Popped My Cherry

Medical technology is so interesting. This robot was really amazing and because it's all computerized, they can measure down to the millimeter. This was always an advantage for my case because we needed to get all of the cancer out, but not take too much uterus. I still need something to carry the kids around in.

They used an experimental dye. I never want to be a lab rat for doctors who are trying out new stuff, but in this case it seemed to work out pretty well. The dye follows blood vessels. The uterus is full of blood vessels. We were betting that the tumor would NOT be. Therefore, with the dye, it would be easier to tell what parts were healthy uterus and which parts were nasty tumor.

It turns out the tumor didn't light up. It was a cherry sized tumor that they scooped right out. I think there are a lot of things that are probably "cherry" sized, but I thought it was hysterical that the doctors would chose a cherry as a comparison for a uterus surgery.

The doctors also cut that fucker open when they got it to the lab. It turns out it had three foci - like three different hotspots still alive inside it. Plenty of nasty cancer cells that could have started up again at any time. It's just more proof that they cherry needed to be popped.

I have five little holes on my belly including my belly button. Dr. Gargiulo was so excited when he first saw my belly button, saying it was nice and deep. He said it would be perfect for a robot arm. I had never been so proud of my belly button before! We'll keep everything wrapped up for a couple of days. But let's be honest, when this shit is over ... I better start doing some sit-ups!

Hospital Heels

It's finished and it was a success! What a crazy, anxious couple of days this has been. It's amazing the sense of relief I feel now that the surgery is over.

Chris and I arrived Tuesday and had several pre-op appointments. We felt calm and confident with the surgical plan. In layman's terms, this was the plan as far as I could tell:
1) don't get dead during surgery
2) get rid of tumor
3) keep uterus
I think that's pretty straightforward, right?
Well it worked just like that and now I get a little R and R for the week.

I'm also a little bit of a surgery rockstar. I am so special and so rare that I required two specialized surgeons in the OR. Dr. Gargiulo used the robot to do the cutting and Dr. Goldstein, the oncologist, was in the room to take a peek at what this mass really looked like and to help Dr. Gargiulo make sure we were cutting the right parts. Dr. Goldstein cancelled his clinic appointments for Wednesday just so he could be in the OR for my case.

In addition to that, I rocked my heels. Now I know many people go to a hospital to heal. But in my case, I brought my own hospital heels.

For several weeks I've been walking a little taller and strutting a little bit more when I wear my newest pair of shoes. Now I'm no Carrie Bradshaw, but i've been coveting a pair of Christian Louboutin heels for about two years now. I can rationalize anything, but after 6 months of chemo treatments, I decided I would be happier with the shoes.

It was my wonderful neighborhood girls who encouraged me to wear them when I put my feet in the stir-ups!! At least then everyone in the OR could see the red soles!!

They didn't pass the germ test for the actual OR, but damn did I class up the joint while I was wearing nothing but a hospital gown and my hospital heels.

If you are going to have surgery, you might as well have fun with it, right??

The Tractor Ate my License

Likely excuse, right?! Remember we traveled on September 11th. Well, we really had to cross our t's and dot our i's before we got on the plane that day.

It was 9/11. It was a Tuesday. We were flying to Boston. And the sky was blue and crisp, just like Sept. 11th, 2001. While security was strict, it was predictable. And this time we used our passports.

A week ago, when we flew to Boston for the consultation, Chris had a panic attack in the airport. We had checked in, printed our boarding passes and were standing in the security line. He opens up his wallet and looks up at me with wide eyes. He only had half a license. It's his only real form of identification.

So, about a month ago, Chris was mowing the lawn on our 7 foot ride-on mower. It's loud when it's running and it vibrates a lot. Chris likes to have a beer while he's mowing the lawn and we tried at one point to mount a cup holder on the tractor to hold a Miller Light. While it was a good idea, the vibrations from the tractor just made the beer super foamy.

