Made It.

We got home at 9:15 last night and I went straight to bed. Five hours on the road plus surgery is a pretty tiring way to spend the day!

I'm headed back to bed (pain meds are causing me to be loopy and I have to keep correcting the words I'm writing) I'll try and write a little more as the day goes along.

Offended By The Weather

There are few things I love more than getting to stay inside when the weather is cold, windy and rainy. There is something marvelously cocoon-y about settling into a comfy chair with a good book while the nasty weather spits and spatters against the windows.

But alas.

This week? This week when I will have surgery and be housebound for 7-10 days? This week is supposed to be sunny. Wisps of wind. Temps in the mid 70’s. Low humidity. In other words, Perfect Fall Weather.

Don’t you think the weather could have taken a bit of pity on me and come up with lots of rain? Cold temps? Whipping winds? All in order to make my indoor stay more pleasant? And cocoon-y?

But no. It has to be beautiful.

I am so very offended.

Okay. All Weather Whining aside, I am happy to report that these past few days leading up to my surgery have also been beautiful and so we’ve been trying to make time in the midst of all the busyness for some family outside-ness.

Before we could take off on yesterday’s family bike ride though, Steve had to get out his new air compressor which he bought to air up tires on the car and bikes and also to run some of his tools. (I don’t understand that whole concept of air-powered tools but he seems to think the concept is pretty nifty so I’ll take his word for it.)

Sarah patiently waits for her dad to get all the airing accomplished. And also patiently waits for her mother to snap innumerable photos of the whole airing/waiting process.

And they’re off!

Here they are at our Official Turning Point on the ride, which is a few hundred feet from the sound and also right at the house where a state senator lives.

This is one of my favorite spots in all of Manteo, riding under this arch of trees.

When I asked them to stop for a minute while I put my camera away and got back on my bike, Steve did the ol’ “Stopping that’s not really stopping since his feet weren’t touching the ground” trick.

Crossing the road to get back to our neighborhood from the bike trail.

Bikes and helmets, ready and waiting for the next Smith outing which will be down the road at some point after my surgery.

Speaking of bike rides, I got an e-mail from a lady we knew when we lived in Smithfield. She and her elderly mom wanted to take a day trip somewhere and finally decided to come to the Manteo area. She wrote that they were driving down the main road in Manteo and happened to look up and there were Steve, Sarah and I on our bikes. How fun was that?

_________________________________

On another note, my surgery is tomorrow. We’ll get Sarah to school, Snowy off to the kennel and then hit the road. Although I’m not thrilled about not being able to eat or drink before the 2:15 surgery, I am happy that we don’t have to get up at 4 am in order to make it to an earlier surgery. (Like we’ve had to do before.)

I’ve got my two pain meds, anti nausea, and antibiotic meds all lined up and ready to go; I also plan to spend the rest of the day working fervently and frantically on getting a week’s worth of home and church duties accomplished in the space of a few hours.

I’m hoping I’ll be able to sleep in my own bed tomorrow night but it depends on if the surgeon is running behind, how long the surgery ends up taking, and how long I have to stay in recovery before being discharged. We’re going to pack a few things for an overnight hotel stay if I don’t feel up to the long trip home. We’ll see how it goes!

In the meantime, thanks to all of you who’ve said you’ll be thinking of me and praying for me. I’m hoping this will be my last surgery for a very long time.

Surgery

After my appointment with my surgeon today, it seems as though I will need to have yet another surgery; it's been scheduled for three weeks from today. (He can't do it any earlier due to the fact that he has to wait a certain amount of time following the exchange surgery for healing to take place.)

There are a couple things going on that he wants to work on. The issue that was causing me the pain under my left arm is due to some sort of tendon or muscle thingie that "popped out" from its surroundings and is protruding, which makes that whole area hurt. (He had some big name for it but I don't remember it.) He has to fix that surgically and also do some work on the implant "pockets."

Just like with the exchange surgery, this surgery won't be as difficult as the mastectomy, but it will still require at least a week or two of recovery, especially with the arm situation.

So anyway, that's the deal on that.

Ta-ta for now!

Day Before Surgery. Unraveled Spices. Poll Results.

So what does a girl do with herself during the days before surgery? During the days leading up to the time when she knows that she’ll not be feeling real great for a week or two?

Well, this girl spent the last few days giving into my “nesting” instincts, trying to get things cleaned, organized and arranged so that I can spend time recovering without worrying about a million things that need to be done.

