My first autoimmune diagnosis was in 1997. Over the years I’ve had a variety of experiences with medical professionals. Mostly good, in the grand scheme of things. When push has come to shove and life-threatening situations have been handled, I’ve been beyond blessed to have doctors that I felt safe and comfortable putting my life in their hands.
This cancer situation has been no exception. From Day 1 I have loved and felt very comfortable with the surgeon I was referred to. The man knows his stuff, is thorough, and has just the right mix of candor and wit perfect for my personality and approach to dealing with all of “this”.
Yesterday’s final appointment with him was no different. We had a more in depth conversation about the details of the surgery now that we’re “out the other side” and not still in the thick of it (in the hospital recovering and processing everything). We discussed how the original small incision turned into a bigger one. And a bigger one. And a bigger one. Three times bigger than he planned so he had room to navigate “all that scar tissue”.
Then he told me how he removed part of my rib. … “hold up! Who-sie whatsit? You did WHAT?” …. “Don’t worry. It won’t affect how you’re held together. It’s just that after all that cutting and knowing I needed to get into your body cavity, the rib spreaders would have broken your little ribs and that would be way more painful for you to heal from. I didn’t want to add to your struggles. So, now you’re missing this section of your rib” (pointing to the X-ray) … All I could do was laugh - “Ok. So THIS is what we’re doing now.”
He was very happy with my X-rays and how I’m healing. I expressed how I thought I’d be bouncing back faster than I have. While I’m doing GREAT, I still tire easily and my core gets exhausted and aches throughout the day.
He was like … “you’re doing GREAT! I had to cut a three times larger hole in you than I expected. I took out part of your rib. I had my hands IN your body cavity. That’s MAJOR stuff for anyone. You’re this tiny thing. With other complications. Give yourself a break. … Now. I’m done with you. You’re released from my care and I hope to never see you again! *LOL*”
I’m good with that! One more down. ✔️
Oncologist is Monday. I likely won’t be as lucky there. Word is I have to have five years of clean scans before they consider me cured, so, I’m stuck with him for awhile.
It’s all good. Life is good. Love this life.
Persevere. Rock on. 💋🤘🏻
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