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I’m swiftly approaching my 48th birthday in Dec. which also is the 4-year anniversary of my mastectomy. It should have been performed 3 days sooner, but the quack surgeon who  had misdiagnosed me a year earlier had dumped my PPO and I refused to allow her to do the surgery out-of-network, heh. That was a scene: sitting on the bed in pre-op with the young aide who’d brought me the prerequisite paperwork running around the room and telling the staff , “She didn’t sign the release! She didn’t sign the release!”. You should have seen the look on the face of the other surgeon who’d been brought in to insert my chemo port when he found out I wasn’t going to let him operate either. What was the point? I knew that the (2nd choice) surgeon who would ultimately perform the noble deed was at least competent enough to do port insertions on her own. Why have two surgeries/anesthesias/recoveries when I could get away with one? Anyway, the surgery took place on Dec. 5th, they wheeled me out to the curb as soon as I regained consciousness (it was late Friday afternoon and the staff was eager to begin the weekend) and we all went home where my mother duly produced and lit up a birthday cake and the whole family sang “Happy Birthday” to me, with my two fresh wounds and dangling drainage tubes and all…