Mastectomy Hangover, Part I

Well, it's done. The boobs are gone. I won't lie. The whole recovery thing hurt like hell for the first few days. I have waited this whole time for the worst part and have recently decided that the worst part is the summation of a lot of little crappy parts. For example, immediately upon awakening from surgery, I had oxygen tubes up my nose and I was crazy, crazy thirsty and all I got was ice chips. Then I finally got to a hospital room where I could get some icy water only there were a million tubes connected to me. There was an iv for antibiotic and pain meds. There were the drainage tubes collecting what looked like thin spaghetti sauce from my boob area and there were tubes connected to my legs. They put these tight stockings on my legs and some contraption that gave my calves a massage every five minutes to prevent blood clots. Sounds nice, huh? No, the stockings were awful. I was so hot and those nurses would not remove them. One particular nice nurse almost did late into the night but changed her mind...even after I promised her I would do the "bicycle" or whatever every few minutes to keep my legs going. This was the same nurse that after I asked for a scrunchie and my roomie, Lois, asked for an orange sherbet replied, "What do you think this is... The Holiday Inn?" She turned out to be my favorite because of her awesome sarcasm. Sincerely, she was the first to help me pee. All those tubes made it a MAJOR ordeal to get up and go to the bathroom. So there you go...the worst part was having to really pee and waiting for the nurse army to get you unattached and rolling to the toilet.

I am home now. I still have the drainage tubes leading to little bulbs that collect my boob spaghetti sauce and I have a pain pump that I tote around like a purse, but I don't have that iv or the stockings so I am much improved. It is weird to not have boobs. It is weird and I look spooky in the mirror. I look homeless and pasty. My home health care team (Ken and my parents) have been phenomenal. Ken figured out how to wash my hair without getting the rest of me wet and my mom cleaned and packed lunches and managed food intake. My dad got the kids on and off the bus and fixed my light switch and my vacuum. My friends have pampered me with food and treats and so, so much love.

My chest hurts...feels like muscle spasms. It hurts just enough and the tube situation was so traumatizing. All I can think is please let this be over. No more surgeries, God, please. I will do it if I have to, but I hope I don't. And please, God, no chemo. I am tired of the medication already. I have no appetite and don't feel myself. I feel like I was okay and cancer broke me. I don't know the answer to these questions. I have to wait for the path report from the surgery, but my surgeon smiled and I just feel it deep in me that it is over. Soon I will get my new implants and my life will return to normal, God willing. For others though, like my hospital roomie Lois (I'll have to blog about her later), the cancer story continues. I feel a new sense of purpose to bring orange sherbet, sweet ice chips and scrunchies to all... because somebody did it for me.

Thanks to all my community of care. I will remember every single one of you and the love and kindness you have given me and my family. There, indeed, is a special place for compassionate souls in heaven. Get ready. Sarcastic Anna is coming back. I return to the plastic surgeon tomorrow who hopefully will remove these drains and pain purse. Then I can tell you all about the flat-chested life. So far, so good. I am down ten pounds in probably boobs alone.