keeping abreast | keeping a breast

just when i started having more energy, just when i was making travel plans and work trips, just when i was reconnecting with my MBA professors about wrapping up coursework, just when i started feeling more reliable as a co-worker, just when i had a fun getaway to phoenix to make me feel almost like a normal person….
i found blood in my bra. an emergency call to the surgeon and a sunday night office visit later, it turns out my incision split open and it’s infected.  ugh. ew. vomit. my breast was red, hot and annnngry.
the surgeon stitched me up right there, got me on antibiotics, and we’ve since been getting a plan in place. the plan has changed upwards of 10 times already today…information is imperfect and new facts keep coming to light.
but for now, tomorrow at 1pm, i’m having surgery. they will remove the infected implant and see how far the infection has spread. if it’s still contained, they will clean it out and replace the implant with a new smaller one so that the skin isn’t stretched as much, and stitch me up. if it’s spread, they will clean it out and stitch me up, leaving me with a wrinkly tiny breast for now.  then, either way, the next step will be within the week, to go back in and have another surgery where they remove back tissue and place it around the incision. this allows healthy new skin to strong arm the flimsy, sickly radiated skin. if they end up not being able to put an implant in tomorrow because of infection, i could get an implant during the second surgery.
roger that?  i know, it’s a lot.  and the shittiest part of it all, is that it STILL might not work. and i’d be stuck with that wrinkly tiny breast.
one other option on the table was this surgery called a DIEP flap. it uses a person’s own stomach tissue and fat, and recreates a breast. the chance of success is very high, because a body rarely rejects its own tissue. as of last night, i was ready to do this, despite a really long surgery and tough recovery…mostly due to an abdominal incision that stretches from hip bone to hip bone. but then, i unearthed a little fact that this surgery is not recommended for women who are planning to have children.  screeeeeech on the brakes. yep, it might screw with my abdominal wall. when talking with the surgeon today, i told him i pictured the worst case scenario of having this alien baby pop out of my stomach during future pregnancy. he said it’s maybe not that severe but still, he has never had a patient do the DIEP and then have a baby.  and as usual, the BAYS community has been nothing short of amazing in helping me navigate all these options.
i’m riding another roller coaster. cancer–the gift that keeps giving. in an eerie way, i feel like I’m getting diagnosed all over again. breaking apart plans and living with a lot of uncertainty. i’ve been coaxed back into the lull of life and then, bam! 
some of you may be wondering about why i’m doing all this in the first place. but i ask you: how would it feel to be unable to fit into your own clothes ever again? or every time you dress notice a hugely deformed marker on your body as a big reminder of cancer and its ongoing grip on your life? sure, reconstruction surgery is cosmetic. but there is significant mental and emotional health around it as well. that’s why it’s mandated for insurance companies to cover it. it’s like an exclamation point at the end of the most tough of treatments.
my first instinct was to blame myself. “oh, i should have listened to the doctor when he told me not to lift anything for 2 months (even though that is completely impractical).”  but he confirmed that it was a situation just waiting to happen with my radiated thin skin and there’s nothing i could have done to avoid it.  except not doing belly flops into a pool (his words), of which i haven’t done any.
i’ll be staying overnight in the hospital 1-2 nights to get IV antibiotics and monitor healing.  i’ll also get more of those fucking drains.  here’s a picture of me after the last reconstruction surgery, all bright-eyed and full of hope about healing (no comments on the ‘fro or fancy Velcro contraptions). i’m trying to reach down and find some of that energy heading into tomorrow.
so to recap: cancer sucks.the end,meaghanps MaPP people, this doesn’t mean i won’t be connected to what’s going on this week…it’s getting too exciting up in BC to be away from you all for too long!

i’m 2 weeks out of surgery and slowly getting more energy and less soreness. many women told me the swap surgery would be a small thing compared to the mastectomy. while mostly true, having my port out and liposuction on top of it made it more difficult. it’s just this week that i’ve been able to bend over and tie shoelaces. i have 8 incisions and sets of stitches around my torso where they removed fat and several around my breast where they grafted it. that is in addition to the port, implant, and drain incision. true to form, my doctor said i’d likely get my drain out by tuesday after surgery. it hung on until friday. my bandages came off and were swapped out last friday too (happy valentine’s day!). while life post-sponge bathing felt good, it still felt gross to wash my body…all these new shapes and stitches poking out like fishing line.  i cut my first shower short because my body was giving me the heebeejeebees.  and looking at it, with the bandages and bruises was a similar experience.

