Finally Feeling ateensyweensy Bit More Human. Plus Nathan News!

I’ve got to say that having three “put to sleep” surgeries in less than six months is not something I would recommend. This last one hit me a little harder than I was expecting and I have been slow to get back on my feet. I got home from surgery last Tuesday night and didn’t leave the house even one time until yesterday afternoon.

In the past day or two, I’ve finally been able to get off all pain meds except Aleve, and so I’m not feeling so sleepy all the time. Nor so wan. Nor so weak. Nor so wobbly.

Of course, if you have to be all wan, not to mention wobbly? It’s always nice to have someone to tuck in beside you who gives off bountiful beams of canine compassion.

Later today I’ll head out to Greenville for a post op visit and then I really hope to be done with trips to Greenville for a while. I’ll have to add it up, but I know I’ve traveled over 2000 miles in the course of my travels to and from that lovely city for cancer treatment. (Maybe they’ll make me an honorary citizen.)

In other news, I’m happy to report that Nathan has finally found a second part-time job! He’ll start working today at the Chick-Fil-A near his school, which will be in addition to the 10-12 hours he’s working every week in the mail room at college.

And (drum roll, please) I was thinking he was only going to be home for a day or two at Thanksgiving but he called this morning and will be flying in the Saturday before Thanksgiving and staying for SIX days! Since he hasn’t been home since May, that makes me extra, extra happy.

And (another drum roll, please) Steve’s family is coming from Charlotte for Thanksgiving and (one more BIG drum roll, please), several members of MY family will be flying in from Wisconsin for a week!

A house full of people I love! Surgeries behind me! Cancer free! Sarah doing well! Happily settled in to our new house and town!

Very thankful, indeed.

Soup, Meds and Bed.

Not feeling so great today.

Had diarrhea and nausea at about 7 am and went back to bed for six hours. I'm up long enough to get a little something on my stomach and then will head back to bed.

The "girdle bra" is driving me crazy but I'm trying to be a good patient and leave it in place.

Just don't feel so great, all in all--pain wise, fatigue wise, and upset stomach wise.

My immediate future looks like it will consist of soup, meds, and bed.

Thanks for your sweet comments in the guest book and for your prayers.

Girdle Bra.

You know how stinkin’ uncomfortable it is to wear a girdle for any length of time?

Well, right now I am wearing the girdle equivalent of a bra—a very, extremely, horribly, incredibly tight girdle-esque bra. And what makes the situation all the more lovely is that I have to wear said bra for twenty-four hours a day. For the next seven days. Ug.

Which means no shower or bath. Ug. Again.

And since I’m not allowed to raise my arms higher than 90 degrees, I can’t wash and style my hair. Ug. Yet again.

By this time next week, I will no doubt look like something out your worst nightmare. Plus I’ll probably be just a tad bit crabby as a result of being everlastingly ensconced in this Houdini-type straitjacket. I tell you one thing, next week when the surgeon finally removes this torturous bra and all the dressing underneath, I’ll probably be almost as happy as I was when the surgical drains were removed last time.

Overall though, everything went very well. The surgeon did tell Steve, however, that he had to do some unexpected extra surgery in the area which would definitely cause me more pain than usual during the recuperation process.

So far though, as long as I keep on schedule with my meds, the pain hasn’t been too terrible. And I’m also happy to report I’ve had no nausea whatsoever, which is a wonderful thing. Vomiting in the hours following surgery (which is what happened last time) is pretty awful.

Yesterday morning, after I had been taken back to the pre-op area and had gotten myself all pre-opped, Sarah and Steve were allowed to come back for a few minutes. We talked a little bit and I just vaguely remember Steve praying. (I told Steve it’s great having my very own personal pastor to come and pray with me before my surgeries.)

But what I do remember quite well are the unexpected tears that came to my eyes as Steve and Sarah kissed me good-bye and left the room. Surgery is such a lonely procedure, being so cut off from the whole world and from the people you love. Those last kisses and good-byes only magnify that feeling all the more.

