The Bozz....

It was a sad day at our house today.  Bozz, my handsome but toothless tabby made his last trip to the vet for that little something to ease him to the other side.  He was just a few months shy of 17 years old.  Bozz was my Mother's Day gift back in 1998, chosen just for me by my son, who was 16 at the time, and Mr. T.  It was their big conspiracy, choosing a cat for me.  I had wanted my own cat for the longest time, and when they presented me with a mewing box on Mother's Day, I opened it and burst into tears.  Bozz purred from that first moment I picked him up and he purred up until he had no purr left.  

He was a gypsy cat, moving with us from Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, to Juneau, Alaska.  Then to the Georgia coast and on again to his last stop here in Oregon.  BIG MOVES, each one, but he was a trooper, even though he would scatter every time he heard the jingle of the truck keys.  He was pretty sure that meant that he was going for another long, long ride.  

He was never a lap cat, but if he felt like it he just might sit next to me.  But in the last 6 months he made it his business to be the lap cat that I had always wanted.  My butt would barely hit something solid before he was on my lap, and purring, of course.  

They say that all dogs go to heaven.  I'm hoping that there is also room there for my handsome old tabby.  Bozz liked dogs...

"L" is for Lumpectomy

Today I am spending the entire day in my pajamas, Christmas pajamas by the way.  I have parked myself in front of the fire, I am covered by a favorite old quilt, Rosie-the-Wonder-Dog is keeping me company and I have just finished my very first nap of the day. I actually have a bona fide reason for all of this laziness relaxation.  A Lumpectomy was performed yesterday on my right "Ta-ta" to remove something suspicious in a milk duct found on my recent routine mammogram.

I'm feeling pretty good today, under the circumstances, and I could probably be up and working, but I have decided to milk this a bit, no pun intended, and take a little time for myself.  My dear friend, Sharon W., whose Cranberry Walnut Relish is featured in the post below, advised me not to get dressed, do my hair or put on makeup because then everyone expects you to be just as you always are, taking care of things and getting the job done.  I can't very well be expected to work in my pajamas, now can I?

Yesterday was a busy day.  I had to be at the local imaging center in the morning where a wire was inserted into the area that the surgeon would be removing, sort of a "Dig Here" marker.  They had a little trouble finding just the right spot since I have what they termed, "a busy breast", meaning that there are lots of cysts and stuff in there.

I then got my first peek at the brand new gazillion dollar 3-D Mammography machine that has just arrived here in the Burg.  We are very lucky to have such new technology here in our small town. There were two mammogram films taken to be certain that the wire was in just the right place.

The wire had been wrapped in gauze and was taped down to my skin.  I was advised to travel braless over to the Surgical Center where the procedure was to be done.  I laughed and told the tech helping me that I had not gone braless since the late '60's.  She said, "Me neither!", then we both laughed uproariously!   Imagine the scene.... two 60-somethings standing in a tiny dressing room, me with a wire sticking out of my boob and both of us laughing like crazy about going braless.  Humor always helps at times like that.

Now, here comes the best part!  At the Surgical Center I was handed this huge paper gown to change in to.  I was escorted to a prep room and situated on the gurney.  My nurse, Julie, asked "Do you run hot or cold?" and I replied that I run on the cold side.  So she hooked up what looked like a vacuum cleaner hose to a port in my huge paper gown and then she turned on the warm airflow. Sweet Baby Jeepers!  My gown sort of inflated with wonderful warm air.  I was in heaven!

Fast forward.  The surgery is over, I am bound up with bandages and something that looks suspiciously like a TUBE TOP, this time from the '70's.  Another fashion blast from the past! Going braless AND a tube top, all in one day!

I was discharged and Mr. T. brought the car up to the secret door that leads to the street.  As we were driving home, Mr. T. told me that the surgeon had come out after surgery and spoken to him. He said (with that funny twinkle in his eye that tells me that he is about to deliver a zinger), that all went well and that the full pathology would be ready in about a week.  Then he says, "The surgeon said that your milk ducts were not the problem, the problem was in your MILK DUDS." Then he handed me this.

Maybe you had to be there.  Maybe you had to have just come out of anesthesia, but I laughed so hard that I nearly p.... well... suffice it to say that laughter really IS good medicine.

I love that man.

UPDATE - December 18th.

I am so happy and relieved to say that the pathology report has come in.  The letter for today is "C" for CARCINOMA.  But it's not a super bad kind.  My diagnosis is Ductal Carcinoma In Situ which means that it is contained within milk ducts and is not at this point invasive in any way.  I had been steeling myself for really bad news, (family history...) but that I have been assured that my diagnosis is not super serious.  I will be starting an estrogen suppressive medication soon and will continue to have regular diagnostic screenings.   I'm feeling so very grateful.

Now, everyone, go schedule your mammogram!