Reflecting

It's New Year's Eve.  The ending of a year, and while my journey is not finished, I do feel like I am in the home stretch.  This journey, although I would not wish it on anyone else, has taught me a lot:

1.  Even in the darkest of times, there is at least one thing you can be grateful for.  This is something that on a daily basis I wasn't always good at during this journey, but I got better at it.  No matter how rough you may have it, there are people who have it far worse.  Find something, anything, each day and be grateful.

2.  It's NOT that serious...seriously...something like this will really put things into perspective for you.  I have learned to be better (I am a work in progress) at not sweating the "small stuff." 

3.  Surround yourself with people who will bring positivity into your life.  I am SO LUCKY.  I have amazing family members and wonderful friends.  I knew this before.  It was confirmed throughout this process.  I have really realized who is truly there for me and not what they can get from me.  I have eliminated some people from my life and strengthened other relationships based off of this.  Life is too short to waste time and energy on people who don;t have true intentions.

4.  Make memories!  Tomorrow is not guaranteed for any of us.  Take the time to make the most of your days and make those memories. 

5.  I am stronger than I ever imagined I was.  You never know how strong you are until you need to be - no truer words have been spoken.  I have surprised myself both physically and mentally.  Had you told me a year ago that I would be sitting here today and had gone through all that I did, I would have rolled my eyes and laughed, all while making a sarcastic comment.  

6.  Finally, I am so blessed.  Sure, I have been on one hell of a rollercoaster, and one that is not yet finished, but I am a better person because of it.  Yes, I have many scars (inside and out), they are not pretty, and they are going to be with me forever.  But they are mine.  They are my journey. You have to take the good with the bad right?! 

My Other Half

 

There is no way I can talk about my journey, without mentioning my husband.  I love my husband.  If there were a word greater than love I would feel that.  From the day I met him in high school, I knew he was an amazing guy.  I didn't know that I would have the privilege of being married to that amazing guy, however.   He has ALWAYS been loving and supportive, but I never knew the lengths of that love and support...

He has been my rock.  He has kept all of my pieces together when I wanted to break into a million of them.  He has anticipated my needs and filled them, even when I was not sure myself what it was I needed.  He has stopped what he is doing to help me in any way, even if it meant driving back home to do so.  Waking up early so he could help me get dressed (without being asked), doing my hair, washing my hair or aiding in showering (for 7 weeks, nonetheless), stripping and emptying drains, being my favorite nurse...the list could go on for pages.

He did this all with unconditional kindness and love.  Never once did he make me feel like I was a burden - even when I had to wake him in the middle of the night to help me get out of bed and to the bathroom when he would have to be up and at work in a few short hours.  There were days when I would apologize for being so needy and he would just hug me.  

He has been at every doctor's appointment (minus maybe 1 or 2) - no matter how minor - and has rearranged his schedule without asking to be sure he was.  He held my hand when I needed it, or made faces if I needed lightening up.

I never had to face anything alone.  He was always by my side.  I will never have the words to truly express what he has been to me this year or to thank him for being so selfless and loving.  I do know that I couldn't have done it without him and that I love him, more and more each day.

Recovering...Again..

Ugh.  That's how I feel about recovering..AGAIN.  I don't do well with not being independent, and the more I do it, the less patience I have for it.  Also, I really did not anticipate how much pain I was going to be in on my reduction side.  My implant side instantly felt better because it wasn't hard as a rock, but was still sore.  I can handle sore.  My reduction and lift side?! HOLY CRAP!  Talk about feeling like you got hit by a truck! No fun. 

On Thursday, I had an appointment with my PS to check on everything.  I did NOT feel like going, but put on my zip up hoodie and shuffled my way in there.  My PA came in, took off the surgical bra, removed all of the gauze and lit up.  She smiled, clapped, and kept gushing that "they look SO good!"  She asked if I thought they looked good.  I just looked at her - A) I have not ventured to look at them yet and B) You are an expert - if you are excited, I am excited.  She told me she was so excited for me, and I take that as a win.  Jay later said how it was as if she was the one with the new boobs.  Lol, gotta love her.

I still wasn't in the mood to look, so I didn't ask for the mirror.  On the way home, while telling Jay I felt like a semi truck had hit me in the chest, he told me that my reduction/lift side looked like I had attempted to stop a truck with my boob.  Yep..sounds about right.

The next day, when it was time to shower I caught a glimpse of that side in the mirror and wanted to throw up.  It was swollen and every.single.color.of.the.rainbow.  Who knew one could bruise in so many colors?!  The steri strip tape covering my incisions was all over.  My incision is an in the shape of an anchor - around my nipple, straight down, and then underneath the entire boob.  The left side of the bottom incision is halfway to my armpit.  I also had a decent size blood blister that doesn't make for easy viewing either.  Once again, I had to remind myself that it is only temporary.

