Times about a thousand. That's what it felt like. But I was holding my breath so waiting to hear if he was just replacing it with another, that the pain was kind of forgettable, especially when you consider all the other nonsense I've been through. The doctor actually said something about putting a new one back on, looked at me, and I shrugged and told him I had lowered my expectations. Then he saw how unhappy my skin was where the bandages and gauze packing had been, and decided to leave it off.
So, I have just gotten out of a REAL SHOWER:)
And my next appointment is in two months. But in the meantime he wants me to wear, if not the LLB, then something with a similar amount of support for his interior "shelving" sutures, 24 hours a day. I did make a plea for nighttime relief on the theory that gravity did not pull in the same direction if I was asleep in bed, but he wasn't having any of that. He split the difference with me; 24/7 for the next month and after that I can have nights off:)
In the meantime, he really does refer to my particular bra by my name (as in, "We should get this patient into that Rebecca bra.") I don't know if it's just that my perspective or priorities have changed on many things or if I'm just really tired or what, but the visit was almost kind of fun.
Sore but happier (and cleaner) tonight..........
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Getting More Than Their 15 Minutes of Fame..............
My next appointment with Dr. D'Amico (to re-bandage or not to re-bandage? that's the $64,000 question; and, could we go back to 12 hrs on, 12 off on the bra, or better yet, go LLB-less?) is tomorrow at 4:15. Today Diane, the receptionist called and left me a message to confirm. (I missed the call because I was attending our staff meeting via phone. I was too freaked out by my drive at 8:45 this morning uphill to the high school and downhill from the high school, in the ice storm, to go out again.)
I called back to confirm that I was confirming (whatever) and the office manager ("oh! perfect timing!") wanted to talk to me. "Here we go," I thought. All these months of not having to pay anything, just being grateful the insurance was handling what is literally hundreds of thousands of dollars in expenses, and it all comes to this moment. The one where she says they're so pleased I've been their patient and we're all so happy together and by the way, how did I want to pay my exceedingly large outstanding balance?
But, no. Dr. D'Amico was so impressed with my long line bra usage and my results with that particular bra, that she had been asked to find out from me where I got them and what brand, model, etc. they were so that he could recommend it to another patient who is having the same surgery I did. After letting her know I would happily cancel my planned (date TBA) bra-burning ceremony and (after laundering, of course) give them to anyone who wanted one, I told her the pertinent details, and we said "see you tomorrow."
Funny thing about those damned bras...................
I called back to confirm that I was confirming (whatever) and the office manager ("oh! perfect timing!") wanted to talk to me. "Here we go," I thought. All these months of not having to pay anything, just being grateful the insurance was handling what is literally hundreds of thousands of dollars in expenses, and it all comes to this moment. The one where she says they're so pleased I've been their patient and we're all so happy together and by the way, how did I want to pay my exceedingly large outstanding balance?
But, no. Dr. D'Amico was so impressed with my long line bra usage and my results with that particular bra, that she had been asked to find out from me where I got them and what brand, model, etc. they were so that he could recommend it to another patient who is having the same surgery I did. After letting her know I would happily cancel my planned (date TBA) bra-burning ceremony and (after laundering, of course) give them to anyone who wanted one, I told her the pertinent details, and we said "see you tomorrow."
Funny thing about those damned bras...................
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Today's Yuck and Yippee
There was a book (and then 2 movies, which I never saw) called "Cheaper by the Dozen." What I remember most is that the dad in the book took photos of his family doing things and then he created what he called "time motion studies." With 14 people in a house, I guess they needed a way to save time!
At any rate, the thing that stuck with me (for 40 years!) was how they figured out to take faster showers. In college I used their method to get clean during TV commercials, especially when our apartment was cold! Wash hair in kitchen sink during one break, rest of washing during another. Having never owned a "soaking tub" or anything else that allowed my whole self to be immersed once I was over 4 1/2 feet tall, it's always been showers, the shorter the better. And I didn't particularly care; it was just part of getting ready for the day/going out for an evening.
