Life is full of questioning your choices.
Should I have just had them take both breasts from the start? Not just the left with the cancer in it? This thought swirled around in my head when I woke up from my anesthesia nap back on July 13, 2023.
But you don't know what you don't know.
How was I to know how unhappy I would be with the results of my unilateral mastectomy and reconstruction? How was I to know I would have the trauma of feeling another lump (that tests proved benign - though the experience was trauma-inducing nonetheless)? How was I to know that I would later wish that I had just had both breasts removed from the start?
I couldn't have known. You can't have a mastectomy and then, if you later regret it, get that breast tissue back. However, you can choose to do only what you have to do, and then later choose to do more. At the time, I made the best decision I could with the time and knowledge I had. I do not regret my decision or beat myself up about it. But I do wish I had done both at the start, so I wouldn't have to be reliving this all over again.
However, the good news is that I was able to take over 2 years to carefully weigh the pros and cons, a substantially greater amount of time than I had to make such important decisions the first time around. I felt more informed and more confident. That's not to say I wasn't scared, nor had reservations, but I did trust that my heart and mind knew.
Ultimately, I did indeed make the decision to go back under the knife for a second mastectomy to remove my remaining right breast.
After making the decision, I consulted with my lead oncologist, surgical oncologist, and reconstructive surgeon. All of them backed my decision. I had many appointments leading up to surgery to get everything planned out, and Sam put in for 6 weeks off via FMLA to care for me afterwards. I told only those who absolutely needed to know, and went about preparing.
Wednesday, February 4th, we were up before the sun and checked into Providence St. Vincent Memorial Hospital in Portland by 5am.
Once back in the surgery prep room, I changed into a gown and hair net and had my IV line placed. I received a visit from my surgical oncologist, who would be performing the mastectomy, a visit from my reconstructive surgeon, who would be placing the right implant and revising my left side as well, and lastly, I had a chat with the anesthesiologist.
My surgery lasted a couple of hours. My right breast tissue was completely removed, and then an implant was placed in the remaining pocket. My left breast was revised. My body is apparently really great at building up scar tissue, and the mesh that was placed during my original mastectomy on the left side was well incorporated into my body, but had a lot of scar tissue built up with it. This can develop over time. Sometimes, after the initial healing, results can seem ok at first, but as time goes on, results can change. Sometimes the breast implant appears like a ball on the chest because the tissue surrounding it has become hard and encapsulated by scar tissue. This is what happened to me. So I was definitely happy to receive a revision on the left side.
My reconstructive surgeon told me she cut away as much of the scar tissue as possible, doing her best to release the area by making lots of little slices. She then replaced my existing implant with a new one. This way, both my implants will be on the same timeline, and given there aren't any issues moving forward, they can be replaced together at the 10 year mark.
Waking up was terrible. For one, the anesthesia nap never feels long enough. Second, your mind and heart immediately drown in sadness. Yes, I made this choice, but the sadness of being in this situation to begin with is so immense. Fuck cancer. I'm only here lying in a hospital bed....again...because breast cancer stormed into my life when I was 36. Let's not forget that. I'm certainly not here for fun. And third, the pain is overwhelming. So yeah, waking up is the worst, and the emotions can feel intense.
After collecting myself, getting a bit of food in me, and talking with Sam, the nurse came in for one of a thousand check-ins. All the nurses were amazing. I was happy to let them take care of me. The rest of the day and all through the evening were spent keeping up on pain meds, draining my surgical drain, waiting for the anesthesia effects to wear off, taking little walks, and trying to rest.
I watched Bob Ross, SpongeBob (lol), and other trash TV. I placed orders for all the food I could get. I walked laps around the hallway. I chugged water like my life depended on it. And I tried so very hard to sleep.
Come morning, I was in no rush to check out. It's really nice to have every meal brought right to your bedside, have nurses do all the hard work of keeping up on meds and vitals, and not be home worrying about...everything. My day-and-a-half stay in the hospital, despite the shitty reason for it, was a nice vacation from carrying the mental load of life. You can't blame me if I was a little reluctant to get back to reality.