I had another teary session in the shower the night before the surgery and I can’t really put my finger on the name of my feelings. Maybe it was just the knowledge that although I was moving one step closer to my new normal, I was still grieving the old normal that I knew would never come again.

Through the long, hard day (five hours on the road and five hours at the surgery center), Steve and Sarah were extra attentive and helpful and compassionate. They even got to be entertained by all of my woozy ramblings. Steve said I told him the same thing four different times on the way home!

And another aspect of surgery-related wooziness I’ve been experiencing is trying to keep up with the storyline of my mystery novel. I read for awhile last night in kind of a twilight haze and had to keep going back through the beginning of the book to remind myself which character was which. And then by the time I went back and scanned a few pages, I had already forgotten which character I was searching for. And then I couldn’t remember which page I had been on when I started the whole backward scanning process.

So then I just gave up. And went to sleep.

Which I am about to do right now.

Home...

Sarah again.

Mom, Dad and I arrived home about forty-five minutes ago, and of course Snowy was only to happy to see us after being alone for so long. The surgery went just as planned, and there were no complications - praise God! Mom is currently in bed asleep, and she will probably be resting the rest of today and tomorrow as well. Dad said she should have a post ready by tomorrow, though, so you all can get back to your regularly scheduled Smithellaneous-ness!

Better

Thanks for all the messages you left yesterday; I feel very blessed to have so many people who care about the ins and outs of this cancer journey I'm on.

Today I am off of the prescription pain meds but I'm still a bit weak-n-woozy feeling. I've been up for a few hours this morning (we had some company drop in) and now my body is telling me it's time to head back to bed awhile.

Although I don't have the energy to write a whole lot right now, I at least wanted to let you know I'm feeling a little better.

More later. . . .

The Not So Great, Very Bad Day

Today I am finally inching my way back into the land of the living.

The two prescription pain meds I’ve been on made me so sick that I wasn’t able to hold down any food until about 6 pm last night. On top of being hungry and nauseated (at the same time) the meds also made me feel sleepy and “loopy” most of the day. All in all? Yesterday was not such a great day.

On Monday morning before I left for my “final fill” appointment, Steve and I had our weekly conversation where he always says, “Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

And I always respond, “No, I’ll be fine.”

I was thinking that the first three fills weren’t all that bad and although last week was a little more difficult, I figured that that was just a fluke and I’d be back to a less difficult fill this time around.

Besides, Steve was jumping through hoops left and right trying to get paperwork filled out and files found and stuff dropped off at the bank to beat the deadline in getting this house closed by the end of the month.

So I headed out alone which was fine, because I’ve always loved taking road trips by myself, listening to books on tape, listening to music or just listening to my own thoughts in the silence. Also, I always leave a little bit early for my appointment each week so I can stop by one of my recently discovered thrift stores in Greenville; it helps make an unpleasant day a little more enjoyable when I get to do something fun thing along the way.

And so all went well for a while. I happily hummed along down the road, making a quick stop for lunch, dropping by a favorite store, and finally checking in at the surgeon’s office at 3 pm. He and his nurse went through their usual tasks of using the magnet to find the port, marking the port, and getting the needles and syringes ready to go. We were chatting about how hot it had been and how our flowers and plants were doing and everything was all light and lovely.

He started the first fill on my right side and it seemed to me that he was having to struggle quite a bit to get the saline to go in. He was pushing harder and harder and it was feeling terribly tight, tighter than it had ever been, actually scary tight. I was about to say something when all of a sudden I felt (and heard) something like a little “pop” in my far right breast area, almost under my arm. Accompanying the pop, was a sharp stab of pain, so sharp that I actually yelled. Twice. Really loud. And I am not a yeller, under most circumstances.

They both bustled around me, quite concerned, asking me if I was okay. Through gritted teeth I asked, “What just happened?”