Don’t laugh, but I even alphabetized my spices! I’ve actually done that in the past but in the last few weeks, the alphabetization had started to unravel a bit. And there’s nothing worse than unraveled spices! I must say that it is wonderful to be able to find a spice in an instant. (Is it so obvious that I’m very easily entertained?)

I also got the bright idea of using the walls in my (fairly small) pantry for storage. That helped to free up lots of drawer space. And free drawer space makes me a happy woman!

The pantry got a little pre-surgical attention as well. Because we all know that one can not go into surgery until one’s pantry is clean! (I think they mentioned something about that in the pre-surgical instructions.)

Earlier this morning I also took my last bike ride for a while. I never thought I’d say I’d miss exercising, but when exercising takes me into lovely places like this—well, I can’t help but miss it.

The pictures below are from another one of our bike trail destinations.

As for the surgery itself, its scheduled for 8:45 tomorrow morning. We’ll have to leave the house about 5 am to get there in time for all the wonderful pre-surgical activity. And of course, I can’t eat or drink anything so I’ll probably be dreaming of oatmeal with blueberries the entire trip.

The surgery will last somewhere between ninety minutes and two hours. The surgeon will open up the incisions that are already there, take out the expanders and put in the permanent silicone implants. Even though he and I have had a conversation about sizing options, he will still have several sizes of implants in surgery so that the final decision can be made as to which is the “best fit.”

I’m not quite sure who makes that decision. The surgeon? The nurses? The anesthesiologist? I have this wacky picture in my mind of the whole team surrounding me and having a long discussion about which implant they think is best. Maybe they'll have some coffee and pastries while they're doing it. Maybe they'll sit down and put their feet up and have a long conversation.

Or maybe they could just wake me up momentarily and get my opinion. I mean, I’m the one who has to live with those things, right?

But the really good news? No drains!

I am so ecstatic about that little piece of info that I think that I shall leap up off the surgical gurney and entertain the assembled troupes with a No Drain Dance. Happy, happy, happy!

I’ve already gotten my four prescriptions filled (two pain, one nausea, one antibiotic) and have printed out the Med Schedule Sheet that Steve made up for me after my mastectomy.

So now that I have a med schedule and an organized spice rack, what more could I possibly need? I'm good to go!

In closing, I’d like to thank everyone who participated in last week’s poll.

Here are the results

There were 621 votes cast in the age category.

Readers are who 18 years old or younger:
5

19-25
45

26-35
183

(Oops! I left out this category earlier but I'd already erased the poll so I couldn't go back to find the figures. Instead, I added up the other categories and subtracted them from 621 and came up with 183. Sorry to overlook you wonderful folks!)

36-45
181

46-55
178

56-65
7

66-75
19

76-85
1

85-110
2 (One of these votes was my husband!)

For the male vs. female poll, 513 voters out of 522 were women.

To the brave guys who venture by here occasionally, let me just say that I’m glad you’re here!

Okay, that’s it. My To Do List for the day is longer than you can imagine so I’d better run. Steve or Sarah will update tomorrow as soon as they can.

(By the way, stop by Sarah’s site when you have a moment and read about a special family memory we made before her bone marrow transplant.)

Surgery Scheduled!

Today’s visit to my plastic surgeon went well. After he came into the exam room and we had chatted a few minutes I asked, “Are you ever willing to deviate from your 3-month timeline for doing replacement surgery?” He said, “No, I’m not.”

Then he paused and added, “Well, I suppose I might possibly make an exception depending on how your expanders and skin are doing.”

After a quick exam he seemed rather surprised and said, “Hmmm. Everything is softening up so well that I think we actually can go ahead and do the surgery next month instead of in the middle of September.

Although I did refrain (just barely) from hugging him, you can bet I was grinning hugely on my way out of his office!

I have to go back to Greenville a week before the surgery for paperwork and blood work. I also have to meet with the surgeon once more to make the final decisions about silicone or saline implants, and what size I’m shooting for. (Which won't be a whole lot different from "the originals.")

The surgeon mentioned he could do a Dolly Parton job for me but after just a little bit of thought, I declined. (He even offered to throw in a blonde wig.) Nice to have a surgeon with a sense of humor!

It’s hard to express how happy I am about this. I know it seems like a small thing—a two-month wait instead of a three-month wait. But to move past the discomfort and impermanence of the expanders and to feel like I’m taking a giant step toward being done with this ordeal—well, to me at least, one month is a really big deal! (Dolly or no Dolly!)

Note: Sarah and I are planning on recording my Napkin Instruction Vlog tomorrow. I know you probably won’t even be able to sleep tonight due to your keen anticipation as you wait for this momentous event to unfold. Or in this case, for the event to “fold.” As in napkins. Folding. Get it?