Even right after my mastectomy, when the surgeons told me to go home and take a shower because it would make me feel human again, it was so much trouble (balancing drain bulbs and trying to not "scrub" certain places) that it made it still more of a "get in and get out and get it over with" procedure. I even started showering in our SOT (shower over tub, in real estate lingo) bathroom instead of the one in our own room, which is a stall shower, because at least I could maneuver myself around a little easier.
Then sometime in the fall I took full possession of the "big" (Andrew's) bathroom when he moved to Fairlawn. Rod installed a hand-held shower head for me and I moved in my shampoos, conditioners, girly poufy thing, razor - the whole shebang. And I started to love the shower. I now spent a whole TEN minutes in there - it was awesome!
But fate intervened in the form of this ridiculous tape/gauze thing that's been glued to my midsection since January 4, and now it's 1)wash hair in kitchen sink or leaning over tub 2)wash face in sink 3)wash lower body in tub with handheld shower head 4)"wash" upper body (waist to neck, inclusive) with wipes from CVS that are supposed to clean you without needing a rinse. They mostly work, but still................A wise woman (Iris) told me not to expect to have the bandage removed when I go this Wednesday to the surgeon, so I won't be disappointed. So, I've changed my hoping to just getting the bandaged changed out for a new one, since the tape is curling and sticking to everything I put on, and it's getting a little itchy under there. (If you've ever had a cast on, you know what I mean.) I daren't even hope for a shower; if I were superstitious I'd buy out CVS's supply of wipes in the theory that the more prepared you are for something, the less likely it is to happen:)
But where would I like to be on Wednesday night (maybe ALL of Wednesday night?) - in the shower!
ON THE OTHER HAND,
Friday night was Shabbat Shirah and although I wasn't up to singing with the choir, I was still able to sing many, many favorite songs from my place in the pew. There was so much sadness about the recent death of Debbie Friedman, an iconic Jewish music composer/performer, but there was also so much joy singing her songs and those of others. It was such a warm, wonderful evening inside while there was still about a foot of snow outside, left over from two storms we had within two weeks of each other.
This morning our family ventured into Chinatown to try to find a replacement for our favorite dim sum restaurant, which Rod and I had been going to since before we were married, and which had closed without warning a week before a planned visit for my birthday, so, way back in June. Wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles, this morning it was open (had opened on Friday,) with a few of the wait staff and "cart ladies" we had so carefully cultivated over the years still working there. I actually got a hug from one of our favorite waitresses, Josie!
The food was unchanged (i.e. delicious) and everything we wanted came by on the carts. I can't remember the last time I smiled so much. Over the years, we've introduced a lot of people to this place and even though we hadn't brought anyone with us this morning, we decided it was okay that our nuclear family was "helping" the place re-open!
On our way to drop Andrew off in Fairlawn, we stopped at the Kosher Nosh to pick up some "supplies" - thin-sliced (fatty) pastrami, pickled green tomatoes, apricot "shoe leather" (okay, fruit roll), rye bread, kishka (stuffed derma) and gravy, tongue slices......................we dropped Andrew off with his own supply of pastrami and rye and headed home. All this before noon!
Tomorrow Ari goes off to sing at an MLK event with his choir and Alex goes back to school, but Rod has off so I'm going to hang on to my "long weekend" as long as possible.
At any rate, the thing that stuck with me (for 40 years!) was how they figured out to take faster showers. In college I used their method to get clean during TV commercials, especially when our apartment was cold! Wash hair in kitchen sink during one break, rest of washing during another. Having never owned a "soaking tub" or anything else that allowed my whole self to be immersed once I was over 4 1/2 feet tall, it's always been showers, the shorter the better. And I didn't particularly care; it was just part of getting ready for the day/going out for an evening.