right before they wheeled me into the OR, my surgeon came in and performed his permanent marker trick on me….circling my right breast (“just so that we’re sure”), port, belly button, and where each of my hips meets my torso.  he then had me turn around to see if they might remove fat from my back too but then decided he’d have enough from my front side.  i’m standing there topless with my paper gown draped over my bottom half, feeling like a freakshow.  the only thing i could say is, “you know how to make a girl feel special.”  the joke went over mildly.

also, it was only then that i thought to ask what i come out of surgery with. he explained that beyond the stitches, i would be wrapped up in velcro, with a compression girdle and a compression bra that, lucky me, snaps in the front.

the surgery went mostly well. my breasts almost line up and are almost the same size (although it was tempting to try out a DD on one side)(or not at all). i got off the pain meds as soon as i could to stop pooping rocks.  the only surgical complication is that because of radiation, several areas of the fat graft didn’t work and won’t work.  so my skin is wrinkly and concave right above my breast. at first, it didn’t bother me because i couldn’t see the full extent given surgical swelling.  but now, it does bother me. it actually grosses me out. when wearing a tanktop, it’s noticeable.

i clearly had high expectations that my new breast would look like my old breast.

so i’m still sitting with that feeling of being let down and of a sad, wrinkly concave reminder of my disease.

but also working on a different, and true, story. i had breast cancer. of course my breasts aren’t going to be the same after treatment. it’s a scar of my experience.  a different reminder to be present because tomorrow could bring a bomb to my life, and all that i know of is what’s happening right now in front of me.

it’s ok to be sad though.

to add salt to the wound, the sports illustrated swimsuit edition came in the mail this week. perfect timing for a fragile, post-surgery, menopausal me. not that i ever had aspirations to become a model or that my 5’3 frame would facilitate it. but i realized that these imperfections take me out of the running. that they might be something someone notices about me and wonders about. i know…it’s absolutely, utterly, completely ridiculous. but logic and emotion don’t often sync up. so i cried over the sports illustrated swimsuit edition. that might be a first for that magazine, to have tears on it instead of other bodily fluids.

and the effects of liposuction on my stomach aren’t actually noticeable. double bummer.

on the good news front, the silicone implant is so much softer than the expander. it’s like a grenade was replaced with a gummi bear (because it was – ha!). and now, i’m a card-carrying (yes, i really have a card) silicone implant owner.

and on the slightly weird front, when i flex my pec, my whole boob moves up and down. 

a new talent, ladies and gents!

happy, sunny weekend to you all. sending warmth and hugs to the murray family and healing energy to several more of you.

xo

m

after 3 months of medical leave, i go back to work tomorrow. i’m nervous, sad, anxious, excited, sore, and tired. i am still limited to walking for exercise, can’t lift more than 5 pounds, and need a significant number of pillows (and ambien) to sleep…which makes me really annoying on the homefront (even whiz has been protesting).

as time does, it’s sped by and crawled by. i’ve really been working these past 3 months to live in the present. a book i just finished about your highest goal had a passage that really speaks to this,

“most of us grapple with problems of time and stress because we are seldom present. we spend our time wandering through the vast repository of the past, with its memories, things we did wrong, people we liked and didn’t like, and old loves.  guilt alternates with nostalgia for the good old days.  when we look toward the future, we’re filled with fear and anticipation of events that may never occur.  the present hardly exists for us.  our minds dwell in these other modes, and we miss life…time isn’t the problem: the way we approach it is.  if we can stay focused in the present, in the eternal now, the grace of the present will open up possibilities for us.”
instead of stressing about my alarm clock tomorrow or an overwhelming inbox, i’m focused on the comfort of the couch, cozy pajamas, and a pot cookie from the dispensary.  
what’s in your eternal now?
talk with you soon,xom

