Monique is not only delightful because she laughs at my jokes, but also because she gave me a free bra. A FREE BRA!!! All women know that this is a most wondrous gift - those things are not cheap. In reality, a new bra bought in an actual retail shop (instead of rummaging in the bargain bin at the back of a dusty clearance store like I might normally do) would set me back about $60.00. More, if it has an Elle Macpherson name attached to it. Elle charges more for her bras cos clearly, she needs the cash. So you can't even imagine my excitement level when Monique asked me my bra size so that she could fit me with a bra. Maybe this breast cancer thing isn't so bad after all.
And let me tell you, this bra is amazing. I have posted a photo of it for your excitement (take a number, boys).
Now bear with me here - it looks like the cups are made from deflated balloons, to support… errrr….. other deflated balloons….? But it is the most comfortable bra I have ever worn. It opens both at the front and at the back, which is perfect, considering the surgery I need will remove some lymph nodes in my armpit. So trying to stretch my arms around the back in that awkward bra clip position while I am in recovery may prove difficult. I know that Tyson is an incredible dog, but no matter how well trained he is, I can't seem to train him to…. you know... grow opposable thumbs, and therefore a front clip is a joy to see.
So yes, I am indeed booked in for surgery for this coming Wednesday. I will explain the surgery in a minute, because although it is super interesting (I'm not being sardonic, it is really actually fascinating and rather cool) I wanted to say that I couldn't be more impressed with our medical system here in Australia and the way the "cancer machine" automatically kicked into gear around me. It's like you don't need to try to find the right train, the right train finds YOU and sweeps you up into it!! Like I was walking along the tracks ho humming to myself, stick o' straw hanging out my mouth, kicking empty beer cans into the ditch, and suddenly I look up to see this awesome glittering train, powered by the arse kicking energy of a thousand Beyonce dancers, which has slowed down just enough to chug alongside me, and the conductor toots, reaches out and lifts me in. "Up you pop!" She says. "Did you know that if you kept walking on your own there was a massive drooling monster waiting to rip you to shreds? We saw it on our radar. There it is. But we are gonna try to kick this monster's arse, because we have the power, and we've got your back. We may not beat it but we're pretty certain we will cos we've done it before. Having said that, we know it will be scary for you and we get that. Now hold on!" And off we speed. And when I look at the radar, it does scare me, because I see how I was gonna run smack bang into that freaky freaky monster, and I count my lucky stars that that train came along when it did and that the nice conductor pulled me in without even caring if I had money for the fare. And in the carriage is a whole bunch of other people who know how to conquer that monster that I didn't even realise was there. Like, I had NO IDEA the monster was there. But they knew. And these people? Well, they are now my crew. My posse. Cos you need a posse.
Wow. That got a little too Harry Potter for my liking. What am I? Throwing myself against a station wall and expecting to land on Platform 9 and 3/4?? Well maybe. Look, basically, I am saying it is like being Harry Potter in the first book where everyone knows what is going on around Harry except Harry, who is just discovering it all yet still needs to fight the good fight, one magical expelliamus spell at a time. And I am Harry. You guys, I am trying to let you know that I am the nerdy hero here. I am totally the nerdy bumbling hero, even down to the scar I will end up with (well… they can't remove a breast cancer from my forehead, the scar will clearly be on my tata). But we all know the real truth - the real truth being that behind every bumbling hero, is the hero's posse, without whom he'd never make it. Cos you need a posse.
Perhaps my point is, our medical system here in Australia is currently excellent, and I love it. If you comment on this post, (whatever your views about our current government) please do not troll with political discourse about Medicare - this is not the forum for politics or economics. It's about me and my new bra. And also there's a bit where it gets weird about Harry Potter which you are allowed to comment on. There will be a post on our health system at a later date, and you will be able to comment on that one, but if you are a troll, you won't win. You know why? Because, do you have cancer? No. I do. Therefore I win.
Next steps for Lana and her Posse
So back to the surgery and my next steps. I guess this is the important stuff you might want to know. I will be admitted to the Royal Women's Hospital this coming Wednesday, with parents in tow. Before I head into theatre (either the day before or the morning of surgery) I will get injected with... get this…. a radioactive isotope! Yes! A radioactive isotope! So for a brief amount of time, I will have incredible super powers, and will be able to power a small dog house. This is so that my surgeon can use a geiger counter to suss out exactly which lymph nodes will need removal. You see, he is looking for what is called the sentinel nodes, which are exactly what they sound like - the guards, or simply the first nodes that cancer would hit if it were to travel up from my tumour to my lymphatic system. I guess these little sentinel nodes are the canaries in the coal mine - if they test positive for cancer then we're in trouble. If not, then Lana buys champagne cos she can continue mining coal and building her fortune (if "mining coal" and "building a fortune" really means "performing stand up and puppetry" and "building debt"). By using the isotope method, they only have to remove 2 - 5 nodes, as opposed to removing all of them like they used to do, and I keep most of my armpit lymph nodes - important for all sorts of useful things, you know, like drainage. And immunity. You go, girl! Medical progress!!! *Little Beyonce dance*
They will also inject a blue dye into my boob! I have been told that sometimes the blue dye might look like a Pro Hart work on the skin and will stick around for a bit until my lymphatic system decides to sweat and pee the blue dye out. I can't wait for that! This, to me, seems like the perfect opportunity for some great prank, but I just haven't figured out what that prank is yet. At the very least, my toilet will LOOK clean. Does Bloo Loo still even exist? What I do know, is that I will definitely make myself available for sanitary pad advertisements.
So now we're in surgery, and they will remove the tumour. They will not only remove the tumour, but will also remove a margin around it - let's call it the tumour aura - just to make sure there is no excess cancer hanging around in the margins.
Then I go to stay at my parents' place where I drink tea and get fed kosher chicken broth and lovely clean food, and watch movies and recover from a general anaesthetic and will probably be hella sore and mopey for a while and sleepless from the general anaesthetic. I may also be a little scared to take off that comfy bra, ever, for fear that I might sweat blue dye on my parents' nice couch. And I will do my best to not think about the pathology results from the surgery, because there is little I can do about that. And I will be very happy that I included my family in my posse. Cos you need a posse.
And throughout all this, the smart people in that train carriage will be testing the margins of my tumour's aura to make sure they got it all, and the lymph nodes for any traces of cancer.
After all that, I will undergo radiation therapy every day for about a month. Well, I say every day, but really, it's only Monday to Friday. Cos apparently, cancer "doesn't roll on Shabbos".
And that's all fine you guys, it's all OK. It's all amazingly wonderful. Because cancer doesn't have a posse, but I do.
*I will try to keep the jugs puns to a minimum, or at the very least, create a separate post where everyone can contribute to the punning in the comments section. I can think of some worthy comedian friends drooling in anticipation already.