Blazing Saddles

     We met with our Plastic Surgeons today.  You would have wanted to be a fly on that wall!  Think Mel Brooks History of the World, Part 1 meets Michael Jackson kissing Lisa Marie on stage…it was a train wreck in slow motion that you couldn't help but laugh (on the inside) and just pray the end was near.  

     After my baby covered all of her surgical options, and there are a lot of options, then she drilled the poor young surgical prodigy about what her expectations were, there’s a lot of those too! So after the info and niceties were exchanged, she was asked to disrobe and put on what was just barely more than a patch with a strap for her bottoms and a gown so the evaluations could take place.  Following hospital protocol, the doctor asked a female nurse to join us, then our primary Plastic Surgeon joined with a large Nikon…you can see where this is going.  She never saw it coming.  Five people in a small hospital room for several compromising pictures…I am certain this will rank as one of the highest most embarrassing moments of her life.  The good doctor covered what he expected of her to prepare for the surgery and I’m fairly confident she didn’t hear one word he said; it was time to go and she doesn’t like to wait. 

     We’ve gone through 16 weeks since our diagnose, 13 weeks since our first chemo, and this is our 12^th and final Taxol.  It was like most of our appointments; slow, late, and the waiting room is always packed.  Once we finished, we trudged home and went straight to bed.  Glad to be done, but not looking forward to what’s coming next.  And for good reason.  She had a really hard time bouncing back from this one.  The treatments have collectively amounted to a barrage of poison that is taking its toll on her.  But a cake walk compared to what we’d face next.