FOLLOW UP AT SUITE 1000!

Suite 1000 at 777 W. Broadway should be a mandatory stop on the tour of what receptionists SHOULD be. This is the office of the miracle worker - plastic surgeon Sheina Macadams (btw, she still looks 12 - okay maybe 12 yrs and 3 months). She has receptionist, little miss Andrea, who is the epitome of how and what the front lines should look like. Next to Andrea, on back up keyboards is Ms. Toni Roma (couldn't resist). She is the receptionist for Sheina's partner - Dr. Peter Lennox. Before Andrea arrived, Toni was lead for both doctors and never once was I belittled or made to feel like I was "wasting her time". It is a high end plastic surgeons office, and there is nothing "toni" or stuffy about it!
How does an office get to have such a great feel? Personality, personality, personality . . . this is something that one cannot teach. Either you have it or you don't. Humor is crucial and like any sevice, it is about relationship. I think these were the key to the hiring of these two women. People who possess these qualities, generally have the common sense and the academic ability to quickly learn office drills and programs. I believe these skills are secondary when creating a dynamic team, where all members are honored and their talents add to the total capacity. The flavour of the office comes alive and the moment the elevator doors open, you know you are welcome!

Follow up with Sheina:
a) the other abdominal drain was removed - yeehaw to that!
b) the outer breast dressings were removed.
c) apparently everything looks good.
d) I have an appointment on May 22nd

At this appointment Sheina will take her after photos. At that point I will snap some photos of the 'tween" surgeon heehee . You can see for yourself folks. Also, I'll show the front line gals. It is an amazing team. I am blessed and truly honored to have met and been in care of such wonderful people!

THE POWER OF LOVE

We have just returned from Karen Gelmon's office. She is the top oncologist on the planet! What a wonderful lady.
So here's the deal:
a) The right breast is clear and fine.
b) The left breast had cancer in the sentinel node BUT . . . here's the good part -
NO CANCER IN THE OTHER 14 NODES TAKEN! 1 out of 15:)

What now?
a) Karen is having her pathologist look at my slides from my operation. The pathologist will recommend chemo or hormone therapy. If the cancer in the sentinel node is found to be low grade - hormone therapy only.
b) The cyst on my right ovary will be looked at closely on Friday at 1:40. I have an ultra sound and Karen will see me after that to make a treatment decision and discuss getting on with a hysterectomy.

I am so relieved. Norm, Chrissy, and I are numb. We are also in happy shock. Chrissy is so shocked that she missed the Granville bridge on ramp. :)

So wow! The power of prayer, energy, and love has played out right before us!

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart!

RECOVERY HEAVEN

So these are the digs where I am recovering. I know, I know . . . just awful accommodations. I hate having to stay in a condo on False Creek, staring across at Granville Island everyday. I hate having the sea wall pass right before the patio and watching people walk, ride, or jog by. I hate eating outside and getting wonderful fresh air without wearing a parka. It is pure torture. :)

Today I will get to visit with three of Chrissy's dear friends. The first visitors will Teresa Clark and her husband Chris the dentist. Teresa just completed her radiation treatment for breast cancer. It will be lovely to hear her stories and observations. From her diagnosis, two significant changes in her life have occurred: she is no longer competitive in her tennis play at the club, and . . . . she is the lead singer in an all female rock band. Isn't that cool? She is a shy little gal and has decided to follow her passion. Rock on girl!

Later today Dick Evans will come by. He is the nicest man. He and his wife, Loretta, are retired Vancouver school administrators. He had quadruple by-pass open heart surgery last December. He and I have decided that there is a book to be written illustrating the parallels between the education and health care systems. The service, care, and delivery mirror one another. I am going to see if I can thread this notion into my Masters presentation in July. Without proper leadership, open communication, and professionals who are willing to deliver their "A" game daily - both professions will continue to be hit-and-miss service models.

STRINGS AND THINGS AND THE NEW GIRLS!

