I just realized that seven days ago I was getting everything ready for the big day! It feels like just yesterday!
I mean, have I REALLY been sitting around the house with one boob for a week?! All of Blake’s time off is over?! You have got to be kidding me.
It might be easier to imagine had I been able to accomplish more in my recovery, but not being able to walk around definitely makes it feel like I’ve accomplished even less.
Friday was the first day I didn’t have that post surgery hangover feeling, and I started to really get an appetite. To celebrate, I we got my hair washed and my bangs trimmed! It was the best day!
Yesterday I started defying my caretaker (I like to call him that, I don’t know why. It’s just hilarious to me) and hopped myself to wherever I wanted to go a few times. That was an accomplishment to me, but he sure did fuss. We also brought my mom some food for my sweet Albus and I got to see him. I have missed him so… I wish I could walk just so that I could have him back and be able to take care of him. Screw everything else I could do… I just want to walk my dog!
I hopped today, too (In my defense, things needed to be done and I wanted to do them). I also figured out how to put my hair in some sort of pony-tail. I can lift and hold my arm just high enough to also tilt my head down and put my hair in a normal pony-tail. I even went so far as to announce, “I did it!” I can also almost pull up my skinny jeans all by myself. I can pull up the loose ones all by myself if I hook my
little Huge JP drain to whatever button up I’m wearing. AND I can KIND OF do my own makeup. It’s not as fancy as it was a week ago, but I’ve certainly made progress, considering I’m wearing it at all right now.
Tomorrow I’m sure I’ll make more silly little progressions, and the next day, too. The only problem here is that it is all going to go to hell when I have surgery again this week.
Tomorrow my sister is bringing me to meet with the plastic surgeon in the morning and is will look over everything and get a plan for moving tissue, if needed. Then I will run downstairs to my surgeon’s office and tell him or his nurse that I’m done. Then a date will be set for the next surgery and I’ll start all over.
I am REALLY hoping they take out this drain tomorrow, even though I’m having surgery again this week. I mean, REALLY hoping. The tube has moved a little and seems to be directly in the hollow of my armpit. Right around my sweat glands…
Sorry if that grossed anyone out. But it’s life. It’s cancer… and it’s not all pink ribbons (or gold ones) all the time. It is, more often than not, time off work for caregivers and patients, puke buckets, beeping pumps and an inability to bathe yourself. It is celebrating when you can lift your arm (or put weight on your leg), when you don’t get blood or puke on your favorite jeans (that you are wearing because they make you feel pretty, even if they aren’t convenient, darnit!) and when you finally know your protocol (maybe that’s just me. I might throw a party when I learn it).
Cancer is some weird shit, guys.
At least I’m prepared. And I won’t be bald this time (not that I would mind).