Oct 24, 2014
All my nurses figured with all my visitors and for how perked up I got, that I'd crash after everyone left the hospital. I've found that in general the nurses are right. Just not this time.
With everyone gone I was left to the quiet of my own thoughts. You'd think with all that I'd been through in the last 15 hours - my 1st surgery, 1st general anaesthetic, and losing both my breasts - that this would be when everything would catch up.
Surprisingly, it was not. In weeks past, I had certainly pondered, dreaded even - this time alone after surgery. But it gave me time to process my day. To feel thankful for all that I had, as opposed to didn't have.
I couldn't sleep. Some of that was anxiety - which in hindsight I think was due to pain and stress on my body as I had yet to take any pain killers aside from what they gave me post op in recovery. Part of it was maybe all the sleep I had gotten during the day while waking up from general anaesthetic.
In total I think I slept 2 hours that night. The last I looked at the clock was 3:40am. Then woke at 4:15am. Finally got up at 5:15am as my mind would not settle down.
But I think it was a good thing. I kept looking down at my bandaged chest and tenderly touching the spot where my breasts once were. It almost felt surreal. I can honestly say though it didn't bother me...I was just trying to get acquainted with my new (if temporary) body.
After having 2 c-sections I never took the time to love (or accept) my new body. My focus was only on getting it back to the same state as it was pre-kids.
Ha.
Ha ha ha ha.
But this whole experience has taught me a new love for my body I've never had before. It has endured everything we've thrown at it so far to beat the canser. That is pretty amazing to me. Respect for my body has grown with each week, each treatment, each challenge. Surgery taught me to love all my parts cause you never know when you might lose them.
I was content.
Chemo was done. Surgery was done (and I survived!). I was feeling so loved from all the support in my life.
And the canser - if there was any left - was gone for good. In all my worrying about losing my breasts, I lost sight of the main reason they were gone.
When I heard from Phil and my mom the next morning that they were on their way to the hospital, I was so happy. I was going home.
Once they got there, my nurse went through all the care instructions for my drains. Yes, drains....my mom took a pic that isn't too graphic if you are curious:
I had tubes coming out the side of me, below my "scars" as you can see in the picture, that ended in a little pouch that caught all the extra fluid that needed to drain after surgery. At first it was mostly blood then changed into a orange colour then yellow straw colour liquid. It wasn't too bad actually. Phil was right in there learning how to measure the liquid and empty them, as well as make sure to disinfect the spout part.
Ok, that didn't seem too bad or complicated. And most importantly he didn't seem to be grossed out by them or anything. He was a man on a mission, changing them and cleaning the tops as the nurse watched. He really is a great nurse lol
Oh and I think in all the excitement I forgot to add that I only had 2 drains - as opposed to 3...yes, the sentinel node biopsy was NEGATIVE!! Meaning no canser in lymph nodes, so I didn't have to have the more invasive 15-30 node removal!! (surgeon had told me if I woke up with 3 drains it meant the biopsy showed canser and he'd have to remove the big clump of lymph nodes originally planned). Maybe that's why the drains didn't bother me so much - I was just so bloody glad there were only 2 of the suckers.
Anyways, after the instructions (how to shower, clean, dry area etc) my nurse asked if I wanted the bandages changed.
"Well, it's my 1st mastectomy so honestly whatever you think".
She decided to change the bandages. I looked at Phil and my mom - perhaps with apprehension showing in my eyes...
"Are you guys ready to see? It's ok if no. Just don't look or go out of the room. I understand if you aren't ready yet - it doesn't bother me if not."
"No, we're good".
Oh. Was I?
Suddenly I was nervous.
Phil must have read my face. He kindly said "If you're not ready yet, just don't look or close your eyes."
Tempting.
But if I was going to get acquainted with my new body, that meant the naked part too. No time like the present right?
So I took a deep breath, and watched as my nurse gently removed the bandages for the first time.
I caught my first glimpse, but before deciding how I felt about how it looked, stole a glance at my Mom and Phil to see their reaction.
No appalled looks. No pity. They didn't seem to think I looked like a monster. Or freak. So far so good.
I looked down again and tried to evaluate what I saw. Not so bad I guess. The scars on my chest ran from my cleavage to just past my arm, about a hands length down from my armpit. They had tape on them (to help the skin heal as the stitches were on the inside and dissolving) and there was a little dry blood (from surgery I suppose).
"Wow the surgeon did a good job. Clean lines".
Huh, well that's good I guess. She's more of an expert than I am.
Then the nurse gently put the new bandages on. She had tears in her eyes as I talked about Ethan and Emmy. And then we said our goodbyes. Hugs all around. I was practically bouncing as we left...that could be cause I finally decided to take a Percocet (pain reliever), and man what a difference!! My anxiety was instantly gone once it kicked in...so I was probably in more pain than I realised. Ooops. I wouldn't make that mistake twice.
