I may or may not be having surgery again today. The skin near my mastectomy incision may or may not be dying. The doctor will look at it again today at 10am make a game-time decision. If he deems the skin dead, I’ll be back on the operating table by 1pm.
I hate to be melodramatic, but I am completely freaking out. They tell me it’ll just be a “little” surgery, only about half an hour and I’ll get to go home right after, but when it’s my body and I’m going under anesthesia, there really is no need to use the word “little.”
I went to bed last night and swore I had a fever and constipation. There is no way they can do surgery on a girl with a fever and constipation, right? Then I threw off my down comforter and went to the bathroom and realized that my sickness plan had been foiled.
I fell asleep pretty easily and dreamed that I was going to be the first woman ever to compete in the Miss America pageant with one breast. It was a fitful sleep because I couldn’t figure out how I was going to get in shape for the swimsuit competition without being able to workout. In my dream I decided I just wouldn’t eat. Um… for anyone reading this who thinks that is the perfect solution, trust me. It’s not.
At about 2am my body decided we were done worrying in dreamland and would rather worry while fully conscious. But this is where I excel!
I’d start worrying and then I’d start talking to Jesus. And then I’d forget I was talking to Jesus and start worrying. And then I’d realize I was worrying and start reciting bible scriptures. And then after about 3 hours, I fell asleep.
For people who don’t understand God or the Bible or why I would take the time to memorize parts of the Bible, let me explain it like this: you cannot worry and be hopeful at the same time (thank you Joyce Meyer for teaching me that). Your brain has to choose what to think about, and it can only think about one thing. So when I choose to talk to Jesus or think of Bible verses, I am reminded of the thousands of promises God has made me: I’m never alone. He has a plan. This is all just temporary.
So now it’s today. I have gotten up, showered (yeah!), gotten dressed, and put on a little lip gloss. Oh! And I put on some very large glittery Miss America-type earrings and a gorgeous necklace my cousin, Susie, sent me. Maybe I’ll be so sparkly that the doctor won’t even remember I was there for surgery. It’s worth a try, right?
Thank God it’s Monday! I know most of you are thinking the same thing right now… right? Okay. Maybe not, but today is a day of celebration for me, because today is the day I get to DRIVE! All by myself! In a car! It’s like I’m 16 again.
Saul put me on bedrest for the entire weekend in an effort to convince my wounds to A) heal and B) stop hurting.
I watched 5 movies (nothing worth mentioning) and slept more than any other human on the planet. I ate brownies and oranges. My brain, my digestive system and my atrophying muscles cannot wait to get some outside stimulation.
The pain is still there, but I’m off the heavy pain meds and moving on to a more subtle dosage of Ibuprofen, which is why I’ll finally get to drive again.
Although I should warn you, “getting to drive” and “being able to drive” are two very different things, so it might be in your best interest to stay off the sidewalks for a few days. TGIM!
I took a real live shower today for the first time in 2.5 weeks, but I’ll tell you what, it felt like it had been 2.5 years. Ahhhh… clean. Fresh! Wonderful!
I was terrified to let the water hit my wounds, but it didn’t hurt a bit. The only shocking part was looking down and realizing the glue the surgeons had used to piece me back together was starting to peel off. I got out of the shower and promptly called my lifeline: Nurse Holly.
Perhaps I’m so partial to Holly because she is the one who took out the last drain, but I don’t think so. Holly has been my rock and voice of reason throughout this whole cancer escapade. When I need someone to feel the injustice I feel, she is there. When I need someone to giggle because we are talking about boobs, which are kind of funny after all, she is there. And when I asked why we didn’t know EXACTLY how long the drains would have to stay in, she said, “Some people are just juicier than others.” HA!!!! That is exactly the sort of clinical answer that made sense to me. FINALLY someone who speaks my language. Thank you!!!
Holly and I will become even closer over the next several months, as she is the one who will fill the expander that is currently sitting in my chest and which will eventually be formed into a new breast.
Hurray for my Holly and all of the other “Nurse Hollys” out there who show up just when we need them with with their medical tote full of kindness and compassion. I hope you know how much it means to me and others that you are willing to enter this battlefield with us.