Even right after my mastectomy, when the surgeons told me to go home and take a shower because it would make me feel human again, it was so much trouble (balancing drain bulbs and trying to not "scrub" certain places) that it made it still more of a "get in and get out and get it over with" procedure. I even started showering in our SOT (shower over tub, in real estate lingo) bathroom instead of the one in our own room, which is a stall shower, because at least I could maneuver myself around a little easier.
Then sometime in the fall I took full possession of the "big" (Andrew's) bathroom when he moved to Fairlawn. Rod installed a hand-held shower head for me and I moved in my shampoos, conditioners, girly poufy thing, razor - the whole shebang. And I started to love the shower. I now spent a whole TEN minutes in there - it was awesome!
But fate intervened in the form of this ridiculous tape/gauze thing that's been glued to my midsection since January 4, and now it's 1)wash hair in kitchen sink or leaning over tub 2)wash face in sink 3)wash lower body in tub with handheld shower head 4)"wash" upper body (waist to neck, inclusive) with wipes from CVS that are supposed to clean you without needing a rinse. They mostly work, but still................A wise woman (Iris) told me not to expect to have the bandage removed when I go this Wednesday to the surgeon, so I won't be disappointed. So, I've changed my hoping to just getting the bandaged changed out for a new one, since the tape is curling and sticking to everything I put on, and it's getting a little itchy under there. (If you've ever had a cast on, you know what I mean.) I daren't even hope for a shower; if I were superstitious I'd buy out CVS's supply of wipes in the theory that the more prepared you are for something, the less likely it is to happen:)
But where would I like to be on Wednesday night (maybe ALL of Wednesday night?) - in the shower!
ON THE OTHER HAND,
Friday night was Shabbat Shirah and although I wasn't up to singing with the choir, I was still able to sing many, many favorite songs from my place in the pew. There was so much sadness about the recent death of Debbie Friedman, an iconic Jewish music composer/performer, but there was also so much joy singing her songs and those of others. It was such a warm, wonderful evening inside while there was still about a foot of snow outside, left over from two storms we had within two weeks of each other.
This morning our family ventured into Chinatown to try to find a replacement for our favorite dim sum restaurant, which Rod and I had been going to since before we were married, and which had closed without warning a week before a planned visit for my birthday, so, way back in June. Wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles, this morning it was open (had opened on Friday,) with a few of the wait staff and "cart ladies" we had so carefully cultivated over the years still working there. I actually got a hug from one of our favorite waitresses, Josie!
The food was unchanged (i.e. delicious) and everything we wanted came by on the carts. I can't remember the last time I smiled so much. Over the years, we've introduced a lot of people to this place and even though we hadn't brought anyone with us this morning, we decided it was okay that our nuclear family was "helping" the place re-open!
On our way to drop Andrew off in Fairlawn, we stopped at the Kosher Nosh to pick up some "supplies" - thin-sliced (fatty) pastrami, pickled green tomatoes, apricot "shoe leather" (okay, fruit roll), rye bread, kishka (stuffed derma) and gravy, tongue slices......................we dropped Andrew off with his own supply of pastrami and rye and headed home. All this before noon!
Tomorrow Ari goes off to sing at an MLK event with his choir and Alex goes back to school, but Rod has off so I'm going to hang on to my "long weekend" as long as possible.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Higher Math
When I last reported the unfortunately timed drip-cough-throat situation on January 2, I said it had started 5 days before the surgery, which led some readers to think the surgery wasn't until 5 days after that, or January 7. (Coincidence that the 7th is today, but the surgery was, indeed, on the 4th.)
Perhaps it was not so clearly stated, but entirely forgivable under the Blog Writer's Code of Self-Absolution, which I just made up (and shall unashamedly fall back on for future incidents of ambiguous postings.)
Yes, it's now a cold. (as in, when I told everyone taking care of me in Pre-Op that I just had a little drip and cough they said "it'll probably be a full-blown cold soon.") So far, it is not a sinus infection. Everyone keep your fingers crossed.
