I’m having the hardest time bouncing back from this surgery. Usually it seems like mentally I’m way ahead of the game, so that I’m wanting to do things way ahead of my body’s ability to do them. But this time neither my brain nor my body is doing anything very fast. I’m laggin’ and draggin’. I just got an e-mailed reprimand by one of the supervisors who mistook something I wrote as my being irritable about something. So I had to explain to her that I’m not irritable, just having hard time recovering from this surgery. I’m supposed to be back to full time this week, and I honestly don’t know how I’m going to do it. I have no energy, no strength, no appetite. Just can’t do much of anything. I don’t like feeling this way. My post-op appointment is at 4:30 today, so I’ll talk to the doctor about it, see what she says. Sorry to whinge, that’s just where I am right now.
Archive for April, 2007
All 3 samples were benign!
I can breathe again at last! Thanks to you all for your prayers and white light and positive thoughts. They helped me so much get through this difficult time.
I can’t change my avatar from the office, but my sister said she’ll change it for me. She needs a big ol’ happy grin and a change of clothes and scenery! Yay! Yippee!
The doctor told me on Friday that they would have the results of the biopsy on Wednesday afternoon, and that if I didn’t hear from her office by then, I could call on Wednesday afternoon but no sooner. So I hung on as long as I could, and then called around 2 p.m. on Wednesday afternoon. The office manager was on the line, so I stayed on hold for about 5 minutes. Finally the receptionist took my name and number and promised to have her call me back. An hour or so later, the office manager did call back. When I said that I was calling to see if they had my biopsy results, she put me on hold for an agonizing five minutes or so, and then came back. Yes, she had just gotten the results and printed them out, and now had to call the doctor and get her authorization to release them to me and would call me back soon. And 5:00 came and went, and no phone call.
So I still don’t know anything. I’ll call this morning after they open.
This is such a weird thing. This has nothing whatsoever to do with the infertility stuff, something that I thought was over with when I had the hysterectomy in 2002. But the dreams I’ve been having…well, somehow my brain is making connections while I’m asleep that I’m not seeing or figuring out how it’s making. I’ve had so many dreams about getting rid of baby things. But see, we don’t have any baby stuff left. Okay, I think I might possibly have one onesie left, but that’s it. Everything else is gone. I sent all of Tad’s things to my good friend M when she adopted her son E. I sent all of Ellie’s things to my sister A. when she had her daughter. All the toys and things we kept around the house for our friends’ kids are long gone, as those kids are no longer particularly interested in playing with those toys. So why am I dreaming about getting rid of rooms full of stuffed animals and Barbie dolls and adorable baby clothes? Getting rid of a lump in my breast has nothing to do with infertility.
Except, I suppose, that not giving birth ups the risk of breast cancer. Way to add injury to insult to injury, know what I mean? And I guess I have been kind of pissed off about that, because Joe and I did everything we could to have kids. Believe me, it’s not because of any lack of trying that we’re childless. So that has been a definite source of annoyance.
I’ve also been really weepy. I’ll start sobbing out of the blue, for no particular reason. Joe comes up and hugs me and kisses me, tells me it’s okay to cry. I say that I don’t even know why I’m crying, and he says that’s okay.
I’m supposed to go back to work tomorrow. I don’t want to. I’m not ready to face the world yet. How silly and foolish. And yet, there it is. I want one more day to hide under the pillows and covers before I have to put on my brave mask and go out and be the Faith that people at the office are used to.
Whether I have cancer or not, and at this point I’m thinking I probably don’t, it’s just such a strange thing. As you’re going through this journey, from the first concerns expressed after the first mammogram, through the additional imaging, doing research, worrying, wondering, you gear yourself up for whatever you think might be coming. You prepare yourself for the worst, so that you can be strong and deal with it. And then if it looks like the best is coming, it’s almost a sort of a shock. All the preparation wasn’t really necessary, and you feel a little foolish.
I’m also a little embarrassed because after begging for books, I’ve hardly done any reading. I’ve read a few things, but honestly not much. Fortunately, I’ll have plenty of time to read the books I’ve been loaned, because the doctor has restricted me from heavy lifting for 8 weeks and from strenuous activity for 4 weeks. So I’ve got another month before I can get back to the gym; I figure I’ll improve those shining moments by reading all the wonderful books that Liz#1, Liz#2, and Soleil have so kindly loaned to me.
