Change of plans. Again.

Since last February I've been planning on having my surgery done by Dr. Marga Massey. She works out of the St. Charles Surgical Center in New Orleans. It has the only clinic in the world dedicated entirely to breast reconstruction. She and her colleagues are, I believe, the very best in the country at what they do. (Not to mention that I think she is an amazingly kind and compassionate individual. I absolutely adore her.) I would have flown out next week, on the 8th, had my surgery on the 10th, stayed in the hospital for 4 nights and flew home on the 18th. Everything was arranged. Then I guess things were just a little too organized and that I needed a little more anxiety and stress in my life so I decided to change everything.

I think it was just a little more than I could handle right now. I wasn't nervous about the surgery. That little, dark broom closet in the back of my head has worked beautifully once again and I haven't had a  moment's anxiety about the surgery itself. My anxiety was stemmed from all the arrangements that had to be made in order for me and my husband to take off and leave my children for 10 days. I probably could have managed it if it weren't for the fact that we haven't been able to keep them both well for more than 3 days in a row, and the recent death of our furnace, necesitating a complete reconstruction of the ducts in our home and installation of new furnace and water heater just seemed to push my nerves over the edge. As soon as I decided to cancel everything and find a surgeon locally, I felt much less anxious about life. My new surgeon will probably not have 20 years of experience in microsurgical breast reconstruction and she is probably not as insanely obsessed with building the absolute perfect breast, but when it all comes right down to it, I think I'm okay with just a little less than perfection if it means keeping my sanity intact.

Neil wasn't too thrilled about my deciding to throw a big ole' wrench into everything. He wanted me to see the best. When he was sick, I made him fly out to New York so he could be cared for the best surgeons in the world for his condition. He wanted to do the same for me, I think. I tried to point out that I didn't think you could fairly compare brain surgery with a boob job (an extremely complicated boob job, but a boob job nonetheless), but he didn't really go for it.

So that's the latest. My tentative surgery date is now November 30th. I'll be sure to keep everyone posted on what I hope is the last phase of my little adventure with breast cancer.