The surgeon said that in a small percentage of patients, sometimes one corner of the expander gets folded back underneath the rest of the expander. When the final fill is done and the expander is filled to capacity, the pressure of the fill will cause that corner to fill up and pop back out into place. When it does, it rips through scar tissue and any nerves that happen to be left in that area.

And that’s what happened to me. A corner of an expander unfolded and ripped through delicate parts of myself.

I was just slightly traumatized, to say the least.

I said, “Well, will that happen again on the left side?” He said that chances were that it wouldn’t.

And it didn’t. Thankfully. But by that time I was so tense from dreading the fact that it MIGHT happen again, that my whole body had turned into one big tremble.

Before leaving the room so that I could get dressed, the surgeon told me that my right breast was going to cause me quite a bit of pain for at least 24-hours until all the nerves and scar tissue had settled back down and recovered from the trauma.

Once he and his nurse finally left, I stood there in the middle of the floor and just sobbed. Not because of the pain alone, but because of the unexpected shock of that unnerving POP, coupled with the knowledge that the pain was not going to go away anytime soon.

It took me a few minutes to get myself under control; when I finally got changed and glanced into the mirror, I saw that my eyes and face were all red and puffy. I really didn’t feel like going back out to the desk and chatting with the secretary and making my appointment to return in a month.

But I did. And although she didn’t say a word about my tear streaked face, she was extra sweet and compassionate, obviously understanding I’d had a rough go of things.

And then came the trip home. Two and a half hours. An hour before my appointment, I had taken two Aleve, which I do every week so I can get ahead of any discomfort. As soon as I got out of the office, I also took two extra strength Tylenol. Half of an hour later, the pain hadn’t been affected at all; if anything it was getting worse, probably because the numbing agent the doctor had given me during the procedure was wearing off.

I half thought about calling Steve and having him come and get me, but that would just mean trying to get two cars home and delaying my arrival at home for several hours. And all I wanted to do was to go home. And take pills. And go to bed.

Let me just say that that trip home was the longest 2 1/2 hours of my life, apart from childbirth. I never felt like I was unsafe because I forced myself to concentrate intently on the traffic and on the road as I drove. But I hurt like fire, and I was crying to beat the band almost the whole time.

At one point I was almost tempted to try and find a hospital along the way and go into the emergency room for help. But then again, I knew that that would delay me even more.

So I kept on driving. And crying.

About half an hour from home, I called Steve and through my tears told him to please call the pharmacist and figure out which of my prescription pain pills (leftover from surgery) that I could take in addition to over-the-counter stuff I’d already had. I told Steve, “I want to walk in the house and have major pills laid out on the counter, ready to be taken. Immediately!”

Issuing orders to my husband? That’s how desperate I was.

When I finally pulled into driveway, the front door opened and Sarah came flying down the stairs at a dead run, with Steve not far behind. She opened the car door and looked at me with such great compassion and concern, I almost cried harder. She helped me out of the car and then Steve took over and helped me up the stairs to house.

And thankfully, my approved-by-the-pharmacist meds (two pain killers and a muscle relaxer) were neatly laid out on the counter. Steve told me that what I was taking was going to fly me to the moon and I said, “That’s exactly what I want. I just want to escape this pain.”

They fixed me a bite of dinner (it was the last food I would be able to keep down for 24 hours) and then I was upstairs in bed and down for the count. It took about an hour for the pills to kick in and then finally, I got some relief.

I slept through the night, slept most of yesterday and slept three hours this morning.

Thankfully, I’ve been able to get off the stronger of the two pain pills but I’m still having quite a bit of discomfort so I’m not going to discontinue the second one for another day or so.

So that was my memorable “Last Filling.” I can’t tell you how thankful I am to have those done with. I have a month break, then I’ll go back for a quick check up, involving NO exam chairs, needles or syringes.

Then in another month, there will another check up and in another month, I’ll have the exchange surgery.

I’m headed back to bed again . . . thanks for your concern and prayers.

Not So Good . . .

Yesterday's final fill was extra, extra tough.

