6 min read

Eye of the Tiger, Baby!

Eye of the Tiger, Baby!
Eye of the Tiger pajamas, courtesy of Jenny

I got home from the hospital on Saturday around noon.  It was really nice to be home. Dogs were excited to see me, though to be fair, they’re also excited to see me when I come back from taking the garbage out. This was different.  Waffles was very clingy.  He was incessantly kissing my face for at least 5 minutes.  The guy may act like a fool (often), but his intuition is excellent.  I’m not certain Pancakes has the same intuition, but he’s very good looking. That counts for something.

My last Oxy (narcotic) was Friday.  I really didn’t want to be on that any longer than I needed to be, so I tested things and was okay.  Since Friday I have only been on Tylenol and Celebrex, which is an anti-inflammatory (does what Ibuprofen does, but doesn’t thin the blood like Ibuprofen, which could apparently cause an increase in bleeding).  The fact that 2 days post-surgery I was managing my pain with those is fantastic.

Saturday night I had a Dr. prescribed shower.  Not going to lie, I was petrified.  The pain, the logistics (one drain on each side) and did I mention the fear of the pain? I kept procrastinating and finally decided it was time to wash the hospital off me.  Good thing I’m a germaphobe – that did create enough urgency to overcome the fear.  I put on a special lanyard that the drains hook to and entered backwards.  It wasn’t painful at all.  Big relief.  The water felt good.  I was warned I probably wouldn’t have the arm mobility to wash my own hair, so Marc was there ready.  But I could reach.  Woohoo. I’m not going to pretend it’s my normal arm mobility by any means, but I could do it.  And I do have PT scheduled to start next week so I will eventually be back to me.

Marc did dry my hair. He did alright – I’m not going to imply he’s any sort of a stylist, but the hair was dried.  Check.

By Sunday morning at 8AM (2.5 days after surgery) I told Marc I was bored.  Anyone surprised?  The thing is the TV I like to watch; I like to watch at night on the couch with Marc. The idea of binge-watching TV all day has no appeal. My high school and college age self would wonder what has become of me…but, that person is long gone.  What can I do that feels productive and can be done from a recliner?

The drains are not real fun. First, gross.  Second, they come out of the body and any accidental tugging is not pleasant.  Also, the required post mastectomy bra (which is like a sports bra) has the elastic band hit exactly where the drains are.  Imagine plastic being rammed against your already sore skin.  Not awesome.  My friend Dana bought me this nifty hoodie that had special pockets for the drain – so thank goodness for that.  Everything tucked away and out of sight.  Wardrobe changes create some complexity and may have instigated a call from the hot pink megaphone when I thought I could do it myself and got caught up in hoses and clothing.  Gracie responded to the megaphone SOS and got me untangled.  Back to the drains.  I was told to expect to have them in for 1-2 weeks…likely 2.  You empty them each day (I know, real gross) and measure fluid and once it’s below a certain level – you can call the surgeon’s office and a nurse will get you in and remove them STAT! Well – we measured and by Sunday night I was 50% under the requirement on one side and just over the requirement on the other (that side also had 2 lymph nodes removed – hence, more activity going on there). Rock on!  Monday morning, I called and by 10AM they removed not one, but two, drains.  Rock on.  They said 2 weeks, I hit 3.5 days.  No, I’m not an overachiever at all. 😊

The housework.  I am by no means a traditional stereotype of girl. To be clear, Marc is an incredible cook (I bake, but that’s not relevant right now), he’s willing to do anything in the house – not traditional stereotype at all.  But I am a control freak.  Consequently, he has already received quite a bit of unsolicited performance feedback.  I mean, what is he thinking not emptying the dryer lint trap.  I did a secret shopper inspection and wondered if he’s trying to burn the house down.  I knew the dishwasher loading would be a problem for me, so I tried not to look. But I did.  I stood over him begging him to move a bowl or a water bottle and he just laughed, put in the dishwasher tab, and started it.  Horror.  I asked him if he knew what a PIP was.  For those of you not in corporate America – that would be a Performance Improvement Plan. He did, in fact, know what it was, though he has never personally been on one.  That could be changing.  He’s been warned, that’s the next step.  My colleague Marti suggested I make a sign and post it inside the house saying, “Help Wanted”.  Could happen. I’m giving him a hard time (and he’s being a good sport), but in all honesty, he has been a rock through all of this and bent over backwards to make sure I’m okay.  He’s also my blog manager – I write, he posts.

Now that I have complimented him, I get to share a couple of humorous tales at his expense.  Trust me, sitting home leaves me with limited material to pull from.

  1. Sitting in the pre-op area of the hospital on Thursday.  I was so thirsty.  I had to stop drinking at 9:30AM and it was 1:40PM.  Anyone who has seen me in action knows I drink a lot of water (preferably Clear American from Walmart).  I was SO thirsty.  Marc was drinking a bottle of Clear American right there and said “ugh, I’m so thirsty”. Really?  Then 5 minutes later he took a big sip and did an “ahhh, that was good”.
  2. I’m forced to sleep on my back right now.  I’m a side sleeper, so this sucks.  I bought a contraption for mastectomy recovery – it’s a monster.  Two giant body pillows on either side, a wedge pillow at the top with two pillows on it to keep my head elevated.  A wedge pillow at the bottom to keep legs elevated.  It’s the width of 2 humans.  It does help.  I’m not able to roll over from side to side or really adjust my body position, so stiffness is real.  Yesterday morning Marc said “since you’re taking up so much of the bed it causes the dogs to both sleep right up against me.  I can’t move around as much as normal so I’m really stiff”.

In trying to be productive from a recliner, I reached out to Komen and a contact at the American Cancer Society the other day.  I was looking for programs, with significant scale, that provide free/subsidized 3D mammograms to women who can’t afford it.  This is very, very important to me.  Reality is there are local programs in some places, but nothing with major scale. Affordable Care Act requires insurers to pay for a mammogram (not a 3D) every other year (which is not enough).  I am willing to donate and help fundraise, but the infrastructure needs to be there.  The 3D machines and staffing exist nationally.  I recognize that even if they could be offered subsidized or free, awareness would need to be built and women would need to schedule and go. But first step is ensuring no woman would end up with invasive cancer because she couldn’t afford the screening to diagnose it early.  I sent a note to the head of Advocacy at Komen asking how I could help (federal/state level).  I also sent notes to Senators Klobuchar and Smith and Representative Phillips knowing they are my representation.  I don’t know how I can help here, but this matters to me.  I am extremely fortunate – because of that early detection, I will live a normal, healthy, quality life.

I was hoping to have my pathology results back before posting again, but it’s not so I’m posting. That will be part of the next round. The surgeon reminded me pathology doesn’t work the weekends, so realistically, it’s only been 3 business days.  She said speed is no indication of good or bad news, it’s an indication of the speed of the person in pathology.  Some are faster than others.  More to come, but I truly am doing phenomenal and feel the love and support very much.