So, ON THE 4th, they used general anesthesia, which meant a tube in my already-sore throat. This has hampered recovery "just a tad." I did have a minor (3 or 4 tears) meltdown when the anesthesiologist told me about it. But in the end, out cold is out cold and once you trust your doctors, that's that. Besides, I had slathered my arm with lidocaine cream in advance and after a few tries, they got the IV into a place where it did not hurt. Small but significant victory in the battle to find roses amongst the thorns. And no drains this time. Woohoo!
Although there is only one incision, in the same spot where the original was from June, all of the pain is coming from work done under the surface, some kind of support structure built and anchored with stitching to my ribcage, or something like that. This requires a big adhesive tape/gauze combo that is actually glued to me and runs from under my right arm all the way across my front. It has to stay there for at least the next two weeks and IT CAN'T GET WET! (Ever enigmatic, the doctor's answer to "how long does this have to stay on?" was "we'll see.")
Yesterday at the follow up appointment the nurse (as gently as she could) peeled off the big patch of tape, etc. and the doctor re-applied a new one. He told me to "stop acting like such a patient" and "get off all that medication" (which he had prescribed, thank you very much.) So, I have packed away the valium and the percoset in the nightstand drawer (for just in case) and going forward will try to get along on extra strength Tylenol until they will let me go back to my beloved Advil.
For those of you who have had any kind of surgery that somehow affects your rib area, you know that coughing really adds insult to the injury, literally. So, I try to always be near some kind of cushion to hug tight!
Rod found a vaporizer buried in our accumulation of "stuff" in a closet and it has made a huge difference. Between that, my Ricola cherry-honey drops, magically self-replacing Kleenex boxes, Sudafed and a steady supply of soup from friends, this unfortunate complication is made bearable.
Besides, it has taken my mind off of trying to figure out how to get through the next two weeks without a "real" shower..............
Perhaps it was not so clearly stated, but entirely forgivable under the Blog Writer's Code of Self-Absolution, which I just made up (and shall unashamedly fall back on for future incidents of ambiguous postings.)
Yes, it's now a cold. (as in, when I told everyone taking care of me in Pre-Op that I just had a little drip and cough they said "it'll probably be a full-blown cold soon.") So far, it is not a sinus infection. Everyone keep your fingers crossed.
So, ON THE 4th, they used general anesthesia, which meant a tube in my already-sore throat. This has hampered recovery "just a tad." I did have a minor (3 or 4 tears) meltdown when the anesthesiologist told me about it. But in the end, out cold is out cold and once you trust your doctors, that's that. Besides, I had slathered my arm with lidocaine cream in advance and after a few tries, they got the IV into a place where it did not hurt. Small but significant victory in the battle to find roses amongst the thorns. And no drains this time. Woohoo!
Although there is only one incision, in the same spot where the original was from June, all of the pain is coming from work done under the surface, some kind of support structure built and anchored with stitching to my ribcage, or something like that. This requires a big adhesive tape/gauze combo that is actually glued to me and runs from under my right arm all the way across my front. It has to stay there for at least the next two weeks and IT CAN'T GET WET! (Ever enigmatic, the doctor's answer to "how long does this have to stay on?" was "we'll see.")
Yesterday at the follow up appointment the nurse (as gently as she could) peeled off the big patch of tape, etc. and the doctor re-applied a new one. He told me to "stop acting like such a patient" and "get off all that medication" (which he had prescribed, thank you very much.) So, I have packed away the valium and the percoset in the nightstand drawer (for just in case) and going forward will try to get along on extra strength Tylenol until they will let me go back to my beloved Advil.
For those of you who have had any kind of surgery that somehow affects your rib area, you know that coughing really adds insult to the injury, literally. So, I try to always be near some kind of cushion to hug tight!
Rod found a vaporizer buried in our accumulation of "stuff" in a closet and it has made a huge difference. Between that, my Ricola cherry-honey drops, magically self-replacing Kleenex boxes, Sudafed and a steady supply of soup from friends, this unfortunate complication is made bearable.
Besides, it has taken my mind off of trying to figure out how to get through the next two weeks without a "real" shower..............