And today I've been in bed all day, on prescription pain pills, muddle headed, uncomfortable, throwing up, sleeping a lot.

When I stop hurting and my brain starts working again, I'll write more.

Final Fill Monday. Crazy Hats. Duct Tape.

This morning, Steve and I went out early for our (almost daily) bike ride. As we were peacefully pedaling home, I thought back to eight weeks ago when I was recovering from surgery and would sit looking out our front window at people riding their bikes past our house. Seeing them made me feel sad and wistful and jealous and, well, a little bit cheated.

But today? Today, I got to be one of the fortunate ones strong enough and healthy enough to get on a bike and pedal home through the early morning.

Simple, sweet blessings.

I will certainly need the memories of my peaceful morning to get me through this last trip to my surgeon today. One more saline fill. One more night of pain pills and saying “ouch” every five minutes and then I’ll be free for three months!

Although truthfully, I wish I could have the replacement surgery done a lot earlier; three months is a long time to live in the state of semi-discomfort and general weirdness that these expanders create. Some plastic surgeons do the surgery within six weeks of the final fill; others wait three months. I just happened to get a three month-er. (sigh)

But enough of that. Let me fill you in our weekend.

Saturday there was a reception at our church for a couple who is adopting four siblings between the ages of about eight and thirteen. One of their sons requested that the reception also be dubbed a Crazy Hat Party. And so it was! We were all invited to wear some sort of hat--crazy or not.

Sarah went with the non-crazy look as befits her more dignified demeanor.

However, her father grabbed onto the whole “crazy hat” scheme with the greatest of gusto. Steve loves doin’ crazy! He even accented his hat (and wig) with official Bubba teeth. His parishioners weren’t quite sure what to think about him although if the truth were known, they were probably wondering, “Is it too early in his tenure to vote him out?”

He got upstaged though, by Harold, who came in wearing this getup. (Harold’s “hat” is actually a ski mask that he bought in Wisconsin. Is that cool, or what?)

Here are two of our board members. And their hats.

If you can’t tell, Steve had a very good time at the Crazy Hat Party. (The guy in the Uncle Sam hat is the adoptive dad.)

Yesterday, we dubbed our Father’s Day service at church, “Duct Tape Dad’s Day.”

Please look at the following picture and note two things:

1. There is a pile of duct tape piled up on the platform. (Each guy got a roll at the end of the service.)

2. Steve is wearing a tie. Made of duct tape. That he created himself!

Here it is in a little more detail.

Is that creative or what?

As part of the duct tape emphasis, there was a contest for the men to make stuff out of duct tape and compete to win a gift certificate to Outback Steakhouse.

We also played a comedy video in the service about duct tape and then Steve preached a sermon called “Duct Tape Dads.” It was a brilliant, creative, down-to-earth sermon that tied up the morning’s activities perfectly.

It was a great morning followed by a delicious meal on the grill after the service.

Followed by a nap.

Ahhhh . . . . I love my Sunday naps.

Okay, it’s time to get ready to leave for my Happy Appointment! (Please insert heavy sarcasm right here.) I do hope your Monday is more lovely than mine!

My Kingdom for A Bike

A couple weeks ago, we made an exciting purchase.

Walmart was having a sale and we got these for just $85 each. I have always loved to ride bike but I haven’t owned one in over ten years.

Happily, Manteo is a bike town. It is almost a requirement that you have a bike here. You are not even allowed to buy a home, or shop in the local stores, or even breathe the Manteo air unless you have a bike. And I’m not even kidding!

So my love for bikes and moving to a town that love bikes all conspired together to bring about the result you see above: His and Hers bikes.

As I’ve mentioned before, we live about a block from the town’s biking/walking trail which is a lovely place to ride.

We can stay on the trail and ride for a very long time or . . .

. . . we can turn off the trail about three blocks from our house, ride a couple more blocks and then find this.

Lovely scenery to admire. Wonderful company to share. Multitudinous calories to burn. Invigorating fresh air to breathe. God’s creation to appreciate.

