Serendipitous love

Funny how these things work. 

I was having a very sad-bad-sad day yesterday. I decide I can't take my sad-badness any more and I head out to find breakfast. A good southern breakfast will make me feel better. At a Jewish deli in north Raleigh. Funny. But not really.

On the way, my most awesome cousin calls to say she is driving down from Virginia for the day to visit me. 

How did she know I needed her? My mom must have told her. My mom is in heaven. And my cousin has a direct line to heaven. So mom must have told her.

It was an exhausting day. I was so tired when she left to go home that I went to bed without dinner. We went to lunch, to visit a friend, shopping, visited on the sofa, did a few chores, walked the dog. Before she left, she insisted on filling my car with gas in case we have a devastating hurricane today and I need to quickly evacuate north Raleigh. With my dog.

Funny but typically southern. And loving.

A little love goes a long way.

What it was...

I haven't written or said much so far about my bilateral mastectomy except that it went well. Which it did. I needed some time to process the experience and decide if it was truly as horrifying as I anticipated or if my mind was just playing with me.

A little of both, as it turns out. 

My greatest fear was pain. That played out to my advantage, mostly. I can't really distinguish between pain and anxiety while I was in the hospital, but I do know that I really appreciated the drugs flowing my way and I recall at least one significant meltdown. A mixed bag.

I recall only bits and pieces from the hospital stay. Thankfully. 

I've discovered that the nurses and staff in a hospital can make or break the experience. Again, it was a mixed bag this time. The greatest exception was the navigator assigned to me while I was  in the hospital. I assume she is an RN, but she was the nicest person going and she stands out in my mind. Wish I could remember her name. The staff nurses...not so much. 

I'm suddenly wondering why in the world would a nurse look at me like I have two heads and treat me like I'm a pain in the ass when I start crying the afternoon after surgery? Is it uncommon in a hospital setting for a middle-aged woman to be upset about having cancer and losing her breasts? Apparently so. Or maybe I was just raining on her parade. Feeling some anger around that....

I'm told my first question out of surgery was "did they remove the port"?  I really wanted that port gone. Yes. It was removed. Yeah. Hated that thing...mostly because I had to look at it every day and be reminded that I am a cancer patient. I don't have to see it any more.

Instead, I get to see my "foobs" in all their lumpiness and ugliness. I got a good look at the incisions for the first time on Wednesday. Oh. My. Goodness. Very bad. Incisions are much bigger than I thought. And my drains are hanging from the biggest holes I've ever seen. They're huge. 

I came home with FOUR drains, two each from each side of my chest just under my arms. Sore they are, they are sore. And gross. I get to empty the drains twice a day and measure the gooey red bloodish output. Although I've never thought I had a weak stomach, this is a really nasty and gross activity. I got one of them caught in the sofa cushion the other day and nearly yanked it out of my body, stitches and all. The surgeon removed two of them on Wednesday, so now I only have two. Only. I can't bring myself to go out in public in them, so here I sit. I'm not the stay at home type and it's making me crazy and adding to my post-surgery depression.

Here's the really bad news:  the skin around the incisions isn't making the surgeon happy. Not healing well and we may have to deal with some necrosis, which will mean another surgery. The notion of having dying skin dripping from my foobs is truly a Halloween nightmare. Let's not even talk about what it looks like...

I have to sleep halfway sitting up and on my back. That means sleep is hard to come by. The compression bra sucks. It's far too tight and terribly uncomfortable. The expanders were filled with saline in surgery and they are stretching the muscle and skin to a wildly uncomfortable degree. I can't lift my arms high enough to get a glass out of the cabinet, though I'm told I should "push through it" and exercise my arms to avoid a frozen shoulder. Nice. It's beautiful outside, and I can't bring myself to step off the porch in fear someone will see my nasty drains that I can't really adequately hide. I'm sick of TV. Didn't love it to start with. My belly is swollen and sore from injections they did at the hospital.  

I'm depressed. There. I said it. I'm horribly sadly depressed and I woke up crying this morning. I'm pissed. And sad. And worried about the future. I'm broke. Being sick is expensive. I'm bored. I'm sore. I have long bloody tubes dangling from my underarms. 

I'm tired of people telling me how great I look. I don't look great. I look terrible. I'm pale, my hair is coming back completely gray, and I walk around like I'm 90 years old.

I'm sick of soup. Please. No more soup.

The bright side? I am clean. I got to shower for the first time in over a week. At least I don't smell.  Anymore.

One week out....

Maybe I'm just feeling optimistic, but I'd like to say that I'm feeling GREAT!  A little tired here and there, and definitely sore in all the expected places, but overall not bad at all. Sick and tired of the drains, tho. Not pretty at all. Ick.

Surgery went very well. Didn't love my hospital stay at Duke-Raleigh, thought everything took way longer than it should, including the delivery of PAIN meds! Bring 'em faster, would ya?  