Being that Christmas fell during my recovery (thankfully because I do not think that my original plan of a week and a half off (when my PS told me at least 2 full weeks) would have been enough) we visited family.  Even days off just being up and running a few errands really exhausted me.  I stopped the pain meds after about a week, but was still uncomfortable and occasionally had spasms that would stop me in my tracks.

After Christmas, I had yet another appointment with my PA.  She was still very complimentary about how everything looked and was still excited for me.  She then said she was going to help some of the steri strips come off, and then proceeded to take them all off.  Shockingly, once she took off the steri strips, my incisions looked less scary.  Don't get me wrong, they still aren't beautiful, but they did not look as bad as I had envisioned.

She prescribed me a cream that is usually used on burn victims for the area were my blood blister was, and then told me I had to come back to get the few non dissolvable stitches removed.  Oh joy!

Exchange and "Update" (Surgery #5)

After a couple of reschedules, the date was set - Dec. 10.  I would have to take 9 days off of work, which gave me tons of anxiety, but I was ready to get this surgery done and over with.  The surgery would take place at the main Shands, which meant I'd be back in the main cattle call that is pre op there.  Not my idea of fun, but once again..let's get this over with.

In pre op, the usual activities occurred and I met my "team."  Once again, I kept asking "Do I have to stay overnight?!"  Everyone kept deferring to my PS.  When I asked him, he first shook his head (because I am sure he knew it was coming) and then told me he couldn't tell me a definitive yes or no.  It all depended on what time the surgery ended, if I had a drain, etc.  NOT the answer I was looking for, but oh well.  He also told me he had just found out that my implant he ordered for me was not at Shands because of the weather in the Northeast, but had secured me one very similar.  No stress - I trust him and didn't even know what the missing one was anyways. 

Next came the part that I always find myself laughing about at some point - the drawing and pictures.  Before every surgery with him, my PS takes out his handy blue marker, measuring tape, and various tools, and turns my chest into a Pictionary game.  He commented that this would be our last "drawing session" and reminisced on our conversations the first time.  He was also explaining a lot because he had a resident surgeon with him.  He again brought up the length of my scar due to "previous surgeries at an outside institution" and how he wishes he could fix them for me.  Once again, I reminded him that it didn't matter to me.  After the blue marker explosion on my chest, we took the pictures and then it was pretty much go time.  

Got into the OR and got introduced to the remaining members of my team, and got to finally see my PS in scrubs! I had only ever seen him in a suit and tie before.  The head anesthesiologist came in and asked for the diagnosis.  Without a hesitation, my PS said "Breast Cancer."  My face must have given me away, because he quickly grabbed my hand and said "but it is all gone now.  We are just finishing up the journey."

He continued to hold my hand until the anesthesia kicked in.

When I came to, I was in recovery and my Jay was there smiling at me. Eating Flips.  Yep.  That's my husband.  Wouldn't expect it any other way :)  I very quickly asked "Am I staying?" and Jay nodded his head.  He also told me that when my PS told him that he asked him if he would tell me.  My PS quickly said "No, sorry...I have an appointment." Makes me laugh because I can totally see this conversation taking place.  I also had an oxygen tube in my nose.  This was a first for me, and honestly freaked me out a little.

For hours, they kept telling me they were trying to find me a room.  Around 11, my nurse got me an actual bed, which made a huge difference.  They also told me they got word that there would possibly be a room at some point.  Around 11:30, my night nurse came.  She was WONDERFUL.  She didn't seem to think I would be getting a room anytime soon, and I was the only one still in there, so she went to the discharge section and got a recliner for Jay to sleep in.  She also turned all of the lights out and I even heard her at some point shushing people.  She even turned down my monitors so the beeping wouldn't keep me up.  She believed that sleep was the most important thing for healing and made sure that I would get enough.  So yes, I had to sleep in recovery, my Nurse Jackie made it as comfortable as possible for me and I will love her forever for that.

The next morning, my PS stuck his head around the curtain and asked if I wanted to hit him for making me stay the night, and in the recovery room nonetheless.  I told him of course not, but was still not happy about it.  He checked me out and said all looked good.  He also said he would start working on getting me out by mid morning.  I wish my morning nurse was on the same page.  She was awful. And Lazy.  She seemed more interested in cleaning and organizing then actually helping.  I even heard other nurses snapping at her for essentially being in the way.  After her telling us she was doing one thing, and then sitting and waiting...and waiting...Jay finally snapped into "Mr." mode and lit a fire under her.

Soon I had a man from plastics down to pull my drain.  Yes, I had another drain, but thankfully not long enough to even name it.  After him, I had another lovely nurse who was amazing at moving along my discharge process so that I could get home.  What a difference a nice and competent nurse makes!

The next step was in the car, home, and on the couch.  Boy was I happy to be in my yoga pants and on my own couch!