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Like Two Drips Passing in the Night
With my next (and hopefully last) surgery 5 days away, I get a drip down into the back of my throat. By New Year's Eve my throat is scratchy and at night I cough. Terrific. No stuffy nose, no fever, nothing else. Maybe some itchy eyes. I tell myself it's allergies.
Of course New Year's Eve is a Friday, then it's the weekend so I'm not calling the surgeon's emergency line to see what's okay to take. There are a lot of restrictions on medication for 14 days before a surgery; the list is 2 pages long and it's not even "all-inclusive!" Tomorrow (Monday) afternoon is my appointment to get marked for the surgery, and I figure since I sound much better in the afternoon than I do first thing in the morning, maybe it won't be so obvious. The only real issue I see is that there's no food or drink after midnight and I have survived the last few nights with water and cherry lozenges. (When I lie flat I cough.) So I'm going to have to ask about that and hope he doesn't cancel on me. I find myself trying to remember if the surgery "bed" is totally flat and the ridiculous imagined scenarios take off from there.
I had no real worries that close proximity to lots of people via our annual New Year's Eve and Day hosting activities would pose a threat to me, and I don't think it did. It was tiring but wonderful to see everyone. It was also great to chat and laugh and enjoy people enjoying each other's company. Everyone helped out and thanks to Rod and our friend Linda, the dishes and house were cleaned up by 5:30 yesterday, which is not bad considering that people were with us continuously from about 6 p.m. on Friday through 4:30 on Saturday!
Last Thursday I actually drove myself (for those who know me well, this is a very big deal) down to Englewood to the surgeon's office, where I handed in my pre-op "permission slips" and the nurse removed some stitches from my back that have worked their way to the surface and were snagging on the godforsaken bra. (Surgeon was on vacation.) She (Donna, the nurse) says I must be one of their best patients; apparently nobody else wears their LLB for as long as the doctor would like and I'm still very careful about getting in my 12 hours per day! Then as long as I was in the neighborhood I swung around to the hospital for the EKG I didn't know I needed until Patient Admissions called that morning to say mine was out of date.
Now the meticulous planning, scheduling, anticipation, anxiety and hoped-for relief for the beginning of the end of this process may be waylaid by a stupid drip. As I time my cough-free periods and try to see if one of them is long enough to equal the hours in surgery - which so far they don't - I'm getting a little obsessed. Rod says I have over 24 hours to feel better, and I should focus on that, but there's no infection to fight (I'll have antibiotics right after surgery anyway) and there's not much else I can do but rest, drink fluids, and count on the understanding of the surgeon who I hope by now is willing to work with me under not the most ideal circumstances. I keep telling myself that a)it's not a long surgery (out-patient, IV sedation only) and b)he's just as ready to get me "finished" as I am.
Besides, it's allergies. Probably.
Of course New Year's Eve is a Friday, then it's the weekend so I'm not calling the surgeon's emergency line to see what's okay to take. There are a lot of restrictions on medication for 14 days before a surgery; the list is 2 pages long and it's not even "all-inclusive!" Tomorrow (Monday) afternoon is my appointment to get marked for the surgery, and I figure since I sound much better in the afternoon than I do first thing in the morning, maybe it won't be so obvious. The only real issue I see is that there's no food or drink after midnight and I have survived the last few nights with water and cherry lozenges. (When I lie flat I cough.) So I'm going to have to ask about that and hope he doesn't cancel on me. I find myself trying to remember if the surgery "bed" is totally flat and the ridiculous imagined scenarios take off from there.
I had no real worries that close proximity to lots of people via our annual New Year's Eve and Day hosting activities would pose a threat to me, and I don't think it did. It was tiring but wonderful to see everyone. It was also great to chat and laugh and enjoy people enjoying each other's company. Everyone helped out and thanks to Rod and our friend Linda, the dishes and house were cleaned up by 5:30 yesterday, which is not bad considering that people were with us continuously from about 6 p.m. on Friday through 4:30 on Saturday!