Sounds like a good deal to me.

___________________________________________

To follow up on my (pitiful) post from last night, I am still in some pain today from the saline fill yesterday. I spent the whole morning in bed, knocked out by a pain killer. I’m finally awake and semi coherent but not yet feeling real zippy.

And since I’m on the subject, let me answer a couple “saline fill” questions that were asked yesterday.

Q. Amy said: OUCH poor Becky, I must know, are the expanders a permanent "fixture" or do they remove those nasty little painful things? Did I mention OUCH.

A. Amy, if all goes well, I’ll have one more fill next Monday. Then I have to wait for three months for all the needed skin/muscle stretching to take place. Then my plastic surgeon will schedule me for the exchange surgery which means he’ll take out the saline filled expander and, in its place, put in a permanent silicone implant.

Once I recover from that surgery (which sounds like it would take at least a week or more—I might even have drains again!) I should be much more comfortable. The expanders can start to feel very hard and all the stretching and pulling that goes on is not a real comfortable experience. I heard one lady describe the process as, “Wearing a bra six sizes too small with coconuts in them.” Doesn’t that sound like so much fun?

I’m counting down the days till the replacement surgery day arrives. It should be sometime mid September.

Q. Alyssa said, Forgive me if this is a dumb question, or if I missed it before (which I am sure I did), but when they fill the expander, how do they get to it? Do they have to stick the tube into the port or do you have a tube coming out of the port? Either way...OUCH. Hope you are feeling better!

A. Alyssa, there is a port built into the expander and somehow (using a magnet) the nurse finds where the port is and marks that area with an “x.” When the surgeon comes in, he gives me a little deadening shot in another area of my breast and then sticks the HUGE saline syringe into the port to deliver the goods.

He and his nurse are always chatting away amiably (yesterday it was about herb gardens) and I’m lying there thinking, “Ouch, ouch, ouch.”

Can’t you tell that I am a scintillating addition to their conversational thread?

Today I’ll continue to take it a little easy while hoping that tomorrow will be a bit better. I’ve been told that with each successive fill, the discomfort level increases, simply because there’s more stretching and pulling going on.

So that’s my story! Let me know if anyone has any more questions!

If This Is Monday, It Must Be Saline Day

Yes, indeed, folks. Today was my day to make my little trek back to the plastic surgeon’s office for what was supposed to be my last saline fill.

I was a bit apprehensive about this appointment since I’d had some “out of the ordinary” troubles since last week. My left breast turned a lovely shade of pale lavender (not really mottled like bruising) and a little strange, jagged horizontal line appeared at the top of it. Not to be outdone, my right breast started to sport some bright and interesting bruising in several different (but complementary) colors. I felt like I was a walking advertisement for Crayola crayons, or something.

I also had quite a bit more overall discomfort last week; in fact, I even called the surgeon’s nurse last Tuesday and told her what was going on. She said that although what I was describing sounded “unusual,” she wouldn’t worry about it unless the area was warm to the touch or the pain increased a lot.

When I got there today, the surgeon immediately commented on the discoloration. (Even after a week it was noticeable.) He also admitted it was unusual and gave me some highly technical explanation having to do with the chest wall and the expander and the muscles in the area. Although I didn’t completely understand him, as long as he wasn’t overly concerned, I figured I wasn’t going to worry too much.

He did the fills (ouch) and then told me I would have to come back for one last fill after all.

Happy day.

I got myself re-dressed and hit the road for home. I felt like there was quite a bit more discomfort than usual and much to my dismay, that discomfort only increased until it was transformed into all-out pain. After about a half hour, I was actually in tears from the pain, which didn’t abate (even after taking two Aleve) until I was about 45 minutes from home.

Sarah, bless her heart, had dinner on the table for us. We ate and then Steve left for a church board meeting, after making sure I was sufficiently “doped up” and had everything I needed. (And by the way, he did volunteer--several times--to make the trip with me today but I told him I'd be fine.)

