Sept. 8
All of my friends and Deirdre have been so generous with their time and I
appreciate it so much. I am sorry I am so weepy and such a pain. I wish I were
strong and brave like some others are, but I am not. This is who I am, a
scared, soon to scarred, middle aged woman with no hope. I am a drag to be
around. Everybody is sick of me. Even the counselor who I saw yesterday at MD
Anderson scolded me for having a bad attitude.
All I really need is someone to hold me tightly against his chest and let me
soak his shoulder with my tears. No words would be required and it would be a
thousand times better than all the drugs in the world. But here I am and I
don't have anyone in my life to fill the role of "partner". Maybe
that is why I am so scared.
Sept. 10
My daughter has been wonderful. She rubs my back and shoulders when I am
shaking and crying, but she is also very young. She does not know what I need
and this is a tremendous burden on her. I feel guilty asking so much of her and
yet I am grateful she is here. Even she has lost patience with me and tells me
to "Get over it". Would she say the same if I had just lost a loved
one?
We do the best we can. That is all any of us can do. Just like I have to make
choices when there are no good choices and I have to live with the
consequences.
I have contracted with the efficiency hotel to stay for a whole month, until
Oct. 4. My 1st surgery is on Sept. 10th. I sign the documents and close escrow on the
house on the 13th. Once I have possession, I will call the storage company and
have them ship my furniture. It will take about a week or more to arrive,
around the weekend of the 27nd. My second surgery is on the 17th. I
will have to hire workers to unload the truck. I will not be permitted to lift
anything over 10 pounds for at least another week, so I won't be able to unpack
and put things away. The bottom line is that I will probably stay in the Hotel
for the whole month, even though I will have the house, simply because the
bedroom furniture will not be assembled nor the kitchen unpacked.
Since my brother and I are not on good terms, I have no other choice than to
stay at the hotel at least until the end of the month.
From now on, my back is the only side anyone will ever see of me naked. I would
be too embarrassed and ashamed to show anything else. I was never perfect, but
now I am damaged goods.
Sept. 10 Surgery Day
I never realized how cumbersome a breast could be! I feel so
light and airy without that useless pound of fat! Why, I have been doing flips
in my hospital room. I should have been neutered years ago. Now that I am
without my feminine accoutrement, I am free to do so many more things. To be
the Amy I was always meant to be. I am going to start by cutting my hair. I
will go to a barber and have him buzz cut it to 1" in length all over. And
I'll stop coloring it.
Then I will throw out all my lacy thongs. And replace them with sensible,
white, granny-panties.
After all, my sex life is over. Nobody's gonna want me now. It's time I started
acting my age.
Out with the tight, sexy jeans. Overalls are better for wearing while mowing
the lawn anyway.
If I look like a man, I might as well act like a man.
Don't you agree!?!
Sept. 11
Right now, I am waiting for the Surgeon to come and take a
look. All of his minions have been in to see me. My vitals are being very
well monitored, every 15 minutes, day and night. They are all normal.
The Head of Surgery came into look at me. She said there is a 50/50 chance I
may lose my nipple. We were trying to do a "nipple sparing"
mastectomy. But mine has turned black. It may mean it is not getting enough
blood supply and has died. (normal color is pink). They might have to keep me
another day, put me back under and remove my nipple.
My life was ruined the day the day I went in for that screening mammogram. I
wish I had never gone.
Whoa! Gotta go. Breakfast is here. I am famished.
Sept. 11
Guess what, I still haven't seen the surgeon yet, I am
waiting to find out what happens next. No one seems to have any answers. So,
here I sit and it is 2 o'clock. I doubt they will discharge me now...but then
you never know.
Basically, I don't know anything more than I did this morning.
I walked for 30 minutes around the floor earlier. It got really repetitive but
I simply had to up and move! I am falling asleep now. It is after lunch and I
am drowsy and drifting away.
Sept. 14
I finally escaped from the hospital
on 9/11, the evening after surgery. Originally, I was supposed to stay in the
hospital for only 23 hours, but when the Head of Surgery saw my nipple she
wanted me to wait to see Dr. Smith, in case he wanted to remove it. He finally
came in to see me at 5 o'clock. He said my nipple looked fine. It turned black
because it is bruised and traumatized and it is at the end of the line to
receive blood supply. In time it will turn pink again. My eyes filled
with tears of happiness. I smiled and told him that was the first good news I
had heard since I got on this crazy cancer train. He smiled backed which
astonished me because I thought he was an android.