I would like to introduce you to my 4 new friends - the Drain family. I have 2 breast drains and 2 abdomen drains. I empty and measure their output every 12 hours. Once the cirus fluid flow is less than 30 mls/24 hours, I will have that drain removed. I visit the clinic today at 1:45 and I think the left abdomen drain will be removed. Yee-haw! One down, 3 to go.
The length of the drains really limits the wardrobe. If one could come up with a comfortable clothing line to accommodate the drains, wow -a lot of money could be made. hmmmmm . . . .

Here's the new girls folks! I have to live in this bra for the next month. I figure this photo is like looking at a bikini top, and so this is not inappropriate family viewing :) I have had many inquiries - so here you go! The new breast tissue is the tissue from my abdomen. Sheina (the plastic surgeon) did an amazing job! I am still very swollen and sore - but the girls have taken to their new transplant site. There will be a bit of reshaping to take place, but the main part is over :) Not bad eh?

All is quiet this weekend ..

It’s early-afternoon on Sunday. I've had the chance to reflect on the last 10 days. What a difference a week makes! As I write, Lisa is slipping into slumberland.

Last Saturday: Last Saturday, Lisa was in the ‘warm room’. Really, the sign should have read “Hot! Damn hot! Hotter than a snake’s ass in wagon-rut”! (The words play-out better if you conjure up memories of Robin Williams in his “Good Morning Vietnam” portrayal of Adrian Kronauer .) That day, Lisa was so hot and racked with nausea that any pain she was feeling was secondary. The room was 35C for 48 hours before the stifling heat was turned down. Note: It takes a Doc and a team of nurses to conclude that patient comfort DOES play a role in post-op recovery.

This Saturday: Lisa and I went for a short-walk on the seawall on Vancouver’s False Creek. We didn’t break any speed-records. I likened her walk to that of one of Tim Conway's characters. (Her nose scrunched up in response.) Much different than her stride two-weeks ago when we ran together in Kelowna. Actually, that's not true, we didn’t run together that day. She ran ahead of me, wearing blue. The longer we ran, the smaller the blue dot became in front of me. I caught up with her by cutting across the city park. Note: I need to run more.

This weekend: It’s been a quiet weekend. Chris, Lisa and I have slept a great deal. In between we’ve shared our own perspectives on Lisa’s experience at VGH. The conversations mapped out the timeline from check-in early Friday morning to Lisa's discharge on Wednesday. Along the way, Lisa learned that I'm Sudoku challenged. Note: Under protest, I'm not practicing.

I learned, through those conversations, that the ‘B-Team’ nurses took over after I boarded the plane for Toronto. The stories of slip-shod patient care made my blood boil and, honestly I'm tempted to delete all the positive things I've written about VGH patient-care but ... that wouldn’t be fair to Yola or the other nurses who are doing a great job. In the final analysis, it's safe to say that, as with many workplaces, VGH is infested with those who are either unhappy in their roles or are, at least, emotionally severed from from the qualities that drew them to the health care profession. In Lisa's case, patient 'care' was not a priority. Those who did make their 'every four hour' visits were rude or, there's that word again, dismissive. Note: Even in the trauma unit, a five night stay pushes the envelope of good patient care by two days.

The week ahead: Now we look forward to the week ahead and to Wednesday’s meeting with Dr. Gelmon. There, Gelmon will map out the next steps for treatment. Until then, we face the natural tendency to fill in the blanks for ourselves. The mood here is optimistic and, I think, realistic - Lisa is bracing herself for a path that includes chemo, radiation, or both. She's also knows that while preparing is good, hearing the words come from Gelmon will carry a much heavier punch. As Wednesday nears, I’m asking for more white-light and thoughtful prayer to make the next steps as light as possible.

More later .. Norm

PROGNOSIS!

So I guess the question is . . . what now?

After the surgery, the oncologist surgeon, Dr. Davis came out and spoke with Chrissy and Norm.She said, "Everything has gone well. We did check the lymph nodes and we found nothing on the right side. On the left side, where the aggressive cancer was, we did find cancer in the sentinel node, so I removed the sentinel node and several others around it."

