Let the Healing Begin

Bo and I went to see Dr. P yesterday for my first post-surgical visit. Armed with my newfound knowledge of lymphedema, I asked her to write a prescription for the compression sleeves. While she had the pad out, I also asked her to write a prescription for a right and left prosthesis and for the mastectomy bras. Now I just need to go get fitted for all of the above.

I asked her when my hair should start coming back full force, and she said that six weeks following the last treatment, the chemo drugs should pretty much be gone and my body should begin healing as it regenerates the different types of cells that were killed by the chemo. (It has been seven weeks since my last treatment, so now I keep looking to see if my hair is squeezing out of my hair follicles like playdoh out of the fun factory, but the growth isn't quite that dramatic.) It's funny, but because I didn't really experience any other physical effects from the chemo, I forgot that the drugs did also take a toll on other parts of my body and that the regeneration involves more than just hair. I feel so great now, that I expect I will feel really incredible once my body truly has healed, inside and out. As proof that I am "normal" again, I received a flu shot while I was there. Yea! My immune system is no longer compromised! Ahh.. to be a able to celebrate a flu shot is a wonderful (and weird) thing.

Of course, I still have radiation to get through, but she said that I should breeze through that. I had heard that it will make me tired, but she doesn't think that will be the case. "After six weeks, the cumulative effects may make you yawn around 4:00 p.m., but I doubt you will really be affected," she assured me. First, I have to get the last drain tube removed, but once Dr. H gives the go ahead, my sessions with the "burn" doctor will begin. I also asked Dr. P when I could begin exercising and she sees no harm in me returning to the treadmill, as long as I don't work the upper body. Yahoo! Another thing to celebrate - getting on the treadmill.

She did a physical exam and was impressed with the surgical site. She said it looked really good. Uh huh - for a skinny chick with no boobs and two huge scars, maybe. Donna, Dr. H's nurse practictioner, had said the same thing, and I wasn't quite sure how to take this. I mean, it doesn't look that bad to me, but it doesn't look that great either. I, of course, don't really have a basis for comparison. Dr. P said that some women have bumps and lumps left after the surgery and that it can be really uneven. She also said that since I was so slender I didn't look out of proportion like many women do after losing their breasts. I haven't really struggled with body image since the surgery, so I think I am going to be okay leaving things just as they are. I do want to have the prostheses for when I have the urge to look more shapely and less, uh, concave.

I had come prepared with my copy of the pathology report, so we spent a few minutes discussing some of the terminology I didn't understand. She was just so positive about my entire response over the past six months that her enthusiasm was contagious. "You have responded phenomenally well, and like you told me when you first came in here, there is no reason to expect that you will ever have to deal with this again." She did caution that this is the time that depression may set in because I won't be coming in to her office regularly for visits and treatment.

I think if this happens it will be more likely to occur after the raditation is completed, but reflecting on the past couple of days, I affirmed that, "Yes, I can sense that it may be starting to settle in just a little." (She said she could tell, but I am not sure what she was picking up on because I thought I was being my usual, cheerful, optimistic self...) I related to her that I had just read an article on menopause and it had explained the effects of decreased levels of estrogen. Since estrogen promotes feelings of nurturing, as the levels decline, women may become less likely to bite their tongues when they'd rather speak their minds, may be more inclined to express anger, and may start taking better care of their own needs than they had in the past and not be as focused on the needs of others. With visuals for affect, Dr. P agreed that I may start feeling like drop kicking family members soon.

It sounds like I have all kinds of emotions and new feelings and behaviors to look forward to (and Bo too) - some attributable to the chemical changes within my own body, and some the result of me redefining myself and my life following the diagnosis. Bo told Dr. P that he had been dodging the frying pan at home, and Dr. P offered to be on call to stitch him up as needed. The frying pan story is a bit exaggerated as violence isn't my thing (and the article didn't mention estrogen-deprivation may make it my thing), but Bo and I have had some heated exchanges in the past few days, a rarity for us. And he thought PMS was bad!

It would be unrealistic to think that such huge event in our lives would leave either of us or our relationship untouched. I guess our marriage can be compared to my body. My body has been through a lot, and I have the scars to prove it, but I have chosen to take the necessary actions and make the necessary lifestyle changes to be even stronger and healthier than I was before the cancer. Bo and I have a choice to make too. We can use this experience as an opportunity for our marriage to grow, and we can apply the effort necessary to build an even stronger, healthier relationship than we had before... or not. I know our marriage was already pretty fit and healthy before the diagnosis, so now we just need to commit to working together and taking the actions necessary for us to heal, regenerate, and grow even better than we were before. The long term prognosis is very good. I will keep you posted...