesh after reconstruction has totally contributed to my emotional well-being after this whole ordeal.

Anyway, when I talked to my boss about how I'd be working from home today due to an appointment, I said "I've come to view cancer as a way for my doctors to collect a fee once a year from my insurance company for the next five years."  And that's mostly true.  Except for the hot flashes.  Damn the hot flashes.  I will always blame those on cancer...

My appointment today started uneventfully.  They asked the standard questions, took the standard measurements, and then my surgeon did an exam.  He didn't really even remember who I was at the beginning of the appointment.  That was a little off-putting.  I mean, who wouldn't remember me?!  Also, during my appointment he was paged for a surgery that he had right after my exam.  He seemed annoyed about the page and told them he'd be there soon.

During the exam, he mentioned that the left side seemed bigger than the other side and not as soft.  He thought I should tell my plastic surgeon about it.  Honestly, that's the first time anyone has said anything negative about the reconstruction and it kind of pissed me off.  The tissue is radiated!  My plastic surgeon can't work miracles!  I've heard surgeons describe radiated tissue as "beef jerky".  All things considered, I'm really happy with the left side, it doesn't feel like jerky, and I feel my oncological surgeon was being sour grapes because he was in a bad mood that he had been paged regarding the surgery - it turns out it was a surgery with my plastic surgeon.

"He's a perfectionist," he said.

Yeah, I know.  So why is it again that you think my left boob isn't perfect?!

After all that, at the end of the appointment, he proclaimed, "Well, I'm done."

"Do you mean for today, or forever?" I said.

"Well, there's no need for me to see you any more," he said.  "If you find any lumps,..." and I didn't really pay much attention to what he said after that.  That sort of put all the annoyance, off-putting, and pissed-offedness in perspective.  I'm done.  I was kind of amazed to find out that I don't have to go through this crap once every year for the next 3 years with my surgeon.  It's refreshing!  I kind of feel like I get that one little slice of my life back - I've graduated.

I'm being well cared-for, no doubt.  I see my oncologist every 3 months.  And I like that.  He remembers my name, he knows I like the Red Sox and he knows I'm a software engineer.  He asks how my mom is doing, and he tells Rusty that he's happy to see him there.  He tailors my treatment plan to my age, my type of cancer, my level of risk, and he knows I friggin' hate hot flashes.  He spends 15-20 minutes with me every time I see him and makes me feel good.  And most of all, he thinks my breasts look amazing.  BOTH of them.