I wake to the alarm on his phone. The Mr. sets his alarms before bed. He is the more lucid of the two of us when waking from slumber. And he’s the better of the two of us at remembering what happened the last time we awoke.
I bend up, trying not to push up from my elbows. Trying to use the little bit of abs I currently have after not doing ab work outs for 5 months straight. Hoping the seventeen pound baby who is sleeping on my chest will not be disturbed by my struggle to get upright.
The pain. It might be the realest pain that I’ve ever felt. It’s a heaviness. Mixed with a tightness. And a tiny bit of fear that I might tear something this time if I don’t get up just right.
I couldn’t believe what my breasts looked like after surgery. I was under from about 2 pm to about 9:15 pm. The docs each talked with my parents and Adam. They told them that they didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. That it was “pretty unremarkable” in the way that lymph node diessection paired with bilateral mastectomy and first stage reconstruction go. They told me that the tiny little bump that was embedded in the breast tissue that had still been felt prior to surgery was smaller than a bb. Not even a bb they could see. They could only feel it. Which means it truly could be several things. And then, the jury is still out on the lymph nodes BUT nothing looked alarming. And they only had to take the first two sections as was planned.
I asked for Adam immediately. I have no clue how long I was actually out. My part was seamless, truly… thanks to the Anesthesiologist {thank you Doc Nordues} and the tremendous team on staff to oversee all the surgery with all the surgeons who rock my world. Again and again I say, thank you Nebraska Medicine.
As of today, I am still taking Oxycodone. Tylenol. Lexapro. Clonazepam. Attivan. Carvedilol. Lisinopril. And Benadryl — because the Oxy makes me itchier than I feel walking through a barn in September in the Fall.
Oh yes! And how could I forget the Miralax? And stool softeners? Because the poop is all packed in like sardines in a can, dudes. I have officially dropped one deuce like it’s hot since last Thursday and I would be perfectly cool if the kids could be dropped off at the pool another time in the next few days. That would, of course, make the situation at hand, more comfortable.
I have almost finished the entire Nurse Jackie series. I’ve watched a bit of other random shows. But over our few years with no cable and taken in quite a lot of only watching Netflix, Amazon, and Hulu as well as HBOgo and Showtime, we’ve managed to watch a fair amount of the series that are available to us. So, I’m gonna start to figure out how I’m going to spend my time watching something I don’t even know about yet;). And yes, I’ve most definitely watched Sex and the City {7 times @ least… full series}, Gilmore Girls {the entire season, at least 4 times}, Parenthood {entire season 3 times}, and Gossip Girl {1 time through entire series}. Hey, I’ve had A LOT of nursing hours in the last few years. I am also currently viewing Downton Abbey, Project Runway All-Stars, The New Girl, Girls, and Modern Family, as new ones become available. I know. It’s a lotta freeakin’ TV, right? And I get tired of TV. But I am not too great at being up and at ’em at very long periods of time due to the strain and pull under my pits and atop my nips.
So tonight, I decided to try typing again. And my pits are holding up fairly well thus far. Praise, Jesus!!
I followed up today with Dr. Johnson, my Plastics dude. Who I find to be just darling. And he said that all things Boobs on the Brehm look to be going just as should be, to date. And to tell you the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, I want to share a lil’ photo moment with you. This was from the batch of photos I had the hubs take the night nipple-sparing Radical Breast Augmentation.
And I woke up with my same nipples. And some incision marks beneath the fold of each breast. I also have two drains {Jackson Pratt’s} coming from each side of my body where the incisions were made. But from the top, my boobs actually looked eerily like, my boobs. Crazy, right? Crazy to me because I imagined images of butchered, flat chest. I imagined pain so intense that I couldn’t walk for more than a second. And feared that my parents and Adam would have heard much different news than they did. But all in all, it looks and feels so much better than I anticipated. All of it.
In fact, I showed two of my friends who hadn’t seen my prior boobs and they couldn’t believe how freaking great they looked, even right after surgery. The boobs, that is.
The “girls” definitely look like they got in a bar fight. They are purple and have in addition, in some parts that are swollen and bumpy. You can definitely tell that doctors have been there. and they will be forever changed. But I can’t believe that part’s over. We did it! Yes. WE. And I am so thankful for being on the other side and reminded, once again, that with a pain script and a big smile, you can make it through most things in life. I mean, what’s the other option, really?
So, my purple-ish nips and all that goes along with them {I’ve started refering to the 4 drains as the Golden Girls — Rose, Blanche, Dorothy, and of course, Sophia} so far have not been unbareable. In fact, they’ve been a good way to continue to live. I love that I’ve been able to feel so much less anxiious and scared over the last few days. I’ve felt tremendously at peace… even with the inability to keep my eyes focused some of the time and also, the other side affects that present with the pain meds.
I don’t know what the future of my breasts will be… will they be big or medium or small or will there basically be none at all? Will they be green, polka-dotted, or pink? As long as “they’re all clear”, looks don’t matter, I think. They may be lopsided, one bigger than the other. They may actually cleave closer than right now, acting like sister and brother. They may leave behind the tingling I feel on the back of my arms. They may have muscle spasms and crazy personal charm. All in all, the boobs, who know what they’ll bring… even when it’s Winter instead of Summer of Spring.
My eyes are all blurry. My mind is getting tired. My time for spending at the computer is nearly expired. Tomorrow we’ll have more helpers, thank Goodness for that good news. Because I will rest again and sleep when I choose. I will continue to heal. I will continue to fight on. I will continue to kick this in the patootie. Until the say “the cancer’s all gone”.
The pain is not fun. The pain meds make mama a little nutty — less lucid than normal, unable to drive, unable to think of words — on occasion, and definitely foggy. My incisions pull and tug at times. And then, of course, there are the itchy itchy ya-yas. It’s never going to be the easiest chapter in my story. But it will be gone. At this point, I can feel that. And that is fucking amazing {excuse my French. But sometimes French says it best}.
So I will wake up again to his alarms. We will fall asleep holding hands. He will continue to tell me I’m beautiful sans hair and without my original pair. And I will keep writing as much as I can. As much as the day and pain allow.
These days are the best kind. Because even when life feels scary, it can still be incredibly blissful. Full of reasons for gratitude. And full of goodness.