Cancer.

Cancer.  Six little letters that when arranged in a certain order fill me with hate.  I hate cancer (not that I think many people like it).  I watched my dad battle it like hell when I was in high school and watched what it did to him.  It's awful and terrible. 

Throughout all of this, I have felt sort of in a grey area.  I've had people ask, did/do you have cancer and I always answer "no."  But my tumor was borderline, and aggressive enough that I had to have a mastectomy.  It wasn't completely benign, but also wasn't completely malignant.  But, I liked to live in the lollipops and unicorns world of "No."

Well... the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, Kods went with me for my preop labs.  Something happened during that appointment that I don't think I will soon forget.  After waiting for HOURS to be called back, I went back for the standard tests - weight, height, bp etc.  While watching the woman type in my numbers in the computer, there it was in black and white all caps, under diagnosis - CANCER. 

I almost threw up all over her.  I was numb and quite honestly do not remember most of the remaining portions of the appointment. 

Cancer.  On my medical history. In black and white.  I am logical enough to realize that it was definitely a possibility, and that the appropriate steps were taken, but I still have odd and confused feelings about seeing it on that screen.

I make plans to shelve it for now and will make plans to discuss it with my Oncologist at my 6 month appointment in January.

Until then, Cancer - I still hate you.

Dealing with the Wrench..My Way

So, I had begun to entertain the idea of having the reduction and lift.  I did a lot of soul searching and thinking, and to be honest, staring at my hard as a rock "foob" in the mirror.  However, I was not entertaining the idea of having yet another surgery and prolonging the process any further.  There were discussions to be had.

I got to the size I felt was a good size by my first appointment of Oct., so it was time for the discussion.  My PA came in and asked me what I had decided.  I told her I was going to do the reduction, but wanted it done in the same surgery.  She then talked me through what my PS reaction (and following discussion) would be.  She then had to leave to deal with another patient.

Next, my PS and another PA walked in.  The PA expanded me (you have to be overfilled once you hit your ideal size) and then came the discussion I had been waiting for.  As predicted, my PS rreeaallyy wanted (and lobbied hardcore for) the two surgery approach.  I love my PS, but he is definitely a perfectionist.  He really wanted to do my exchange surgery (taking out my tissue expander and replacing it with my implant) first, and then let it settle for some time.  After that, he would then do the reduction and left to "near perfectly" match the other side.   I'm a logical person, I understand his viewpoint and the advantages to that approach.  However, I'm also the person who has and is going through this process.  At some point in the conversation, I looked my PS in the eye and said "Please.  I am tired.  I really just want to close this chapter and move on to the next chapter in my life."  At that point, he gave me his kind smile and agreed.  We started discussing scheduling.

Once again, I had a plan.  Once again, the plan got thrown a curveball.  My plan was to schedule the surgery my surgery for mid week before Thanksgiving.  My idea was then that I would only have to take half a week off because we had the entire week of Thanksgiving off.  Well..no go.  My PS was at a conference that week.  So, we discussed doing it the Tuesday before Thanksgiving.  I thought, okay, same idea, just back a week.  He ended the conversation by telling me to schedule it with his secretary.

That left the PA with me to discuss getting ready for the surgery.  Before she left, I asked how many more times I needed to be overfilled.  "This was it! You're done!"  she cheerfully responded.  Say what?! That was it??  Oddly, I was a little let down.  It seemed to "end" unceremoniously, without me realizing it.  I was also a little bummed because it had ended without my usual PA, who had been there every step of the way with me. 

So, I was done with the expansions.  Now I just had to "be" for the next month and some change.  I could handle that..

Being thrown a wrench

Going into my expansions, I had a plan.  My plan was to get my right side as close as possible to my left side and then get the implant.  One surgery, one side.  After 4 surgeries already, I really wanted only one more and with the least amount as work as possible.  Well, like with all great plans - I got thrown a wrench.

At one of my expansion appointments my PA decided that I should "check in" with my PS and discuss the long range goals again.  At this point, he discussed the pros and cons to my plan.  Kept reminding me that I am "so young" (I guess in comparison to his usual patient, but hey I'll take it) and really need to think long term.  His suggestion (which was also my oncologist a week after my mastectomy)  was to find a size in the expansion process that I was comfortable with and then we could reduce and lift the left size to match.  In his ideal world this would be done in two surgeries with a couple months between them.

This discussion deflated me.  I felt like I had been hit in the stomach.  I had pep talked myself up for the current process and had a finish line in sight, this changed all of that.  I promised to think about it and left the office.

That night was spent over analyzing and rehashing the discussion with Jay.  Once I took the emotion out of it, it seemed the logical decision in the long run. 

Now the biggest question I had -- how do you pick out your boobs?!  During a rant while talking to my mom, she jokingly suggested asking my PS for a catalog.  At some point, I actually considered it. :)