I Turned 59!!!!!!

April 27th – Yesterday Was My Birthday

I turned 59 years old yesterday. It’s hard to believe that I’ve experience so much in my life – some good, some bad. There have been so many changes in our culture, our science, our day to day existence that I literally marvel at the wonder of it all.

I’m also a little afraid of it. We can be watched, spied on, followed, and photographed by anyone at any time. We have to be more aware of our special codes and specific accounts. We have passwords for everything. Litigation has spread like wildfire and we are afraid of everything.

Children no longer enjoy the freedom of riding a bike and letting the breeze blow through their hair. Adults carefully watch what their children eat, with whom they play, and monitor their every move with a cell phone or an in-home security system.

We are living in 1984.

While that scares me, I try to exist in this time of constant surveillance by becoming invisible and staying blissfully under the radar. Except for this blog and my Facebook account and the fact that I have numerous publications that are listed on the internet – no one knows I exist.

Anyway, I digress. I was going to talk about my birthday. I decided I wanted to go to the piney woods. I love their smell and it is my second favorite place to be when I am stressed – the first being the beach. So, my husband and I took a drive up Mt. Lemon to have lunch and sit by the lake until it was time to have dinner with family at Pinacle Peak’s. The weather was not our friend, but we went prepared with a second shirt and rain gear. Rain gear is awesome for rain, not so awesome for hail. As we were sitting in the restaurant it began to hail. FUN! I thought I was having a bad day until I noticed two motorcycles and two open air off road vehicles parked next to our Jeep. I felt really bad for them.

But we made it to the car without much damage and proceeded to the fudge shop where I purchased a ½ pound of fudge and walked outside just as it began to hail again.

Going back down the mountain, we ran out of the hail in a just a few minutes, so we decided to pay the $9.00 fee and go to the lake. Beautiful! The smell of pine mixed with the smell of rain made an intoxicating potion and I took several deep breaths of it. I felt hail on my head and one of the little bugers nailed me in the eye before we made it back to the Jeep.

Okay, enough. Back down the mountain with about 2 hours to kill until dinner. I wanted to go to Mesquite Valley Growers to look for some small plants for my backyard. I fell in love with a kinetic wind machine, but couldn’t afford the hefty price tag. So, I settled on a pot full of succulents. Hail once again met us just as we ducked into the Jeep.

I looked like a drowned rat, but we couldn’t go home and change, so we went to the restaurant. I hadn’t been there in ages and it was quite fun walking around the old town. The rest of the family arrived and we were seated. Now, it’s an unspoken rule that when we take me out for my birthday no one tells the wait staff that it is my birthday to avoid embarrassment. But the news leaked and along with a free scoop of ice cream with a candle on top, the entire restaurant sang happy birthday to me. So much for staying under the radar.

Other than the hail, it was a good day. My father called and asked me how old I was. Both my brothers called and my neighbor called. I received some beautiful cards and my mother-in-law made my favorite cake.

Starting Monday, I’ll be in a whirl again. I see my General Practitioner on Monday and then I’m having a pedicure. Tuesday I’ll stay home and do laundry and make sure everything is in order at my house. Wednesday I’m attending a daylong seminar on living with Cancer that includes nutrition and a lecture on sex and intimacy. Wednesday afternoon I have to call to see what time my surgery is the following morning.

Thursday morning is the big day. The procedure will take place at University of Arizona medical center under the expert hands of Dr. Larsen. They told me to dress comfortably with a button down shirt, so I bought a new pair of jammies. Why not? They’ll be comfy and they button down. I don’t care if I’ll be in public, it’s at a hospital for goodness sakes. Then I’ll start recovering at home under my husband’s watchful eye until he returns to work on Monday. I’ll see my surgeon on Tuesday for my first follow-up. I’ve asked my in-laws to take me, just in case I’m not ready to drive yet.

I plan to have Randy take a side shot before the surgery and each time I get saline injections, but no undressed shots will appear on this blog.

Love to you all, thank you for your support, and keep reading.

Reconstruction Begins

May 1 – Surgery

Let’s see, it’s been about six months or more since Randy found the lump that sent our world into a tizzy. Decisions were made, biopsies were performed, news was shared, and surgery was completed. I thought the mastectomy surgery was painful, but let me tell you, this one has it beat all to hell.

