Why My Mom Became a Stripper

With encouragement like this from my kids,
how can I do anything but my best to recover!

It’s been awhile since I wrote my last blog post immediately after my double mastectomy…well, there’s a reason for that. What a bugger it’s been in between then and now! When I last wrote, I was still embraced by a comfortable fog of quality pain killers. Then I went home and had to start the real recovery process. It wasn’t all bad, but it certainly wasn’t all good and definitely not something I’d care to repeat anytime soon. I’d never had a mastectomy (obviously!) so I didn’t really know what all was involved with it. The doctors and nurses can tell you about it to prepare you as best they can, but until you are actually called on to live it, it’s difficult to truly comprehend what your body must do to recover.

At the end of the surgery, Dr. Vashi installed four drain lines around the entire area and then he sewed me up. The drains allow for the exiting of all the extra fluid caused by the trauma of having your ta tas chopped off and your lymph nodes removed. The long flexible tubes come out of your body on your sides, two on each side, just straight out of your skin…it’s pretty creepy. They drain into four containers that look like flexible grenades and those are always with you to empty as needed. To keep everything flowing and avoid blockages, you have to “strip” the lines three times a day. This is how my mom became a stripper! She helped me with this task until I gained enough range of motion to do it for myself. After a week, the doctor removed one line on each side. After the second week when the lines were supposed to come out, I still had too much fluid. The doctor faced the decision of whether to keep the lines in and risk infection from having those things hanging out of my body too long, or to pull them and see what happens with all that fluid. He chose to pull them. I was so happy to get rid of those awful things…that was until my upper body started filling up with fluid! This was the worst part of the whole recovery process because it was terribly uncomfortable. I was so full that I felt like I could burst at any time. I actually wished I had those gawdawful drain lines back. Time does heal, though, and since then my body has slowly but surely absorbed much of the excess fluid and boy does that feel good. Much can be said for time and patience.

So here I am doing much better and doing much of what I was able to do before. The expanders I will have in place until the end of summer are rigid and unforgiving because they sit under the chest muscles and have to coax those muscles and the skin to stretch to accept the permanent implants. You can only imagine what that feels like. I’m constantly aware of the rocks I’m smuggling up top...significantly higher than where the natural ones liked to rest! You know, I prefer my margaritas top shelf and on the rocks, but not necessarily my boobs!