Showing posts with label surgery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label surgery. Show all posts

Monday, January 26, 2015

The first five days

Surgery complete and recovery in process!

The surgery was a long 7 hours. When I woke up I was groggy, nauseous and sore. The nurse was cranky. I had to wait nearly five hours for my room. But my doctors and husband came by and I was able to comprehend the good news through the narcotic fog: no cancer in my lymph nodes, and both nipples saved! No implants, though. I will have to go through the long, usual expansion process. And, chemo still hasn't been ruled out. 

The first 24 hours after surgery were awful. The anesthesia kicked my butt and I couldn't shake the nausea. Every hour someone came in to take my vitals, give me pills, or poke me. My arm ached. My skin was itchy. 

Once I ate solid food, got some Valium and a little sleep, i started to feel better. The second night I convinced a doctor to do something about the tape and itching and the nurse scrubbed off the iodine that was making my skin crawl. A little more human. On the last day I switched from a morphine drip to Percocet and I felt even better. Ready to go home!

My parents were able to visit, my husband, my sister, my mother in law, and my best friend. Having them near was so important. The nurses were amazing. I hated being helpless, needing to ask for help to stand, to wash, to eat. So much I used to take for granted.

When I came home I cried when I hugged my kids. I slept a full night. I opened an assortment of gifts and read emails that reminded me I am loved. I watched the most recent episode of "Parenthood" and had a good, long, cathartic cry. All of the pent up emotions, the overwhelming feelings, released.

It took me a few days to look at myself in the mirror. To face my stitches. My breasts are mostly gone, but I look okay. And with a few days behind me, I know I will be okay. If chemo is next, so be it. It used to be the thing I feared most. But I'm a survivor. I just keep keeping on.

So many people have stepped up to help. The village is strong! I am so grateful. Food, kid care, books, treats, socks, flowers, and more. So much beauty in the village. So much love. I am spoiled.

Tonight H, my little guy, sleeps beside me. He may not return to his bed for a few days yet. We are needing each other right now and it's more than ok. M, my big guy, is processing the changes. He is smart and sensitive and kind. He leans on his father and his grandmother, but he comes to tell me he loves me. He needs me in different ways, and in time we will get back to where we were. For now I remind them both I am not leaving. I am here. 


Wednesday, January 14, 2015

The big feelings

My surgery is in one week. I am rapidly getting to the point when all of the appointments will have been made, help will be lined up, and work shifted to my colleagues. And then, when I walk in for surgery and later when recovery begins, I'll be left with the big feelings.

Soon after receiving my diagnosis I moved swiftly into action mode. Make appointments, see doctors, tell people, sort out insurance, make decisions. LOTS of decisions. This is me at my best -- action mode. Get it done mode.

And I have made all of these things happen with a smile on my face. I'm happy! I love my job! I love my family! I feel healthy! I'm going to be fine! I am forging through this whole process, the experience, without giving any space to doubt or feel sad. It's a little ridiculous. How can I be so fine, so happy, when I have cancer?

But I'm a survivor and for thirty-one years, survival mode has served me well. Just push on through, get to the other side of loss or pain (feel as little as possible), believe it will be okay and it will. And I am OK.

Except, this isn't a task list I can complete and throw away. This isn't something I can avoid feeling. Having the big surgery -- the double M -- might enable me to skip some of the uncertainty and the fear, but the physical recovery will hurt.

The hospital is offering me a nerve blocker to manage the pain. "Like an epidural," they describe it. Except I've never had an epidural. I have no idea what that's like. When I was pregnant the idea of dulling the pain scared me. I knew I could do it, just push through labor, and I did. I wasn't afraid of the hurt. But this time I think maybe I won't want to feel the pain. With the pain might come the big feelings.