Maybe it was the drugs, but I must have been glowing cause the nurses didn't make me leave in a wheelchair (maybe they thought I still needed to burn off some energy lol). We walked all the way to the van. I was so happy to be leaving, and couldn't wait to see the kids.
I was one day past surgery, and one step closer to healing.
All my nurses figured with all my visitors and for how perked up I got, that I'd crash after everyone left the hospital. I've found that in general the nurses are right. Just not this time.
With everyone gone I was left to the quiet of my own thoughts. You'd think with all that I'd been through in the last 15 hours - my 1st surgery, 1st general anaesthetic, and losing both my breasts - that this would be when everything would catch up.
Surprisingly, it was not. In weeks past, I had certainly pondered, dreaded even - this time alone after surgery. But it gave me time to process my day. To feel thankful for all that I had, as opposed to didn't have.
I couldn't sleep. Some of that was anxiety - which in hindsight I think was due to pain and stress on my body as I had yet to take any pain killers aside from what they gave me post op in recovery. Part of it was maybe all the sleep I had gotten during the day while waking up from general anaesthetic.
In total I think I slept 2 hours that night. The last I looked at the clock was 3:40am. Then woke at 4:15am. Finally got up at 5:15am as my mind would not settle down.
But I think it was a good thing. I kept looking down at my bandaged chest and tenderly touching the spot where my breasts once were. It almost felt surreal. I can honestly say though it didn't bother me...I was just trying to get acquainted with my new (if temporary) body.
After having 2 c-sections I never took the time to love (or accept) my new body. My focus was only on getting it back to the same state as it was pre-kids.
Ha.
Ha ha ha ha.
But this whole experience has taught me a new love for my body I've never had before. It has endured everything we've thrown at it so far to beat the canser. That is pretty amazing to me. Respect for my body has grown with each week, each treatment, each challenge. Surgery taught me to love all my parts cause you never know when you might lose them.
I was content.
Chemo was done. Surgery was done (and I survived!). I was feeling so loved from all the support in my life.
And the canser - if there was any left - was gone for good. In all my worrying about losing my breasts, I lost sight of the main reason they were gone.
When I heard from Phil and my mom the next morning that they were on their way to the hospital, I was so happy. I was going home.
Once they got there, my nurse went through all the care instructions for my drains. Yes, drains....my mom took a pic that isn't too graphic if you are curious:
Ok, that didn't seem too bad or complicated. And most importantly he didn't seem to be grossed out by them or anything. He was a man on a mission, changing them and cleaning the tops as the nurse watched. He really is a great nurse lol
Oh and I think in all the excitement I forgot to add that I only had 2 drains - as opposed to 3...yes, the sentinel node biopsy was NEGATIVE!! Meaning no canser in lymph nodes, so I didn't have to have the more invasive 15-30 node removal!! (surgeon had told me if I woke up with 3 drains it meant the biopsy showed canser and he'd have to remove the big clump of lymph nodes originally planned). Maybe that's why the drains didn't bother me so much - I was just so bloody glad there were only 2 of the suckers.
Anyways, after the instructions (how to shower, clean, dry area etc) my nurse asked if I wanted the bandages changed.
"Well, it's my 1st mastectomy so honestly whatever you think".
She decided to change the bandages. I looked at Phil and my mom - perhaps with apprehension showing in my eyes...
"Are you guys ready to see? It's ok if no. Just don't look or go out of the room. I understand if you aren't ready yet - it doesn't bother me if not."
"No, we're good".
Oh. Was I?
Suddenly I was nervous.
Phil must have read my face. He kindly said "If you're not ready yet, just don't look or close your eyes."
Tempting.
But if I was going to get acquainted with my new body, that meant the naked part too. No time like the present right?
So I took a deep breath, and watched as my nurse gently removed the bandages for the first time.
I caught my first glimpse, but before deciding how I felt about how it looked, stole a glance at my Mom and Phil to see their reaction.
No appalled looks. No pity. They didn't seem to think I looked like a monster. Or freak. So far so good.
I looked down again and tried to evaluate what I saw. Not so bad I guess. The scars on my chest ran from my cleavage to just past my arm, about a hands length down from my armpit. They had tape on them (to help the skin heal as the stitches were on the inside and dissolving) and there was a little dry blood (from surgery I suppose).
"Wow the surgeon did a good job. Clean lines".
Huh, well that's good I guess. She's more of an expert than I am.
Then the nurse gently put the new bandages on. She had tears in her eyes as I talked about Ethan and Emmy. And then we said our goodbyes. Hugs all around. I was practically bouncing as we left...that could be cause I finally decided to take a Percocet (pain reliever), and man what a difference!! My anxiety was instantly gone once it kicked in...so I was probably in more pain than I realised. Ooops. I wouldn't make that mistake twice.
Maybe it was the drugs, but I must have been glowing cause the nurses didn't make me leave in a wheelchair (maybe they thought I still needed to burn off some energy lol). We walked all the way to the van. I was so happy to be leaving, and couldn't wait to see the kids.
I was one day past surgery, and one step closer to healing.
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