Saturday, January 27, 2018

A Touch of Cancer, The Tale of the Wells Fargo Parking Lot & A Jerk Plastic Surgeon

That's quite the title isn't it?

Now, we go back in time, to September 2016.

It's not really a bi deal, it really was just a touch of cancer.

A few years ago, I noticed two moles forming. I didn't think anything of it but a few months ago I realized they had changed and had become sore to touch. My dad is a dermatologist so I know what to look for. Because the moles were in my groin area, I didn't really want my Dad checkin' it out so I went to a dermatologist here in Georgia.

I really didn't think that it was anything, neither did Daniel. But we were both wrong. Both biopsies came back bad.

They told me I'd need some surgery and because of the location, it may require some reconstruction and the sensitivity of the area--they sent me to a plastic surgeon.

This freakin' doctor ya'll.

First off, I have a bleeding disorder. As such, I need to have infusions of engineered Factor VII before I have any surgeries.

This doctor told me that I wouldn't need the infusions, that there wouldn't be any bleeding to worry about.

My hemophelia doctor was like...no way dude. My blood doctor and I were not comfortable doing the surgery without the infusions.

The plastic surgeon then told me that if I wanted the infusions, that I needed to go to a different doctor.

At this point I had already changed my doctor once (because the first one had shaky hands & was smarmy) and I knew that if I changed *again* that I would have to wait probably for another month or more to do the consult and then wait for the surgery.

So, I worked out to have the infusions before and after the surgery by my friend who is a nurse.

Only...

It was supposed be delivered by 8 am on the morning of the surgery. I waited and waited and waited. Long story short, they had it scheduled for 12pm delivery. My surgery was at 11. Soooo not gonna work there.

I called EVERYONE and finally tracked down the truck carrying the medication, and we met them, in the wells fargo parking lot.

Where because we were at this point SUPER short on time, my first infusion was done.


A MASSIVE box for a two tiny itty bitty vials. 


Friends who were laughing the whole time and calling the situation "field training". God bless them.




Around the time they started doing the infusion, all the anxiety from worrying about getting the infusions, plus the anxiety of the surgery---I got nauseous. Super nauseous. So I covered my eyes while this was all going down. 

The infusion finished at 10:50. I had to be at the center at 11. So that was A CRAZY few minutes. 


I got there just in time for the surgery and thought it was hilarious that I got a red cap. 
Lady in reeeeeeeeeeeeeeed.

Now. Here is where it all falls into crap. 

Daniel was offered the ability to come home for this. But the plastic surgeon told me it would be easy breazy. Because the doctor made it out to be a simple thing, I told Daniel not to come home...

The doctor told me that there wouldn't be any bleeding after, that there wouldn't be much pain, and that there would be two small suture sites. ALL THREE WERE LIES.



Lie #1: No bleeding.

Two hours after I got home, I woke up in blood. My sutures were actively bleeding. Luckily, my friends came at just the right time to give me the second infusion. The bleeding slowed a bit but I still bled for about two days after. Now, can you imagine what the bleeding would have been if I didn't get the infusions? That plastic surgeon is a pompous idiot

Lie #2: It wouldn't be very painful. By day three it wouldn't be anything tylenol couldn't handle and by a week I'd be fine.

The pain I experienced from this was UNREAL. When my body experiences a certain amount of pain, I start puking. It happened at both births of my children and when I have broken several bones. I couldn't keep food down FOR THREE DAYS because the pain was too much. THREE. DAYS. I couldn't put pants on FOR A WEEK. And TMI that also mean I wasn't wearing underwear or garments. It was intense. I even called my mother in law SOBBING because the pain was so bad and I couldn't walk or sit. I had friends take Danny during the day for two days because I just couldn't even move. It was....gosh.  

I can't take pain medication for several reasons:

1) I am allergic to most of it so if I am trying new pain medication someone needs to be with me while I do it. 
2) I am alone, so I can't be on pain medication while taking care of two kids. 
3) There is a history of pain pill addiction in my family and so I don't touch that crap. Ever. 

So I literally only had tylenol (because of my bleeding disorder I can't take any NSAIDS so that really does only leave Tylenol) and it wasn't cutting it. At all. SO BAD YOU GUYS. Even a week after was still painful. Still no underwear and still waking up in the night in pain. 

I talked to the dermatologist and even the surgery center after and they were both like: "WHY did he tell you that. It's going to HURT for a good bit." 0_0

Lie #3 There would only be two small suture sites and they wouldn't connect.

I have a massive scar. I would say somewhere about 5-5 1/2 inches long. I have no issue with them taking more off if they felt like they needed to. I obviously would rather them be safe. But he didn't even talk to me about it after, even days after. It's like...if you have to alter from the surgery plan we talked about, TELL ME WHY BRO

I called this doctor when the bleeding happened. 

No calls back. 

I called him twice that day, and four times the day after. Everything he said wouldn't happen had happened so I was pretty darn freaked out. 

HE. NEVER. CALLED. ME. BACK. 

SO, in tears, I called my dermatologist. It wasn't until my derms office called the plastics office that they even bothered to call me back. Then they acted like it was my fault they didn't return any of my SIX calls. When I told them my concerns the ONLY thing they said back to me was that it was TWO scars and not one.

Ummmm.....If it is two scars it is only two scars by millimeters. By a legit technicality. 

Then when they wanted to schedule my post-op apt they wanted to do it on a day I had another appt that I had waited MONTHS for that I CANNOT reschedule. They were so sassy about it and huffed and I was like...sorry. I can't. So they scheduled it for the next day. But man...

After the absolute sass I got I called my dermatologist and was like...I don't want to go back to this surgeon if I don't have to. I don't trust him and I think he will be a jerk at my post-op. 

Normally, it is procedure that the doctor that does the surgery does the post op. But God bless my dermatologist, he asked his boss and said he would do my post-op. So I would never have to see that surgeon again. 

If I had known ANY of this, if that doctor had been HONEST with me, Daniel would have come home. I would have had my husband to help me, to help our children, instead of relying on the generosity of the absolute angels in our church. 

It was...an experience. 

ANYWHO--

The scar is mostly healed now. I had to have steroids injected into it and let me tell you--OW YA'LL. Thought the scar did look a LOT better after the shots.

I have had a few more moles removed since then and have to have full body checks every 6 months.

Glad to be ok. Glad it wasn't worse. Glad I had so much help. 

That plastic surgeon though....

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