Where does this leave us? On Wednesday, May 7th I have an appointment with the best of the best in oncology - Dr. Karen Gelmon at the BC Cancer Agency. She will advise me of the treatment to follow. I am anticipating chemo, radiation, or both. I'll wait and see.

In the meantime, Norm arrived here from Toronto last night. Yippee! Mom and dad just dropped by to say good -bye; they are heading home today. Norm has laced them down with some great reading material for Jordyn and Ethan.

I am feeling much better today. Here is my morning breakfast of goodies. Yummy.

I'll get there yet!

A WEEK IN REVIEW

Hello Gang! We did it! With all of your support, love, prayers, and good energy - I think I am on the the mend. Yippee Skippee.

Last week at this time I was already admitted into VGH, and I was being poked and probed before surgery. I think as today progresses, I will be able to have a true appreciation for my 15 hours of surgery. Because I was the one knocked out, I am having a terrible time slowing down and allowing my body to take the lead for healing. Those of you who know me will laugh in agreeing to that. I have ZERO tolerance for 'sucky-wucks" and I am a HUGE fan of the "Buck up and get at it!" mantra. Soooooo, this lying around stuff is new and bothersome.

I will just give you the day by day highlights from my trip to hell. Yes, this has been a life altering experience on so many levels. I am still detangling the strands and making sense of all of this on a personal and spiritual level. However, I will share the physical. As I look back- geeeeeee I had shitty care. Keep in mind- I am not a whiner. I was just sucking it up and getting through - with an extremely FOGGY mind and slow input - process - output odometer.
Friday: Surgery day. Great day - in at 5:45 and knocked out just after 7:00am. My next memory was nearing midnight.
I do remember thinking it was strange though, as I was wheeled into the OR, that no one seemed to even notice I was there. I was in a huge room alone on a tiny bed in the middle. Several nurses were off to the side preparing instruments and doctors were on phones and writing on charts. The anesthesiologist sauntered over and threw in an intravenous port. Sheina (plastic surgeon who looks like she is 12yrs old) came over and had me sit up to draw her marking from neck to above the pubic line. Soon I was lying back down and off to la la land. The next thing I knew I was groggy awake and I could see I was being wheeled somewhere in a hurry as the ceiling panels flew by overhead. I was asked the names of people who may want to see me and that was that.
Saturday: My day in hell. Boot camp started here. I was put into a heated room. Now - a patient is placed in a hot room OR a hot panel is placed in a normal cool room to help with vasodilationtion of the arteries and veins. Somehow - I was chosen to be the lucky dual winner. Oh yes folks, I had a room at 30'c AND a panel heater over me reading 35'c. I had pillows piled on either side of me and my back and the back of my head were dripping in sweat. ( I had 8 litres of fluid pumped into me - lots to come out)
At that point. I was not using the pain medication because I do not like the drugged out feeling. For those of you who do not know, I am probably one of the few people you will meet who has never even smoked pot. Yes, clear eyed and sensible this one. Anyhow, I was trying to gauge the pain and press the pain medication where needed. I could not have any water for 48 hours - this was just in case I had to be wheeled back into the or. I would have my mouth swabbed and any droplets left over were quickly suctioned away. This was making me nauseated so I avoided the meds.
My legs were wrapped with thigh-high plastic "goalie pads". These fill with air in different patterns, and then deflated to give the legs a massage to prevent blood clots.
The medication guy came in and heard I was nauseated and that I did not like the meds. So he switched me to morphine. Bad move . . .

I woke up with Norm putting a cool cloth on my head BUT - I was sweating and began reacting to the morphine. I was laying just about flat, surrounded by piled-up hot plastic covered pillows, my legs were in hot plastic sweat pads, sweat was pooled up and down my backside -starting at my head, and the bloody heat panel was above me closing me in like a coffin. NOT COOL. I began to get claustrophobic. I freaked out and it was a while before I could talk myself down. I just wanted to get up and run outside. If it wasn't for the window in my room, I don't know where that would have gone. I was switched back to the original med and then I was to be cooled down.

