The Foob Report

Shortly after changing from the surgical girdle to off-the-shelf shape-wear my back broke out with a rash. Not sure what is going on, but boy does it make it hard to get a decent night's sleep. Not sure what is below exhausted on the sleepless scale, but I've been hanging out there a lot these days. Hopefully Dr A will have some answers or suggestions. 

My follow-up visit with the plastic surgeon today went pretty well. He seemed pleased with the progress so far. Said the lumpy placed in the foobs is normal and I should become familiar with the feel so that I would notice if anything new (e.g., a cancerous lump) ever showed up. Any cancer would be external, within the remaining original breast tissue, not within the tummy fat, so it would be felt by an external exam. I do need to find a new bra or two as mine are leaving marks on the breasts. I don't want to spend too much money as I'm not sure how much of the size increase is due to continued swelling.  Things may also change after the second surgery where there will be some touch-ups.  I'm to continue massaging for 3-5 minutes a day which should help with the swelling and the need to get-to-know the territory. Massaging the foobs still weirds me out a bit. I'm fine with massaging the tummy scar, the only time that gives me problems is when I stand up after sitting or lying for a while. It's like it has to stretch out and I find myself talking to myself "stand up straight." 

To add insult to injury I had H and Dr A look at my back. Imagine my surprise when they said I had shingles. It never even occurred to me that the back pain I'd been having for a few weeks and the rash were actually related and due to shingles. It's good to know I'm not going crazy as far as the back pain is concerned, but really? Dr wasn't too surprised to see it even though I'm younger than the normal shingles sufferer (breaking the curve again) as my body is a bit stressed after surgery.  A bit stressed?  I would call that an understatement these days.  

"The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places." — Ernest Hemingway

I Think I've Bought My Dr A Porsche

Yup, yet another doctor visit. Back to the oncologist. Dr B did bring up the fact that he would have recommended radiation if we hadn't already started the reconstruction. At this point radiation would irreparably damage the new foob.  That's what happens when you don't get the pathology report until after your breasts are in place I guess. On one level I wonder what risk I'm running not having radiation, but on the other hand I am relieved I don't have to deal with it.

I did get my prescription for Tamoxifen today. I will be on this maintenance drug for the next 10 years; unless my liver decides otherwise. The side-effects of this drug are mostly just annoying: including irritability, hot-flashes, water retention, and heavy bleeding. There are some serious ones of course such as blood clots and reduced liver function. Well I guess I shouldn't hold my breathe to get rid of the hot-flashes and swollen ankles any time soon. I have to be more vigilant about getting up and moving around on a regular basis while at work.  My blood counts and iron are still low, so still need to be careful about being around people who are sick. I mention that my back hurts more than normal. It has made sleeping difficult, in the bed or in the chair it feels like pressure from lying on something, and even sitting in the chair can be uncomfortable.  Dr B thinks its just a residual side-effect. Maybe if I start moving around more it will go away.

The hair and even my eyebrows are starting to come back. I still wear a scarf when I go out as it's borderline Chia pet still, but the leg hair has come back with a vengeance. The eyebrows seems to be growing from the outside in as they are still sparse in the middle. Oh well it's a look. At least my eyes aren't watering like crazy and I can actually start wearing my contacts for short periods of time. I guess you can't have one without the other. I think the hair is a bit darker than before but it's a little too short to tell yet. One more surprise that will unveil itself in due time.

Not sure how long it will take before these new breasts of mine actually start to feel like a part of my body. Sometime I just want to cry when I look at my scarred and patched body in the mirror. It feels and looks foreign and I almost have to force myself to touch my breasts to wash and massage them. It's almost an out-of-body experience when someone else touches them, just disconnected and not quite normal. I am sure this too shall pass, either they will start feeling more like a part of my body or I will simply get used to the new body parts.     

