Mastectomy Aftermath, Part 2

Don't walk in front of me, I may not follow.
Don't walk behind me, I may not lead.
Just walk beside me and be my friend." ~ Albert Camus

I finally had to look, goddamn it. I accidentally ripped out the remaining drainage tube after taking a shower. I was fine with that, really sick of having the reservoir attached to my hip. My mother came over and took a look at everything to reassure herself that I didn't need to make a trip to some medical facility. Then I was left to deal with it myself. In order to clean the wounds with alcohol, I have to see the wounds. Apparently I've decided not to have any feelings about it. I try to avoid catching glimpses of it when I'm psychologically unprepared. So far, so good.

On Thursday, I have a follow up with my beloved surgeon. It's not until 6:00 p.m., though, so I anticipate having to sit in the stupid little exam room with a huge patient gown on until around 8:30. That's just the way he is.

I don't quite get the gown thing. Everytime someone hands me one at the hospital, it's enormous. Do they only expect to have patients 200 pounds and larger? It never fails that I end up having to try to find a bathroom while hanging onto the tent, tied in the front. It would be funny if it weren't quite so chilly.

Things are going pretty well. I've been dedicated to trying to regain my range of motion in my left arm. I was so looking forward to getting my yoga practice up and running, but I'm lucky if I can just lift my arm straight up at a 90 degree angle. I had great flexibility and strength before all of this started and I can't imagine what it must be like to try to rehab if you're not in shape to begin with.

Today is the eight year anniversary of my father's suicide. Saturday was the first anniversary of my best friend's death. I'm right on the razor's edge emotionally these days. I actually started crying about an Elvis song playing on the radio. I don't even much like Elvis.

I dreamed about my father last night, but I don't recall what happened. I think about Becky virtually every day. I can't believe she's not here even now. Sometimes I'm still angry that she left so soon. I miss her so much.

The weeks prior to surgery, when I was afraid, I'd imagine all of the people who loved me standing around me, with their hands on my shoulder, my arm, my hand. They were comforting me, reminding me that there's no reason for fear. Either way. Live or die. No reason for fear. When I was a little girl, I would swing as high as I possibly could, beyond fear, and at the apogee, let go. For just a few moments, nothing could hold me to the earth. Not my parents and their madness, not my own misery, not even my rage. Letting go is still exactly the same. These days I'm flying free, no holding on just like then. I count on the universe to keep me aloft. I count on gravity to hold me close until it's time to go. I count on the people I've loved, who've gone on without me, to remind me of who I truly am.

America held hostage day 1388
Bushism of the day:
"But we will bring the weapons and, of course—we will bring the information forward on the weapons when they find them. And that will end up—end all this speculation. I understand there has been a lot of speculation over in Great Britain, we've got a little bit of it here, about whether or not the—whether or not the actions were based upon valid information. We can debate that all day long, until the truth shows up."
—Bush, unwavering in his certainty that one way or another WMDs will appear in Iraq
Source: The White House, "President Bush, Prime Minister Blair Discuss War on Terrorism," July 17, 2003

I live for the Karl Rove, Scooter Libby thing these days.

Website of the day: Health Journeys: Resources for Mind, Body and Spirit
http://www.healthjourneys.com/

Mastectomy Aftermath, Part 1

If you are distressed by anything external, the pain is not due to the thing itself, but to your estimate of it; and this you have the power to revoke at any moment.... " ~ Marcus Aurelius

They removed my left breast about two weeks ago now. I haven't looked yet. I may never look. I have family members who are very sweet about helping me deal with the wound so I don't have to get too personally involved. It's working out great for me; I may never have to leave the safety of my profound denial. Of course pain doesn't give me that option. I can't just delegate it to someone else. Pain is the least of my problems, though.

Every painful event is measured by what I've come to call "The Needles In the Breast Scale." I have yet to come across anything that crosses that threshold. I spent the day after surgery throwing up. Even soft drinks refused to take up residence in my stomach. Meanwhile, nurses kept coming and going, telling me that I needed to drink water and, noting that I was throwing up, about to throw up or having just done so, would wander back out of my room on the pretext of getting someone or something to help me. I wouldn't see them again for another hour or so, at which time the whole process would start all over again. My doctor's assistant told me that it was just a reaction to the anesthesia and I should be better in about 24 hours. I nodded my head, but I was skeptical. She was right. At almost exactly 24 hours, the nausea completely disappeared and I started eating solid food.

I was really just out of it for about 8 hours after the surgery. After I got into my room from the recovery room, they brought some chicken consomme for my enjoyment. I started eating, but I was still under the influence of the morphine drip. I would get a spoonful of soup, lift it to my mouth and fall asleep before it actually got there. I ended up wearing more chicken soup than I ingested.

I'm at work today for the second day in a row. I'm trying to keep my fatigue level under control, so I'm only staying a couple of hours at a time. I woke up with some pain today, so I was already a little tired before I got here. All of this is by way of saying that , though there is much more to say, I don't quite have the wherewithal to say it. There will be more when I'm more able.