Last Thursday I actually drove myself (for those who know me well, this is a very big deal) down to Englewood to the surgeon's office, where I handed in my pre-op "permission slips" and the nurse removed some stitches from my back that have worked their way to the surface and were snagging on the godforsaken bra. (Surgeon was on vacation.) She (Donna, the nurse) says I must be one of their best patients; apparently nobody else wears their LLB for as long as the doctor would like and I'm still very careful about getting in my 12 hours per day! Then as long as I was in the neighborhood I swung around to the hospital for the EKG I didn't know I needed until Patient Admissions called that morning to say mine was out of date.
Now the meticulous planning, scheduling, anticipation, anxiety and hoped-for relief for the beginning of the end of this process may be waylaid by a stupid drip. As I time my cough-free periods and try to see if one of them is long enough to equal the hours in surgery - which so far they don't - I'm getting a little obsessed. Rod says I have over 24 hours to feel better, and I should focus on that, but there's no infection to fight (I'll have antibiotics right after surgery anyway) and there's not much else I can do but rest, drink fluids, and count on the understanding of the surgeon who I hope by now is willing to work with me under not the most ideal circumstances. I keep telling myself that a)it's not a long surgery (out-patient, IV sedation only) and b)he's just as ready to get me "finished" as I am.
Besides, it's allergies. Probably.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Playing Catch-Up
The last time I wrote was November 11, right after the last drains were out and I was feeling a little "at sea" about how I was going to deal with, well, not dealing with them. The day before Thanksgiving was my most recent appointment with Dr. D'Amico, and he was very pleased with the progress of the healing and ready to book the next surgery, after the new year. (Turns out to be January 4.)
Of course, I asked the inevitable question: "How long do I have to wear these bras?" His answer (one of those joking, but not really joking responses): "a few months ............ or maybe 2 years." He says it's hard to know because all the time the bra is on, there's no seroma happening. Even now that simple, inescapable truth is what keeps me putting the stupid thing on every morning, almost 2 months after surgery. He did add that I should "wean" myself eventually to 12 hours on, 12 hours off, which is not my own definition of wean (in which case I would end up with it off forever after a few weeks) but he has me well trained by now! That, combined with his assertion that he has not seen a seroma in years from one of his latissimus dorsi patients, sits foremost in my mind as I hook all 12 hooks and that "wean" thing accompanies my sigh of relief when I unhook them to go to bed. (That first week of trying NOT to wear the bra were ironic, though. I'd go to bed without it, wake up a few hours later just knowing that some terrible thing was going to happen, and put it back on. )
I was laboring under a pretty major misconception for a while, I realize now. Because the October surgery itself was shorter than my June mastectomy surgery, and my hospital stay was the same length, I somehow equated that with a similar, or even shorter, recovery period. Duh. For a person who tries to be educated and aware of what's happening to her body, that was a fairly ignorant assumption! So, for the first month I kept thinking that I ought to feel better, and be less tired, and less sore and it was exactly the opposite. I said to someone that I expected all of these things "by now" and she said that she didn't, since it was such a major surgery. Huh. (close relative of Duh, and not by accident, I think.)
So, as of today there's still enough pain along the long back incision for me to take a couple of Advil three times a day, but not enough for me to succumb to using 1/4 of a pill of Oxycodone (which I keep on hand "just in case.") And the most "uncomfortable" places are actually below the incision, where I think the latissimus muscle was detached, and where the three drains were placed. Topside, we're just on the lookout for anything untoward in the ongoing process of healing, but it's numb anyway so bad news/good news. And the bra itself can only be one size even though I'm currently two, so one side fits and one side is too tight. (I am SO over the nighttime "missing the bra" thing. Now it's just a sigh of relief.) And the damn itch, which I know is a good healing sign, but trying not to scratch reminds me of the chicken pox and German measles I had as a child!
