12.The one with the pre-surgery goings on

Last time we left off with me leaving the plastic surgeons office with the expectation that I would receive a phone call to schedule surgery. 

I didn’t have much time to dwell on the appointment, as I was headed out early the next morning for a midyear sales meeting. 

Of all that my team accomplishes during the year, the midyear is the second biggest event we execute. 

And with a change in management and a bit of a rudderless ship I didn’t know how things were going to go, and that gave me plenty to worry about outside of the obvious. 

Got to the airport Tuesday morning meet my team and act like everything is fine.

 Got on the plane by myself, seated in the same row as our vice president of sales, who is a  kind funny, successful man whose company I enjoyed then and as I’ve got to know him in my current role enjoy it even more. Acted like everything was fine.

I put my phone on airplane mode turn on my playlist and promptly start snoozing. 

When we land in Minneapolis, I turn my phone on and see that I have missed a call from the surgery center. While waiting to  deplane I listen to the message, call them back and while sat a seat away from the leader of our sales team, I scheduled my mastectomy. 

It would be November 22, 2021. The Monday of Thanksgiving week. 

Collecting my belongings I met  my team at the gate and we took off for the meeting.

 I have never been much of one to celebrate my birthday, and this year there was no way in hell I wanted it recognized let alone celebrate it.

I may have threatened bodily harm to a couple of my team members who knew me the least, and were insisting that we do something. 

To the teammates you knew me and those closer to me who knew what was going on they quickly make sure that didn’t happen.

We got to the hotel, checked in and I headed to my room. I travel a fair amount (under my alias The Bandit) so I have a ritual when I get to my room. 

Everything immediately comes out of the suitcase and is put where it belongs. Makeup in the bathroom, items hung in the closet, etc.

Wipe down  any surface another human may have touched (this was the practice long before COVID after a 1998 Dateline special on hotel rooms under a black light. It was scary and creepy and just EW).

I then go get ice. I probably use the ice 20% of the time, but I just like to have it on hand. It feels fancy. Plus trying to get the ice bucket liner to stay in place while filling said bucket, I take as a personal challenge.

By the time the rituals were done and I had changed, it was time for the welcome reception. 

This was the first time in two years I had seen some of my co-workers. It was so wonderful to be back together and catch up. And for the most part I was focused on those conversations but every once in a while the thought would enter my mind:

I am standing here with cancer

I am talking to so and so and I have cancer

It was sublime. I wasn't upset, but it was an odd feeling.

And given that feeling,  I was fearless all of a sudden.

I have typically been polite to the point of not speaking. I don't ever want to say or do the wrong thing so I tend to keep my mouth shut, to not upset the apple cart.

In that place, in that moment I had nothing to lose. I basically said 'fuck it' and shared my opinions, my ideas and leaned into being who I knew I was. Which was not someone most people I work with knew.

And this was the right moment for just that mindset. I was having conversations with sales leadership about an open position (spoiler alert: the job I currently have). 

I  had applied  previously and was passed over. 

This time, I gave zero fucks. I said what I thought, how I would do things. 

Told them all I had done before and was the most confident I had been in a long time. 

This fueled by the idea that 'I already have cancer, what is the worst that could happen?'

And as messed up as that may sound, it served me well. And I carried that with me to today and probably for the rest of my life. 

I have already been through some of the worst things a person can face and I am still standing.

 If I am not able to be my truest self and walk with my head held high what was the point of it all?

The week went by, I shared with more of my team what was going on and that was great and emotional in equal parts. They were all super supportive and I so appreciated that.

The meeting was a success for the most part. My conversations about the new role were positive and I left feeling accomplished, ready to keep my head down, get through the next few weeks and distract myself at work.

Cut to the following Wednesday, November 5th. I had been in the office the previous day and attended meetings all day. 

Which was great. 

We had only been back in person a couple of weeks and getting to sit in a room and chit chat with co-workers was refreshing.

That morning, sat at my desk. I got a call from HR.

 Apparently, I had been exposed to Covid the day before by a coworker.

 And I had to leave.

 And go get a test. 

And find out if I had fucking Rona for the first time in the pandemic.

 I was so pissed off. I believe that grief is an applicable term for many situations in life beyond the obvious loss of someone important to you. 

And as I was navigating through this unknown space in trying to figure out what my life was no longer going to look like I definitely felt those stages of grief and here we were in anger.

So I picked up my shit and started to head out of the office. 

As I was walking by the cube of one of my coworkers, whom I had not told, I walked into the cube and said I won’t see you for a little while, I’m going to have to be home for the foreseeable future. I have cancer and surgery scheduled the week of Thanksgiving. I can’t risk getting sick.

 I’m sorry to have to tell you this way, but I didn’t want you to think I was being nasty for no good reason.

 She was shocked gave me a hug and I continued on out of the office.

 I googled where to get a Covid test called my parents to let them know: crying at this point. 

Hung up with them called my boss losing my shit because this was, in my mind, unfair.

 I could buckle down and get done what I needed to do if I could do it around other people. 

But I was gonna have to go home and be there alone waiting for this life changing surgery and that scared the shit out of me. 

I went to the testing station, put on by the state of New Hampshire, they took my test, told me that have the results in 48 hours and I promptly went to urgent care.

 There was no way I was waiting 48 hours for those test results.

And I knew at urgent care, with that $50 co-pay,  I would have my results in less than an hour. Received said results and they were negative.

 But I had already chatted with my boss about the fact I would not be coming back into the office until after my surgery. and to this day, I still don’t have the results from the test I had taken by the state of New Hampshire.

I decided I was going to work my ass off between then and the surgery date and for the most part I did.

I went in for a pre-op appointment on November 16th, the Thursday before the surgery. 

All looked good, they took some blood, weighed me (the lowest I had been in two years which was a pleasant surprise) and walked me through the steps to take the night before, the day of and some post-care tips.

It was a lot to process and I knew I needed to procure some items to make the post-surgery recovery a little less uncomfortable.

For those of you who haven't had the pleasure of breast surgery, you have drains that protrude from your body for a period of time post-op. For me that was two and they were in for two weeks. 

I bought a drain holder so I could remove the bandages and wash my hair in the shower.

I bought a special pillow to use to hold the girls up while sleeping in a fairly upright position so I could, in theory, get some rest.

Friends and co-workers sent blankets and care packages. All of which was so kind and welcomed. I still use my favorite blanket every night sitting on the couch (I keep the join just cool enough to require a blanket year round).

If it has not been clear up until this point I am spiritual. I believe in energy from those passed on and angel numbers, zodiac signs, etc.

The Sunday afternoon before surgery I went to visit my parents. I had been quarantined for weeks so knew I wouldn't be exposing them to anything. It was a nice distraction on a day that was... anxious.

As I was leaving at 4:44 in the afternoon the temperature was 44 degrees. So across my screen was

 4:44 44. 

"When you see the angel number 4, you should take it as a note from your ancestors that you are safe, supported, and stable."

That I carried forward with me into surgery and beyond.

Next time on Kris vs. Cancer: The one with the Mastectomy