i'm really just wanting my old boobs back. did we keep them? I'm sure there is a receipt somewhere. I can return these?
As I plan this exhibition, Save the Girls, I hear more stories, discover other "survivors", hear the stories from friends of survivors, and learn more about what it means to be a "cancer survivor". I am not comfortable with that term. And am considering taking it off the press release. I am not a cancer survivor. Some doctors said they found cells that would some day be cancer. So we got rid of them. I never saw cancer. I never felt cancer. What a stupid disease. The suffering seems to come from the cure. But I am a poser. I didn't even get to the cancer part. People say things to me like "3 time cancer survivor" and I'm in disbelief. What? it comes back? How? Why? I thought we got it all. And I wonder if my "getting it all" is the same as those other women who thought they "got it all" not once, not twice, but sometimes three times. Each time, I imagine in most cases there was a radiation/chemo treatment. Something I can't even bring myself to read about, much less comprehend. I've started browsing posts from those who've lived through the process. My mouse automatically click's back as soon as i read the first lines... "the red liquid flows through the iv and into my veins."
By what graces of what god that avoided these situations for me I'm not familiar with.
Who do i thank. What shall i do with this new found longevity?
For the sake of resolving all potential problems I had an iud implanted. I do not recommend this. It hurt. And I've experienced some pain in the past 4 months, this 3 minutes in the gyno was the worst of it all. However, because of the pathology reports I am no longer allowed to take oral or any hormonal birth control. So the "inhumane" paraguard was my only choice. Two days later the pain subsided, but I dread my next "cycle", things are supposed to be more intense with the implant. The price women pay for sex is outrageous.
While i was there I had my doctor do a complete blood test. After a call today from the nurse, I can now proclaim, I have a clean std bill of health. The word is still out on on cervical cancer but I've never had problems with that before. What do they say? "No news is good news."
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Post #2 remarks
Its hard to make any rational judgments at this point. If you research post plastic surgery depression there are many stages to go through mentally and physically. I'm trying to stay off my photo albums on facebook. Before photos are a difficult experience at this point. It wasn't that long ago when things were so different.
Here I am with two damned drains again. The complications with fluids forced the surgeon to extend the scars further than anticipated. Each side is about 12 inches. From well past the nipple center line all the way to just centered under the armpit. The lines are thick and red. Rationally I remember from the first surgery, that after the glue is worn off these red lines are faint pinker flat scars. But right now I don't care much for rational thoughts and all i know is what i see. A tattoo design is so fuzzy in my head at the moment but I am certain its in the future more clearly and will cover all evidence.
The only current pain is from the drain sites. The worst of it all actually was my throat after the air tubes and a canker soar that was left on my inner lip from the breathing aids. My range of motion was barely compromised. Over all a much easier surgery than round one.
But "they" don't look even. In the haze after the anesthesia, I remember Maria relaying Gurlie's concern with the left side's tissue and the extensive reconstruction. Parts of the tissue are hard. I'm trying to massage regularly. They feel fake. Like plastic. I was sort of was getting to like the extreme cleavage of the expanders. The implants are softer and lower. Are these terms of reality or just terms of the current stage of recovery. Only time will tell. I'm terribly impatient.
Here I am with two damned drains again. The complications with fluids forced the surgeon to extend the scars further than anticipated. Each side is about 12 inches. From well past the nipple center line all the way to just centered under the armpit. The lines are thick and red. Rationally I remember from the first surgery, that after the glue is worn off these red lines are faint pinker flat scars. But right now I don't care much for rational thoughts and all i know is what i see. A tattoo design is so fuzzy in my head at the moment but I am certain its in the future more clearly and will cover all evidence.
The only current pain is from the drain sites. The worst of it all actually was my throat after the air tubes and a canker soar that was left on my inner lip from the breathing aids. My range of motion was barely compromised. Over all a much easier surgery than round one.
