Chapter 24.
Are we there Yet?
I didn’t get much sleep last night. My mind was just running wild with way too many “what if’s”… What will it be like? Will I be in pain? Or more to the point, how much pain will I be in? Will I have enough stomach to make a boob? How will I cope?... We arrived at the Mater Hospital reception to be greeted by the lovely “check in chick”. I was asked for my name, I couldn’t speak. My eyes instantly started welling up and words failed to come out. My brain was working on the inside but it refused to spit out my name. I looked to Greg in the hope that he would speak for me, no such luck. He just stood there looking at me with these sad eyes. I could tell he felt helpless, he couldn’t do this for me. I needed to pull myself together and speak. I needed to speak for me… I needed to be in some sort of control… How could I welcome my new boob if I wasn’t in control. Finally I got myself together and got through the check in process. It seemed like a long wait to be called though I’m sure it really wasn’t… It felt like an eternity. All the bad memories of the day I had my mastectomy came flooding back. We were in the same waiting lounge. I was still very teary. I didn’t want to be but I just couldn’t help it. The “good drugs Dr” Dr. Andrew, came in and introduced himself. This was the first time I had met him and he seemed very nice. Very aware that I didn’t want to know what was about to happen to me and that I didn’t want to be awake at any stage through the surgery. I needed to know that he would keep me alive yet as close to dead as possible at the same time. Ha! Go figure!! After a big cuddle and a kiss from Greg they wheeled me away into the depths of the surgical department. Down the long corridor into what they call the “holding pen” where I was to await the arrival of Dr. Anthony. Fifteen minutes went by and in he strolled looking as cool as a cucumber. His presence seemed to have a calming effect on me, I knew I was in good hands. After all, he is the master. The guru of Tram flapery! Dr Anthony pulled out his trusty “texters” and got me to stand up. There I was in my sexy paper bloomers and super sexy hospital gown complete with white surgical stockings looking like a million something or others… (not dollars let me tell you, but some indescribable currency!). I wasn’t looking or feeling glamorous by any means. Out of the doctors big bag of tricks came a pocket size camera. Ohh!!! The thoughts that where swilling round in that brain of mine… The photographic session begins. He started tugging and pulling… and mumbling... there’s not enough, yeah there is, ahhhh maybe. With that he made like Mr. Squiggle and started drawing on me. I was laughing by this stage, partly with embarrassment and nerves and partly because it really was quite humorous to see all the markings and reference points on both my fat guts and my stump. One of the lines went straight through one of my tattoo’s. It was the blue bird and white rose that I had tattooed on my stomach in honour of my Mum. Being adopted She had always told me that I was brought to her and dad by a blue bird and lovingly placed under a beautiful white rose bush. For years I actually believed this was true. Ahhhh! I was young and dumb, what can I say? Besides, Mum’s story has a wonderful magical air about it that made you feel more special than all the other kids. Wait, there’s more… My brother was placed under a cabbage by the good ol’ stork.
Let the healing begin.
After my surgery I spent the first night and day in the surgical ICU drifting in and out of a morphine induced drug haze. The pain really wasn’t that bad. Actually, there wasn’t pain at all, just an uncomfortable feeling. Probably because I had “my little friend” attached to my wrist. A little hand held devise with a rather large button on it, and a green light… when the light comes on drugs are available!!! Pressing the button then delivers a little slice of heaven. Any twinge of pain (or just coz the light is on!) I just press the button and 1mg of morphine is released into my veins… every five minutes... gotta love that!
Finally I was allowed to go to what looks like a hotel room. The staff had me on my feet, sponge bathed and looking a lot more human than I felt. With the help of some heavenly vanilla scented body butter body wash I also smelt good enough to eat. Well so Dr. Anthony said... With the attentiveness and attention to detail of the nursing staff checking capillary refill etc. in new boob I didn’t really sleep properly for several days. Sleep depravation is a killer... Not only does it hinder your recovery but it turns you into a snappy old woman that’s missing out. My night nursing staff felt the need to wake me up every hour injecting me and feeling up my boob. I know she was only doing her job but by the end I just wanted to wring her scrawny little neck and turn the needle back on her and stab her with it. Repeatedly!! Hmmm, probably a little harsh… If I could just get her phone number so I could ring her every hour on the hour through the day, her night... just so she knows what it’s like. I do have to say though, all the staff at the Mater where absolutely wonderful and they’d stop by and listened to me prattle on about absolutely nothing. My physio team have had me cracking laps around the ward and climbing stairs to get me back to full mobility. The hardest part so far I think is the back pain. This has absolutely nothing to do with the actual surgery, it’s all muscular. Just remember my body has been twisted and out of balance for a little over a year now and my muscles are just not what they used to be. Thankfully heat packs and panadol are my new friends. The morphine was taken from me (perhaps a good thing as I did find myself pushing that button just because I could, and I didn’t want to see it go to waste!). Day five and the unveiling begins. I am so excited... As the bandages are peeled away I am left with this shiny new boob and an amazingly flat stomach. My compression garment wasn’t put on straight away, they gave me time to admire touch and cry over my new intact complete body. I even got the nurses to take photo’s of my newest asset. And what an asset it is! I have cleavage! I am still a tiny bit hollow in the upper chest area just like Dr. Anthony had said I might be, but it’s so minor… and did I mention… I have cleavage!!! Its official, I am pretty sure I’ve shown everyone that’s come into my room my new girls. Even the old one seems to have a new lease of life. With my portacath being taken out she’s sitting back where she belongs or maybe it’s because she now has a perfect partner to tease the world with. To top things off, my shoulders now sit back where they belong and I’m not all withered and hunched over… Perfect posture again you might say.
