December 19th – it’s official

I’m pleased to report the date of my operation has been confirmed for December 19th.

I heard on Friday and since then I’ve felt a lot calmer. This was something I’d been worrying about since it emerged that while the medical team who’ll be doing the op were all available on 19 December, the facility where the breast surgeon wanted to do it appeared not to be (Immediate reconstruction – the decision is made). I can worry for Scotland and, believe me, this particular concern has had pride of place at the top of my personal worry league for the past week or so. Now it’s settled I can relax (!).

Regardless of whether my final session of chemo goes ahead this coming Wednesday or not, the operation will be within the recommended period of three to six weeks after finishing chemo. If I do have the final session, the op will be three and a half weeks after finishing; if I don’t, it’ll be five and a half weeks. The decision hinges on whether the chemo-induced problem with the nerve endings in my right foot (An “excellent response to treatment”) has got any worse since my last session. The decision will be made at the consultation I have with the oncologist tomorrow afternoon. Strange as it may sound, I’ll be gutted if we skip the final session.

The hospital where I’m to have the operation – right-side mastectomy, right axillary lymph node dissection (removal of the lymph nodes from the right armpit) and immediate breast reconstruction – is further away from home than the centre where I’ve been having treatment so far. The fact we have a date is more important than the location, however, and, to be selfish about it, I’m not the one who’ll be doing the travelling to and fro during the 5-10 days I’ll be in hospital after the op! I’ll advise my husband and boys to view the travelling time as an opportunity for some dad and lads bonding ;-).

I’m flying back home to London today after a fab few days up in Glasgow seeing family and friends. I’m pretty sure I’ve put back on some of the weight I’ve lost since being diagnosed in just three days up here, what with the multiple sessions of coffee and cakes with friends, lunches out, and – because a trip to Glasgow wouldn’t be complete without it – Sunday morning breakfast of sausage, bacon and eggs.

I’m leaving Glasgow a lot poorer financially; the card school with my dad and five brothers last night did not go my way. But it was lots of fun. I laughed ’til I cried when my youngest brother (yes, the one who shaved my head the last time I was here – Thanks, baby bro!) decided he should try on my wig. It then ended up getting passed around among various other brothers and the nieces and nephews who were there too. It was good to laugh. It took two decades off my youngest brother but I can say with every confidence that it looks much better on me than it does on anyone else! Thank goodness for that. Happy days indeed.