Now Playing in Milwaukee

I have been home for exactly a week, and (for those keeping count,) still 3 drains in.  But my hero and (who knew?) personal expert medical assistant, Rod, gently pulled out the novocaine pump tubing early last week.  There was much closing of eyes and wincing (me) and statements like "wow, look at all that tube that was in you!" (Rod) and "eww, just throw it away" (me again.)  And just like that, one less thing to carry around in my ever-present fanny pack.

We went for my first followup visit on Thursday and Dr. D. was so pleased with the results that he asked his office manager to take photos (of which she took many) so that he could use them during a presentation he is giving this week in Milwaukee!  I asked them to bring me back some brauts in exchange but nobody got that joke except Rod, so I guess I'm not getting any brauts. Maybe I should have asked for some nice cheddar, which would have made a more obvious piece of humor but I didn't want cheddar.

To further demonstrate his happiness with the outcome he showed me, or rather, new & improved Louie, to every person in a medical uniform in the office!  I am under strict instructions not to drive or work.  And I must wear a long-line bra (12 hooks, can you believe it?) 24/7 except for showers.  I had already purchased one, but he pronounced it too loose, so I've got two more on order in a tighter size.  I have no idea how long I have to do this.  But at least I know why.  I've got an incision on my back that runs from just below my shoulder blade to almost the top of my hip.  The compression from the long line bra (heretofore known as LLB) will help to prevent fluid building up, which is to be avoided at all costs.  That would be a seroma, and I haven't Googled it or anything,  but judging by the look on his face when he says it, I shall work to do what he says to make it not happen to me.

The drains that are the most aggravating (call them a discomfort, call them painful, call them an inconvenience, they're thorns by any other name) are the two that come from the back incision, because they come out just above my waist, precisely below the bottom of the LLB.  Like all my drains have been, they're sewn in with a couple of stitches and not much keeps them from moving, which is a nasty kind of painful burning feeling.  But the one under my arm (which drains fluid from the front incisions) is immobilized nicely by LLB.  Their reservoirs (fanny pack residents) all get emptied twice a day and I keep a reasonably honest log of the measurements; if my 24 hour total gets low enough on any of them, I can call the nurse and get over to have it taken out. Talk about your little victories:)

Many of you will appreciate the conversation that ended with "No work yet."  It started with "Can I go back to work this week?"  He asked me how far away work was from home, and if I had someone to drive me.  He asked me what I did for my work.  I told him if he let me go I would still have my "back-up" adults with me and I would just do some paper pushing and make some calls, things like that.  I don't know how he read between those lines, but apparently he did. He knew damn well if I got to work I would push more than paper and I can't say he's wrong.

I was told to drink plenty of fluids, do breathing exercises to keep up my lung capacity, move about a bit, and get outside for some fresh air.  Since I got home from the hospital I have been to two funerals and one Bat Mitzvah service. I'm pretty sure it's not exactly what he meant but an outing's an outing. Besides, we get along pretty well now.  He looks at my lists of questions at every visit, and he makes sure he's answered each one before I leave.  It's nice.

When Dr. D. came to get me because it was time to do the surgery, he crooked out his arm escort-style for me to take and we proceeded, like Dorothy and her entourage on the yellow brick road, down the hall towards the operating room.  (Rod & Joel are my witnesses.)

The irony has not escaped me that (1) I was Dorothy in the Purim spiel two years ago  and (2) for the most recent spiel (about a month before this cancer was found) I was the "Housewife of Shushan" whose over-the-top characteristic was an exceedingly "enhanced" bosom.  Good one, God.

  I'm not sure if this small but really meaningful (to me) gesture was some kind of turning point in our doctor-patient relationship, but I do (suddenly, it seems) feel like we are working together, like he is rooting for me to be happy with the results.  (I know it wouldn't hurt his ego either, but......) It boggles my mind to think about how much skill and care he has, and will, put into this continuing reconstruction, and I am going to do my best to keep up my end of the deal.  He estimates the next surgery will not before the end of the year.  I'm just going to have to be a good caretaker of his work thus far, and wait.

(There goes the doorbell again for trick-or-treaters.  So, the hospital roommate from you-know-where story is going to have to wait for another day.)