Well, it’s Saturday morning, I’m at home, much more sore but without the lump.
The procedure went great. Despite my being bumped up on the schedule, there ended up being problems with the mammogram machine so I think my surgery took place when it was originally scheduled to happen. Everyone at the hospital was wonderful, and I’ve never had such an easy time coming out from under the anesthesia. No nausea or vomiting or anything, and I actually ate a sandwich within 5 minutes of getting home.
I was in pain last night, as might be expected, but honestly it wasn’t as much as I thought it would be. I didn’t take any pain medicine between about 3 a.m. and about half an hour ago (10:30 or so), so that’s pretty good. I’m quite loopy right now, because the pain medicine makes me itch, so I have to take a little benadryl along with it.
I took off the dressing this morning, and saw the stitches. It didn’t bother me too much then, but I just burst out into tears a little while ago. My breasts are already so scarred and a little misshapen as a result of the breast reduction I had done in 2001, and now my left breast is going to be even more misshapen and scarred. I know that of all the things I could be crying about, that’s perhaps one of the silliest. After all, who sees my breasts but me and Joe, and the medical people who have to see it. (On a side note, I got to a point yesterday morning where I felt like saying, “Yes, my name’s Faith, and this is my left breast.”) But still, I think a woman’s body is a beautiful thing, and a woman’s breasts are supposed to be lovely. Mine aren’t. They’re ugly. Isn’t this silly? Chalk it up to the darvocet and benadryl and post-surgery trauma, okay?
Anyway, I thought I’d have the results of the biopsy on Tuesday, but my doctor said it will be Wednesday afternoon. So an extra day of waiting.
When I got home yesterday afternoon I couldn’t focus on anything long enough to read, so Joey put in one movie after another for me, and I watched and drowsed my way through them until he crashed halfway through Harry Potter & the Sorcerer’s Stone. I turned the tv off on one of my many trips to the bathroom. I think I was up every hour on the hour to go tinkle, so at least I know I’m staying hydrated. But I’m able to focus better today, so I’ve started reading. Joe’s off at a vocal lesson this morning, and he’s misplaced the bag of books he bought me last Saturday. He promised to look for it when he gets back. The books LeZard brought me–two of which I read Thursday night–require more focus than I can give right now, so I’ve got Nicktoons on to amoose me until I fall asleep. And then Liz#1 is due to arrive around 1:30ish with Buffy TVS: The Compleat Works. And I can wallow in Spikey goodness.
And speaking of Spike, I got the giggles yesterday morning while I was in the interminable wait mode. I looked over at my husband, and called him Blondie-Bear. He looked a little confused, and I explained that’s what Harmony calls Spike. He laughed, and I told him that he could do worse than being compared to Spike. Of course, he looks NOTHING like Spike, but he’s hot in his own way.
Okay, well, if I try to keep typing I’m going to pass out over the keyboard and this will never get posted. So I’m going to return to the sofa and go to sleep to the dulcet tones of Spongebob Squarepants. Adieu, mes amies, et merci beacuoup for the prayers and white light and zen boxes and love. It means more than I can say.
The hospital called this afternoon; the surgeon had a cancellation, and I now have to be at the hospital at 5:30 a.m. So it’s good; I’ll be done earlier than anticipated. Today’s been pleasant. I slept in a little bit, not too much. And Joe and I ran a few errands and he spoiled me a bit. Soleil came by with the most incredibly thoughtful gift–a zen box, as she calls it, and it is something I will always treasure. I don’t even know how to describe it, so I will have to take a photograph later on to post. Maybe. Maybe not, because it’s private. But it’s totally awesome. If you ever get the chance to have Soleil make you a zen box, you totally should do so.
And hey, talking about other incredible news, Clover sold her book!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I cannot put enough exclamation marks there to show my excitement. I’m afraid I screamed into the phone, I was so happy, when she told me, and I was jumping up and down in the living room yesterday about it. She is a very good writer, and I’ve had so much faith in her. And when she sent the query to these last few publishers, she and I both had a really good feeling about them. So yay! Woohoo! Go give her kudos because she has been working hard to achieve this. She’s always had fantastic ideas and vision for her writing, and she has steadily worked on the technical end of her craft since I’ve known her. She deserves every good thing.