But "they" don't look even. In the haze after the anesthesia, I remember Maria relaying Gurlie's concern with the left side's tissue and the extensive reconstruction. Parts of the tissue are hard. I'm trying to massage regularly. They feel fake. Like plastic. I was sort of was getting to like the extreme cleavage of the expanders. The implants are softer and lower. Are these terms of reality or just terms of the current stage of recovery. Only time will tell. I'm terribly impatient.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Surgery number 2
Tuesday i went in for my second surgery. No party bus to the center this time. Just me and BW on highway 270 at 8:30 in the morning. He's relatively quiet as usual. I'm starving. And thirsty. When I got dressed in the morning, I said, "I want to look ridiculous" Big sunglasses. A button up long white linen dress. Underneath was very short hot pants, so it basically looked like i forgot my pants. Platform yellow high heels. I mean how seriously can you take these things.
We sat in the waiting room for a while. BW grabbed a newspaper. He read through the vaguely world related articles. My attention was caught only by the obituary for Patrick Swayze. Died at 57. After closing the paper. We look up and see the Today's show on the flat screen, covering the same sad swayze story we'd just read about in the paper.
It didn't take long for them to call me in. I had about 45 minutes before the surgery. BW could have came back with me, had i mentioned that he was supposed to. I like to not tell him things, and then later get annoyed that he didn't just already know what to do. It keeps things interesting. He says awkwardly, "You'll be just fine." sort of pats me on the shoulders.
"Oh god." I should tell him to stay for a while but really, man, just go to work, i got this covered. No mom, no dad, just me in the center with the nurses, and then the anesthesiologist, the surgeon. They wheeled me into the OR. Helped me hop tables. I look up and see two large lamp strobe lights with some red message on the center of them about not covering with plastic. Then they injected the IV and I was out.
I wake up seemlying seconds later. Maria is there. A nurse. Its bright. I'm in and i'm out. Faces flash in front of me. They go away for seemlying seconds and return later. I heard 2:30 from someone over yonder. But it wasn't until about 5 that we left the center. I remembered the nurse boasting "look at my patient!" I was aiming for outrageous. I think I was successful.
For whatever reason I deparately wanted some bread from Viviano's.
We sat in the waiting room for a while. BW grabbed a newspaper. He read through the vaguely world related articles. My attention was caught only by the obituary for Patrick Swayze. Died at 57. After closing the paper. We look up and see the Today's show on the flat screen, covering the same sad swayze story we'd just read about in the paper.
It didn't take long for them to call me in. I had about 45 minutes before the surgery. BW could have came back with me, had i mentioned that he was supposed to. I like to not tell him things, and then later get annoyed that he didn't just already know what to do. It keeps things interesting. He says awkwardly, "You'll be just fine." sort of pats me on the shoulders.
"Oh god." I should tell him to stay for a while but really, man, just go to work, i got this covered. No mom, no dad, just me in the center with the nurses, and then the anesthesiologist, the surgeon. They wheeled me into the OR. Helped me hop tables. I look up and see two large lamp strobe lights with some red message on the center of them about not covering with plastic. Then they injected the IV and I was out.
I wake up seemlying seconds later. Maria is there. A nurse. Its bright. I'm in and i'm out. Faces flash in front of me. They go away for seemlying seconds and return later. I heard 2:30 from someone over yonder. But it wasn't until about 5 that we left the center. I remembered the nurse boasting "look at my patient!" I was aiming for outrageous. I think I was successful.
For whatever reason I deparately wanted some bread from Viviano's.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Back from KC headed to florida
When I finally get back Lee Summit, I call colleen and suzie over at Gurlie's office. They insist I go back to mo bap to have another doctor look at drain and fluid build up. I'm horrified. Imagining having to go through the drain insertion ordeal all over again, I drive down highway 70 blinded by hysterical outbreaks of tears.
When I get to the hospital, there's some waiting involved. Its late in the day though so I get pushed through the system. End back up on the gurney waiting still for the doctor to come look at me. He finally comes in. Looks at the drain. Leaves the curtained room. Returns two seconds later with a syringe. Unscrews the drain from the tube.
