A New Look

I am so anxious to hug my boys as they get off the bus. It has only been a day since I last saw them, but we have much to celebrate. The first thing Clay says when he greets me is, "Hey, Mom. Can I see your breasts?" Oh my. "Honey," I respond, "I haven't even seen my breasts yet!" That was remedied the following day when Bo and I went back to the surgeon's office for the bandage removal. I wasn't sure what to expect or how I would react, but when Donna was finally able to peel off the sticky bandages and I caught the first glimpse of my new look, I looked at Bo and said, "Oh. It's not that bad, is it?" He agreed. It wasn't shocking or disturbing or gross or disgusting. It just was.

I have about an eight to ten inch incision on either side, running diagonally from under my arm and down towards the center of my chest. Those are stitched and covered with clear tape. I also have four clear drainage tubes emerging from holes below where my breasts used to be. These are used to drain fluid from the surgery site down into these rubber grenade looking bulbs. I feel like Doc Ock (Spiderman's nemesis) with these 12 inch tubes dangling from my chest. Luckily, my handy dandy surgical camisole has little pouches on either side to hold this equipment.

Before we left the hospital, a nurse's aid had shown us how to clear and empty the drains and had instructed us to do that several times a day, recording the amounts each time. On Friday, Donna, the nurse practicioner, reviewed that procedure with us and also demonstrated how Bo should swab the drain openings with alchohol and antibiotic cream once a day and apply new dressing. This is our newest form of intimacy! Before the surgery, someone from my networking group asked me if Bo would be able to handle dressing the wounds. I responded to him, "This is a man who guts deer. I think he will be okay with it." And he has been. In fact, the doctor ordered home health care service for us, and I declined it because we have been doing fine on our own.

I am scheduled for another visit to the surgeon on Thursday afternoon, and at that time, two of the four drains will be removed. The remaining two will be removed early next week. Luckily the weather is now cool enough for sweaters and sweatshirts, so these "accessories" aren't that conspicuous when stuffed up under my shirts. They are merely a temporary inconvenience.

I showed the boys the results of the surgery, and they seem remarkably unfazed by it all. They were most interested in the huge deep purple bruise down my left side, how it got there, and if it would go away. At one point, Clay asked me if my breasts would grow back, and I explained that the capability of regenerating body parts is exlusive to a small number of creatures, human beings excluded. Ah, to be like a starfish....

Cole asked me if I was going to get new breasts, and I told him I hadn't made that decision yet. (I had mentioned to him months ago that I might get plastic surgery, and he wanted to know if my new breasts would be hard. Plastic surgery is such a misnomer. In fact, Dr. B, the plastic surgeon told me that the latest, state-of-the art implants are called gummy implants as they resemble the consistency of gummy bears.)

People have asked me if I am doing okay emotionally, and the answer is a definitive "yes". I guess the word that best describes how I feel is "relieved." The cancer is gone, and I have eliminated the possibility of ever getting it in the left breast. The probability of a local or distant recurrence is small. I feel lighter, both figurately and literally. Sometimes I wonder if I am in denial and that someday all of this will just suddenly register, but I think not. Life is good.

From a physical standpoint, I feel great, too. I stopped the Oxycontin and Percoset last Friday, as the pain was minimal, and I prefer not to take drugs unless absolutely necessary. I do feel a little tight around my chest area and under my arms, and while I have nearly full range of motion of my arms, if I stretch too far, it hurts a little. Once the drains are removed, I will be able to get physical therapy to help restore strength and flexibility, make the skin supple, and reduce my risk of lymphedema. I have a new appreciation for my body and am anxious to get it into top physically shape and care for my temple!

When I returned from the hospital, I was paradoxically ten pounds heavier than when I went in. I thought I would come home lighter because I would be minus two 34B breasts, but I hadn't counted on being pumped full of i.v. fluids. I couldn't even button my jeans so I had to retrieve a pair of my "big jeans" from my closet. I have been wearing Bo's flannel shirts because they are loose and comfortable and provide easy access to the drains. When I first looked at myself in the mirror fully dressed, I thought, "Whoa, I haven't been this flat since I was ten years old." Combine all that with no makeup and no hair under my headware of choice, the ball cap, I feel like a character from the old Saturday Night Live skit, Pat, whose gender no one could ever determine.

However, I don't think a guy would wear the cute little lady bug earrings I have been sporting since coming out of surgery last Wednesday evening. I had told Bo a story about Clay finding a lady bug at the playground the weekend before my surgery, and how it somehow ended up crawling around the brim of my cap. I took this as a sign of good luck, so Bo went out and bought a pair of lady bug earrings for me before I went into the hospital. I couldn't wear them during surgery, but I put them on right after.

The lady bug earrings needed some reinforcement on the gender identification front, so I decided to experiment with the "puffs" that came with my surgical camisoles to give me a little shape while I await either the prosthetic fitting or reconstruction (or maybe neither...) They are actually more like cushions and give me way more shape than I ever had before. The only problem is that the camisole is weighed down by the grenades, and I find my shape sinking towards my abdomen!

So my new look is evolving, and as the fluid rapidly departs my body and the ball caps gradually depart my wardrobe, what is left as my body returns to physical health is a new attitude, a new inner strength, a new level of confidence, and a new sense of self that has nothing to do with my appearance and everything to do with being a survivor on this life changing journey that is cancer.