Unfortunately, cooled down for them was different than what I had in mind. I was wanting a sponge bath and the heater panel removed. OH NO - I was layed out flat and they thought WASHING MY HAIR would be a good idea . Keep in mind - not even 12 hours post op and I have a section of left rib removed,my flaps are attempting to relocate in my chest wall,and my tummy tuck is tight - requiring legs bent. My chest was exploding with pain and, well . . . I get teary even thinking about it. As I writhed in VOCAL pain, the nurses rinsed my hair, and promptly conditioned it. They wiped down my body and gave me a hair brush and left. So - no mirror, I can't get up - so what the hell?

On top of this - there is on the hour monitoring of the artery and vein coupling. A mini (hand held) ultra sound machine is brought in to put on the flaps (my new girls) to hear the pulse. Sleep deprivation . . . good Lord. I remember wanting to be 'taken out" that day. Surely there is a drugs that can knock you out until further notice and all gross experiences like this can be avoided.
Sunday: Much better day. I felt like this was my marathon day. I needed to get up and move. No problem. So the physiotherapist and nurse show up to help my "dangle my feet at the edge of the bed" Dangle, smangle - lets stand, walk ? However, these girls were tiny. They could certainly not catch this huge coug. The standing soon ended as I stood up - yes ladies, I started my cycle. Did I not have enough to contend with? grrrrrr
The heat was turned down and I was able to have water!!
I was able to talk with Jordyn on the phone - HUGE highlight. She only wanted to know if I was sitting in a wheelchair. She had some tears and I held steady for her.
Norm left for meetings in Toronto so we said goodbye that night sniff sniff
Monday: No nurse care here. This is where the care became very shoddy. Chrissy was the first one though the door on that morning who could help me clean up from the day before. I was in a pool of disgusting bodily fluids. Unreal ! No one had changed any thing from the afternoon before. The HUGE nurse let us know that the ward was under staffed and that she had an appointment in 15 minutes. Chrissy kicked into high gear and was the best care aid I had BY FAR! She didn't let the nurse off the hook. While Chrissy got me to the washroom to clean up, she had "Helga" (that's what we tagged her) change my bed. The nurse was annoyed and then announced she was late for another appointment.
Soon mom and dad arrived. It was emotional. At the best of times I cry when my mom hugs me and says"Oh dear heart" or "God love you child". whhaaaaa ... she just has this way about her - most of you know what I am talking about. Dad was wiping the tears as well. Both were amazed at how good I was doing and then dad pipes up and says, "Well of course Mary Jo. She's a Norman". Soon the nurse returned and announced that I would be changing rooms. We all packed up and over I went to a double room. I would not get a roommate until the next day.
Tuesday: The grease had piled up enough on the 'ol noggin and so it was hair washing day. One of my fav nurses, Andrea, brought us the equipment and left us to it. She was shocked that I had my hair washed on the first day. She said in her years of nursing she had only washed hair maybe twice - there simply was no time. So I was layed down comfortably: dad was on the bucket. Mom shampooed my hair 3 times before the previous conditioner was out, a Bev (who was there to have her check up at the cancer agency) was on water refill. Chrissy supervised. Quite the production. Ahhhhhh did that feel grrrrrreat! I was a little styling my hair and so I paid the price Wednesday and Thursday.
That night I had the worst nurse. She did nothing but play on the computer all night at the station outside the door. She came in the odd time to poke at my girls, and one time she did this as she at her Chinese crackers. gross.
Wednesday: Release day. I cried for most of this day. Weepy, sleepy day. THIS surprised me.Mom and dad went grocery shopping and prescription shopping for me. Have I mentioned I have the greatest parents? :)
Thursday: Sore and zoned out day. I felt nauseated all day. I layed and vegged out and tried to feel good. I even razored of 10 pounds of hair from my legs :) That felt!
Friday: I go the walk in clinic today. Mom will be over to Chrissy's soon to wash my hair and help me get ready.
I'll add some pictures later. This posting was just to let you know that I am alive and back.