Super Hero or Super Freak? You be the Judge

I headed to Florida this week. As many of you know many of my doctors are in Florida. Not only my oncology team, but also my plastic surgeon. Let me assure you - once you've found a good plastic surgeon - you stay w/ that plastic surgeon. He becomes your lifelong friend. Some people have lawyers on retainer, I think I shall keep a plastic surgeon there. In other words you can be sure I will not be the one casting stones at Kate Gosselin.

Well, I've arrived in Florida and after pre-op and my oncology check-ups today I'm ready to proceed friday with surgery. It is my second of 3 surgeries I must go through to complete my breast reconstruction. I'm no stranger to this as you know I went through this same process in 2006 on the other side, but still surgery is surgery and it always leaves me a little uneasy as I approach it. You know the stuff. Fearful I'll forget to pack my goofy after surgery shirts. Sexy. Fearful I'll admit something else inappropriately while dozing into or out of anestesia. Fearful the kids will need their favorite pajamas or snack or something that I forgot to leave them prior to my trip. Fearful the hotel won't have TLC on the TV. Fearful, fearful, fearful, cause when I want to be . . . I'm a freak of fears. But my biggest one I had coming into this surgery was that I'll get the silly swine flu from the stale air on my flight down to Florida.

It's a legitimate fear. Both Jesse & I individually but on different dates the week following our flights to Pittsburgh from Grand Cayman ended up in the emergency room diagnosed w/ the flu. Now they don't tell you if it's the swine flu or not. And it really doesn't matter as the flu is the flu and my main concern here is it could keep me from surgery. So Tuesday, I faced my fears head on and jumped on a plane where the flu risk - swine or otherwise - is high.

Now I'm not a complete germ-a-phobe. But I do have some phobe where germs are concerned. You know like opening public bathroom doors w/ my sleeve rather than my hand. That kind. This is most apparent when I walk Lilly w/ me into any public restroom stall. You can hear me the whole time repeatedly saying "Don't touch anything. Noooooo! Don't touch. Noooooo! Aaahhhh! Stand right here. Noooooo! Touch nothing. Dirty. Dirty. Dirtyyyyyyy!" If you're a mother you're with me on this, right?! So if that makes me a germ-a-phobe. Then yes, mame, I'm a germ-a-phobe. But truly. These are the exception. I don't think of myself as living in a plastic bubble.

But Tuesday was different. I was not chancing the flu. So I did it. I bought myself a mask. A mask much like the ones I wore back & forth from Grand Cayman to Tampa when I would come for Chemotherapy. Now it didn't bother me then as at that time I was also bald and missing most of my eyebrows - so the mask - least of my worries on the "do I look okay scale?" if you know what I mean.

But this time I was embarrassed. Embarrassed that myself and only one other woman had a mask for our flights. The other woman had her mask on way before she even got on the plane. Brave! But me, I slithered into my seat, looked apologetically at the man next to me and said, "Don't take this personal. I'm a cancer survivor going for a surgery and can't risk getting sick on the plane." Poor guy! Too much - too much information for someone simply trying to read a book on a plane while thinking "who is that masked woman?" Me, Julie "putting pride aside for the sake of a new breast" Graubard. That's who.

So there you have it. More stories of the adventures of Julie. Super Hero or Super Freak? I'm going w/ freak because everyone knows - if I were a super hero I'd have used my "I dream of Jeanie" powers and head bobbed my way to Florida with a blink of the eyes.