Never mind.

Ministering Angels (And Dog)

(Note: Go to Sarah's site to see some pictures from our recent stay at the beach when we "kidnapped" Sarah for the afternoon.)

Tomorrow I’ll write a bit more about the miraculous last minute sale of our house and post some pictures/stories about that whole scenario; today, however, I want to concentrate on saying thank you to the two special ladies who came to spend a week with us after my surgery.

My sister Debbie, and Mom (Jo Ann) were most definitely ministering angels to me when I needed them the most. Whenever you’re sick, it’s always great to have Mom nearby and I was blessed that mine was able to be here--sitting near me while I slept, cooking for me, bringing me water, and knitting my days and nights together with her prayers.

And I was also blessed to have a sister who hung with me through some pretty rough waters. She kept my meds straight, emptied my drains, clucked over me like a mother hen, helped me unwrap my dressings from the surgery, stood by with great compassion when I couldn’t stop vomiting, helped me get out of bed when everything hurt too bad to even move, cooked several meals, and did my grocery shopping in her “spare time.” In short, Debbie is one of those women who gives sisters a good name.

Here are a few pictures from their visit:

Mom’s delicious potato pancakes.

Midway through their visit, Debbie suddenly decided that what the Smith home needed was a hummingbird feeder so she dashed out and got one for us. Here she is showing Sarah how to make the hummingbird nectar and fill the feeder.

Mom was there for me to do important things like putting on my socks when I wasn’t able to bend down.

The Sock Ladies. (I was still on painkillers so I look a little loopy.)

Of course, Mom and Debbie were right there with me coming out of surgery.

Here they are hanging out with my other wonderful “angel of mercy,“ Steve’s mom.

Of course, we don’t want to leave out the other ministering angel in my life, little ol’ Snowy. He was always ready to hang out with the gals and bring his own unique brand of cheery therapy to the occasion.

Mom and Debbie left for home last Thursday and we have been very well taken care of in their absence by people in the church who have brought meals by each night.

I’ve also been cheered by emails, cards in the mail and this bunch of balloons sent by a website friend in Illinois.

Although this has been a harder journey than I had anticipated (emotionally and physically), I am very aware how blessed I am to have so many people in my life who are helping to lift the load for me.

Tomorrow, Steve and I will head out at 7: 15 am for Greenville and see my two surgeons. And speaking of surgeons, I don’t think I’ve mentioned in any of the past updates that they did biopsy the sentinel node on the left side and it was clean. That’s good news!

Well, I feel like this update has been sort of disjointed but I at least wanted to get something written before heading back to bed for a while. I’m not sure why I’m so tired all the time; I guess, eventually I might feel more like myself again.

Little by little . . .

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I’ll close with a “teaser” picture from my next update.

Loss.

Not such a great day, so far.

I've spent most of it asleep, after being awake briefly for meds and breakfast. My (four, ugly, annoying, gross, uncomfortable) drains are bothering me more than usual; I guess I'm just so ready to be rid of them. We're scheduled to go to Greenville to meet with both surgeons on Monday for a post-op visit and let me just say that if they don't decide to remove the drains on that visit--well, I will not be a happy woman. Can't shower, can't dress normally, can't move normally. Can't be normal.

The weather outside is gorgeous. Manteo is springtime is unbelievable with hundreds of varieties of trees and flowers and plants of every description. I look out the window and see women my age, walking, jogging, looking "normal" and fit and lovely, and I sigh and drag myself back to bed, arrange my sad little body into the bed's contours and give myself over to yet another nap.

I can't do much of anything for Steve or Sarah and they are so patient and loving about it all--it's just that when you're a mom and wife, you WANT to be a mom and wife.

Debbie and I removed the dressings from the surgery site on Tuesday (I just happened to get the courage to do it when she was home and Steve wasn't--otherwise he would have helped) and I'm still getting over the emotional and psychological wham-o of seeing the reality of the type of surgery I've had. Nothing prepares you for that sight. That first look. The reality of what was and what will never be again.

Loss would be a good word for what I'm feeling today.

Friends. Two Legged. Four Legged.

Last Friday morning the waiting room at the surgical center was peopled with lots of, well, people! From left to right: Debbie (my sister), Jo Ann (my Mom), Debbie Daniels (from our church), Ken (Steve’s dad) , Vernie (Steve’s mom) and Sarah. Not shown are my hubby and Steve Daniels, a board member from our church.

This young lady showed up in various places throughout the waiting room—she seems to be a bit of a bookish sort, don’t you think?