"So, we'll send you home tomorrow, OK?" And I said,
"Why?" "Do you want to go home tonight?" And I said,
"Sure, why not?" So, he said OK. But I stalled around until after
dinner. Believe it or not I like the food (just not the Jello). Now that my
disfiguring surgery is over, I am not feeling so anxious and my appetite is
coming back. (I have lost about 15 pounds since this whole ordeal began).
Well, yesterday was a busy day; had my follow up appointment with the surgeon
at his office. Funny, they had originally scheduled my first follow up for
Monday, the 17th, the same day as my second surgery. Seems like the right hand
is not talking to the left.
Then we had to run to the bank to do the wire
transfer. After that we had to
race across town to the Title Company to sign the escrow papers, a process, which
takes about an hour. Both agents were there and the notary. They all
congratulated me on my courage, perseverance and tenacity in sticking with this
deal to the end, a deal which should have taken 30 days, but took 60 days
instead. As we were walking out, my agent handed me the key.
Until I can heal enough
to move out of the efficiency and go over there and start to make it my own it
won't seem real. I need to be able to clean, unpack, put my things away, and
pick my colors and paint. I actually enjoy paining. Even though I feel well,
and have a lot of energy, I have to remember, I just had surgery. I am not in a
lot of pain, not like I was after my C-section, but I am sore and achy on my
right side. And I don't have the stamina that I used to.
 |
| Goodbye, dear girl, I have loved you so. |
Every day I have to
endure the vision of that saggy, wrinkly flap of skin with the sad black nipple
in the center. There is nothing left where my breast used to be but a crater
surrounded by muscle and bone. Propped up next to it is its puffy, pink
sister, just as round and soft as she ever was. Before the anesthesiologist put
me under, I asked if I might say a few words. He nodded his head and waited
while I lifted my head and looked down at my right breast and said, "Good
bye, dear girl, I have loved you so." That was the last time I ever saw
her…
Sept. 15
I am sleeping surprising well at night; the Ativan helps
with that. But I am not napping throughout the day as I know I should.
I doubt I will be able to keep the weight off. Now that I am not as anxious as
I was before my appetite has come back with a vengeance.
Monday is reconstruction day. But we don't know yet whether I will be getting
the implant right away or if I will have to have expanders first. I really,
really don't want to have expanders that would mean a prolonged, more drawn out
process and recovery and an additional surgery.
If that is what he does then there really was no reason for me to come to MD
Anderson. If he is putting in expanders for 6 weeks, followed by a silicone
implant, I could have gone to Joe Blow from Daytona for that. That is the same
thing they have been doing to women for the past 50 years. There is nothing new
or advanced about that. I came to MD Anderson because I wanted the best, but
so far it has been a disappointment. I guess I will find out for sure on
Monday.
Saturday, Sept.15
Surgery is confirmed for Monday, the 17th. We
just don't know in which direction the procedure will go. When I first met the
plastic surgeon he gave me the hope that if I delayed reconstruction
for 7 days rather than immediate reconstruction (a thought that was almost
unbearable for me) that he would be able to insert the implant without the need
for an expander.
The the day I signed the consent form his assistant told me that decision would
be made the day of reconstruction. The surgeon has to evaluate the
situation, the condition of the tissues, the skin flap, etc. so I really don't
know what I'll be getting.
I am very disappointed. Once again the uncertainty makes me feel Ike a
helpless, meaningless victim who has no say and no choices. Is it any wonder I
am depressed?
I am scheduled to stay in for 23 hours. I guess I will
just have to wait and see. I am hoping for the best and expecting the worst.
How Irish of me!
Sept. 15
Excavating my breast
out of my body was the easy part. Putting a lifeless plastic bag filled with
silicone in my chest and trying to make it look like the real McCoy, now that's
going to be a real trick. The plastic surgeon has been trying to lower my
expectations so I won't be too disappointed. And these are the best of the
best, the guys at MD Anderson!