Thanksgiving was lovely; we had 12 for dinner and even with careful planning and Rod taking a star turn in the backbreaking labor department, I spent all the next day in bed (flat on my back for a lot of that.) Sitting/standing straight for long periods of time is still draining and, depending on the chair, downright painful, but as I look back (in time, not in the mirror) I see that, to quote the Beatles, "I've got to admit it's getting better, getting better all the time."
I won't see Dr. D'Amico again until January 3, to get my markings for my next (and hopefully last) surgery on January 4. It's out-patient and scheduled to begin at 9:30 a.m. so there is time for me to get the kids to the high school and Rod and I should be back home from the hospital in the early afternoon. IV sedation (not in my hand, maybe? we'll see how convincing I can be with the nurse) instead of general anesthesia and no hospital stay. And maybe - although the doctor won't promise but he was optimistic - no drain.
So far, so good in the tamoxifen side effect department, and I'm hoping to wean (in the real sense of the word) myself off of the sleep aid and the anti-depression medication early in 2011. Hard to believe it's been less than a year since my diagnosis. I don't know if this is my subconscious protecting me or what, but it's getting harder to remember what my body was like "before" all this. However, I'm glad that my "after" picture is getting closer!
Of course, I asked the inevitable question: "How long do I have to wear these bras?" His answer (one of those joking, but not really joking responses): "a few months ............ or maybe 2 years." He says it's hard to know because all the time the bra is on, there's no seroma happening. Even now that simple, inescapable truth is what keeps me putting the stupid thing on every morning, almost 2 months after surgery. He did add that I should "wean" myself eventually to 12 hours on, 12 hours off, which is not my own definition of wean (in which case I would end up with it off forever after a few weeks) but he has me well trained by now! That, combined with his assertion that he has not seen a seroma in years from one of his latissimus dorsi patients, sits foremost in my mind as I hook all 12 hooks and that "wean" thing accompanies my sigh of relief when I unhook them to go to bed. (That first week of trying NOT to wear the bra were ironic, though. I'd go to bed without it, wake up a few hours later just knowing that some terrible thing was going to happen, and put it back on. )
I was laboring under a pretty major misconception for a while, I realize now. Because the October surgery itself was shorter than my June mastectomy surgery, and my hospital stay was the same length, I somehow equated that with a similar, or even shorter, recovery period. Duh. For a person who tries to be educated and aware of what's happening to her body, that was a fairly ignorant assumption! So, for the first month I kept thinking that I ought to feel better, and be less tired, and less sore and it was exactly the opposite. I said to someone that I expected all of these things "by now" and she said that she didn't, since it was such a major surgery. Huh. (close relative of Duh, and not by accident, I think.)
So, as of today there's still enough pain along the long back incision for me to take a couple of Advil three times a day, but not enough for me to succumb to using 1/4 of a pill of Oxycodone (which I keep on hand "just in case.") And the most "uncomfortable" places are actually below the incision, where I think the latissimus muscle was detached, and where the three drains were placed. Topside, we're just on the lookout for anything untoward in the ongoing process of healing, but it's numb anyway so bad news/good news. And the bra itself can only be one size even though I'm currently two, so one side fits and one side is too tight. (I am SO over the nighttime "missing the bra" thing. Now it's just a sigh of relief.) And the damn itch, which I know is a good healing sign, but trying not to scratch reminds me of the chicken pox and German measles I had as a child!
Thanksgiving was lovely; we had 12 for dinner and even with careful planning and Rod taking a star turn in the backbreaking labor department, I spent all the next day in bed (flat on my back for a lot of that.) Sitting/standing straight for long periods of time is still draining and, depending on the chair, downright painful, but as I look back (in time, not in the mirror) I see that, to quote the Beatles, "I've got to admit it's getting better, getting better all the time."
I won't see Dr. D'Amico again until January 3, to get my markings for my next (and hopefully last) surgery on January 4. It's out-patient and scheduled to begin at 9:30 a.m. so there is time for me to get the kids to the high school and Rod and I should be back home from the hospital in the early afternoon. IV sedation (not in my hand, maybe? we'll see how convincing I can be with the nurse) instead of general anesthesia and no hospital stay. And maybe - although the doctor won't promise but he was optimistic - no drain.
