Queen of Drain

I am not sure what the world record for post-mastectomy drain duration is, but I am certain I must be in the running. In fact, my drain has applied for permanent residency. I had the opportunity to visit with Santa a week or two ago, and while I was perched comfortably on his lap, he of course asked me what I wanted for Christmas. At the time, I told him my hair. If asked today, I would request a drain-free body. (Actually, I want both!) Thirty ccs is the magic number, and I am still draining in excess of 70 ccs in a 24 hour period. At the rate I am going, I may have a full head of hair before I have a drain-free body. If hair grows at a daily rate of (y x 3 - ab), and lymphatic fluid drains at the rate of (x + 5)(y + 2), and Santa's sled leaves the North Pole five hours later, which will arrive first?

I called Donna, the nurse practictioner, last week to see what, if anything, I should do/could do. She suggested I give it one more week. She asked me how much I was moving around and when I admitted that I was probably a little more active than the average mastectomy patient, she strongly suggested I take it easy. Well, I did take it easy for me, and I definitely reduced my activity level, and still, I drain in large quantities, darn it! Well, it is mostly just an annoyance, and as long as it doesn't mean that something is wrong, I can be patient... for now.

I began physical therapy last week. One of my friends, Erica, happens to own a physical therapy practice. Erica and I became acquainted when I was dating Bo. Her husband and Bo had met on the mountain bike circuit, and when Erica and I were introduced to eachother, we immediately hit it off. Ten years, two husbands (one apiece), two dogs, and six kids later (she has three also), I find myself on her physical therapy table and under her gentle and capable care. We always bemoaned the fact that our lives were so busy that we weren't able to get together as often as we would have liked. I told her that it was pretty sad (and extreme) that it took cancer for us to see eachother on a regular basis, but getting to spend time with Erica and having her involved in my healing is one of the many gifts that has presented itself along the way.

She measured the range of motion of each arm. We are aiming for 180 degrees. On the left side, I am at 140 degrees. On the right side, I am at 117 degrees. She sent me home with four exercises I can do on a daily basis. As my body heals from the surgery, I guess it is the scar tissue that I feel tightening things up, kind of like cement drying. It doesn't hurt, but my movements certainly are restricted, and if I move my arms too much in a certain direction, it does hurt. Erica says to do my exercises only to the point of feeling the stretch, not to the point of feeling pain.

I told Bo yesterday that my breasts hurt. He asked, "What breasts?" Oops. Oh yea. I meant where my breasts used to be. The incisions are healed, but the area is sensitive to the touch, to the point that the foam inserts (my temporary shape) can cause discomfort. I do not want to wish my life away, but I am looking forward to the day when the surgery site is completely healed, I feel no pain, and I can move my arms the way I used to. Not having had surgery before, and not having fully discussed recovery with Dr. H, I don't know if this is a realistic goal, but realistic or not, it is certainly my objective.

One evening right after the surgery, several of us were sitting around the dining room table, doing what we do best, eating and talking. I mentioned that I had read that some women report "phantom pain" following mastectomies. As happens with people who lose limbs, these women actually feel pain in breasts that no longer exist. Jeff, ever the family wit, suggested that maybe I would get lucky and feel "phantom pleasure." Hee hee.