I Look Like I'm Ten

Immediately after my mastectomy, I wore bandages for at least five days before I looked at my scars.  Drainage tubes hung from my sides.  I moved around the house gingerly so as not to disturb the bothersome tubes.  Draining the tubes and recording the volume of fluid collected  was an interesting task.  I have a warped mind and was strangely fascinated with my disgusting souvenirs from the surgery. 

Eventually, the home health nurse came by the house to change my bandages and look at the scars.  As she removed the bandages, she commented that the scars looked fantastic.  I was surprised.  Then, I looked down at my scars and realized I looked like a ten year old.  This was crazy!  It was almost as if I had traveled back to a time prior to puberty.   Yet, I was grateful that I looked like a ten year old.  Before going into surgery, I had tortured myself by searching for pictures of mastectomy scars online.  Here is a word of advise.  Never search out these pictures.  You will have nightmares.

I Have No Arms

After many weeks of chemotherapy, I had a double mastectomy.  My surgeon was amazing.  He removed my boobs and tumor like a plastic surgeon and stitched me back together like an artist.  My tumor was gone, off to the lab to be dissected and analyzed.

After the surgery, my chest was wrapped in bandages.  I had a drain hanging from each side and I had several bottles of narcotics to take away the pain.  After visiting with the surgeon briefly, I also discovered that I had restrictions on movement and lifting for several weeks.  In essence, I had to act like I had no arms. 

It was going to be a real trick dealing with my young children while on the restrictions.  My oldest was five and my youngest was one.  They both loved to be cuddled and held.  My oldest was very sensitive to the fact that I had cancer and worried about the outcome of my surgery.  My youngest needed me to provide comfort and security as he explored the world on his two feet.  My husband was a great help while I recovered from the surgery.  He helped me snuggle the kids when they needed it the most and I am forever grateful.

Die Tumor Die!

Slowly, I was getting closer to the end of my chemotherapy treatments.  My tumor was shrinking steadily.  We were all very excited.  Periodically, I would talk to my tumor.  Our one sided conversations would go like this:

"So.  You're still here."

"I see that you want to stay.  Well, you don't get to stay."

"You may have taken over my once fabulous boob but let me tell you this buddy.  You're gonna die."

"Oh what?  You don't like that idea?"

"Are you sad?  Good!  Die tumor!  Die!"

For the most part, it did die.  When the doctor did my mastectomy, some of the tumor had survived.  Fortunately, he was able to remove all of it from my breast.  Unfortunately, I also had some lymph nodes that were positive for cancer cells.  A portion of the lymph nodes were removed but I knew more therapy loomed in the future.

Why Is the Room Still Spinning?

When I began taking Adriamycin and Cytoxan, I faithfully followed my schedule of anti-emetics.  One of the pills affected me in a way that still makes me shudder with horror. 

A day or two after chemotherapy, I noticed that I was unsteady on my feet.  I wondered about this new cocktail being given to me but then shrugged off any worry.  The next day, my dizziness worsened.  The room began to tip back and forth.  I could barely get around the house.  Another day passed and the room began to spin.  I tried to stand but it was impossible.  I wondered if throwing up might stop the spinning but could not muster the courage to vomit.

It was summer time and my kids were playing rambunctiously in the living room.  I wanted to spend time with them so I lay on the floor and tried to watch them play.  It was like looking at the deck of a ship as it was angrily tossed about during a hurricane.  I hugged the floor and tried to focus on their fun. 

For four days, I lay on the floor of our living room.  Periodically, I would stagger to the restroom or shower like a drunkard.  Mostly, I slept.  Sometimes I watched the children out of one eye.  My husband is a hero to me.  He took on everything during those four awful days.  Finally, I stumbled to the kitchen to read the dancing description of side effects from each medicine bottle. 

As I read the list of side effects, I came to realize that my dizziness was caused by one of the medications.  How I despise those devil pills!  If I had a sling shot, I would send each capsule flying!

Chemo Comparisons

Chemotherapy, though harsh, has some interesting benefits. 

My first twelve rounds of chemotherapy were of Paclitaxel.  Paclitaxel was not very nice to me in some ways because my hair fell out in large clumps and I had some peripheral neuropathy happening.  However, the antihistamines and anti-emetics given gave me an incredible high that lasted for days. 

My thoughts would run like this:

"I'm here.  I'm cool.  I look like a harpy.  Dude."

"I see you talking to me but processing what you are saying just isn't happening.  I'll fake it."

"Are you upset with me today?  I'm high.  I don't care."

I could go on but we would just be delving into the ridiculous.  To summarize, Paclitaxel was my F-it Pill.

My next eight rounds of chemotherapy were of Adriamycin and Cytoxan.  That combination was very mean and the anti-emetics given were not as fun.  Adriamycin is aptly nicknamed the red devil for so many reasons.  My hands turned a dark, murky red-brown and my nails discolored.  I also spent four days lying on the floor watching the world spin but that is another story.

Organ Donors: Can I Donate My Boobs?

Before I was diagnosed with cancer, I had considered becoming an organ donor and having that designation placed on my driver's license.  Well, I highly doubt anyone wants my organs anymore. 

My sad little organs have endured 20 weeks of chemotherapy along with large doses of antihistamines and anti emetic drugs.  Hopefully, they don't have any stray cancer cells hiding in their tissue.

The charitable side of me still wants to donate a body part, though.  I want to help someone in need.  In fact, the first things I would like to donate are my boobs.

What?!?

Nobody wants my boobs?!?

I can't possibly understand why.

Lake Church

I did twenty weeks of chemotherapy during the spring and summer of this year.  My head was fashionable bald and decorated with feminine accessories.  I still had terrific boobs albeit one was trying to kill me.  With all that in mind, my husband and I decided to take advantage of the terrific weather and spend Sabbaths down at the lake. 

Lake church is terrific.  Depending on our mood, we camp, dive, swim, picnic, hike, walk the dog, or skip rocks on the water's surface.  I absolutely love going to the lake.  It is so peaceful and soothing. 

My husband and I used to have lake church all the time before we had kids.  We still try to go to the lake with the kids but sometimes it can be like trying to corral ants.  However, my New Year's resolution will be to go to the lake as often as I can.