First of all, I want to say thank you to all who have read this blog journey. Secondly, I did not intend to write and publish my thoughts to attract attention or to seek sympathy, however I have been overwhelmed by the support you have shown to me through your comments and face to face interactions. My purpose in writing publicly was to process my thoughts, to safeguard my memories of this experience, and to encourage others who may have had or will have a similar experience.
Today marks the beginning of the 6th week since my bilateral mastectomy surgery.
You have joy even though you may have had to suffer for a little while. You may have had to suffer sadness in all kinds of trouble. Your troubles have come in order to prove that your faith is real. Your faith is worth more than gold. `~1 Peter 1:6-7
When I came home from the hospital, we all were surprised how incredibly TIRED I was! To be honest, I do not remember too much until about 3 days later- which is just crazy!
That nerve blocker worked like a dream so I was able to maintain a decent comfort level with the pain medication recommended. Dan proved himself to be a wonderful nurse and kept a close eye on when it was time for me to have my next dose for pain control and my antibiotics. He made sure I always had something to drink close by, that I was safe with simple ambulation to the bathroom, and that I woke up to eat something every now and again.
Essentially, this was Home Base for the first week or so.
I had four drains coming out of my sides under each armpit (2 on each side). Those needed to be drained and measured twice a day and my husband proved to not be squeamish at all! I was very impressed with his tender loving care!!
Side note: those drains HURT.
Pain medication does not eliminate the discomfort that comes from pushing on the sore spot. When a person is still, the discomfort is less. With movement, however, a person feels all of it. It’s just the way it goes with incisions and drains: we’re going to feel pain. We still have to move around, as sitting in one place is not a viable option either for recovery.
We’re going to feel the pain. I’m going to feel the pain.
As a nurse, I have been known to say that “surgical pain heals.” Well, I’m banking on that one, folks… It sure better.
At the 1 week “surgery anniversary”, Dan and I ventured out for a car ride to visit our surgeon. This was the first time I could really talk to her while not under the influence of anesthesia as well as get the official pathology results from my breast tissue that was removed.
While there we received good news and surprising news.
The good news: all the cancer was removed with good, clean/clear margins. There were 2 tumors found in the left breast that were both Invasive Ductal Carcinoma HER+. The lymph nodes removed showed no signs of cancer.
PRAISE THE LORD!
The surprising news? There was another tumor found in the right breast that also came back HER+ but called NON-invasive Ductal Carcinoma.
A second cancer in the other breast.
I looked that surgeon in the eye and said, “I MADE THE RIGHT CHOICE FOR THE BILATERAL MASTECTOMY. I KNEW I NEEDED TO HAVE ONE. I JUST KNEW IT!”
Then I promptly burst into tears!
Her response was an emphatic, “yes, you did.” She was genuinely shocked by the pathology as this was not expected at all.
All that worrying and wondering about what kind of surgery to have… wondering if I was being “dramatic” for going so “over the top” in my treatment choice… I WAS RIGHT.
Praise God for the guidance that helped me make the right decision for me.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart. Don’t lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your paths ~Proverbs 3:5-6
Two shell-shocked people people left the office that day.
The next day we had a different appointment with the plastic surgeon so we could now begin the process of “filling.”
This is a sample replica of the “fun” little gadget that was put into me. It is called a “spacer” and its design is to be filled up like a balloon weekly so my skin can slowly stretch around it in preparation for the permanent implant to be surgically placed in a few months time.
The “filling” itself is not painful (I’ll spare you the details), but the stretching…. Oh my goodness gracious. That’s a whole other thing.
Yikes. It hurts.
When it stops hurting…guess what? It’s time for another fill!
We do this until I say we are done. That means when I’m at the “size” I want to be from now on.
