Better is not the same as Good

Thankfully, things did not get worse from 11/16; however, it would be a stretch to say that they are just ducky now.  I worked assiduously at wearing my garments 24/7, and when my lovely friend Evelyn accompanied me to the doctor on Monday, I had put enough Emla cream on, and early enough ahead of time, that I was able to withstand the fluid draw much better.  Yes, more fluid, but I was told not so dark red.  I took their word for it. Monday is such a sucky day to have this done, but at least this time they had called me in early (11:30) so Evelyn dropped me off back home in time to rest for a bit before work. And, I was now allowed to NOT wear binding undergarments to sleep in, but still need supportive tops for at night.   For some reason, my entire abdomen was really sore after that one for the entire day - I think I made it through work, but just barely. 

He asked to see me the following Monday at 1.  Ugh.  Monday again.  But oh well.

The very next day, I get a call from his office saying he'd like to see me tomorrow (Wednesday) before the long weekend.  I was in the middle of conducting a double Bar Mitzvah rehearsal at the time, and did not have the composure to excuse myself to say, essentially, "What the hell?"  So, I fretted about that for the rest of Tuesday, having misplaced Tania the nurse's cell #.  Did they test the fluid and find an infection (no, duh, otherwise they would have told me to refill the antibiotics ASAP).  Did he suddenly remember that something looked wrong?  A tired imagination is a terrible thing - and should be wasted.  Everyone (Rod, Evelyn, and any teacher who came into my office that afternoon) said it was probably just because the office would be closed for the Thanksgiving break and he wanted to be sure to start me off with as little fluid as possible.

So, the day before Thanksgiving off we went - Rod reassuring me that this was a good thing (!) and me with my trusty Emla cream and Saran Wrap.  And out came the needle and there went more fluid.  But less than last time.  When Rod pointed out (quietly, he thought) to me that it had only been 2 days since my last visit and maybe that was why, nurse Donna said "I heard that!  It's just less and that's good!"  I think maybe she used to be a cheerleader.

Obviously I don't have a medical degree like my doctor does, but it feels like all of us are now grasping at straws. At this appointment I was asked to buy a binding strap-type thing that stays on with velcro and the tighter you pull it the tighter it binds.  That was to go on top of the waist-high girdle thingy. And, I was told to "stop moving so much."  Huh.  Thanksgiving the next day and we weren't having a houseful, but we were hosting.  After a purchase at the surgical supply shop and Rod doing "surgery" on the new purchase to make it fit, I was now both girdled and bound.

And I tried not to move.  Really I did; Rod can attest to that.  Thanksgiving required some, and yesterday we went to friend-as-family Jesse Shearer's Eagle Scout ceremony.  Today (Monday) is now the next appointment (in a couple of hours,) and I don't know what the heck to expect.  I'm tired of hesitantly (and gently) poking that area of my abdomen seeing if it springs back, indicating - you guessed it - fluid.

But there's much less, I think.  In the "no good deed goes unpunished" category, I'm torn between telling him the truth - that I've faithfully worn two layers of binders pretty much all the time since last Wednesday (including DURING Thanksgiving dinner,) and being doomed to repeat this for another week, or telling him I've only worn it about 1/2 time per day because it's all I can handle, the "all I can handle" part also being true.  I wear it all the time, but my ribs ache, it's hard to sit and stand up straight, and nobody can really know if that's why there's less fluid, or if it's just receding/absorbing on its own.

I haven't had more than 5 hours of sleep in 3 weeks, and I'm starting to wonder if this is ever going to be worth it; indeed, I'm starting to forget what worth it actually is.  I know now that I overdid it just after the surgery, but I was undereducated and can't go back there in any case.  It's just a matter of getting this part done and over with.

I've read some other women's stories while cruising the 'net and for many (many more than you would think) the reconstruction process takes not months, but years.  For myself, I'd like to get to the point where I'm not in pain and/or requiring a surgeon visit weekly.

Humorous (I thought) interaction from one recent appointment: 

Me:  How will I know if the fat grafts have stayed alive or are dying off and you have to do it again?
Him:  You won't.
Me:  So you're not going to tell me what to look for, but you know what to look for?
Him:  Yup.

Remember the mantra - "trust the doctor....................."