Ta Ta to the Tatas

The last 24 hours are a blur but I'm back home, on my big comfy couch, surrounded by my family, just like nothing happened. Of course there's the small fact that I no longer have breasts. Well at least not really. When I woke up and checked my bandages, I was surprised to see that with all of the "infrastructure" the surgeon put in to support my future implants there's really not much of a net loss ... at least at first glance. That's either sad, ironic, or just plain funny, but fortunately modern medicine will take care of that!


I know you've all heard that the surgery went well and my nodes were negative. My stay in the hospital was, in fact, less than 23 hours ... of my own choosing. While I've been nothing but ultra-impressed with the care I've received from Sharp Healthcare ... everyone's been just fabulous ... I had to complain about my roommate. She was elderly, very petite, and quiet as a mouse ... when she was awake. When she slept she snored louder than a grizzly bear! Thankfully the combination of earplugs and morphine allowed me to drift off in spite of the background noise. Yesterday morning when I awoke I really wanted to be at home. There was nothing they were doing there for me that I could't be doing at home, so I made the decision to check out as soon as they would let me.


One of my guardian angels, Jen (whom I met in a carwash ... more on that later) is here and has jumped right in to surrogate mom mode. I've got a bell by the bed, a baby monitor to hear my every request, and she's currently at "Bagels and Books" with the girls, reading at school. Last night we enjoyed a fabulous meal of tinga, painstakingly concocted by our dear friend Brenda. My parents were still here to enjoy it and there are plenty of leftovers. Jen arrived with enough food to fill the freezer as well, so we are set for some time.


As for how I'm feeling? Ouch. Not terrible pain but definitely painful. The incisions under my arms are the most bothersome because of where they are. I'm under instructions to not raise my arms any higher than needed to feed myself. Interesting that the general "cancer" surgeon told me I have no restrictions on movement, but the plastic surgeon said "don't move any higher than you can feed yourself." I guess he's in charge now.


Prior to going into surgery both surgeons were there, purple markers in hand, negotiating over where the incisions would be. The plastic surgeon started by drawing very small incision marks, but my general surgeon stuck to her guns and said "I'm getting the cancer out and all that goes with it ..." which meant she had to make a larger incision than the plastic surgeon would have preferred. It was important for her to not only take the tumourous tissue, but also the skin above it to ensure the margins were clear enough. Apparently the plastic surgeon was a bit "miffed" when he discovered what he had left to work with. I was out cold but grin now at the thought of these two very professional and competent doctors arguing over the state of my breasts while I was spread-eagled on the table.


I see the plastic surgeon this morning for follow-up. He indicated to Bill that because he had to deal with less skin than originally thought, we would likely wait 4 - 5 weeks before beginning the expansion process. This will allow the skin to heal and stretch in preparation for the next step.

As far as further cancer treatment, I'll see the oncologist on the 9th. By then all of the pathology reports will be in. Apparently they're going to slice and dice the tissue they removed to determine unequivocally what we're dealing with. Hormone receptors and all that jazz. Given the nodes were negative, it's quite possible that I will NOT have chemo ... I'm trying not to get my hopes up for that because I'm committed to taking the most aggressive path possible to ensure this disease doesn't come back, and isn't hiding somewhere right now. It only takes one cell. I learned that the hard way with my experience with Hodgkin's Disease 25 years ago. The initial treatment involved surgery and radiation to my upper body only. 18 months later I relapsed in my groin area, so there was a rebel cell somewhere ... So we'll see.

I can't say thank you enoug for all of the positive thoughts, prayers, and good wishes. I love you all!