My surgery was scheduled for 7:30 am and the hospital is an hour’s drive from our house. We, of course, arrived about 15 minutes early. The wind was blowing so hard that we thought we woke up in Oklahoma.

I was told to wear something comfortable with buttons down the front, so I bought a new set of jammies and wore them. Very cute. Very comfortable.

I was checked in at the insurance station. Randy was given a card with my patient ID number on it and was told that he could watch my progress on the monitors using that number. Someone would update the monitors every time I was moved, so he knew where I was.

The thing I appreciated more than anything about this waiting room is that there was no coffee, no coffee smells, no water, and no food courts. Since I hadn’t eaten or drank anything in over 12 hours, I appreciated the concern of the hospital for the patient. The cafeteria was in another building and after I was in surgery, Randy and Amy found their way there for food.

From the literature, we assumed that once I was taken back to the prep area, Randy couldn’t go. But, thankfully, they let him come. They gave me a robe and new booties and got me all settled in a bed. The first nurse asked me questions about allergies and such. The second nurse put a warm blanket on my hand because I’m a red head and veins are hard to find with red heads. Since my red hair comes straight out of a bottle, I wasn’t too worried. Veins are hard to find on me, but not impossible. Until now.

I asked to go to the bathroom where I could have a minute alone to thank all my angels for coming and give myself a little pep talk to calm down. When I returned, all the nurses were gone and Randy and I waited…..and waited…..and waited.

Soon, an anesthesiologist student arrived to administer sedative when he noticed that I didn’t have an IV. Let the games begin. Apparently, I threw their schedule all out of whack when I went to the bathroom and now I had to get back in line. The nurse arrived and tried to find a vein in my hand. After much poking and proding, she gave up and tried for the other hand with the same results. The student tried the vein in the crook of my arm, but couldn’t find it. If you’re keeping score – that’s red head veins 3 – medical professionals 0.

Finally, the anesthesiologist arrived with an ultra-sound machine and got a vein on my inner right arm to accept the needle and started the IV. First time ever I tasted the saline solution.

Everyone came in to introduce themselves – all the surgical nurses, all the students, all the anesthesiologists and finally the surgeon. He sat me up in bed and asked me to turn towards him. Then he took a navy blue Sharpie and drew lines and circles all over my chest. He concentrated so hard on his creation that I was reminded of a first grader drawing his first picture. When he was done, he helped me back into the prone position and said “Let’s go!”

Randy held my hand as I was being wheeled away until we reached the crossroad and he kissed me. I hate the worry in his face that shows even though he tries to hide it. I hate that he will spend the next few hours pacing and talking with our daughter and worrying. I hate that he has to go through this yet again. I love that he is willing to do it over and over.

I was wheeled into the bright, cold operating room and moved to the table. After everyone said it would all be fine, a mask was put on my face. I was told to breathe deeply and when the oxygen changed to the drugs, I was out like a light. My part was easy.

Do you remember the monitors where Randy could watch my progress? Well, they didn’t work so well. One of the nurses called when one of my breasts were done, but never called again. And my number disappeared from the board before anyone told Randy I was in recovery. He was just a smidge freaked out.

I woke up looking at the ultrasound monitor again while the anesthesiologist was yet again searching for another vein. Apparently, the one made it through surgery, but had given up and they needed a new one to administer pain meds. I didn’t really care this time, but everyone seemed to be very excited when they found the new one.

Randy and Amy had arrived. Amy bought me a teddy bear and I held onto him as I slipped in and out. Finally, I was given ice chips – then asked if I wanted a Pepsi. Good, googly moogly! Nervana in a small can with a straw!

The nurses all said I didn’t have to leave any time soon. Just relax. But soon, I had to pee, so I rang for the nurse who had to disconnect me from the machines. Randy and this tiny little nurse helped me to the bathroom and back. After I got back in bed, I asked when I could go home. The answer was “Anytime you want.” I said I was ready.

This time I remembered putting my clothes on and getting into the wheelchair. I remember going through the outside door and feeling the wind on my face – still blowing like I was in Oklahoma. I remember being assisted into the Jeep and my daughter’s kiss on my cheek.