Deirdre has some shopping to do for her dad and her friends back home. She
leaves on the 22nd. So, we might head over to the mall. There is a local
watering hole in the neighborhood with live music on Saturday night. We might
head on over there, share a pitcher of beer and see what that is all about
tonight.
Sept. 15
Deirdre and I traipsed all around the mall looking for
souvenirs for her coworkers. After that we stopped by the house to take some
measurements in the kitchen. Even though I have the key and I know it is mine,
it still is not furnished and it does not seem real.
Between the 2 of us we had 3 GPS's and we still managed to get lost on the
way back to the motel. Go figure.
I was too tired and hungry to go out which was disappointing. I thought it
would be fun to listen to some live music but right now sleep is more
important. I have to keep reminding myself, I’ve just had major surgery.
One more day and then I go back under the knife!
Sept. 18
I am OK.
I went to the hospital yesterday
morning at 8:30 but they didn’t take me in until 12:00. Deirdre was by my side
the entire time before I went in and she was there when I woke up in recovery.
She has been my little nurse and my angel. She has been so nice, listening to
me cry until she couldn’t take it anymore. Even she told me to, “Get over it.”
My frequent crying fits may be the reason why Tim and Eddie asked me to leave.
The hospital sent me home from
recovery; I never even went to a room. I was able to walk, but I was pretty
groggy and loopy. I was hungry when I got home to the motel, so Deirdre made me
a sandwich but I kept falling asleep. There was no point in my trying to write.
This surgery is about 100X more
painful than the one last week when they actually removed my breast. They have
given me stronger pain medication (oxcodone & Robaxin. I hate taking medication because I
don’t like being loopy but I dislike being in pain just as much. I know I
will get better and better with every day that passes and that this will not
last forever. The implant is placed under the muscle and so it feels like a
really sore muscle, but the pain runs down my right side from the top of my
ribs to the bottom. It really hurts when I twist or try to reach for something.
I have learned to reach the cookies at the back of the cupboard using my left
side!
My bigger concern is the
anti-depressants and the anti-anxiety meds I am taking. I told my shrink that
my goal was to be off of everything in 6 months. He said a more
realistic goal would be a year. I don’t dare not follow his instructions.
All future relationships will have
to wait until I am completely healed. I want to desperately to find someone,
but it is going to have to be platonic. I don’t want anyone to see me this way.
I tried to do fun things with
Deirdre during that crazy waiting period before my surgeries. Now that I am in
healing mode I am not going to be able to go out as much. And I am going to
require a lot more rest. I feel sorry for her because this little place can
feel dreary sometimes. She is only going to be here one more week and I will
never be able to thank her for her sacrifice. I will be alone for a couple of
days until my friend, Janette arrives. She will be with me for a week to help me
clean the house and unpack. Then I will be alone. This is going to be the
hardest time. I am just going to have to get used to it. I am getting eager to
get into my house, now that I know it is mine. I want to sleep in my own bed
and have familiar things around me.
The furniture is due to arrive
Thursday, the 27th. I hope it gets here sooner. And I can’t wait to get back to
work, even as much as I hate that job, it is the only thing that provides any
structure or stability to my life. And, yeah, a paycheck! By the time this
ordeal is over, I will be flat broke!
All I do is talk about me.
Friday, Sept. 21
This week has been rather
uneventful, compared to past weeks. I have been struggling with pain management.
The implant has been about 100 x more painful than the actual removal of my
breast itself. I have been following doctors’ orders to the letter, but any
movement involving my right side makes me wince. I called and spoke to the
nurse. She said I could alternate ibuprofen with my prescription meds. It has
been working but I am popping pills every 2 hours.
My first follow up appointment isn’t
until Monday when I go in to see the nurse and have her change the dressing.
The waiting is killing me. I want to see how everything looks and to see if it
is healing properly. I am eager to see how it is going to look when it is all
done. I am expecting it to not be good but I hope to be pleasantly surprised.
It is going to be a long, slow journey to recovery. We have to wait at least 3
months until we can augment the left side, let it heal and do any fine-tuning.
Deirdre and Sean are questioning why
I am going through the cost, pain and process of reconstruction. After all,
they say, nobody looks at your breasts anyway.