Sarah informed me that if I needed her to pick up anything I dropped from the floor or if I needed her to get anything for me, just to call. She made that sweet speech in between clearing the table after dinner and putting some laundry in the machine.

I am so blessed by this wonderfully supportive family that hangs out with me.

As per usual on a Monday “fill day,” I am headed for bed very early, pain killers on board, book in hand.

Oh, and one more thing.

Since it occurred to me that this whole notion of tissue expanders is as foreign to you as it was to me when I was first diagnosed, I thought I’d include a couple diagrams. The first one is of an empty expander, the second is of one that has been filled. As you can see in the photo, the expanders are placed underneath the chest muscle and skin, which they then expand.

Hence, their name.

Hence the discomfort.

A tissue expander

B port

C catheter

D syringe

E ribs

F pectoralis major muscle

G Other muscles of the chest wall

So there. Now you know the fun I’ve been having!

And that’s all I have for tonight. I am hoping this discomfort (which has just made a re-appearance in the last few minutes) will go away and allow me to sleep tonight.

Thanks for all of your prayers and concern over these past “interesting” weeks of my life. I appreciate each one of you so much!

Three Down. One To Go.

Just got back from my expander-filling appointment.

Ouch. Yuck. Ug. (And any other one-syllable words denoting unpleasantness that you can think of.)

Steve had to call the pharmacy to see what I could take for pain in addition to what I'm already taking. Hopefully that will make a difference in my discomfort level.

And since my aching self doesn't feel up to making dinner, we are using a Subway gift card sent to us after my surgery. I've been saving it up for a much needed time and tonight is it! Steve and Sarah have just left to make the sandwich selections (we'll provide our own drinks, chips and desserts to make the card stretch for several more meals) while I stay at home and moan and groan. Piteously. Not to mention pitifully.

And since I'm on the subject, Nancy asked if I had the choice of whether or not to have the saline fillings. Yes, since I chose to do reconstruction, the saline fillings are part of that process. (There is another kind of reconstruction done at the same time as the mastectomy, taking tissue from the abdominal area to create breasts; I opted for the implants instead.)

She also asked how long the pain lasts. Fortunately, it's less than 24-hours or so, and then I feel pretty much back to normal.

And the really good news? Next week is my last filling! I will "top out" at 300 cc's and then I have to wait for three months before I can have the surgery to replace the expanders with permanent implants. (Which I'm sure will be loads of fun.)

So that's the news from here. And now it's off to nosh on some sandwiches and go to bed early.

With a book. And pain killers. (Not necessarily in that order.)

First Sunday

It was my first day back at church after being gone for three Sundays. I actually had several members not recognize me and welcome me as a first time visitor. (Just kidding!)

Earlier this week, Steve proclaimed a husbandly/pastoral edict that I should have a new outfit on my first Sunday back, so that I would feel confident and lovely after all the trauma I had been through. And I actually went to a “new store” to shop instead of a thrift store. How radical was that?

I found a cute little dress for $35 which made me quite happy--the dress AND the price.

Considering I looked like this three weeks ago, I think I’m doin’ okay!

It was really a strange feeling to buy something new; I’m just not used to such blatant profligacy!

Actually, Sarah is very much like me in that regard. A new T. J. Maxx just opened near us and even though we don't shop "new" a lot, it was rather exciting for Sarah and me to have this addition to the area. We drove over there last week to shop for Steve’s birthday and to see what other fabulous finds we could discover. Sarah had her little wallet of savings with her and found four or five items that she fell in love with. As we left the store she said, “You know, Mom, I’m used to leaving a thrift store with a bag this size and only paying $10 for it. This is sort of a strange feeling and I’m not sure I like it.”

Ahh. A (bargain shoppin’) woman after my own heart.

And speaking of Sarah, she was part of a drama/music program at church this morning; it was especially nice that Nathan got to be in town to see it.

She loves doing that sort of thing and I love seeing her do it!