Well, if you’re reading this on Friday, think of me or say a prayer. I’ll post again when I’m able, but I’m confident everything will go great. When I was at the hospital on Wednesday afternoon for the pre-op, even the nurse who was helping me was talking about how great my surgeon is. So I’m in good hands.
Liz #1–she will always be #1 in my book–is my sister. She’s the bestest ever. The bestest Liz, the bestest sister, the bestest friend, the bestest shopping companion, just the bestest. I love her dearly, madly.
She’s having an absolutely sucktacular week. Her wallet got stolen yesterday. She spent the whole morning calling all her credit card companies, canceling credit cards, going through all that joyous hassle. A community college notified her that her driver’s license and a few other items from her wallet were found, so at least she doesn’t have to go get a new driver’s license. Her checkbook wasn’t stolen, but the police advised her to close her bank account and open a new one nonetheless, so that the thieves don’t start trying to forge checks on her account after the 90-day security alerts expire. She’s not a happy person right now. Plus she’s working really hard at job #1, job #2, and stage managing a play. Wanna go cheer her up? You can leave a message on her blog–it’s the link on the right for Izzybella Is. Or you could leave a message for her here and she’ll see it because she reads my blog because she lurves me.
You know how much she lurves me? She’s loaning me her Buffy the Vampire Slayer: The Compleat Works (teehee) to watch while I’m at home this weekend recuperating. That’s devotion, lemme tell ya, because I didn’t think she’d let that leave her hands for ANYBODY. She’s let me borrow her Harry Potter CDs to listen to in my car. I mean, my sister lurves me!
Liz #2–she’s not #2 in quality, because she’s a very high-quality Liz, but I call her #2 because she came into my life, and actually into the world, second. She’s LeZard (well, so is Liz #1, but that’s irrelevant right now) to me, and apparently has become LeZard to her family as well. And she is really cool. She came to see What Happened, one of the few of my friends who promised to come and was actually able to make it to the show. (No offense to those who weren’t, because I really do understand.) And LeZard is also a book fiend, like I, and we have lots of fun conversations and e-mails about books and stuff. I like her so much that I made her one of my insane mix CDs. Well, if we’re going to get really specific, I made her an insane mix that spanned 3 CDs. And she liked it. Anyway, she brought me a book to read yesterday (Twilight, by Stephenie Meyer, go forth at once and read it, do not let anything stand in your way until you have done so; then come back and thank me and I will pass your thanks on to LeZard. Yes. It’s that good. I read it at work, in between batchs of credit bureau report requests, and nearly snapped at someone when she brought me 10 CBR requests when I was at the denoument, but I still managed to finish reading it before I went home.) , and when I gave it back to her and told her how much I liked it, NOT ONLY did she bring me today the sequel to read while I’m lolling around in bed all weekend, but she also brought me a large bag full of books to read while I’m lolling around in bed all weekend! SQUEE! She brought me 8 books to read in total.
Between those 8 books, and the ones Joe bought me last Saturday, and The Mists of Avalon that Soleil loaned me that I put away and managed to forget about (which is a good thing, because it means I haven’t read it already yet), and whatever Liz brings over, I’ve got plenty to read and watch and keep me amoosed while I’m lolling in bed this weekend. Heck, since my weekend technically starts tonight, I could actually maybe do a teeny bit of reading tonight and still have plenty for the weekend. And here I can feel Liz#1 slapping my hand and scolding me, saying, “No! Hands off!” And I’m sullenly saying, “Fine, but I’m reading at least one or two.” And Liz#1 sighs, and says, “Fine, but you’ll regret it when you’re stuck at home all weekend and run out of books to read because you read everything already.” And I sullenly say, “I’m not going to read everything, just one or two books. Maybe three.” And Liz#1 gives that long-suffering sigh again and tells me that I’m an addict. And she’s right. I am.
Anyway, both Lizzes are incomparably cool, and I feel blessed to have such awesome Lizness in my life. Yay for Lizzes!