The morning after my mastectomy was one filled with anxiety and dread for me. I had one goal - to get released and get home ASAP! I also knew their were hoops I would need to jump through to get that to happen, and that is were the anxiety and dread came in.
Two tasks I had to complete was to sit in a chair for an extended amount of time, and to walk around the wing of the hospital several times. Both of these tasks scared me quite frankly. The pain I felt when I went to the restroom was enough for me to want to be wrapped in a swaddle and not be forced to move for a month. However, my urge to be on my couch (and in clothing that had a backside) was greater. So, I got my breakfast ordered (I had to keep down food as well) and ate most of it. I was shocked at how edible it was, and the choices I had. I ordered OJ as well...that would come back to haunt me later.
Once I ate, I was ready to tackle the walking thing - I figured the sooner I got that done, the sooner I could get outta there. So, with my Mom on one side and another kind and caring nurse, I began my walk. I didn't want to do my sloth shuffle, I wanted to really walk. Again, I am stubborn and REALLY wanted to go home. So we walked, slowly, but we walked and talked. The kind nurse asked what my major was. Kind, but I'm positive that I do not look college age.
After that, I sat in the chair, and that was no fun. It wasn't a comfy chair (I do not know how my husband "slept" in it) and had me sitting in a way that induced more pain. Well, I got nauseous and when asking the nurse for a bucket she at first refused to give it to me and wanted me to smell an alcohol pad (by the time she got it out I was fine) which, of course, annoyed the hell out of me.
All of my doctors came by and checked on me and gave me the thumbs up to head out. Awesome! Nurse said they would start my discharge process. That was around 11:30. Well...I got nauseous again, and this time I threw up. Now, I HATE throwing up. I hated it even more this time, because I was sure it would set me back in the discharge process, which it would have if my oncologist was not practical. I felt fine after and we discussed the OJ and its probable involvement. Still...I had to now order and eat some lunch. So I did...and it stayed down.
Once Jay got to the hospital, the nurse gave all 3 of us the tutorial on how to care for my drains and showed me my arm and chest exercises I would need to do 3 times a day. I was so sad and frustrated by the lack of motion and what seemed like strength in my Trex arm.
Next it was time to get dressed! Wahoo!! One more step closer to getting home. That did not go smoothly. We (and yes, it was all hands on deck at this point) went to put on my surgical bra. I had one the week before - It had velcro along the front for closing and is pretty self explanatory and painless..most of the time. Once we began trying to close it I felt like I was being crushed and put the breaks on it. It felt so tight and small. So, we take it off and realize that it is a medium. A MEDIUM! I know I just had one of my breasts removed, but I do not think that I magically now wear a Medium. At this point, I am told that my plastic surgeon stayed with me in recovery for a while (and had the surgical bra removed) because my drains were filling up scary fast. Well duh! How did they even get me in that medium in the first place?! We ask the nurse for the correct size and then wait...
Between the bra, the prescription for physical therapy, and lord knows what else...we waited for hours! I became THAT patient - calling, buzzing, reminding them I needed to be discharged. I put in my order for my wheelchair, they tell me its coming, and Jay goes to get the car. After waiting even more, I walk out to the nurses station and ask where the wheel chair is. She tells me that its been ordered and is on its way but not close. So then I ask if I can walk out and she says fine, so I begin out. I'm not sure how my mom actually felt about this, but she knew I wanted out and she is fully aware of how stubborn her daughter is.
Finally, I walk downstairs, get in the car and am on my way home -- all I have wanted since the day before. Much of the rest of the afternoon I do not remember, because most of it consisted of me being in and out of sleep on the couch.
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