As the morning went by, The Smith Waiting Crew was joined by Rev. Ferrell Hardison. We met Ferrell over twenty years ago and sang at his church many times over the years. When we first met him, his church ran about 80 people; right now his average membership is around 1300.

Now don’t you know that someone who is as busy as Ferrell is would have a few things to accomplish on his day off? We were so touched that he would show up to be with our family instead. (He was also with us during Sarah’s surgeries seven years ago.) Ferrell came back to the Recovery Room with Steve and prayed with me right as I came out of surgery. So glad for good friends!

Now I must say, I wasn’t the most inspiring sight to behold when I was newly arrived in the Recovery Room. And believe me when I tell you I felt twice as bad as I looked.

Here’s Sarah getting to return the favor of “cup holding” for me which I performed for her so many times over the years.

Happily, the overnight rooms at the surgical center were lovely and very unhospital-like. I could have hung out there for at least a week. But alas, all too soon, it was time to head out.

When we arrived in Manteo, we were greeted by these sweet words on our church sign.

I got settled into my bed while Steve and my sister got the meds all lined up.

And then they made sure that I was being cared for by an exceptionally skilled nurse.

Recovery doesn’t get much better than that!

Imitation of A Tortoise

I spent most of last night in Hallucinogenic Land due to my pain meds and ended up feeling pretty unrested when I awoke. As a result, I've decided to try and wean myself off all the prescriptions and just alternate between Tylenol and Motrin for pain control. It's almost 4 pm and I'm still feeling fairly comfortable; better yet, my brain has cleared and I think I am starting to see the light of day.

I always hear about people getting addicted to pain meds and I thought that must be because they made one feel all light and billowy and happy. I could understand getting addicted to that feeling; however, I can't imagine getting addicted to these feeling of being so confused and bleary. Yeck.

At any rate, I just wanted to let you know that I am feeling a bit more normal and am working on a longer update to be posted later today or tomorrow. I'm still needing an inordinate number of naps each day, so any task I embark upon tends to be mind numbingly slow and tedious. But I'll do my best imitation of a tortoise and eventually arrive at my goal of producing a longer, more informative post.

Thanks so much for the comments and e-mails and encouragements sent my way this week; it's always a highlight of the day for me to check the computer and receive that lovely infusion of support.

Back Home

It's Becky here! The Usual Blogging Woman's Very Own Daughter's Mother and the Sister of the High Maintenance Aunt is finally checking in.

And just to warn you advance, I'm on some pretty heavy pain meds, so I really can't be responsible for anything I type. But I must say--it feels so good to actually have a chance to update. I've felt sort of "lost" for the past 36 hours with no way of being in touch with you all, except, of course, for the aforementioned wonderful ladies who updated on my behalf. (Debbie and Sarah were going to post further updates throughout the day, but when we moved from the surgery side to the inpatient side, there was no Internet available.)

Debbie mentioned in her post my comment that the whole experience was "harder than I had thought it would be." And it really was. As in a LOT harder, on every front. And it's still hard right now. I hurt more than I thought it would hurt. The drains (all four of them) are more uncomfortable than I had anticipated. And getting me in and out of a bed requires heavy machinery and an Act of Congress.

All in all? Not so much fun. And I haven't started addressing the emotional side of the whole thing--I think the pain meds have dulled my brain enough so that the reality of my situation isn't really sinking in yet. When the drains are removed, and the large dressings are taken off, then I will have plenty more adjustments to make.

The surgeon told Steve that he had to cut into some muscle in my chest wall in order to get all the cancer out and achieve clear margins, so I know that added to my pain load. And then a mastectomy without the expanders being placed immediately is usually less painful than a mastectomy with immediate placement of expanders. Which is what I had. Ouch.

So at this point in my life, bereft of my frontal protuberances (wasn't that delicate?) with hair unwashed, wearing no makeup, and sleeping in the ugliest of comfy clothes, I'm wondering if I will look (or feel) pretty again. I'm just so totally overwhelmed by the meds, the pain, the experience itself and the reality of what it is all going to mean for me down the road. It's a tough journey. And no amount of pain meds can negate that fact.

But in spite of it all, I did feel peace yesterday--after I had gotten through the steadily increased dosages of pain meds (they had to call the surgeons for permission to keep upping the doses) and the nausea, and the vomiting, and the discomfort, when I was finally wheeled over to a patient room and put (ouch) into (ouch) my bed, I watched the door close behind the nurse and I laid on the bed in perfect silence, and in almost perfect peace. I knew for a fact that hundreds and hundreds of you around the world had been praying and were praying, and that your prayers brought peace.