So far, so good in the tamoxifen side effect department, and I'm hoping to wean (in the real sense of the word) myself off of the sleep aid and the anti-depression medication early in 2011. Hard to believe it's been less than a year since my diagnosis. I don't know if this is my subconscious protecting me or what, but it's getting harder to remember what my body was like "before" all this. However, I'm glad that my "after" picture is getting closer!
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Now I Know How the Slaves Felt
You know, the ones who exited Egypt with Moses (parting of the Red Sea, etc.?) After they escape to the desert, they turn into a bunch of whiny children, paralyzed with the fear of "What now?"
As of today, all my drains are out. I can drive and work as long as I lift nothing heavier than "a teacup or a telephone." I'm not to do too much with my upper body, and now the LLBs and my own good behavior are the only things standing between me and deadly fluid buildup. All this kind of tentative movement and caution is for at least two more weeks, with my next appointment the day before Thanksgiving.
So what do I do now? When Rod dropped me off from my appointment today I was dazed and a little shell-shocked, not to mention sore and tired from my big "outing." (I had trained myself not to expect too much from my visits, and I hadn't really prepared myself to be freed of both of the remaining drains.) The receptionist, when told they were gone, said, "You must be so happy!" Probably I am. But I've been tied to these things for so long, been careful with my movements, dreaded the inevitable tug and burn, measured output twice a day, every day, that I'm not sure what these next weeks are going to bring. I am very aware of what could go wrong, no matter how hard the doctor (and Rod & I) have worked. This summer's Louie infection/failure/removal misadventure taught me that.
For sure I don't want to go back to the "slavery" of the drains. Tomorrow afternoon I'm going to pick up the high school carpool; driving for the first time in almost a month, I'm a little scared. How will I know not to "overdo?"
I think it was once again my wise friend Lois who found a quote that I like for this particular quandary. ( I'm paraphrasing because I can't remember it exactly.) It's not precisely on point but it's close enough: "If you want God to guide your footsteps, you have to be willing to walk."
Even though I'm pretty secure in the knowledge that I've got family and friends to nudge me appropriately forward or hold me sensibly back, it's going to be challenging.
But - bed first, walk (drive?) tomorrow.
As of today, all my drains are out. I can drive and work as long as I lift nothing heavier than "a teacup or a telephone." I'm not to do too much with my upper body, and now the LLBs and my own good behavior are the only things standing between me and deadly fluid buildup. All this kind of tentative movement and caution is for at least two more weeks, with my next appointment the day before Thanksgiving.
So what do I do now? When Rod dropped me off from my appointment today I was dazed and a little shell-shocked, not to mention sore and tired from my big "outing." (I had trained myself not to expect too much from my visits, and I hadn't really prepared myself to be freed of both of the remaining drains.) The receptionist, when told they were gone, said, "You must be so happy!" Probably I am. But I've been tied to these things for so long, been careful with my movements, dreaded the inevitable tug and burn, measured output twice a day, every day, that I'm not sure what these next weeks are going to bring. I am very aware of what could go wrong, no matter how hard the doctor (and Rod & I) have worked. This summer's Louie infection/failure/removal misadventure taught me that.
For sure I don't want to go back to the "slavery" of the drains. Tomorrow afternoon I'm going to pick up the high school carpool; driving for the first time in almost a month, I'm a little scared. How will I know not to "overdo?"
I think it was once again my wise friend Lois who found a quote that I like for this particular quandary. ( I'm paraphrasing because I can't remember it exactly.) It's not precisely on point but it's close enough: "If you want God to guide your footsteps, you have to be willing to walk."
Even though I'm pretty secure in the knowledge that I've got family and friends to nudge me appropriately forward or hold me sensibly back, it's going to be challenging.
But - bed first, walk (drive?) tomorrow.
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