hey, boob. don’t be afraid….you were made to go out and get her.the minute you let her under your skin,then you begin to make it better.
or something like that.
last year at this time before my mastectomy, i was scared shitless (literally…because of all the pain meds i was on). 
but now, i’m in great anticipation of my surgery tomorrow….to remove my port, a constant reminder of my cancer, and to get my new implant and rid my chest of the turtle shell/bomb/it-feels-like-duct-tape-on-my-torso expander. i have faith in my surgical team and my body’s ability to heal. i will the surgical drain i get tomorrow to have the right amount of fluid output that enables it to get removed in a timely way. i am prepared with antibiotics, pain meds and stool softeners (and convinced that i can come up with a better name for “stool softeners” while i’m looped up on pain meds). i am thankful for fantastic care with mike, my parents and support network here locally to help with meals and appointments.
because this is life and because i had 5 weeks of radiation which makes my skin act like bacon (direct quote from my doctors) (i’ll never eat bacon in the same way), i’m aware of the potential complications. i’m going to type up the most present ones here as a “container” to store them in, then put them out of my mind:  my skin could refuse to heal and incision not close; my nipple could fall off because of circulation issues; the whole implant could get infected and have to be removed thus leaving me with a concave breast. there….done.
this picture is a box of boobs in the surgeons office. after holding them all, giggling, making several bad jokes, and comparing the pros/cons, i made the decision to have a new silicone implant called a gummi-bear implant. it has been used in the EU for 8 years, and the FDA just approved the gummi-bears for use in the US last year. they’re shaped more naturally like a tear drop. if the implant ruptures, it’s less likely to leak throughout my body. the safety pros are one thing, but it might have been the name that sealed the deal.  who doesn’t like a gummi?
when i got the surgery authorization in the mail, it also mentioned liposuction.  um, what??? in what will be the endless chase to make my breasts even, the surgeons are going to remove fat from my stomach and graft it on the top of my breast. it means another incision but the results seem promising.  however, seeing “silicone implant” and “liposuction” in a letter with my name on it made me laugh out loud. oh, the twists and turns of life.
thank you for all your notes and warm wishes the past few days. i’ve loved hearing from you and really appreciate that i’m on your mind.
as i round the bend on another milestone in my treatment, this quote by Rumi that shannon sent to me this week resonates, because there has been a lot of living while struggling for my life, and i look forward to a lot more living to come.
“Dance, when you’re broken open. Dance, if you’ve torn the bandage off. Dance in the middle of the fighting. Dance in your blood. Dance when you’re perfectly free.” 

love, light, and dancing to you.

xom

i imagined that during my medical leave, i’d be doing a lot of writing and processing.  i think the processing is percolating, but the writing isn’t.  i don’t have the mental energy to do it.  it will come though.  i have a lot of material to work through!

i could write about menopause and insomnia, menopause and insomnia and medical marijuana, making complex decisions about staying on monthly zolodex shots or going off of them, starting another preventative infusion called zometa, joining a research study on cognitive changes after chemo and another study on ayurvedic diet and whether or not it helps with fatigue and residual side effects. or the ongoing confusion around my possible lymphedema (or what i like to call lymphedrama). i could relay stories about all the christmas cookies i ate this year to make up for lost time, how lovely it was to finish painting my childhood dollhouse with my mom during the polar vortex, and how it was exceptionally difficult to say goodbye to my grandpa. or that i’m thrilled to be joining the BAYS board to help other women. and saddened that two of my BAYS friends have been diagnosed with advanced stage IV disease and are struggling with horrible pain.  i could also share about what it’s like to go offline for a long amount of time…how it’s nice to use a glue gun and exercise the other side of my brain with arts and crafts, pulling weeds, and potting tulips. maybe i could tell you about recent breakthrough in meditation and what it feels like to just be with your breath. and that i did my first hand stand in yoga. and how behind i am on email and catching up with people, but how ok i am with that.

for now, the news is that i’m cleared for surgery by my primary and radiation oncologists and primary surgeon. it will be february 7.  i say goodbye to my port and get my new implant.  both big steps!

happy 2014 to all – xom

just saying hi. this picture sums up our trip perfectly.  

i hope your holidays are off to a wonderful start.
xo,
meaghan