The same type of vibrations did a number on Chris' wallet. The bumping around shimmied his wallet out of his pocket and it fell on the lawn. Chris saw it hit the grass and then one second later, he ran over it. The blades of the 7 foot tractor did a number on everything in this wallet. The AMEX card was shredded. His health insurance card - gone. The YMCA membership tag - in bits. The cash was wrapped up in dollar order - the twenties in the middle, the fives and ones on the outside. The singles were shredded - pieces of currency confetti all over the lawn. The fives were cut in 4 piece strips. The twenties split in half. I was thrilled to match up some of the twenties with their other half according to the serial numbers. Nothing a little scotch tape couldn't fix. I traded them in for undamaged 20's at Turkey Hill. They didn't care about taking half a twenty. So we didn't lose too much.

But that driver's license was a problem. Chris would have had to go to the DMV and get a replacement license. God knows how much fun the DMV is. Needless to say, Chris didn't get a new one ... and started panicking when we were in the security line.

Thankfully, he looks like an upstanding citizen and pulled out his Lancaster General Hospital ID badge. It has his smiling face and says Physician in big letters. Between that, a funny story about a tractor eating his license and a kind smile, TSA let him through. Thank God.

Barry Manilow Can Lift Anyone's Spirits

There's nothing better than seeing a 70 year old man strut his stuff on stage to make you feel alive!! Chris' sister, Hilary, turned 41 last week and Chris bought her tickets to her favorite singer's concert ... none other than Barry Manilow! Leave it to Chris to get seats on the floor of the Sovereign Center in Reading, in the 5th row!! I've never been on the floor for any concert, no less the 5th row. Barry was sweating on us - that's how close we were. IT. WAS. SO. MUCH. FUN!

 

You don't realize how many Barry Manilow songs you know until he starts singing them and you are singing right along. He showed one clip on the big screen of him on American Bandstand in 1975. I wasn't even born yet and 35 years later the man is still performing. It's enough to get your ass off the couch. If Barry can do it, so can I!!

 

Meredith, Chris, Marcia and Hilary at the concert

 

Ever the performer, Barry even had three costume changes!

The Big Dig ... in my Uterus

The Plan is in place. I feel calm and confident that we're making a wise choice by going to Boston and having Dr. Gargiulo do the surgery next week.

God is also reaffirming the fact that this tumor must be removed. It's growing again. My recent blood results were 0.7 then 2.2 then 5.3. Yesterday's was 7.4. As my friend Ronda said, "Get that mother out!"

Chris and I will fly to Boston on Tuesday, September 11. (Really, to Boston, on 9/11 and it's a Tuesday. Great, just great.) I have a pre-op meeting and my mom will fly up later that night.

Surgery is scheduled for 7AM, Wednesday, September 12th. It should take about 2 hours. I will not have to stay in the hospital overnight. We will stay at a hotel just around the corner.

Chris will stay with me until Sunday. It means he's missing a lot of work, which is difficult for him, the rest of the staff and most importantly the patients who will have to be rescheduled. But just like my office, OAL has been wonderful and understanding. I need him and everyone knows it. I'll be so thankful that he'll be by my side.

I have to stay in Boston for one week so I can see Dr. Gargiulo for a one week Post-Op visit and have my blood levels checked. Hopefully the hCG will go down as soon as the tumor is gone. My mom will stay with me the remainder of the time after Chris goes back to Lancaster. She too will be missing a lot of work. She's been so thankful to all my "Special Friends" who helped by taking me to and from chemo treatment all those months. Marcia was my right hand man. So Mommy has generously offered to take a week and half off to tend to me now. I'm so happy for the help.

That's the plan. Don't get me wrong, I would rather fly to Aruba and stay in a hotel there for a week, but I hear Boston's operating rooms are beautiful this time of year. I'll just be happy to be rid of this little fucker that's overstayed it's welcome.

Boston Meets Italy

There's nothing like flying to Boston and back in 24 hours. But in great Cooke fashion, Chris and I managed to cram a lot into one day. We wanted to get our money's worth after shelling out $700 in airfare for the day.

The most important part: the appointment. There's always a funny story when Chris and I travel. We arrive at Brigham and Women's Hospital but can't located Dr. Antonio Gargiulo's office. We head to the Help Desk where a wacko was happy to help. She had hair out to here (imagine how big I'm making my hands), a frizzy mess with eyeglasses tangled up in there. She's wearing a long skirt and a big nose. She's sounds like she's from Long Island, if you know what I mean. When we ask where Dr. Garguilo's office is she looks right at Chris and says, "Oh! Don't be jealous, but he's a real looka' - All the women love him. They say he's so handsome."