And not one person in my room (one family member, three friends, two nurses) could identify the mystery meat on my tray delivered just 4 hours after surgery. Seriously?  A full meal 4 hours after surgery? Someone thought it may have been meatloaf. Someone else thought it might be fried steak. But whatever it was, not what the 'ole tummy needed. Give me broth, jello, and lots of water.

And guess what? I have cleavage!  The plastic surgeon filled my expanders with a healthy starting dose of saline in the OR. 

How many women can come out of a bi-lateral mastectomy claiming to have cleavage?

Me!

The weekend before...

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't anxious or worried. Every time I stop to really think about it, those blasted tears threaten to make my nose run. Hate that.

But aside from what's going on in my head, it's a perfect beautiful Carolina day. The sun is shining and the leaves are starting to turn beautiful colors. My son is on his way home to spend the week with me. My dog is napping next to my feet and soothing music is playing. There are chocolate cookies here on my desk and a glass of milk. I'm happy. Until I start thinking...

I try to remember that the hard part is behind me. I've heard from breast cancer survivors and doctors alike that chemo is way harder than the mastectomy. They darn well better be right....

Countdown to M Day

Very busy this week counting down to Mastectomy day. There's an amazing amount of preparation that has to happen. And plenty of doctor appointments.

Had my pre-op chat with the breast surgeon. Lasted about 3 minutes. I guess there really isn't much to say at this point, except let's get 'er done.

Did the pre-op visit at Duke. Thankfully, that was also much quicker than anticipated and completely painless. Unless you count my meltdown. 

It's so embarrassing when that happens, especially in front of strangers. I'm sure they think I should be in a different kind of hospital. I just can't help it. The tears start and I can't pull them back. I've cried for 3 days now.  

I'm not sure if I'm crying because I dread the surgery or because I will lose a part of my body. A significant part. Or maybe I'm crying because I'm just plain pissed off at all the crap I've had to deal with. At some point, you'd think life would just let me be.

Having a "Bye-Bye Boobies" party Sunday night. A potluck dinner with friends and neighbors. One of my friends thinks we should all burn our bras in the backyard. Excellent idea!

Y'all stop on by and bring your love! I promise I won't cry. 

HAIR

I have some. Enough that I am comfortable going out in public without a hat or scarf.  It makes me feel less like a cancer patient and more like a whole person.

I even have hair on my legs. Damnit.

The little things...

We all know its the little things in life that matter. Cancer drives that point home in a big way. We spend our days plowing through work and obligations. At least, I do. Head down, just get 'er done.

At one of my early visits, my oncologist said to me...

If cancer doesn't change your life in a thousand different ways, you're not paying attention.

Amen, Sister!

Cancer has changed my life. I'm sure everyone with a life threatening illness has an epiphany at some point. I haven't had a moment I can point toward. No aha moments for me. At least, not yet.  But it has made me think a lot about how I spend my time, who I spend it with, and oddly...where I live.

I love where I live. I have the best neighbors ever. I have a warm and comfortable home in a convenient location. But I don't love north Raleigh. I have wanted to live in the mountains as long as I can remember. The thought of living in the mountains rarely leaves me. 

So what's stopping me?  Me. Just me. Oh I've made a ton of excuses over the years for not moving. Mostly around my job. 

I work remotely for a company in another state. I could live anywhere and still do my work. But what if I lose my job? I need to be in a place where I can get another job. It's easier to find a good job in an urban area than on the side of a mountain somewhere.

And then there's the cancer. I'm glad I live in an area where quality healthcare was just down the street. It doesn't get much better than Duke or UNC for healthcare. So glad I'm not living in a tiny little town in the middle of nowhere. 

But I won't always be able to use cancer as an excuse. Let's hope. And I am slowly getting past my illusion that I won't be able to get a job in a more rural area. It'll just take a little more effort. Those of us who have worked from home tend to know where good telecommuting jobs can be had. 

So what's stopping me?  Me. Just me.

Cleaning for a Reason

Remember back in the summer when I mentioned I'd been selected for four free housecleaning sessions simply because I was undergoing chemo?  I don't mean to infer that chemo is simple. Far from it. But still...having my home cleaned for me for FREE, was a true blessing in so many different ways.

Cleaning for a Reason is an organization that coordinates provides FREE housecleaning for chemo patients. Once per month for 4 months while in treatment. It doesn't get any better than FREE, and this is particularly true when it comes to housecleanings.

Cleaning for a Reason has participating maid services in the patient's zip code area provide their service. This organization serves the entire USA and currently has 547 partners.

Aaron at Neuse Natural Cleaning has been working with me to provide my cleaning service. And what a service it is!  Aaron is a special young man who believes in giving back.

Be a blessing to someone and pass this information along. You may not know someone going through chemo, but someone on your email list might. And even if you (or someone you know) isn't doing the chemo dance, consider using Neuse Natural Cleaning as your cleaning service.

After all, who wouldn't want to do business with a company who shows compassion to sick bald women with chemo poison racing through their bodies?