April 11, 2022 - GETTING RID OF BOOBIE BAGGAGE

So I've often thought before, if I could just loose a little weight in my big boobs I could wear button shirts. Well, I didn't literally it mean, if it meant losing the weight this way!

While my amazing husband spent the weekend in Iowa, freezing, at a baseball tournament (can't thank him enough for tackling that) I spent the weekend prepping. Prepping for what I won't be able to do after surgery. Prepping for family that will come and stay with us to help with the kids. Laundry, dishes, shopping, prepping beds, lunches and having my last glass of wine for a while. It was a bottle, shut up. I had 9,000 steps and barely left the house. I earned that bottle.

Woke up April 11th feeling pretty OK. Still not reality for me. I started with my normal routine, getting the kids ready for school and getting them to the bus stop. 

Now it's time. Brian and I head to the hospital. It's like I want to just be there, but also just want to keep driving. Everyone that we meet through check-in is great. They all make sure to get Brian's phone number because once I'm in surgery, he's not allowed to stay in waiting area. It's a 5 hour procedure, so I wouldn't want him sitting there anywhere. It's when they wheel me away on the bed and the nurse suggests a kiss goodbye. A kiss goodbye. Goodbye. That might not have been her exact words, but that's how I remember it. I've never had surgery, never broke a bone, never had anesthesia, never been admitted to a hospital outside of having my two boys. What is going through my mind is when I watched my oldest son, Evan, being wheeled away for his first colonoscopy at 7 years old. I remember him holding it together better than me and I decided in that moment I needed to be strong like my son and hold it together. 

I'm wheeled into the operating room, again, this is a first. I feel like I'm on a tv show, with bright lights and people walking around as if they're hitting their stage marks. They put a breathing mask on me and ask me to take some deep breaths. I was waiting for them to ask me to count. Both of my breasts were removed. Cancer had become aggressive in my right breast and I guess it took longer to carefully remove all the tissue. One lymph node was taken and 'quick' tested for cancer. It came back clear so they did not have to take another. The plastic surgeon then comes in and adds tissue expanders to both breasts. I'm 44 years old, I didn't want to be flat, I still wanted to look and feel feminine. Everyone has different thoughts and requests, this was mine. Then I was awake. 

The nurse is asking how I feel. It's done. I blinked. My first question was, how many lymph nodes were taken? That was always our biggest concern, that it spread to lymph nodes. I was told only one had to be taken. Then I asked what time it was. It was 5:40pm. I went in at 11:30a. She gave me some ice chips, which felt and tasted amazing. She made small talk with me as she called Brian to tell him I'd be coming up to my room. She asked what I wanted for dinner, I told her, 'tell my husband I want steak and lobster.' 

I'm rolled up to my room, I don't remember the trip, but Brian is waiting in the room for me when I get there and I just want to jump and kiss him. He had already spoken with both surgeons. I'm told at some point tonight I will need to get up and walk around. Well shit, let's just do that now. I get up and walk to a chair, nurse and Brian on each side of me to make sure I didn't fall. I was good. 

Brian was kicked out shortly after and there I was alone. I had wound vacs on my breasts and tubes coming from both armpit areas. So I literally can't even see what's happened. I can't unwrap it, I can't peek, nothing. They gave me a pain blocker in my chest while I was under, which apparently lasts up to 40 hours. I took nothing in the hospital except Tylenol and Antibiotics. The kitchen was closed, so the nurses went on a scavenger hunt for jello for me. I hadn't eaten since the day before. 

By morning, I'm ready to go. Pain is starting to come and if I stay there to take the good stuff, they want to monitor me for at least an hour. No thanks... I'm fine, I'll make it home. And I did.

I remember crying on and off at times, Brian held me each time. Then I'd make a joke. The battery pack for my wound vac tubes sometimes sounded like ducks, so for the two weeks, we joked about my ducks following me everywhere.