Chris just smiles and blinks at the lady. Great, thanks, what do you want me to do with that information, really just tell us what fucking floor he's on. Filling the silence, she follow up, "You'll wanna head to the third floor [flauw] and turn right." And so it begins.

Once we finally get to the office my stomach starts up in knots. I ask the secretary where the bathroom is and I camp out there for like 15 minutes. It wasn't pretty, but I just get so nervous. This is Big Girl shit and sometimes I can't handle it. Eventually we see Dr. Gargiulo and I immediately felt more calm. I think I like to be around smart people. Once he started talking I could tell we were in good hands. I feel as though things can not go totally awry if you have intelligent people making good, clear decisions.

He starts talking ... Yes, he can do the surgery. He's done hundreds of uterine resections. Yes, the left fallopian tube has to come out. But, yes, you will still be able to conceive. No, you don't have to stay in the hospital overnight, but it is a 2 to 4 week recovery. He did a wonderful job of "selling himself." We were really there to pick him more than he was there to pick us. I don't know that women are great at this, men seems to excel at it more: bragging without making it seems like bragging. He clearly and calmly stated he's the leader in this type of surgery, he's the Director of Robotic Surgery at the Harvard Medial Center, he's never a problem where he had to abandon using the robot halfway through and do an open surgery requiring a big cut. And he's never lost a uterus - meaning he's never had to do a hysterectomy because something went wrong. I was sold. Plus, he said this all in an Italian accent - because he's Italian, like from Italy Italian, not like the Rannazzisi family Italian. I've always liked pasta and pizza, but I've even more Pro-Italy now.

(Note: the man is fine looking, but the lady gushing at the Help Desk was unnecessary in my opinion. Let's put it this way; I wouldn't go out of my way to come up with a fake story and a fake interview just to check him out. I may or may not have done that to a certain bone doctor once, but that can't be verified.)



(Note also: No one can say his name. It's Gargiulo. Like Nicole Gargiulo that went to Smithtown High School. Say Gar-JEW-lo. If you grew up in Lancaster you can pronounce Stoltzfus with no problem, but Gargiulo seems to turn into Gar-GHOUL-ee-o around here. Not a lot of Italians running around with the Amish.)

We needed a day or two just to roll everything around in our brains. In great Chris fashion, we are taking our time, weighing all the options and not rushing into a decision Philly guy vs. Boston guy.

In the meantime, we had to cram in some history. Boston was, after all, a hot bed of activity during the Revolutionary War. We toured the USS Constitution, AKA Old Ironside. It's a 3-mast war ship built in the late 1700's and she still floats today. It was a great distraction from the heavy stuff of the day and Chris always enjoys learning something new.

 

On top of a history lesson, we had an amazing meal at a fun French Restaurant right along Commonwealth Ave, Deuxave. (Another tough pronunciation. They say Dew-AHV. I say DUX-eh-vee) Tomato, tomato, either way, it was delicious. Katie was in Providence, Rhode Island and came to Boston to meet us. Fun to laugh and talk, more proof there's nothing a bottle of red wine can't fix.

Did Someone Say Cosmo?

It's about that time ... the drinking time. Actually, I've been off the wagon for about a month now. It's easier to count the sober days than the drunk ones. (Just kidding, Mom. Don't flip out.) After months of not drinking, I'm now able to imbibe again. We thought it was worth some documention:

 

I don't know why this picture is so yellow, but that's the moment of my first drink (or two) in more than 6 months. Perhaps Miller Light was not the best choice, but you go with what you know. Chris refers to this as "M. Minus" - similar to when people call Lutherans "Catholic Light."

 

So the verdict?? Dee-lish-ous!! "So good when it touches the lips!" (Name that movie?) Despite being an alcohol-light-weight at this point, I did not get a buzz from two beers. Instead, I had a small headache the next morning. This is the difference between being 22 and 32. The chemo couldn't have anything to do with it.

But that's just a BEER...

 

So Joe Mitton shared my first COSMO with me at dinner at Macaroni Grill. He - typically an ice tea drinker - even upgraded to a Gin and Tonic just to celebrate with me. Bring on the booze, baby! I'm back!