So a week has past…And what a week it has been!
Thank you to all of you who have sent messages, prayers, or wishes of healing out to the universe.
Where to start… let’s turn back the clock to a week ago.
After less than 48 hours, I was released from Cambridge hospital. I don’t remember much of the wheelchair ride except that Joel was an excellent driver (no surprises there). The evening before had been a solid, drug-induced sleep, with the exception of being woken every two hours for drugs and tests. Thank the nursing gods for Jessica, a newly qualified, super eager, wanting to listen and learn nurse, who was in charge of me for the evening.
She was also very trusting because, due to an unfortunate IV placement (4th try because chemo killed my veins), every time I bent my arm the IV alarm went off. Hitting the reset button felt like having the keys to the castle.
I also had a new best friend… petunia the potty… my trusty commode! Trying to be a good patient doing my stretches and drinking my water had side effects, and lingering Covid bathroom protocols were in my way. While I could almost touch the door to the en-suite cheater washroom (I was in a room alone), it was “his” (the unknown guy on the other side) and petunia was for me! Petunia wasn’t the only new addition to my life…
As most of you know, I love a good accessory… my dear friends Pete Mohr (shoetopia.ca) and Amy Wilkin (ronwilkinjewellers.com) would agree…But there is no way the compression stockings are replacing the cute Remonte sandals I have had my eyes on and 4 drains aren’t the same as 4 carats!
Yes, that’s right, drains… having four protruding from your chest wall takes a little getting used too. And yes, they hurt. Weird to think looking down, that’s what would catch you out. Not the lack of curve or the ability to see every bit of the surgeon's remarkable needlework (Gran would be proud). You see, my chest is covered in next level medical cling film (also known as Tegaderm), which is clear and remains untouched until I see the surgeon tomorrow. It also brings emotional complications… like, is that bruising? Is the skin dying? Should it look like that? For God's sake, don’t Google!!!!!
Life day to day is strange. A little like you’re having an out of body experience. I am blessed to have been gifted a power recliner to use. And as I look longingly at the empty “my side of the bed”, I have been quickly replaced by a dog and a cat. I yearn to lay on my side, and the slow recline and lift is a painful reminder of my current limitations.
It’s sort of weird; having me home right now is like having a new born baby. It takes a team of people. Most notedly Joel, mom and Iz… and the days are filled celebrating the most simple things! “You sat up by yourself- yey!” “You drank all of your water- yey” “You pooped-yey” Everything is measured with military precision- like drugs, and twice a day, the contents of my drains. We really are taking that “in sickness and in health” very seriously.
You know, you think you are well prepared going into these things, and "bye bye bad boobs", I was all in. What I wasn’t all in on was, NO COFFEE. Yes, that’s right. No coffee. No tea. No decaf. No chocolate.
All in support of healthy blood flow and healing. My goodness, people… someone’s going to get hurt real bad! Frank (my coffee maker for those who haven't met him) sits quietly and patiently in the corner of the kitchen longing to make me a latte!
I’ve been reduced to a Venti honey citrus mint tea (made with lemonade) from Starbucks… (thank you Sally Litchfield) and coconut refreshers - don’t worry folks, as I watch the sugar on the Starbucks app, I’m not over doing it, I promise.
Small wins in a big world, I suppose… but bring on fresh-ground, morning beans!!!
Many of you ask- how am I doing? It’s a small question with a complex answer.
Surgery was successful- check.
Tumour was removed- check.
Two boobs gone- check.
Lymph on right removed- check.
Some reconstruction started- check.
But as I write this from an Adirondack chair I won’t be able to get out of, waiting for the next drug alarm, enjoying a garden I can’t weed or water, watching a child play in the hot tub that I can’t join and can’t put to bed, I look forward to healing, and fast.
So do me a favour as you read this, choose something for you on the coming days. Have the fancy coffee. Spend time in your garden. Hug that person hard, knowing that soon, I'll be joining you doing that again too!
Drains for your viewing pleasure.
***Sorry, for squeamish friends I went all black and white to try and minimize the yuckiness, while still being real about this whole thing***
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