I know it will get better, but it is
happening so slowly. I am an impatient person by nature. The surgeon has given
me strict orders not to exercise, not even walk! I don’t see why that would
matter. He didn’t do anything to my legs! But my little nursemaid, angel and
prison guard, Deirdre, won’t let me do anything! .Consequently, it’s very
boring here. I am sleeping in way too late, watching stupid TV; I am tired and
have very little energy for anything else.
This experience has knocked the
wind out of my sails and deflated my self confidence. Time has taken its toll
on me. When I look in the mirror, I see a sad, older woman, with sagging jowls
and a turkey neck and no means to fix any of it. Add a disfiguring, maiming,
mutilating surgery on top of that and you don’t have much left. It would take a
Superwoman to emerge with any self esteem from this.
I had concerns about the blog before
I began. I did not know how open and honest to be. As I said in my
introduction, there may be posts which will make some readers uncomfortable,
but, it would be impossible for me to write individual emails to everyone I
know. I decided I had to go forward with the blog, for many reasons, and just
use my own internal editor. I might have to soften some things and censor
myself. I wanted to be considerate and I never wanted to hurt anyone’s
feelings. Unfortunately, that is one of the first things I did. (I have
learned.)
I also am writing it for myself as a
journal, as a way of remembering what this time and experience was like. I have
to be totally honest and disclose everything, regardless of who is reading it. (I don’t believe there are very many people
who read it).
Once I got into it I found it easy
to develop frank discussions with all kinds of people, including my children,
about intimate subjects. My children range in age from 22, 26, to 30. Even my
youngest is an adult. They are not children any more, they are adults. Our
relationships have changed.
Deirdre is leaving Sunday morning
and I will be alone for a couple of days until my friend from Seattle, Janette
arrives. She will stay with me for about a week. I am going to miss Deirdre
terribly, but I don’t want her to see me cry. I want her to go back home to her
friends, school, and job.
Sept. 22
I can't even imagine the pain of losing a child! It makes
everything I am going through seem trivial by comparison. Have you ever heard
such a whiney, crying baby as me? I think not! The news made me sad and I do
not even know the people involved, yet I can empathize with they are enduring.
I feel ashamed for the way I have been behaving lately. In
the grand scheme of life my latest trials are but a bump in the road. There is
no excuse for my reaction other than my own human weakness. What I have been
going though does not even compare to what some people see every day or what
the folks who have just lost their son are bearing. I do not know what more to say,
except I am sorry.
Deirdre's flight leaves at 7 AM tomorrow. I will take my Ibuprofen in the
morning so I will be OK to drive. Then I will take my stronger meds when I get
back. I will have to do the same thing when I go grocery shopping Sunday
afternoon. And on Monday when I go to the surgeon's office for my dressing
change followed up by my post-op appt with the oncologist to go over the path
reports. Hopefully, things will be getting better soon so I won't have to rely
on pain management so much.
The airport is only about 10 miles away and I don't plan to stick around for long
to see her off, it will only make the two of us sad.
We have been having a lot of fun together. I am not as laid up as I thought I
would be. We have been to a couple of movies and we spent some time over at the
house today. (I can't wait to move in.)
But all good things must come to an end. She has to go back to her life in
Seattle and I have to go back to work.
Tues. Sept. 25
I have been given orders not to lift
anything more than 10 pounds with my right arm for 2 to three more weeks. I
will clarify with him on Thursday what other restrictions there might be. So
far, I have only spoken to assistants. I can’t be cooped up in this dreary
motel much longer or I will go bonkers.
Janette is coming tomorrow. I am
glad she is only staying a week. She is very intense and I don’t think I
could keep up with her for much longer.
I found out today that the furniture is in Orlando, I only need to set a
delivery appointment. It will have to be Wednesday or Friday as I have back to
back doctor’s appointments on Thursday.
I am feeling very fragile right now, and
vulnerable. I am feeling uncertain. Before this happened, I felt like a
beautiful porcelain doll, perfect and precious. Then someone took me by both
feet and smashed me against a table, into a million pieces. Sure, you can glue
me back together but I am broken and covered with cracks.
I have lost all my confidence, all
my self esteem; it is going to take a long, long time to come back from being
this damaged; if I ever can come back from being destroyed.