Tomorrow I head out to see the plastic surgeon for my first “Filling Them Up” appointment. That should be an interesting experience. In fact, the next few months in general should be interesting as I navigate all the twists and turns of reconstruction. I’m sure it will be entertaining and uncomfortable and tiring and weird and humorous—all at the same time!

And then Tuesday and Wednesday, Sarah and I have a trip out of town, which I’ll be writing about soon on her site So lots going on!

I’m just so happy that I’m feeling almost normal again and am getting back into real life. So much to be thankful for today.

Puberty In Reverse

Today is a big day for me, a very big day.

And why is that?

Because I, yes, even I, am going to the grocery store. Woo-hoo!

I haven’t done any shopping of any sort for almost three weeks, and really haven’t even gone out in public in that period of time. (I’ll go back to church for this first time this coming Wednesday.) I think that it’s not just been a matter of physical recovery for me, but emotional recovery, as well. I’ve flitted around the edges of depression over the past couple of weeks and have had to treat myself gently in order to find the road back out.

Which is not to say that from here on out, it’ll all be hunky dory and easy peasy, or any other phrase you can think of that denotes, well, hunky doryness and easy peasyness.

There are a few different emotional/physical challenges that I’ve climbed over and I know there will be more to come.

The first visible, physical trauma was the day I took off the dressing from my surgery. You can read articles all day long, and hear stories of people who have been there, and even see pictures of post mastectomy cases; however, nothing really prepares you for the first time you see it for yourself. It’s a severe jolt--physically, emotionally, mentally.

And then a few days ago while in the shower, I finally managed to slowly unstick the (ouchie) bandages that remained in place underneath the dressing. And when I had finished that uncomfortable task, I stood in the shower and just cried. Because to look down at what was once a feminine, familiar landscape and to see what looks very much like an act of violence—well, it’s a bit much to handle.

But I’m handling it.

And I’m handling the ongoing pain and discomfort and the oddness of how it all feels, and the challenge of trying to figure out which underpinnings I can wear to restore my outer shape to what it should be so that I can go out in public without feeling self conscious. (Sarah, with her wonderful, wacky sense of humor, calls my condition “puberty in reverse.” Gotta love it.)

And speaking of a sense of humor, Steve and Sarah and I have found a new level of things to smile at in regard to this whole experience. We’ve realized that tip-toeing around the delicacy of the surgical area is just way too much work so we’ve come up with a few phrases and inside jokes which help to release the tension and dilute the trauma and make us smile instead of cry.

And that’s a good thing.

I am very thankful to say that our family has been thoroughly spoiled during this recovery time by the ladies in our church who have dropped off a total of twelve delicious meals for us. (They had another week of meals lined up for us, but we started feeling a big guilty about our embarrassment of culinary riches and told them to hold those meals for another lady who will be having surgery soon.)

So I feel very blessed in that regard, and I feel blessed because I don’t have to have chemo and lose my hair (as well as my breasts). I feel blessed that I’m not a single mom with young children and that I’m not the only breadwinner in our family, which might force me into going back to work before I felt ready. I feel blessed because I was diagnosed with cancer just a little over a month ago and I’ve already been declared “cancer free.”

Treatment is done. Breast cancer scares (of which I have had many) are behind me. Reconstruction is all lined up and ready to go and in 6-8 months, I should start feeling fairly normal again. (Whatever normal might be, by that point.)

So those are the thoughts I’m thinking today. Traumatized thoughts and thankful thoughts, all rolled up together.

Oh yes. I’m also thinking about the exciting grocery store outing I’ll embark on after picking up Sarah from school. You know you’ve gone through something really extraordinary in life when going to the grocery store is an accomplishment and an adventure.

Who knows? Maybe I’ll stand in the middle of the soup aisle and break out into song.

Or not.

______________________________________

I had written earlier that Nathan was driving home from Florida today. Unfortunately, he called this morning and told us he is sick; it looks like it will be another day or two before he is able to make the 13-hour drive home.