I looked down to see a huge purple bruise on my arm and several greenish bruises on my hands. I felt my chest and said “I have baby bumps!”

Finally home and in bed, the first day was over. I was soon to learn that rebuilding what has been taken away is way more painful and the purchase of a good recliner would have been a great idea.

Tattoos or Nipples?

May 14 – Almost Two Weeks

I am feeling better each day – with minor setbacks. The mirror is still not my friend, but I look at the scars surrounded by small, fake breasts everyday to check for healing or infection. So far, healing is winning. Yeah!

On June 6, I will start the process of having the expanders filled with saline. We will start at 100cc’s on each side for each visit. If I can’t handle that, we’ll go down to 75 and maybe down to 50. I have to choose if I just want this over with or if I want to take my time. Depends on what the pain level is and for how long.

I am finally sleeping in my bed again. I slept there the first night and had no problems getting out. Probably because I was still full of anesthesia, but the second night was a whole different ball game. I was stuck on my back – arms and legs flailing – looking much like a turtle until Randy rescued me. It was then I decided that sleeping in my not so comfortable recliner was a better idea. The take home instructions say to put a couple of pillows behind your back to elevate your breasts so they don’t swell. My bed is adjustable, so the pillows are not required. I still sleep like a mummy with my legs out straight and my arms crossed across my chest, but I’m in my bed and that is an accomplishment.

They removed my drainage tubes on Monday and said not to take a shower until today. This will be the best shower ever! I won’t have to tape up the tubes and wash around them. I remember how wonderful this first tubeless shower was after my last surgery. It’s the little things.

Tomorrow I will start massaging lotion on my breasts to keep them subtle and easier to expand. Twice a day, if you happen to look in my window, you will see me sitting in a chair massaging my chest. Nothing erotic about that, it’s all part of the process. If it’s a nice day, I may go outside on the back porch to massage my incisions. I have always wanted to sunbathe topless. Now I can. It’s not illegal as long as your nipples aren’t showing and since I have no nipples, it’s fine.

I am a huge fan of tattoos and the artists who create them so I watch a reality show called “InkMaster”. There is a lot of swearing and bleeping out of things and I don’t like the fighting, but I love the creations. Last night, they had 4 women who wanted tattoos on their breasts. They had beat breast cancer and were done with their reconstructions. Instead of trying to make their breasts appear normal with new nipples and such, they chose to put art on their chests. I have been on the fence about what to do until last night. One of the women said she chose to do the tattoo because “they took away everything and left scars and I want to look in the mirror and see beauty again.” My decision was made. I look forward to finding an amazing artist to add beauty to my scared chest. My breasts are gone – cancer took them. I can never put them back. The reconstruction is basically so I will fit in clothes and to answer my secret desire to have a C cup. But these are not mine and they are not pretty. Every time I look at them, I am reminded of the phone call from my doctor and the decision to have them removed. I choose beauty over fake nipples. I choose art over scars.

Wanting and Needing

May 18 – Wanting and Needing

Randy came home from work on Friday, quickly changed his clothes and we went to our doctor’s office to get his blood drawn. This process took almost an hour because the technician was on her lunch break and no one bothered to tell us. Randy had been awake since 8 pm on Thursday and hadn’t eaten anything in 12 hours. And I was the grumpy one.

After the 5 seconds it took to draw the blood, we headed off to the mall to find food and new shoes. Food was found, shoes were not.

Next stop was his parent’s house where we sat and talked. His mother still knows the fine art of mending and I watched her aged hands repair a seam with precision and care. I have never mended anything. The children used to come to me and say they had a hole in something or the other and I would reply to put it in the mending pile. After a couple of months, I would donate the clothing and no one was the wiser. Until they were and then they just said “Why don’t we skip the pile step and just take it to the Goodwill.” I hate when kids grow up.

Anyway, we ordered pizza and ate with them, but left soon after. It was now 7:30 pm and Randy was starting to get a glazed look in his eyes. He needed sleep and I was exhausted.

Saturday, we did 7 loads of laundry. I sorted, he put clothes in the washer, then into the dryer, then I folded. Repeat 7 times. We still had shopping to do, but we said it could wait.