"wait a second. That thing unscrews!"
Then he injects 5 cc's of saline into the tube, and sucks back out 5 cc's. The tube was clogged. He screws the tube back into the bulb, and BAM. Like 25 cc's fill the Pratt. Incredible. Problem more or less fixed in a matter of 3 minutes.
Given permission to detach the drain for a few hours at a time, my trip to florida did not seem so ruined by this medical apparatus. He sent me home with a box full of saline syringes and red caps to close off the tube whilst i frolicked on the beach.
PS Florida was awesome, and i'm not going to tell you about it.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Pinch in the Plans
August opened as a month filled with travel. My first trip was to help JT with two very large murals in Lee's Submit. We headed out of town 4 hours later than planned. And arrived in Lee's Summit well past midnight. U-turn after u-turn finally lead us to JT's cousin's place. A lovely home with fresh tomatoes growing in the back yard, basil, all sorts of other plants and herbs, a well mannered french bulldog named Deja. After 5 hours in the car with JT I needed a stiff drink then headed directly there after to bed.
In the morning, I woke up to a puddle of liquid under my drain site. However the drain was empty, and an embarrassing stain was left on the sheets of my hosts bed linens. I soaked up as much as possible with a towel, took a shower and cleaned up. I was super emotional about it. Whining and moaning in embarrassment. JT told me to shut up and said I was over reacting. He's such a harsh bed partner in the mornings. Knowing it wasn't my fault didn't help, I still got flash backs to bed wetting at slumber parties. I devised a plan. To solve the problem. Which involved turning over the laundry. Another awkward action in need of explanation.
When I finally go up, we raided the kitchen for eggs, coffee, headed to the garden to find a ripe tomato and a sprig of basil. After morning omelets. JT and I headed out to the mural site. I spend the day, taping the wall off, climbing the ladder, filling in the white of the character, and drinking beer out of Styrofoam gas station coffee cups. That evening I came home and in the shower discovered my left "breast" was completely full of water. The drain still very empty, if not totally dry. I massaged the mound of flesh causing the liquid to seep out the drain site. Running in a single drip all the way down to my knees. This was not painful exactly, and I wanted to get the fluid out of me. So after some time in the shower, I get out lay on the bed on my side and continue to collect a towel full of liquid.
This is not good. Something has to be wrong. And I'm in Lee's Summit for two more days. . .
In the morning, I woke up to a puddle of liquid under my drain site. However the drain was empty, and an embarrassing stain was left on the sheets of my hosts bed linens. I soaked up as much as possible with a towel, took a shower and cleaned up. I was super emotional about it. Whining and moaning in embarrassment. JT told me to shut up and said I was over reacting. He's such a harsh bed partner in the mornings. Knowing it wasn't my fault didn't help, I still got flash backs to bed wetting at slumber parties. I devised a plan. To solve the problem. Which involved turning over the laundry. Another awkward action in need of explanation.
When I finally go up, we raided the kitchen for eggs, coffee, headed to the garden to find a ripe tomato and a sprig of basil. After morning omelets. JT and I headed out to the mural site. I spend the day, taping the wall off, climbing the ladder, filling in the white of the character, and drinking beer out of Styrofoam gas station coffee cups. That evening I came home and in the shower discovered my left "breast" was completely full of water. The drain still very empty, if not totally dry. I massaged the mound of flesh causing the liquid to seep out the drain site. Running in a single drip all the way down to my knees. This was not painful exactly, and I wanted to get the fluid out of me. So after some time in the shower, I get out lay on the bed on my side and continue to collect a towel full of liquid.
This is not good. Something has to be wrong. And I'm in Lee's Summit for two more days. . .
The Past Few Weeks
Things been crazy in the life of Jenn. This process hasn't exactly been smooth sailing. And my inability to chill out and say no has prolonged the process. The second surgery is still scheduled for Tuesday Sept 15th. This one, I can't wait for. I'm going to try and catch up over a few posts.
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