It’s been two weeks since I last wrote a blog post, and I assure you, during that time there’s been far more happening than I’ll be able to share in this one post. I wish I could say that I’ve been busy buying shares in Clindamycin or Kleenex, as in hindsight that would have been a smart idea.
It’s also been two weeks ago yesterday, that I received the dreaded phone call from my surgeon which left me with only a day to process two options before my final surgery which had been finalized for the Tuesday, instead of the Friday: I either walked away with tissue expanders or I left hospital breast-less.
It was a Monday. Surgery was booked for the next day. I spent that whole day crying and convulsing, feeling dumbstruck with disbelief. I was exhausted: emotionally drained and physically knackered. I had endured pain, discomfort and mental trauma (which I’m still feeling the weight of) so to then be faced with the real prospect of having my 5th surgery in 14 days to possibly wake with no result – just skin flaps as breasts, was heartbreaking. I was devastated. It would be temporary for 3-6 months, but at the time this didn’t matter – it was just such a disappointing and overwhelming possibility to process. I had only that day to prepare but I couldn’t stop crying, it was uncontrollable.
The deciding factor for surgery all came down to blood test results, which wouldn’t be in until an hour before surgery the next day. If my white blood count was high enough, then my surgeon would give my body one last chance and put the tissue expanders in with the hope that there would be no more fever or infection. I had a white blood cell booster injection to try and help make this happen. If the levels weren’t right, then the alternative was to walk away deflated, in more ways than one.
Just to clarify, Tissue expanders are temporary before being replaced with permanent breast implants after about 3-6 months. In a crude, quick explanation they are like deflated balloons that are filled with saline over time with the intention to stretch the skin to the desired size of the final implant. Because I originally had implants put in, and then taken out due to an unknown infection at the time, my skin shriveled in size. This may have been due to the V.A.C VeraFlo too. Hence the reason why I couldn’t just have implants put straight back in as they wouldn’t fit. Reconstruction after a mastectomy isn’t as linear as some may think.
How was I to process being breast-less after the awful and painful experience of the V.A.C VeraFlo Vac Therapy? Why did I need to be tested further, hadn’t been hooked up to those torture flush tubes been enough? Hadn’t I already been put through the mill with a cancer diagnosis and chemo for the past 7 months? Self pity was well and truly present.
Wasn’t Surgery & reconstruction supposed to be the easy, problem-free element to this cancer-conundrum? It was supposed be Surgery followed by 6 week recovery and then Life should be back on track right? But there I was possibly facing another 3-6months of being breast-less, which would then require another surgery to put the tissue expanders in to stretch the skin for at least 3-6 months, which would then make room for permanent implants which would require another surgery and 6 week recovery. I was looking at another 6-12 months of an ordeal that I was desperate to see the end of.
The tough part was the fact I wouldn’t be able to find out until just before surgery what my path would be, so trying to figure out how to evenly distribute my energy to prepare was difficult. I spoke to a psychologist that afternoon via a phone call consult which helped. I’d like to say that I’ve been relatively positive throughout this whole experience as it’s a lot easier than focusing on the shit reality of it all, but that Monday was hard. I was too scared to invest too much into the tissue expander option because if my blood results went against me then I feared that if that expectation wasn’t met then I’d be too low to bounce back. So I prepared for the worst. My cup of tea is normally half full, but this one time if was half empty. I felt vulnerable and had to protect myself after what seemed like a couple of disappointments already.
Despite knowing how much I cried on that Monday, I still think I out did myself on the Tuesday morning when my surgeon announced that we’d be going ahead with the tissue expanders. I get emotional now just thinking about it. I was shocked. She was quick to remind me that I’d be weeks away before being in the clear, but there was no way that could stop my tsunami of tears, feelings of relief and gratitude.
I now understand the meaning of joy. This was the moment when I woke from surgery with my little deflated balloon boobs and only one cannula and one tube attached to me. I had breasts and I was free. I was no longer suffering the intense suction pressure from the V.A.C VeraFlo Therapy nor was I attached to its torture tubes. Sure, I had two surgical drains coming out from below my breasts but these were so easy in comparison – I just put them in a canvas bag and could carry them around over my shoulder.
I was able to walk to the bathroom by myself. Instead of sitting having a ‘bird bath’, I could shower properly for the first time in 2 weeks. The drains are made from plastic and are easily dried with a towel. The water over my fast growing head of hair was bliss. My boobs were certainly not your typical looking breasts, but to me they were the most beautiful things.
I just thank my lucky stars, my angels and my body for making it happen.
I had my first saline fill on Friday, so they are even more beautiful and now actually look more like real breasts – the dents have been filled out with the saline and they are round and plump. My surgeon filled them in her clinic in a painless 5 minutes procedure which required a large syringe of saline and a magnet to line up the valve where the needle inserts.
What was supposed to be a 3-5 night stay in hospital for my nipple -sparing- bilateral mastectomy -direct- to -implant surgery, ended up turning into a 3 week stay.
I am home now, recovering slowly. I’m awake typing at 345am as its uncomfortable to sleep as I still can’t lay on my side or stomach. It’s been 4 weeks since my first surgery so 4 weeks sleeping on my back gets a bit old and bloody annoying after awhile. And it’s been 2 weeks since my last operation so I’m still sensitive and sore.
But I’m trying to wean myself off the drowsy pain killers which would consequently assist with sleep, but the lack of these drugs seem to be making it harder for my body to rest so maybe it’s too soon?
Funnily enough during the day I can’t get enough sleep. But come 3am, bang! I’m wide awake and uncomfortable. It’s probably my poor liver working over drive trying to filter out all the toxic crap from the antibiotics (which I’m on for 6 weeks) and heavy pain medication that’s still being pumped through my body. My body is fatigued, out of whack. I feel constantly hungover as if I’ve had a bender. It was the same during chemo treatment. Pretty shit I say as it’s the hangover without the party. No fun in that. 5 anesthetics in 14 days will do that to it too I guess. And combine that with the cumulative effects of 5 months of dense dose chemo and it’s no doubt I feel the way I do. The chemo certainly took a toll on my poor body and immune system which as it happens ended up being the underlying cause of all these post surgery complications.
But I withdraw from the painful memories of my surgeries and lay focus on the fact that I’m Cancer Free. I’m Cancer Free because of the Chemo. Yes, it also wrecked havoc on lots of healthy cells too but it achieved it’s purpose by ridding my body of the cancerous tumors that threatened my life.
And Yes, the chemo reduced my immune system compromising it against the smallest of bugs and infections which it would normally be able to fight off easily which ultimately caused the traumatic complications. But It cured me of Cancer.
Perhaps my medical team and I hadn’t envisioned this non linear surgery path, nor the total impact chemo would have on my young 31 year old immune system when recovering from surgery. But despite chemo creating the horrific hospital experience I endured, it cured me of cancer making it absolutely worth it. Despite feeling weak, that vulnerability and fear made me stronger. If experiencing that meant I’d be cancer free I’d do it over again in a heart beat.