"He who has health, has hope; and he who has hope, has everything." — Thomas Carlyle   

RIP Mr Juicy

My last grenade, Mr Juicy is still putting out more than 30cc every day. He just doesn't want to go away. Mom and I on the other hand have both accidentally caught or yanked on him over the course of the last month, and just can't wait to see him go. The area around the stitches holding it in is starting to bother me and I just want it gone. Called H at PRMA and asked it it could come out and after checking with Dr A, she said I could come on in. This one felt a bit stranger than the other three as it was pulled out, a it seemed to have settled in. It is such a relief to have it gone though. I just hope my body can reabsorb the fluid with no issues.

I've been blessed with a number of visitors over the lat few weeks. Some dear family friends from California stopped by for a few days. Mika wasn't sure what to make of their little dachshund. Poor puppy, she won't know what to do when life goes back to normal either. My brother and sister-in-law also came for a visit. It was good spending time with them and Mom and Dad got a little support in the take-care-of Jo department. We all celebrated my healing process by going out to Olive Garden as I was finally free to eat salad at a restaurant. It's the little things we sometimes need to hold onto and celebrate. Some friends from work also dropped by, was glad to see them. I feel a bit out of touch, but then again with the shut-down I'm not missing too much. I'm afraid I wasn't the best hostess ever, but I was at least conscious for most of it.  I can't ever say how much it means to have people I love and care about come visit. Personal connections are so important to the healing process, and it's so easy to curl up and let the world go on without you. It takes an effort to be social, but the payoff is worth it.

"In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit." — Albert Schweitzer

The Power of Friendship

Last night I had a dream, and I rarely remember my dreams so this is odd. But they say dreams are where the subconscious goes to work so I guess it shouldn't be too surprising. Over the last three years between working on my doctorate and a couple of job changes I must admit I have been less than a good friend. I have missed, and painfully been excluded, from some important moments in my friends lives. Instead of taking the exclusion as a wake-up call I do what I always do, I pull away even more. So is it any surprise that when I asked for support all I got from some is silence? Why would I expect support from those whose lives I am no longer a part of? I guess I truly have grown selfish in my old age. In my dream I got yelled at by an old friend for something, can't remember what exactly, but I woke up realizing that I was hurt by their silence over the past 9 months. And maybe it's just that they don't know what to say and not apathy, but maybe it's just too late and I let those friendships die well before Feb. 

Over the past few years I have let the job changes, the school work, and the weight of old wounds be my excuse for being a terrible excuse of a friend. Why be surprised when others pull back as I have done? The sad thing is I am not sure I will be better after this. That "I have a second chance, I'm a completely different person" epiphany just hasn't happened. Maybe once I'm off the drugs, but look here I am making excuses. I need to force myself to reengage with the world around me. To be worthy or the love and support I have gotten over the last months.

But enough of the sad, for honestly I have been overwhelmed by the love and support I have received. Saw old family friends this week and now my brother and sister-in-law are here. Friends from work dropped by earlier this week and they often check in via text. The cards and little gifts have been overwhelming, especially those from relatives I didn't even know I had. Every time someone spends the time to just say I'm thinking about you I am grateful. And of course Mom and Dad who have given up their life this year to take care of me and the mutt. I couldn't do it without you. There are lessons here about the power of friendship, of how the little things matter, and of the trite but oh so correct mantra of don't wait until it's too late. 

To everyone who has been there for me, I can honestly say I don't think I could do this without you.  You are amazing people, and I am beyond blessed for having you in my life. I hope some day I can pay it forward.

"When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand." — Henri Nouwen

And The Dream Dies-At Least For Now

Today was the first deadline for submitting a draft of the finished dissertation. I didn't make it. I tried. I had convinced myself that I would get this done while I was convalescing, I mean what else would there be to do? I did several hours of work earlier this week, but I was absolutely exhausted the next day. I am afraid the brain isn't too functional anyway, I read what I  had written and well, it was awful. Guess being tired and drugged is not the way to write the results section of a dissertation.

Had to call my adviser and let him know I just couldn't make it. Not sure I would be up to traveling to Gainesville for the defense or graduation ceremony anyway, and I really want to walk. We won't even talk about the lack of leave. I'm sad I won't be graduating with some of my friends who finished this semester, but I think I was just pushing the body and the mind a little too far too fast. I just have to keep telling myself it's ok, I didn't fail, it's just postponed, it's a forgivable failing. I just hope I can find the motivation to finish. It's so easy to just say I quit, haven't I done enough?
 
