It Looks Worse Than it Feels

Warning:  I have included a picture of my new, boobless chest.   It is very bruised and might be disturbing/triggering to some.

Yesterday I had the drains removed. Holy effing ouch ! 

That's all I'm going to say about that.

Having the majority of surgical tape removed has given me a much greater range of motion but I have a long way to go before I will be able to raise my arms over my head.  Physical therapy a la Peachie begins today.

The pathology report was good.  No metastasises in the lymph nodes.  I still need to see the oncologist, but at least there is no immediate red flags. 

I can now shower!!!!  I can't reach up to wash my hair or reach down to shave my legs and I think it will eons before I can shave my pits.  Argggghh.    But hey, Rome wasn't built in  a day. 

The deep bruising close to my armpit had been all over my chest so this is a major improvement.   And perhaps most meaningful to me is that I have now been able to look my body and not go into extreme trigger mode.  As much as this visual brings me back to a day the had the shit kicked out of me, I have been able to stay in the present without flashbacks.   I consider this a major victory and a very real confirmation that I am healing in many, many ways.

I apparently also need to get back to the gym and work on those abs.  

Full of Grace

This week it would be very hard for me to limit my gratitude to just five items.  It has been an amazing week so here goes:

- For my sister who left her family on their major holiday to come and help me get through my surgery

- About to be wheeled in to the operating room, the nurse who said "I believe in good luck kisses."  My sister kissed me, then Martha kissed me, and then the nurse kissed me too, which made me laugh.

- The nurse in the recovery room holding my hand and asking if I was Beanie's mom.   Seems her daughter and mine were basketball rivals for years.   She brought me back to the present by sharing some of her memories of Beanie on the court. 

- Ice chips.   Amazing how such a simple thing can be so wonderful.

- To all those folks who work in the medical profession.  I am in awe of their knowledge, patience and compassion.

- On my first night home my sister thought my bandages were leaking.   Martha called a friend who is a doctor who came immediately, with his supplies in a Build-A-Bear bag, and checked me out.  He changed some of the dressing and all was okay.    Do any doctors make house calls anymore?

- Martha's niece's daughter who made me a whole tin of their secret recipe xmas cookies, knowing I would miss the xmas eve celebration.

- Peachie who has changed my drains, washed my hair, and has been an incredible caretaker.  

- Beanie, who can't do medical stuff at all, has kept me laughing and entertained. 

- Martha who has anticipated every need and made sure it was in my reach.  And has let me cry without question.

- Friends who arranged for food to be constantly delivered so that my family had one less thing to worry about, filled my house with flowers and have kept me smiling with loving emails, well wishes and gifts. 


I generally try to go through life with an attitude of gratitude because I understand how very blessed I am.  But when something happens that reduces me to helplessness,  I realize that I have not begun to scratch the surface of how abundant my life is.  My heart is overflowing with appreciation and love for you all.

Do these drains make me look fat?

First couple of days were a little rough but every day I have a small victory.

Every day I gain a little more mobility in my arms - it is very frustrating not to be able to reach the toilet paper, comb my hair, scratch an itch, get dressed or get anything out of the fridge. 

This morning I could finally reach the toilet paper.  Yay!  Up til now it might as well been 3 miles away.

My drains are slowing down and I hope to get them out this week.   By far they are the most disgusting and irritating thing about this operation.

Yesterday I took a walk around the block. 

Still, for as good as things have been going, I have my bad moments. 

I am getting cranky from trying to sleep sitting up and every movement wakes me.    The cranky sometimes leaks out to my family who are really being so good to me.

I still have not looked in a mirror.  I am told that the bruising that originally came up to my collar bones is receding quickly, but that first glimpse  was enough to keep me from looking again.

And I keep having these short random crying jags.  I mean, is there any reason to start uncontrollably sobbing when Ralphie gets his Red Rider BB gun?   

But I am so much better than I thought I'd be at this point.  I was able to enjoy Christmas with my family, opening gifts and eating entirely too much junk.  I  have had incredible dreams being visited by both Lauren and Daphne in very calm and loving scenarios.  (I hope that continues)  And the anesthesia is finally starting to clear so my family has stopped laughing at all the stupid and repetetive things I apparently kept doing. 

Now I just need some snow.

