I've Got This

I am walking around with tissue expanders.  They are, by far, the most unpleasant aspect of this entire process. I never imagined that something this hard could be inside someone's body.  The thing about the hard brown coconuts?  Yeah, that's about right.  I feel so sorry for my little boy sometimes, when he accidentally backs his head up into my chest.  I can't feel it on a cutaneous level, but I feel the force transmitted through the chest wall, and I'm amazed that he hasn't complained that I hurt his head. I chose to have the expanders.  I could have immediately gotten implants, but they would have had to be small.  I didn't have the skin or muscle stock required to become my ideal size.  I knew that they would be uncomfortable, but I really never imagined that they would be so intrusive. First of all, they feel weird.  They have valves to enable the expansion.  Every week or so, I would go to the plastic surgeon's office, and t...

If you have been reading this blog, you may have noticed that I keep mentioning this strange feeling of thoracic tightness.  Seriously, several times each day, I try to pull away the bra that is four sizes too small, to stretch it out or loosen it, only to find that THERE IS NOTHING THERE! The feeling of tightness is present one hundred percent of the time.  It never goes away.  The occasional stabbing pain is there. The deep zing is in my armpit, but just sometimes.  The skin and fascia at the inferior angles of my ribs are extremely sensitive, like hot spots.  The cutaneous nerves on my thorax are hypersensitive.  I can't sneeze without whimpering. Four weeks after my surgery, we went out of town and stayed at a lovely golf/beach resort.  I was looking forward to seeing two of my oldest girlfriends, and I noticed that there was a spa on the premisis.  Naturally, I booked a massage. Well, most of you know that I am a massage therapist. ...

I made it.  I went home and slept/watched Netflix for a week.  Or three.  Loved ones visited, brought lunch, sent flowers, and called.   Thank you notes were written and mailed.  (That's another thing to make sure you have before you go to the hospital... lots and lots of thank you notes and stamps.) I sleep on my back.  Still.  That sucks. Mornings are the most difficult time of the day.  I wake up and lie still, assessing what it is that I am feeling.   Tightness, yes.  Pain, perhaps.  Aching, always.  Once I figure out how in the world I'm going to sit up, I execute the supine-to-sit transfer, and I wait.  This is when my muscles figure out that it wasn't just a bad dream, and they contract.  Hard. I was in Publix, in the produce section, and I stopped in front of the hard, brown, hairy coconuts.  That's what I feel like is under my skin.  Almost constantly. My drains came out in week two.  T...

We wake up.  I shower with Dial and wash my hair.  We let the boy wear pj's to the hospital.  We're there so early, and I really just wanted a cup of coffee. My surgery was scheduled for 8 a.m.  I remember being warm and soft.  My family was with me until they had to kiss me goodbye, and then it all goes blank.  I remember my guys walking out of my room, and then it's curtains. I woke up around 3:30.  My lymph nodes were clear, and Dr. Rimmer only had to remove three. I got my morphine PCA (patient controlled analgesia) pump, and my nurse was a sweetheart.  She had to divide her time between me and a man next to me whom I would have smothered with a pillow if I had been able to get up.  I did not wake up in pain.  I was uncomfortable, yes.  I was unable to take deep breaths.  My lips were incredibly dry, and I was so thirsty. Dr. Rimmer had performed a complete bilateral mastectomy, with right sentinel node biopsy. ...