Home stretch.
With Dr. Anthony leaving to go on a well earned vacation, he has entrusted me to the capable hands of Dr. Sue. She was taught by Dr. Anthony to do this wonderful work so I’m not unhappy at all, and have no abandonment issues what so ever. She is looking after me so well… I guess she has to really… Can you imagine the Roth that would ensue if something did go wrong? Dr. Sue is extremely happy with the results and has said that I can go home if I’m comfortable in doing so. Seriously… who would want to stay in hospital, eating hospital food three times a day, being waited on hand and foot… The Bar is a little dry though! Oooohhh, and let’s not forget the constant needle jabs, the seemingly endless replacement of canulars because your veins just can’t handle the amount of antibiotics being pumped through (thanks to the cell damage from all the chemo). When it took three attempts to get another canular in I pulled the pin! I just couldn’t do it again... My limit had been reached and caused a mini, teary meltdown of sorts. I’ll be glad to go home, I’m ready to be at home. I am pleasently surprised at how good my mobility is… I was very worried that I wouldn’t be able to get around the boat, however it’s all good. It might take a while to get back to sleeping in my bed though, I’ve tried a few times but just found it uncomfortable. Everything pulling in all the wrong ways… So It’s couch time for me. Greg bought some steps for me to get in and out of the boat prior to my release and they are great. The steps just make the whole getting in and out thing a breeze.
Emotional Rebuilding.
It has been a little over a week since the rebuild and I continue to be amazed at the healing power of the human body. I am been able to go for long walks without much problem. I do still have to wear a compression garment (they call it a binder and I can see why!) for the next six weeks… It’s so tight. I guess it’s meant to be but sheesh!.. my poor old Lymph system has enough trouble moving stuff around without that pressure! It’s an all in one garment with a line of hooks and eyes down one side, and over that is a very strong zipper. The design is not only meant to hold my stomach and boob in place, which it definitely does, it also ensures that sudden strains and stresses are not going to damage any of the wounds. Beneath this garment all the incisions are taped to help keep the scaring as flat and invisible as possible… This is a good thing! I like where everything is… it looks great. I’m still in shock at how perfect everything is. I know in the past I have said I wouldn’t bother getting a nipple… well, I’ve changed my mind. How could I not complete this perfect little creation after Dr. Anthony took all this time to create it. I am now once again excited with life and everything around me. Who would have thought that it was all as simple as moving a bit of fat and muscle! A bit of fat and skin literally sewn to my chest wall and I am back, I feel so confident, and for the first time in a very long time I like what I see when I look in the mirror. I am wearing tops that show my cleavage (I plan on ditching any that don’t!), and window shopping for clothes is now enjoyable again. Very enjoyable, but I notice the fashions now seem to have a higher neckline…What The????
It’s now 2 weeks after surgery and I’m feeling so wonderful. I am getting around much better than I was even before the reconstruction. The power of the mind is wonderful thing.
This is the first time since December 2009 that I have really not felt like a cancer patient.
I can’t help but wonder how other cancer patients feel when the very last treatment, and all things that keep reminding you that you once were a cancer patient are finally gone???
My new boob looks absolutely sensational thanks to my perfectionist plastic surgeon.
My hair has grown back to what is an acceptable, "normal" looking length ...even if it’s a little frizzy at the moment, and there re no curls like I was promised.
My nails are looking better by the day and my eye lashes and eye brows have come together rather nicely with the help of a little war paint.
My weight is more acceptable thanks to the Tram Flap and walking will help me with the rest.
My port is out and I can hardly see where it has been hiding all this time.
I am… and I feel normal, and I am at my motivated best again
I have now returned to the real world…what I think is a cancer free world... I feel I’m undoubtedly a better person for the experience, and I definitely have a whole new outlook on life, and a new sense of what really matters.
Thank you to everyone who’s been on this journey with me, without all your Love, wisdom and encouragement this experience would certainly have been much, much harder.