One month to go

Today is August 30, which means the surgery is exactly one month away. At times, I have wondered what it would have been like if I had had the surgery on August 5. It would have meant I would not have to field questions from people who thought I had surgery then or who ask whether the cancer is gone. Interestingly, some people ask me how my treatment is going, but I am not undergoing any treatment right now. Not all cancers require treatment to “shrink” the tumor before surgical removal. For my type of cancer, the tumor needs to be removed first, and then pathology will determine the stage and what treatment, if any, is needed.


While I am relieved I have not had surgery yet, the waiting game has been challenging in its own way. The positive side is that I have had extra time to complete the paperwork needed to go on medical leave. It was shocking to realize that human resources does not always make sure supervisors understand the process. I have had to research everything on my own to ensure I have legal protection for my employment. Unfortunately, FMLA does not apply to part-time employees, which makes me sad. Fortunately, I learned that the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) recognizes cancer as a temporary disability.


The best part is that this time has allowed me to process the trauma I experienced with my first cancer through somatic work. I am feeling less anxious about the surgery. I have also been nesting at home, trying to make it a positive, nurturing environment for my recovery. I have been buying various plants, and it has brought me joy to see them thriving. My husband has been working on making the house safer. He realized that the house had old, cancer-causing insulation from the 1960s, so he had it replaced earlier this month.


I just had my second dose of the shingles vaccine, and the reaction was different this time. I had a fever for a few hours yesterday, and I feel more fatigued than I did after the first dose. Today, I am dealing with dizziness and a pounding headache. I am hopeful that I will feel like myself again tomorrow. I also have to get a COVID-19 booster and a flu vaccine this coming Friday. I hate needles, and admittedly, I am feeling more anxious about all of them. I try not to think about the needle that will need to stay inserted during my hospital stay.


Every morning, as I am slowly waking up, my dog tends to walk over and lie on my abdomen to say good morning. I know I cannot have her 25-pound body on my abdomen for about six weeks after surgery. I will definitely miss that daily bonding time. I am also making the most of my time in the pool and bath because I know I will not be able to submerge myself in water for about four to six weeks.


I am bracing myself as September begins, knowing I have several pre-op appointments along with an 11-day business trip. I also have a lot of work to wrap up before going on medical leave. I was advised to consider what I could put off until after surgery, and I have been thinking about that over the past few days. As someone who does not like to disappoint people, I have to remind myself that I need to take care of myself first. I do not want to spend the whole month of September feeling super stressed.


This morning, I was intrigued by a discussion in my renal cell carcinoma support group about the length of hospital stays after robotic laparoscopic nephrectomy, whether partial or radical. Members in the United States reported that they typically stay in the hospital for one to two days, while people in other countries stay for three to five days. One member in the U.S. shared that his procedure would be outpatient, and he is terrified. As one person beautifully pointed out, “Insurance rules all medical decisions in the USA. It’s all about saving money for the shareholders.” I am hopeful that my care team will make sure it is safe for me to be discharged, whether that is after one day or two. I am also grateful to know I will be going home to a supportive place, with my husband as a wonderful nurse.


One month from now, everything will look different, but today I am focusing on what I can do: prepare, breathe, ask for help, and let myself be cared for.

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