After getting the all clear, I took a photo with my special t-shirt given to me by my cousin. It was my uncle's before he passed from cancer. I couldn't put it on, of course, so I just lay it over me. We said bye to the nurses, Sam ran ahead and got the car, and I was wheeled out to the front.
Before heading home, we stopped by my reconstructive surgeon's office. This is a required post-op appointment after surgery. They check to make sure there are no obvious red flags going on 24 hours after surgery, and give you the rundown on what things will look like and what your restrictions are. This was the first time I took the special surgical bra off to look at how things were.
Meh. Could have done without.
You can't expect anything after only 24 hours. Just bruising, swelling, and pain.
I was happy to arrive at home. My friend Molly met us there, and while Sam got the animals and house squared away, she helped me shower, change, and get into bed. I was incredibly glad to be set up in my own bed, with my sweet boy.
Week one was what I expected it to be. I was thankful the Olympics were on. That was perfect timing. And I was thankful my friends came to visit me. I had it in my mind that I needed to give myself a lot of grace that first week, and not expect much, and I did. Mentally, I staved off frustration, overwhelm, and the sadness of feeling like this was a setback to my daily life by reminding myself this was just the next chapter of my journey, and that it can only go up from there. That seemed to work that first week.
Two days later, on Thursday the 12th, we headed back to Portland to my reconstructive surgeon's office to have the drain removed. That was painful, but I was happy to be rid of it.
Yesterday I had my three-week post-op appointment with my reconstructive surgeon. Healing-wise, she thinks everything looks as it should. No signs of infection or tissue death. A lot of the swelling has gone down, and the bruising has gone away.
On Tuesday, the 10th, we headed to Portland for my 1-week post-op appointment with my surgical oncologist. All looked fine healing-wise.
Two days later, on Thursday the 12th, we headed back to Portland to my reconstructive surgeon's office to have the drain removed. That was painful, but I was happy to be rid of it.
Though I was happy to be rid of the drain, weeks two and three were hard. I didn't expect that.
My prescription pain meds ran out, so I was trying to manage that. I was growing increasingly frustrated with not being able to do things around the house, just dictating to others. My arm mobility sucked and wasn't getting better, which was concerning. I know how things look this early isn't even close to being a representation of how things will ultimately look months to a year from now. Even knowing this, it's hard to look at yourself and feel ok with how things are. It's hard to be patient with healing and watch things go from ok, to bad, to worse, back to ok, and keep circling through that over and over as you continue to heal.
It was growing harder to keep the negative thoughts away. I kept thinking to myself, "Ok...I've done the thing I needed to do. *Snaps fingers* Back to normal life now." But that's not how things go. I can't just go back to doing all the things. That was hard to handle. I've worked really hard for a year on rebounding, stretching, and lifting weights. I was afraid this break would make me feel anxious, and I was right. I had to keep reminding myself that this little break from normal life is a small drop in the bucket of the grand scheme of things.
Time is what is needed now. Time for the mesh to integrate. Time for the implant to "drop and fluff." Time for everything to stretch out and settle. Time. But again, it's so hard to be patient. And I have concerns about my implant never settling correctly due to my body's overzealous love of scar tissue, as seen with my first mastectomy on my left side. I know the answers to all my looming, worrisome questions are "we don't know" and "healing takes time." But those answers feel incredibly frustrating to me.
My arm mobility is an issue. She wants me to do some PT. I should be further along than I currently am in that aspect. So we will see.
All in all, everything "looks good" and is "going well." I go back in another three weeks for a check-in. Hopefully, by then, my arm mobility issue will be resolved.
Fuck cancer.
I hope I am cleared for exercise at my six-week post-op. I hope I can continue to give myself grace and be more patient with things. And I really hope that in the end, I am left with results I can grow to be ok with.
Fuck cancer.
With love,
Mama Hauck
No comments:
Post a Comment