Also, there was a question asked about the recent recipe I posted concerning “borders.” In order to clear that concept up a little, I had my highly efficient, lovely graphic artist (AKA Sarah) make up a little diagram which I’m posting here, as well as with the actual recipe.

And speaking of Sarah, they had Sixties Day at school last week; here is her outfit and her “love and peace” signs. Ain’t she cute?

The Story of the Drains

Well, we’ve been “found out.”

Mary H. asked if were quite possible that we were the ones who removed the two remaining drains yesterday. And, as a matter of fact, we were.

I called the surgeon’s office yesterday morning to see if they were willing to let my local doctor do the removal to save a trip back to Greenville. They said they were. However, it seems the local doctor wasn’t comfortable doing it, because it was someone else’s medical case. (Lawsuit worries, I guess.)

So then I asked my surgeon’s nurse if it could be done outside of a medical office setting, like if an RN from our church came to the house to do it.

She said that would be fine.

And then I got to thinking about how the first two drains were removed on Monday and that all it involved was a little snip of a stitch and then a gentle tug, and about a foot of plastic tubing came out of the hole in the side of my body. It didn’t hurt, it didn’t bleed, it was no big deal.

(I started off with two drains on each side, as seen in the picture below. Can you understand why I would want them removed? )

And here again, is a picture from the Internet as to what the drains look like. Really fun stuff.

So anyway, while I was pondering whether or not I was “medically equipped” to remove the drains myself, I got to thinking about the period after Sarah’s transplant when I was put in sole charge of this array of medical equipment. If the oncologists and nurses at Duke would trust me with all of this, shouldn’t I also be considered competent enough to snip one stitch and one pull one drain?

I decided I was.

And so I got it into my desperate, female, feverish brain that I was sick (not to mention tired) of living with drains for two weeks and that as soon as Steve got home from picking up Sarah from school, he and I were going to snip and pull as a couple. (I mean, how do you think a strong marriage is forged without a few snipping/pulling adventures?)

When I told him my plan, he was a bit hesitant but I plainly informed him that if he didn’t help me, I was doing it myself. Because I’d. Had. It. And besides, it wasn’t brain surgery, after all. It was one snip and a pull.

And so we did it. He snipped. I pulled. And I must say that it is a very strange feeling to pull a foot of plastic tubing out of each side of ones’ person. Steve was not real keen on looking at the operation but I was so desperate, it really didn’t bother me.

And then presto! I was transformed from this . . .

into this!

Well, maybe not instantly, but it sure did make a world of difference to me, psychologically AND physically.

Some of you commented that you didn’t know I was not allowed to shower while the drains were in. That is true. For TWO weeks, I did not shower. I don’t know if you’ve ever gone for two weeks without showering, but let me just say that I will never again take showering for granted. There is nothing quite like the feel of standing under splashing, clean, clear water and feeling like a human being again.

Ahhhh . . .

So anyway, a big thanks to everyone who has rejoiced with me over my drainless state and also, the fabulous ability to shower that has come back into my life.

In my next update—good and bad Nathan news.

Drains-No-More

All four drains are gone!

I have showered! (When stepping into a shower makes you cry, you know you're teetering on the emotional edge.) :-)

I have put on fresh clothes!

I have washed and styled my hair!

I have even put on make up!

I don't know when I have ever been so happy.

I'll try to post a picture of the new and improved me soon but just getting the drains out has made me feel like a new woman.

Ahhhh . . . . my whole entire self is smiling.

Draggin' . . .

I'm not feeling so great today.

More pain than usual. Less stamina.

A little melancholy. A lot tired.

It's raining outside and dreary. Not raining inside, but still--a bit dreary.

I'm going to go back to bed for awhile and see if I can sleep my way to a better frame of mind. And state of body.

It could be that my 4-hour jaunt to the doctor yesterday followed by a wee teeny bit of house cleaning was a bit too much for this middle-aged, post-operative, drain-draggin' woman.

Later . . .