Chapter 9
Teaching an old dog new tricks.
As the days turn into weeks I am still amazed at how twisted my body has become. I just wouldn’t have thought 1kg would make such a difference. I have found muscles that I never thought existed and I’m tired of sitting around “relaxing”… You can’t relax when you ache and I’m not a fan of popping panadol unless its absolutely necessary. Going out all day is so tiring that by the end of the day I’m all hunched up like a little old lady complete with a grey very short haircut. I’m sure with time this will become better but I just wish it would hurry up! I really hate the exercise routine I have to do too! It consists of a bunch of simple stretching and pulling movements that make me feel like I’m incapable of doing the simplest things. I know its necessary and you can’t rush these things but I Just want to get past this part… I get little nipple twinges like I need to scratch my boob, but there is one problem with that, there is no boob to scratch! Wow this really does reinforce how powerful the mind is… Lol, I have a phantom boob… How cool… Shame I cant fill a bra with it or go topless! Somehow I don’t think I’d get the same reaction as when there were two.
We ventured out to do a little bra shopping, I wanted to look normal in my granny shirts. You know, at the very least 2 boobs side by side, not 1 up and 1 down. I wanted an even look to my twisted body so I selected 2 styles, 1 had clasps both front and back (Let’s call it my “training bra”… Something that I could get on by myself… “a little bit of independence”). Because the movement in my arm and hand is somewhat restricted at the moment I need to learn the art of doing buttons and clasps up all over again. So there you have it, history has been made... Never before have I purchased a bra without its matching bottom. I came away from this experience a little saddened. No wait... a lot saddened, boardering on depressed. This was the end of an era (at least for now). I know its early days but I can’t help wondering will I ever feel sexy or normal again. Greg has been great, he reinforces how beautiful and sexy I am with my “silver fox buzz cut” and still sporting the one boob that wasn’t going to kill me. The poor bugger, love truly is blind. Speaking of sexy, I forgot to mention how sexy my surgeon is in his scrubs! As I was wheeled up to the slab, I saw him sitting, arms and legs crossed on a stool. You know, “Grey’s Anatomy” style and I thought to myself… corrrrrrrrrrr what a hotty… But all I could say was “smile” in a high pitched voice. This was a short lived destraction from the fact that the sheet on the slab had a small hole in it! I was a little stunned at this, after all I was in a private hospital. I’m not sure if I was stunned because there was a hole in the sheet, or the fact that there was a sheet at all. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to notice the hole and hey, they were trying to make this experience as pleasant as possible. This is why I was given a hot surgeon, he was a diversion… Again, funny how the mind works when its under stress. Greg couldn’t see what I was seeing, all he said was that he’d seen Dr. Chris in the hall and he seemed to have a small head when dressed in his suit. Now, I’m normally a suit man myself and all I can say is that stress can make you see things with very bright rose coloured glasses.
Manning up.
I only have 2 positions for sleeping, unfortunately the side I can lean on is not the side I prefer to sleep on. What a learning curve! (Both mental and physical.)
I managed to get an appointment with Dr. Geoff early as there had been a cancellation. If I didn’t take this one I would have to wait till mid june and I want to get stuck into the next phase of my treatment. The sooner I start the sooner I finish and get my life back to normal. Let the fun begin! Lets finish whipping it’s arse! Pacman get ready, man up, reload, and man your stations… Again!!!!
