Practicing Medicine

I returned to the oncologist’s office for a follow up visit to complete the education surrounding my new norm. I was taken to a consultation room to speak with the oncology nurse regarding the next steps in my treatment. She told me that my hair follicles would take a “hit” from receiving the chemotherapy treatment. So, my head of hair, eyelashes, brows, and other body hair would fall out during the treatment. I didn’t realize that GOD was preparing me for this. A few months earlier I had my hair loc’d into a protective style and had my brows microbladed. The loc’d style would allow the entire loc to fall out. The significance of this is that the hair could be reattached to newly grown out hair at a later time. With the microbladed brows, if I had no hair there, the shading (tattooing) would give the appearance of having hair. The brows give a face its shape, so I would at least have that. This was good because I didn’t want to look like the “Have a Nice Day” emoji.

The nurse then told me that I needed to be fitted for a cold cap that would help preserve my hair follicles during the process. She also mentioned that I needed to cut my hair to ensure that the cap was effective. Cut my hair? So now not only am I going to lose my hair but you want me be ahead of the game by cutting it? The crazy thing is that she told me I needed to cut my shoulder length locs to my ear. Yes, the possibility of losing my hair, with a plan for preservation, was one thing, but to purposefully destroy the loc was another. I then asked the nurse about the investigational drug. The nurse informed me that she was not aware because the investigational drug information and research are handled by a coordinator.

I contacted the oncologist via MyChart. I asked about the investigational drug and inquired if the other patient was a match. The doctor told me that the other patient was not a match, therefore, that one spot was still available. My genetic testing had not resulted yet, so I couldn’t be assigned to the open spot. I asked research coordinator when should I anticipate receiving the results. I was scheduled to start chemotherapy six days from this day, but wanted to weigh my options. She told me it could possibly come back in seven days. So, I immediately asked the nurse and the coordinator if I could reschedule chemotherapy for maybe a couple days beyond my initial start date. I know that my breast cancer is very aggressive but I just wanted to see if I qualify as a candidate for the investigational drug. Now, the investigational drug is not guaranteed to work. If it did not work, I would have to resort to regular traditional chemotherapy. I figured that it was still worth a chance, especially if holding off chemotherapy for one to two days was not a harming anything. If I was not a match, I was not a match and I will accept that. But if I was a match, I would have been disappointed that I didn’t speak up. The coordinator, the oncologist and the nurse agreed that they would withhold my chemotherapy for four additional days to receive the results as to whether I was a match. I am my own advocate. It felt good to make a decision that could determine my path.

I left the oncology suite and checked in for surgery. I was scheduled as the last case so this allowed me to maximize my time with stacking my appointments. I was immediately taken to the preop room to prepare for surgery. I was given CHG wipes, a gown and nonskid socks. I was instructed to wipe all areas of my body excluding mucus membranes. As a healthcare provider, I remembered what not to wipe but quote “No to the O”. This means no wipes at any areas that have an opening, this refers to areas within the genitalia.

After getting prepped, an IV had to be placed. The IV nurse asked if I wanted lidocaine injected into the site prior to IV insertion. Being that I work in the emergency department and following the logic of wanting one puncture stick instead of two, I opted for one stick. I will tell you now, I was wrong. I immediately began to regret my decision. I can tolerate pain pretty well, but this hurt. It felt like a garden hose was being inserted under my skin. The preop nurse confirmed my health history, obtained my vital signs, placed a padded sticker on my sacrum to prevent skin breakdown and prepared me for departure to the surgical suite. I had visits from the surgeon and the anesthesiology team. The one thing that stood out was a question I was asked, “what is most important to you?” The most important thing for me was to go home to my children. The anesthesiologist gave me a medication cocktail in my IV and started rolling my stretcher toward the operating room. I recall being asked to move over to a very narrow operating table. The interdisciplinary team started securing me to the table and fell fast asleep.