My right side it too sore to touch
it or lie on it; it will be months before I can. When I do, I will not be able
to feel it. It is a dead object. And I am concerned that he did not get the
size right. Right now it is still swollen from all the trauma, but the swelling
is going down every day. At this rate it will be smaller that the real one on
the left. How is he going to augment the left and not have it be a bigger
size than the right? The left is very soft, the right is very hard. The nurse
says the right will drop (it is a little high right now) but how is it ever
going to be as soft as the real one? What if he fucked it up and I have to be
opened up again and be re-done?
I know am a worry wart, I am. I guess that is
why Dr. Oh diagnosed me with “anxiety disorder”. I am not expecting perfection
but I want to get as close to satisfaction as possible.
You cannot force a flower to
bloom. I want to release the tension but it will have to be slow, at my own
pace.
All of my body parts were part of a
package. Now, one important part of that package is missing. Would you buy a
car if it had a headlight missing, or did not match the original?
There is still enough left of me
maybe I can channel my energy into those parts. Maybe my brain can ignore what
is not there and overcome the challenge. Maybe I can relax, feel safe and learn
to trust again.
The truth is, I don’t know what will
happen, or if anything will ever happen. I don’t know if I will ever be with
anyone ever again. Look at all that has happened in the last year. Who knows
how many more years may go by and I will be without a partner. That would suck.
Sept. 25
If you want to help someone, the first thing you have to do
is admit there is a problem. Many times all a person wants is to be validated.
Even if you do not agree that there is an issue, the subject believes there is and that is the only opinion that matters.
Friday, Sept. 28
Today was my follow up with my
plastic surgeon. He was extremely puffed up with his own handiwork, never mind
that I had anything to do with it. This guy has a huge ego and does not lack
for self confidence. I think he was convinced that what he has done exceeded
Mother Nature. He reassured me that this is exactly the way we want it to look
at this stage. The implant is high and hard, and hurts like hell. It feels like
a rock when you poke it with your finger; the real one is soft, warm and
comforting. He assures me that the implant will drop in a couple of months and
assume more of a natural, slopping shape, but it will never be soft as
the natural one. The only fix is to make to natural one feel more fake with the
addition of a small implant and I am worried about them being the same size.
Right now they are about the same
size. But the fake one is still swollen, bruised and bumpy. It could end up
smaller than the real one. If anything, I want them larger, not smaller! The
doc said he put the largest sized implant in he could at the time give the
condition of the skin. The bottom line is we will not know for sure what we
have to work with for about 6 months when everything settles down. Then, if I
want them bigger, he might have to open me up on both sides and put in larger
implants.
As a result, when I am living in the
old folk’s home, I will breasts of a 20 year old on a 80 year old body. All the
old codgers will be chasing after me and all the old ladies will be jealous and
hate me because I will be the girl with the perkiest breasts! How ridiculous.
The only good news I took with me is
that my nipple has turned almost completely pink. That was the one thing that
made me happy, otherwise, I always leave that place depressed and in tears. The
smug self satisfaction on the face of that egomaniacal surgeon doesn’t make
things any better.
In the grand scheme of things, I
realize this does not even begin to reach the level of someone losing a lung,
but, hey, it’s important to me.
Tomorrow is a big day, it is moving
day, and I can’t lift anything! This is going to be very frustrating, but also
very exciting.
Sept. 28
Yes, the house is full of my junk. I can't believe I spent
$5000 shipping a bunch of crap I should have purged before I left Seattle.
Nothing I own ads up to $5000!
And there are multiple of bare spots to be filled in the future. And I need a
book on Florida horticulture. I haven’t a clue about what grows here. And I
have to hire a lawn service. I do not intend to buy a lawn mower.
I am concerned about a gater climbing out of the stream in back and eating
Rufio!
I have to make sure Hurricane Janette does not push me to hard or too long.
Sept. 29
Yay! We just out checked of the suites. Homeless
no more!
Unpacking today. Cable installing today. Need to take it easier today. I was
totally wiped out last night. I want to be back at work on Monday.
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| Amy Making the Bed |
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| The Backyard |
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| The New Refrigerator |
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| Janette Painting |
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| On the Screened In Porch |