Dr. Geoff was lovely as usual and full of apologies for what he will be drugging me up with. We had the usual taped consultation, just so we don’t miss anything I guess, side effects being the main thing. I told him I was all his again, do with me what you will. After explaining all the possible nasty side effects of Carboplatin, Taxotare and Herceptin he was silent. Mind you, some of these side effects are hideous, but I breezed through the last lot so I can’t see these being any different. I guess at this point its when the patient has loads of questions and is still in disbelief. We didn’t have many, we’ve been there done that. The only question I had was when do we start. I want to get the show on the road ASAP and kick its ugly little ass once and for all. I want my life back to normal, I want to get back to work. Taxotare and carboplatin will be given every three weeks via my portacath for 6 treatments while Herceptin is a 12 month coarse injected every 3 weeks, more of a social visit he said as it is not a Chemotherapy drug as such, but a targeted antibody. Apparently he may see cancers like mine (inoperable and very aggressive) only once in about 2 years, thus the chemo first to shrink the tumour… See I always said I was special! “Bring it on baby” I said! Dr. Geoff smiled and with a pleasing nod, all the government paper work was filled out for Herceptin and kidney and heart monitoring scans booked. This drug is tightly controlled by the government, only given post surgery, and when HER2 positive receptors are present on the tumour. I meet this strict criteria… Special again! The government now owns me! How exciting, could this mean they can call on me at any time for an assignment? My treatment will start next week. Wednesday in fact. Greg will be away for this so Sheryl will be coming to stay with me. I am looking forward to more bonding time in person instead of over the phone. Sheryl lives in Mungindi, some 6 hours away. She is one of the few people that know me inside out, one of the few that know exactly how I feel, one of the few that have seen me sook. We can be totally honest in anything we say and know our friendship is safe. Even though Greg is not happy about being away he also knows I am in capable hands, someone who has the power to make me do as I am told, keep an eye on my temperature (something I hate doing), feeding me healthy food, and making me do my hideous exercises.
The Triangle and the Pouch
Don’t you just love it when the penny drops, you know when you finally work out something that was so in your face that if it had teeth it would take a huge big chunk out of it! Well it happened… Not the chunk out of my face but the moment that I realized what to do with these new found bras of mine. For a week now I have been just sliding this really strange triangular peace of pillow which in no way shape or form even resembles a boob or padding for that matter into the cup of my bra. (it’s no wonder some have trouble in grasping the concept of what looks real and what doesn’t). Ok maybe I’m being just a tad harsh, and I know this is just temporary until I can get something life like and weighted, but, I always looked lopsided, one was always either higher or fatter or just plain wrong. I now see the reason you buy mastectomy bras is because they have inbuilt pouches for you to slide your prosthesis (me falsey) in so they sit firmly and don’t fall out or move around. They now sit flatter and look even… unless of course I am being, dare I say it, a typical woman who doesn’t instantly know her left from her right, I got somewhat confused one day in the commotion and concentration of getting dressed (my excuse, more on this later). As I put my bra on I realised I had stuffed this oversized triangular pillow of mine in it’s little pocket but it was never going to fit properly, the shape was all wrong, surprise! I reefed it out with distain and of course, the knowledge that I was right, it was odd! With a quick refresher in “how to stitch a pillow to make a boob”, I formed my own semi O.K. shape. Come on girls your can’t tell me when you where young, (and I mean really young) objects like the odd sock or two didn’t somehow find their way down your T shirt to resemble boobs when no one was looking. Ugh… no wonder we’re all confused and men are deluded in what body shape we should have. Anyway, I stuffed this newly created form into the little pouch. Hey presto, a triangle in a pouch. Or should I say breast form. Being so pleased with myself I dangled my new creation in front of Greg who was sitting on the couch. He looked at it as though I had done something wrong, tilted his head and smiled ever so sweetly and said “Oh honey, didn’t you know that was what the pouches where for?, I thought you knew that”. With that I snatched my creation back and huffed my two steps (our yacht is just not that big) back to the bedroom. How could a man know this and I didn’t? Had he been secretly playing with them after I went to bed? Was this truly “a seniors moment” or just a leftover “drug haze”. What came next made things worse. When I put it on I found I had every man’s dream on one side and the total opposite on the other, a flat chest… Oooops! I had stuffed the wrong cup! After I got it right I was completely astounded at the difference it made, I was almost completely even with no danger of slippage. This made me feel so good. Although until now, to the outside world I looked O.K. , well acceptable My confidence had taken a battering of late and it was now back, so much so that after I was fully dressed I strutted my stuff in public without my scarf or wig. Look at me world! And It felt good, really good, normal, something that had been missing for some time, something that I just couldn’t put my finger on till now. Although I already thought I had, could this mean that finally, I have truly accepted the card I was delt? What an epiphany this was for me.