And the God of all grace, who called you to His eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will Himself restore you and make you strong, firm, and steadfast ~1 Peter 5:10
Washing My Hair Day became the highlight of my week in those early days. It is certainly not a flattering picture, but it’s as real as it gets folks…I was not allowed to do much with my arms – especially repetitive motion activities – because it would cause fluid to build up in my surgical area. That means “scrubbing my head” myself was out. The other component is that it hurt to lift my arms, let alone to hold them up over my head, so this was just not an activity I could do by myself.
Thankfully, as you can tell from the picture, my family enjoyed helping.
I was not allowed to shower as long as those darn drains were in… they stayed in for 4 weeks. 4 weeks of no showering or immersion bathing. 4 weeks. Now, it is one thing to have help washing my hair and emptying my drains…but it is a whole other thing to require assistance with bathing.
I am an RN. I am the person who helps others. I have bathed many hundreds of people over my years as a bedside nurse. I know it is not a big deal. I know it is something that just needs to be done.
It’s not a big deal until you are the one who needs help with that particular activity of daily living.
Dan and I met when I was 21 to his 22 years of age. We got married when I was 23 and he was 24.
We bought our home when I was 25 and he was 26 years old. Our Troy was born when I was 27 and Nic came into this world when I was 30 years old.
We celebrated our 25th Wedding Anniversary this past Labor Day when we visited Troy in the PNW.
We have been to the pits in our marriage and have been restored to something far better with the help of Jesus Christ. We are committed to the vows we spoke on that beautiful day 25+ years ago. We are committed to each other. We are committed to our family. We are committed to the Lord.
But…this has been hard.
Not on our marriage, per se… just hard.
“In sickness and in health…until death do us part” are real words all the sudden. They mean something now. In “sickness” means more than sitting by a bedside while others provide the care. It means that YOU provide the care. YOU protect the person you are committed to. YOU advocate for that person.
YOU wash their back when they can’t.
YOU cry quietly behind them while they cry openly on the stool when sitting in front of you while you run the soapy rag over their back.
And when they cry while alone with you in the bedroom at night, you cry with them too.
That’s marriage.
It’s as humbling as it is beautiful.
The day those drains came out meant I could finally shower! It meant I was also one step closer to finally sleeping on my side and that it would not hurt as bad anymore when I lifted my arms up over my head or was hugged by those who love me.
Thanks to a friend we had our first shower chair in the house! I have never felt so good as I did when that hot water ran over me that wonderful day! I turned on Spotify as I climbed into the shower and the song that came on was “I’m still counting my blessings”. To listen to music that declared the thankfulness I was feeling from such a simple pleasure brought me to tears.
Building my endurance came next. I slowly began to walk 1 lap around the block and then 2…and then 3. I still could not do much with my arms though so these were not high cardio laps!
Going to the grocery store (with a companion) became the place where I realized I could measure my progress. After the first time we went, I was so exhausted I needed to take a nap. It progressed to needing to only sit down while Dan did the check out part (but that was after we had already been at a different store first).
I also started driving by myself.
I finally went back to church… and to restaurants… even to a show to see Hamilton!
We’ve had many visitors over these weeks to help lift my spirits. We’ve received many cards, calls, and texts too. People have been incredibly generous with gifts and meals as well.
I’ve had a silly goal that I want to carry my purse again.
My purse choice has always been to be a large one and I was specifically told it was too heavy for me to carry. Initially, I had a 3lb weight limit that very slowly increased to 10 lbs. I’ve never weighed my purse, but the running joke is that is weighs more than my dog weighs (a 16lb shiatzu). All that means is carrying my purse is just not gonna happen.
I’m known for my big bags. I LIKE my big bags. It’s one of those crazy “identity” things.
I’ll know I’m better when I’m carrying it again.
Well…here we are on the 1st day of week 6 and I’m carrying that purse around now!
Silly goals work, I guess!
My body is healing. I’m preparing to return to work as an RN and as a pastor. I’m thinking ahead. I’m eating healthy. I’m wanting to make plans for the future. My emotions are a work in progress and something to write about on a different day.
But.
All in all, I’m recovering.
What Kind of Peace Is This? 