And so rather than blathering on right now in my fragile emotional state, I will just close here by saying thank you for praying and for sending messages and for caring enough about our family to check in with us so frequently. We are so blessed to be a part of the Smithellaneous circle of friends.

_________________

And one more thing--we only call Debbie high maintenance to tease her; she is actually one of the most selfless, funny, giving, big-hearted people I have ever had the privilege of knowing. (And she didn't even pay me to say that!)

A Mish Mashed, Miscellaneous, Smithellaneous Post

Since my mind is in sort of a mish mashed state right now, this is going to be a bit of a mish mashed post. Maybe we could even go so far as to call it a mish mashed, miscellaneous post. Or, maybe possibly, even a mish mashed, miscellaneous, Smithellaneous post. Yup. That sounds good to me.

I have quite a few pictures from our vacation that I’ll be posting over the next week or so, but first I wanted to write about one of my goals for last week. That goal was to make it through at least one day (since being diagnosed) without crying.

Can you look at the picture below and try to guess how that goal is coming along? Steve was eating breakfast a couple days ago and I sat down to talk with him a few minutes, feeling all cheery, chipper and chatty. Ten minutes into the conversation, the ol’ emotions welled up and the Kleenex box was, once again, called into use.

This is the not-so-cheery face I wear around occasionally. Other times, though (and I dare say, most of the time), I feel fairly positive.

Even on vacation, even at the beautiful beach, there were somber moments. But I know that’s to be expected.

And speaking of somber moments, Sandy, a cousin of mine recently sent a picture to me I had never seen before.

Right to left, you’ll see my Grandpa and Grandma Clemmerson (Dad’s parents) my Uncle Duane and Aunt Rita (Rita is Dad’s sister and Sandy’s Mom) and my Mom and Dad. (On a non-somber note, you can take one look at my Grandma’s face and know that she was one the zippiest, sauciest, funniest ladies you could ever hope to meet. I miss her!)

The somber note comes with the knowledge that both Grandma Clemmerson and Aunt Rita died of breast cancer.

I’ve always known that they had that disease, but it hit me especially hard after being diagnosed with cancer myself. Even though my prognosis is excellent, I still feel a small, scary shiver at the thought of joining the sisterhood of those who have been diagnosed and didn’t survive—especially when that sisterhood includes women who were (and are) very special to me.

And while I’m on the subject of cancer, several of you have asked if someone would be updating the blog tomorrow. I don’t know when they’ll be able to get to it, but someone will keep you informed as the day progresses.

In fact, tomorrow morning at this very time, I will be in a surgical suite under anesthesia. And the thing that I have been pondering, waiting for, and dreading will be in process. Hard to believe it’s almost here.

Okay. Enough of that!

Now on to more cheery pictures from our vacation.

I was determined to get up early enough one morning to see the sun actually peep over the horizon. And here it is! Peeping! That was so much fun. (Especially since I got to go back to bed, and the sun had to stay up!)

Just before the sun appeared, several large groups of birds flew by—there were thousands of them. Obviously they were on their way to a Very Important Bird Convention.

Here are a few pictures of the lovely house we stayed in.

Steve’s colorful jelly beans.

And here’s a not-so-lovely picture of a “little plant thingie” that was lurking in the vicinity. I’m not exactly sure what this is, but I will let you know that when you step on one, as I did, you will not be a happy camper. Steve gallantly got down on the ground and pulled it from my foot--without the benefit of anesthesia, might I add. And then he held it up so that you could all see the inherent nastiness of the nasty little thingie. Ouch.

After I had survived the trauma of the thingie, we walked over the sand dune behind our house to check on the ocean. Just to make sure it was still there. (It was.)

Steve and I were amazed that as far we could see, there was no sign of anything man made. So cool.

Well, the time has come to pull my thoughts away from lovely beaches and concentrate on a to do list that’s even longer than that stretch of sand you see above.

It’s hard to believe that this is the last day (for a few weeks) that I will feel anything like normal. It’s going to be an adjustment to not be able to run around and be as busy and productive as I love to be.

But . . . I heard something a long time ago that has stuck with me. It said, “In acceptance, there is peace.”

And that is my challenge during this surgery and recovery—to accept it. To be grateful for a medical procedure that can get rid of cancer, to embrace the period of rest and recuperation, and to not get overwhelmed by the aftermath of dealing (physically and emotionally) with a double mastectomy.

I have my work cut out for me in finding acceptance. In finding peace.