Drains be gone!

Many of you are back at work today from a 3-day weekend, while every day for me is seemingly blending together into one foggy post-op phase. The only thing that keeps me aware of what day it is, is that my wonderful husband (aka "nurse") had to leave my side early this morning. All that said, I will tell you that each and every day is getting better. Although mornings are never my best moments - with pain meds losing their wonderful numbing effect and my body aching from 8 hours of laying in the same position on my back pinned between a wall of pillows to ensure I don't move while sleeping; once I wake up, brush my teeth, and get fed my daily dose of warm coffee through a straw (a vice I will never give up), I start to feel some-what human again. 

In addition, yesterday I was able to take another great step towards recovery. I had the 2 remaining drains removed from my body. In case I didn't explain earlier, when I woke up from surgery I had 5 alien tubes attached to my body. 4 of these tubes were attached to drains which collected all that yucky fluid my body was producing as I was healing from my wounds. Think about the last time you skinned your knee or cut your finger. Your body produces fluid which acts to heal these wounds. With an operation like mine, the body produces so much of this fluid that it needs a way to get rid of it (otherwise it will build up inside with no way to get out). The drains basically provide a way for this fluid to extract itself out of my body, all collecting into a tube which my wonderful nurses have the fun job of emptying twice a day then measuring the amount of liquid I produced. Two of these tubes were removed the day I left Serenity. The other 2 remained inside me until yesterday, as the fluid finally hit below the total amount my body could get rid of by itself. Although not necessarily painful, I was always aware of these drains. I was very careful not to accidentally pull one, and the stitches that were holding them inside me itched like crazy. After a double dose of Norcos, I went to my Plastic Surgeon who told me to take a deep breath and then proceeded to pull out around 6 inches of tube that was somehow peacefully living inside my body. Thank goodness I didn't witness this, although I think it was all very fascinating to Jon who said it was like a noodle being pulled out of my body. (Apologies to those who are queasy just reading this!)

Now onto that 5th alien tube I woke up with. This is one I am not proud of, but one I have to say was the most horrible tube (yes, worse than the 6-inch noodles on each side of my body)! This specific tube was probably one of the very first things I felt when I woke up from surgery. Not pain in my breasts, not nausea from anesthesia, but this very odd and painful feeling "down there". Funny enough this was the very first thing I said to Jon. I boldly croaked the name of that body part to him, of which I recall him looking at me with a puzzling stare, then I heard him ask the nurse if they had done something to me "down there" (obviously the very opposite end of the body they should have been working on). He chuckled then told me that I had a catheter inside me. YUCK! The catheter remained inside me for the first 24 hours as the Doctors didn't want me getting up and down to use the bathroom. I hated it. I know that's a strong word, and believe me, I know it had it's purpose. But I did not want to move one inch of my body with that thing inside me. It was so uncomfortable and painful. I was scared to death every time the nurses tried to rearrange my body in the bed or move the comforter and sheets around me. I didn't want anyone touching that tube, as any slight movement caused a serious discomfort that was incredibly unpleasant for me.

Let's move off the horror stories. I'm now officially "tube free". I have no alien tubes protruding out of my body, and I'm beginning to feel more normal each and every day. I'm still very tired, I'm sure simply writing this blog post will result in a 2-hour nap, but that's all to be expected as every ounce of my energy is going towards healing my wounds. 

With the pathology report back, we're now waiting on the Oncotype test. It sounds like this will only confirm a few things, as most of the Doctors at this point are saying that I will need Chemotherapy based on the aggressiveness of my tumor and the fact that there's a chance some of the cancer cells went into my blood stream. But I'm 99% sure I will not need radiation. I have a required appointment with a Radiation Oncologist to hear him say this, but I am very hopeful as I really don't want it. Also, I have found peace assuming I will get the diagnosis that I will need Chemotherapy. As always with my personality, I just wish I would have that definitive answer immediately so I can start the process of getting my hair cut a little shorter (so loosing it won't be as noticeable) and dragging my girlfriends along for some wig shopping. Believe me, I plan to rock some new shades, styles and cuts as I've always wanted to play "dress up" with my hair!

The last bit of news I will share is that we're still paying very careful attention to my nipples and the skin around it. Apparently my anatomy had very short muscles under my breasts, which required a lot more stitching than anticipated. (By the way, I did ask my Doctor if I had done a few more planks and pull-ups, would I have helped to build that muscle?, of which she laughed and said "no" - it was just part of the way I was made up!). The blood is having a hard time reaching all of that skin, so we're keeping a watchful eye on them to make sure the blood makes its way to this skin and it won't die. If my Plastic Surgeon had all the time in the world, I'm sure she'd give it a few more weeks. The problem is that if I need Chemotherapy, I will need to start it 4-6 weeks after surgery. And if my skin isn't going to make it, they're going to need to perform a second surgery to remove the dead skin and try to find a way to replace it (whether this means I get to pick some thigh fat for removal is to be determined!). But with a new surgery, the clock starts over and I need to wait that 4-6 weeks for Chemotherapy. So it's all a crazy maze of "what-ifs", and I'm trying to just take it all in and patiently wait as there's nothing else I can really do.

Until the next post, know I'm happily being cared for by my big sis who has replaced my mother from her first week of nurse duty. My sister is proving an excellent nurse, I jokingly call her the "pill nazi" as she is more on top of my pill schedule than I would be! And on top of it she's giving me some nice facials, and believe me, my face needs some tender loving care right now - it's a frightening thing to look at, thank goodness mirrors are no where near me.

Big hugs again to all of you who have sent your love. I'm doing well, and am in good hands.