 "There’s always failure. And there’s always disappointment. And there’s always loss. But the secret is learning from the loss, and realizing that none of those holes are vacuums." ― Michael J. Fox

Three Down, One Grenade to Go

Went to PRMA to see H for the routine follow-up. I was pleasantly surprised when she removed three of the grenades. I knew the one in the left abdomen wasn't going anywhere, Mr Juicy as he is "affectionately" called is putting out more fluid than the other 3 combined (at least it feels that way). It's a strange sensation feeling the drains pulled out, but she is really good and knows all the tricks. She looks at my scars and foobs and is pleased with the progress, saying I look weeks ahead of where I should be. Nice to hear, but I don't feel weeks ahead. I wonder if I'll recognize normal when I feel it again.

I can call to come back to have Mr Juicy removed anytime over the next few weeks if he decides to slow down. They don't like to keep the drains in too long, as the body will start to heal around it. That idea is just icky. I am also cleared to start wearing a normal bra next week. I actually think the foobs are a bit bigger, at least with the present swelling, so it'll be interesting to see if my old bras will fit. She also gave me a different girdle, one with three layers instead of just the one. This one take a college degree to figure out how to put on. It is more supportive however it tends to also migrate a little. Well nothing is perfect. She approved a little chocolate but still no caffeine. Well a little chocolate is better than no chocolate. 

Still sleeping in the chair, but have a little more movement and am walking around a little better. Occasionally nap in the bed, but still need Mom's help getting up. I have a bed wedge that makes it a little easier, but the body still doesn't want to behave like I want it to. I want to feel whole and strong, now. 

"Patience is not simply the ability to wait - it's how we behave while we're waiting." — Joyce Meyer

Surgical Follow-up

While I am glad to be home there are certain maintenance issues that are a real pain. Poor Mom and Dad, being caretakers is a rough job. I wish I could tell them, if you do X everything will be all better, but that doesn't exist. We all just have to ride out the storm together. But having them with me makes it bearable, I can't imagine doing this alone. There are four "grenades" or drains attached to my body which have to be dumped and measured three times a day. They can't come out until there is less that 30 cc a day. These make it really interesting to dress, walk, pee, shower, sleep, you name it.  I've been wearing Mom's housecoat and hospital gowns as these completely cover the grenades and the lines, but have to actually get some clothes on to go see the doctor. I feel like my grenades are exposed and worry I will catch one on something. Oh well, it's not like I'm moving quickly these days, so hopefully there will be no trauma.

Dr R said I am officially NED - no evidence of disease. Wow, cancer free. Wish I could dance for joy, but I have to be content with a mental happy dance, "I'm walking on sunshine ...".   So even though there was signs of cancer in my sentinel lymph-node and still cancer in my breast after chemo, he feels that they got it all. I am a little surprised no one mentions doing radiation as the chemo wasn't completely successful, but then the only reason we even know that is because I did chemo first. If I had done the mastectomy first we wouldn't even know, so I guess it's good I did chemo first, but not sure it matters in the long run. 

My left breast and arm are sore and tender and I have limited mobility in my left arm. Dr says that should come back, but some never get to 100%. I'm wondering if I'll ever do yoga again, and have to be at peace with the idea that I may never be at the same level I once was. I cannot compare before and after, just be comfortable with the here and now. Yah, this will be a process.

Of course on top of all this the government has shut down as of the 1st, so I am officially without a paycheck.  No stress there. Our good old Texas senator decided to make a point by playing games with people's lives. I should send all my medial bills to him, not to mention the mortgage payment. I was supposed to move from an Army employee to an Air Force employee on the 6th, I have a feeling that won't be happening. Oh well, I'll take some pain meds and go back to reading a good book. I'm getting quite a bit of reading done, none of it academic, and that's alright.

"Expect trouble as an inevitable part of life and repeat to yourself, the most comforting words of all; this, too, shall pass." — Ann Landers