This morning I’m watching the first snowfall from our dining room window. It’s not amounting to much, which is good because I have some appointments this afternoon, but it still gets me in the mood. I love the change of seasons, whatever time of year it is. I feel really close to normal today. I just cleaned the house before the woman who comes to clean arrives. Ya know? Never having had a cleaning person in my house, it’s something to get used to. It’s the first Thursday that I’ll be home when she gets here, and not on my way to get a neulasta shot, or some other treatment…in 8 weeks. It’s funny to tell the kids to clean their rooms on cleaning lady weeks. If she cannot find the floor to vacuum, there’s a problem. This cleaning lady is and angel sent by an angel.
I went to work a couple of days this week, but truthfully I am getting more work done from home than from work because much of my time is spent entertaining loving hugs, questions, and visitors when I am at work. (Not that I mind this one bit…) I’m working about 20 hours this week, and feel good about this.
A friend left a message for me at 3 pm yesterday that went something like this: “I ‘m sorry I didn’t reach you, I wanted to wish you a Happy Day 15! Hopefully you’re napping and NOT working…” I was so happy to call her back first to thank her for the Day 15 wish, and to say that I was neither napping nor working. I was with A and some friends at the Eastern Maine Soccer finals. I actually felt like I was playing hookie from work for the first time! We left the game and I was reminded that the sports recognition night at the high school was at 6pm. We had no time to get home and back to school. Alas. I went to bed at 8:30, as soon as I could say hi to B and E, stare at the beautiful fire in the fireplace for a minute and pet the katz. Boy didn’t the felines have a lot to say. I think I left the house at 9:30 am…ooops.
Thank you all for continuing to read this and for sending all the love and hope that keeps us buoyant. Some of you have asked about the surgery, which tells me that I/we did not exactly include specifics. I’m getting a mastectomy without reconstruction. Both B and I thought that waiting to see if I want reconstruction after living without it for a while, was the best thing to do for many reasons. The first reason is just that, I don’t know if I’ll want reconstruction. Another is that I am thinking that removal of one breast is enough for now. I don’ t know if I want a foreign object to deal with too. I am told by some women who went this route that they are glad they did. They felt ready to make decisions about whether or not to do reconstruction, and what type of reconstruction, after they were 6-12 months out, a bit clearer headed, and less emotional about the whole ordeal. I have been told by several who had reconstruction at the same time as the mastectomy that they wish they waited. That was enough for me to feel good about the choice.
I think I may have said this before, “never have my breasts caused such a sensation”. I have been struck by the willingness of women to talk openly about their bodies. I mean all women, not just those who have dealt with cancer. I am also struck by the men who are interested to get in the conversation too. Not as many men have asked about the nitty gritty, my brothers maybe, but not many others. It’s got to be an interesting thing to contend with. I don’t want to get started on the breasts and society thing. But truthfully, I have found myself wondering how much do we share? Who cares what goes on underneath my shirt? Here I am, essentially in a public forum, sharing my thoughts, decisions and feelings about my own breasts. It’s not all about that in my opinion. This is about my health. People keep on reading. I love that. I appreciate the people who are asking “so what exactly are you having done in surgery?” If you want to know, just ask. Obviously we are interested in getting the word out, and helping someone who may come across this blog some day. I have to say, the idea of people thinking about my breasts makes me smile. It’s about time!
I asked the surgeon to draw a picture to show us what exactly gets done during a mastectomy. She did so in a way that gave us a good image of the process. I never thought about the fact that mastectomy crosses no other barriers, if you will. The tissue is scooped away from the skin, and the muscles that used to be removed during the days of the radical mastectomy are left in tact, unless the cancer cells have attached to the muscle. Even in that case, apparently, only partial removal is necessary. I don’t know if radicals are performed any more, but believe me, I’m so grateful that medical advances have taken place. Our surgeon said the physical recovery from this is fairly simple, and is easier than dealing with chemo for most. This was confirmed over and over by others who have had mastectomies. She was sensitive to the emotional material that is attached to this whole experience.
I have emotional material, but at this moment, not as much as one might think when the idea of losing a breast is posed. You know there are some things that define us as men or women to others. There are some of us who don’t care whether someone can tell if we are male/female. Losing my hair and now the prospect of losing a breast has me thinking about this. At this moment I do not feel that it is a loss of identity. My hair may be a bigger loss for me than my breast, truthfully. BUT I’ll keep you posted when the hair grows back and the breast doesn’t.
I was quite a diary queen when my kids were born. In fact I remember that I was nursing my kids at my parents house one day. E was brand new and had finished and A came by for a sip, and Pop looked over and said “that’s my girl”. I could not get over the fact that he looked like a proud peacock about something like this. I also had the honor of donating milk to a friend who adopted a new baby when I had more milk than we had freezer space for. She was trying to stimulate her own production. This was incredible for me. The best part of that was the day she showed up at our house for the next cooler full, and when B opened the door, she said “look!” and lifted her shirt and squeezed her nipple and milk was coming out. (B’s expression was priceless, by the way.)
I asked the women I will call my mentors what they were thinking/feeling before, during and after. As expected I got a myriad of responses. The consensus was that they were really ok about it. Many said that they were reassured by their partners that they were loved for who they were. Some said that the emotional processing went right along with the events at hand, some noticed that processing happened months/years after the surgery. The extent of grief in these women was variable. All said that dealing with the drain was a pain, but generally it was because after the first 2 or 3 days, they were ready to get up and go, and the drain flopping around was annoying. Well now with the spiffy new and improved drain pocket that can be velcroed anywhere around my ribcage, I feel like I’m going to be the happy patient, frolicking about with no cares in the world! Yea, ok, maybe not exactly, but you know what I mean.
There is a practical side that B and I spoke about regarding the fact that my clothes fit me right now, and it would be nice if I could wear the same clothes after this is done. There is a balance thing, but after looking at me, the “fitta” told me (with tact) that I shouldn’t have as much of a balance issue as, say, someone who is a 44 J cup. 🙂 I’ll keep you posted on that one.