Normally I go to see Dr Birhiray at his office up at the Breast Care Center. In order to do that, the appointment has to be on a Tuesday or Thursday, because Dr B spends the rest of the week at other offices. I like going to his office at the BCC, because it’s all breast cancer patients, and I usually go in and show off my long hair and generally be a poster child for life after breast cancer. Another reason I like it is that it doesn’t have a TV with which to blare soap operas like the Hux Cancer Center where I did my rads. And I think I’ve mentioned before how I do not like going to the main oncology place because it’s full of people in all stages of a variety of types of cancer, and it really just weirds me out. I much prefer to go to the BCC where, for the most part, you don’t see anybody who looks like they’re on their last leg. Bald, yes, but that is a temporary thing, and we can handle that.
However, the last time I scheduled an appointment, it was going to fall in the same week as my follow-up with Dr Grasee, so Hubster said, “Can we schedule it for the same day so we don’t have to make two trips?” Well, we *could* but that would mean that I’d have to go seen Dr B in his office in Noblesville. Despite my whining about not being able to go to the BCC for my appointment, Hubster insisted that we kill two birds with one stone and schedule the appointments on the same day. And since I didn’t have any better argument than to whine, “But I wanna come heeeere” we made the appointment when Hubster wanted it.
The appointed day arrives and first stop is Dr Grasee’s office in Carmel. This is the follow-up visit where they will take to official “after” picture of my reconstruction. Dr G is very pleased with how the recon looks, smiling and commenting how it’s really not obvious that the tissue has been radiated. If you remember, I had to sell the idea of the expander/implant to Dr G, who wanted to do the LD flap procedure because of the radiation. I take pleasure in reminding her of that as I sit there looking all fabulous.
So, now that I’m all super-fabulously reconstructed, I asked Dr G about getting the newpple tattooed. Because the newpple is just regular skin color, many cancer girls elect to have it tattooed—in my case it will be matched to the color of the remaining nipple. So, Dr G referred me to a woman who specializes in such tattoos. Her name is Cricket Hemp.
Given the name (is there even a remote possibility that it’s her real name?) I’m pretty sure a Janice Joplin wannabe is going to be doing my newpple tattoo. Should I be worried about this? I mean, what if she tattoos a peace sign on there, or worse yet, a smiley face? You know, I get kinda grossed out by needles, so I probably won’t be watching. And forget Hubster—he’s really squeamish. My only comfort with this deal is that she works for Turkle and Associates rather than Cricket Hemp’s Groovy Booby Tattoo Palace. Dr Turkle is top notch, so I’m clinging to the hope that she wouldn’t hire some crazy hippy.
I guess I’ll know for sure when I see her on October 29th.