Today, we went shopping. First stop, breakfast. We were joined by every other single person in Tucson. Okay, so I exaggerate, but it seemed to be the case. Then off to Sam’s club to put gas in the Jeep and buy a couple of bulk items (enough paper towels to cover the earth twice and a million paper plates) and a Kuerig coffee maker. We finished with a haircut for Randy and a stop at Basha’s to buy groceries in normal sizes.

Back to the coffee maker. There is a difference between NEEDING and WANTING. I have a perfectly good Bunn coffee maker. Makes a pot of coffee in 2 minutes. Works like a champ. But I wanted another expensive coffee maker so that if I chose to have 1 cup of coffee at 3:00 in the afternoon, I could do that without making a whole pot. Never mind that the K-cups are very expensive. Never mind that I have one more appliance sitting on my countertop. Just know that I have been pining away for this utterly useless kitchen appliance for over a year and by God, I was going to have one – and it was on sale. After finding the coffee maker and feeling very good about my purchase, a woman who was selling this fantastic skin cream stopped us and started slathering my arm with it and then Randy’s arm. In a minute, I told this perfect stranger that I had just had breast reconstruction surgery and I needed to massage my breasts with a cream twice a day that was hypoallergenic and fragrance free. I told this perfect stranger about my breasts in the middle of Sam’s club. She stopped talking. She stopped selling. She walked around the table and hugged me and said “Be well.” She smiled. I bought the cream. It’s great stuff actually, but I didn’t need that either. My mother-in-law bought me some great cream. Works like a champ. I didn’t need this cream, but I wanted it.

We all want things. I want Randy to take a breather and sleep more. I want my boobs to miraculously grow back without hurting and having scars. I want my kids to be debt free. I want my Daddy to live forever. I have no control over these things that I want, but I do have control over a new coffee maker and a better kind of skin cream. And it made me feel a little bit better to be able to get some of the things I wanted instead of always worrying about the things I need. A small indulgence.

For someone who is only 2 weeks out from surgery, this has been a very busy weekend. I’m exhausted, but I did it. I got my errands done and survived. I’m getting better every day. That is a WIN that I NEED.

Enough!

May 25 – Bad Day

I always think about what I should put on this blog. My good days and my bad, but I always want you to remember that I am not giving up. My Cancer is gone and we did everything we could do to make it go away. What we are going through now has little to do with that and deciding to put it on my blog is a way of telling you that even if you are fighting a horrible disease, life goes on.

Yesterday was the day I threw my hands up in the air and said “I just don’t care anymore!” It was a culmination of things – it always is. I have the ever present pressure and occasional muscle spasms in my breasts. I have limitations to what I can do and for how long. But those things, I know, are temporary – albeit a long temporary.

We are financially struggling and have been since our move to Tucson in 2010. But we continue to barely make it and have money in savings to help in the low times. I have been unable to find a job that actually pays me enough to drive 30 miles into town to work (really, haven’t been able to find any job that is permanent). Randy holds the entire burden of taking care of me and working about 60 to 70 hours a week. We have been kicking around the idea of leaving Tucson and searching for a place where I can use this expensive education, but that can’t happen until I am all done with these boobs.

Last week, Randy found out his job is cutting his hours and his miles. He is going to be (in a sense) an errand boy - picking up odd loads on a daily basis instead of a steady job going to the mines. The job he did have was given to people who live in Nogales so his employer no longer has to pay for hotel rooms. For whatever reason, the other steady jobs were handed out to other people who have been there less time than Randy.

So, here we are, like many other people, stuck in a place we can’t leave with minimal source of income and no way out. I think I kinda went comatose. Enough! What else can we do? How much more difficult do our lives have to be? I honestly don’t care anymore and when I told Randy that, he said he had been there for about a month.

I can’t go back in my life and change anything we’ve done. The past is the past and regretting our decisions only makes the depression worse. But we are stagnant. Trapped here and unsure of taking any steps at all for fear they will, once again, be the wrong one.

We will continue to struggle because we have no other options, but we are not happy people. I guess the best thing I can say about all this is that we are unhappy together.

Here I sit writing in my on-line diary about being depressed when my coffee mug says “Pause if you must, but don’t stop believing everything will be ok.” I’m going to pause for a while and try to start again believing in our future. We’ll see how that goes.