I hope you all were able to find some joy in whatever you celebrate.   

Recovering



I am so happy to be home.   I was in recovery for over 4 hours so that wasn't so good but I am past it now.  

I am up and walking around although laying down is the most comfortable for me.   I am managing with just Tynelol.   Whoever gave me the suggestion for a camisole with the pockets for the drains - it is a god send.  The drains are really gross and I can't even look at them.  Fortunately my sister and Peachie have been able to do the dirty work.

Tomorrow a home health nurse will come and change the bandages.  I am not looking forward to that.  I have not looked down yet.   One thing at a time.

Thank you again for all your prayers and support.    You will never know how much that meant to me.

Wishing you all a happy and joy filled holiday.



Surgery Set

Surgery time is set for 10:50 am. EST.    Should take about 2 1/2 hours.

And then recovery for as long as it takes.

I had the nuclear dye inserted today.  My boobs are not glowing.  I am disappointed.

But my sister and my daughters are going to decorate them tonight.   

I'm ready.

Hopefully I'll be back here soon.   Thank you again for all your support.

Full of Grace

1. Having my daughters home for a 5 week winter break.

2. Making Christmas cookies with them (always the jokesters)

3. Having Beanie make me cry when she shared her birthday wish with me.

4. Brown paper packages tied up in love.

5. My home overflowing with well wishing cards and chocolate. I am blown away with the love.

For My Age

Today I am feeling a little bummed. Not depressed or anything, just a little melancholy.  I think it started when I got a lovely card from a friend that said "I'm sorry you're sick."

Sick? I have not really thought of it in those terms. I am very rarely sick. In fact, most people are surprised when they learn how old I am because I stay pretty active - back packing, skiing, kayaking. If anything, its my sun damaged, weather beaten skin that gives my age away. True, over the years, I carry less weight in my back pack and more ibuprofen. Getting up from a skiing wipe-out has become an aerobic activity in and of itself. White water kayaking has given way to being content to explore the tributaries of calm mountain lakes.

Last year I tore my meniscus. I wish I could say I did it skiing a black diamond course at Lake Placid. Or hiking a steep trail in the High Peaks. But no, I slipped on a wet leaf. Not very glamorous. That injury and the following surgery took away my entire ski season last winter and also the spring/summer backpacking season. And I wasn’t very pleased when a doctor told me that my knee joints were pretty worn out. But that I was in great shape - for my age. For. My. Age. How effing depressing is that?

Next week I will have a bilateral mastectomy. I am generally feeling okay about that, yet some things are niggling at me:

- I had hoped to go skiing at least once before the surgery. But no. We have had no snow and the temperatures are so warm, ski resorts can’t even make it. Very unusual weather we’re having.

- Although gravity has certainly done its dirty work, my breasts are still pretty perky. It will be sad to see them go.

-Everything I normally do to keep my PTSD at bay will be impossible for me for the next few weeks - exercising hard, sauna time, being outside, sleep, etc.  I am deeply concerned about how I am going to manage the symptoms.

-I appreciated the suggestion that I ask if Martha could be in the recovery room with me as, the thing I am most terrified about this whole ordeal, is coming out of anesthesia. Unfortunately, Martha is having a great deal of difficulty with this whole cancer thing, and would not be the right choice. Lauren, my therapist, would be the right choice. I am missing her something fierce.

- I recently found out how much volunteer work Lauren did which breast cancer patients. Really? Let’s pour a little salt into that wound.

- Martha will go to her niece’s for Christmas Eve. I will sit at home, draining my chest.

- Every year, the day after Christmas, we do a traditional roast beef and Yorkshire pudding dinner with Martha’s best friend and family. That is now being postponed because, really, no one wants to see me sitting there, draining my chest. Including me.

I keep looking at this card saying "I’m sorry you’re sick. I will never forget how kind and helpful you were when Rob was sick. If there is anything I can do to return the favor . . ."

Rob, younger than me, had cancer and died within one year.

So today I am feeling a little melancholy. Next Wednesday I am having my cancerous breasts removed on the same day, in the same hospital, where 20 years ago I watched my oldest daughter being born. It just seems surreal to me that that much time has passed. That my body is starting to fail me.  That I am starting to feel old.  Well, at least old . . . for my age.