Home again...

I'm home from surgery #5...and the day after surgery is always a little harder, but I am becoming a true professional surgery patient. It's almost a shame that I am done and can't use all of my knowledge again for myself in the near future (not really, even Emma tells me not to like surgery too much or "God will think you want to have surgery again and make the cancer come back.")

My port (mediport) was removed, and that is what is the most painful...but it is more like a burning, healing sensation than any real pain. I'm swollen in the chest area, but that is too be expected - and more on the cancer side where my plastic surgeon had more work to do. He mentioned that with the two extra surgeries there was more scar tissue on that side. I feel almost nothing in my chest area. I wonder if I'll regain any feeling there, but I don't really care...it is certainly great to have no feeling there after surgery!

Anyway, it was another enjoyable stay in the hospital...perhaps I really enjoy drugs, perhaps I really enjoy the quiet and being waited upon, and watching television without people telling me that it isn't fair, they should be able to watch SpongeBob instead (ok, that was an amalgamation of two whiny children - one of the girls would say it was unfair, and Nathan would whine about SpongeBob). Then I would have to tell them to get back in bed, haven't I told you that 5 times already, blah blah blah. So a night away is fun. Bill is almost insulted by how much I like a night away, that I appreciate my surgeries just as a break, but it's not the night away from him that I enjoy so much...

I did have some lovely conversations with my nurses and the MA's...so much talking. I think I was most definitely preventing them from doing their jobs but they didn't seem to mind. They didn't remember me from my surgery like I remembered them, but they loved it when I mentioned details from our past conversations. I enjoyed the adult conversation in general.

I really do need to get out more.

Surgery tomorrow....

Check in at the hospital: 6:15am. My port and expanders will be checking out of my body starting around 7:30am, I expect. Then I will have some implants checking in...my new pals for the next 15-20 years or so.

Amy and Matthew are here...that baby just lights up my whole world with his smiles.

I do have to say that I was never worried about the surgery, even if I did go apoplectic about preparing everything for it and for my recovery. This should be the easiest of all of them - no drains, plus I know the whole drill so well by now. I will stay overnight for IV antibiotics, because there is always an infection risk.

Anyway, tomorrow should be just fine. No worries for me! nmkmhjnkl
\ tg fG (And Matthew agrees with me, apparently.)

I'm sure I might update from my favorite computer in the middle of the night tomorrow. I'll miss those late night post-surgery rambles around the unit (well, maybe not)!

$25 off registration for the Breast Cancer 3-day

Register by January 16th (midnight) and use the discount code NEWYEAR... you can go to my participant page and click on "Join Pamela's team!" to register.

46 days until vacation...what?

I was counting the days until our fabulous vacation to Roatan...and then I stopped myself when I realized how ridiculous that was. I'm counting down 46 days until I go on a vacation (albeit exciting, new, warm, and with snorkeling, which is something I adore with all my heart) that will only last for only 7 days? That seems so crazy, wasting 46 days waiting for 7 days.

So I am going to find a way to put more exciting, new, and warm things which I adore with all my heart into more of these regular old days. Wish me luck (it means avoiding snits and fitting things in when I could be wasting all my time cleaning or doing other sometimes painfully mindless things like reading about celebrities or hideous baby names on the internet, which is what I have been doing last night and today)!

This is how it happens...bad baby names

Emma: "If I ever have the last name Polo, and I have a son, I'm going to name him Marco."
Me: "Are you serious?"
Emma: "Yes...Marco Polo. It's a really fun game!"

Maybe all the Mario Kart she is playing with her father is rotting her brain.

Look at how crafty I am!

I taught myself how to make this today, and I think it is so cute:

It's fingerprint animals...one each for every kid in Emma's class (this is for the upcoming auction). Here is the closeup:

Each kid chose their animal and color from a book, did the fingerprints, and I made the animals, cut them out, mounted them, mounted their names, etc. Such a crafty girl.

Intrusion

Let me just say, this happens EVERY TIME - before a treatment, before surgery, before anything big and annoying - I get upset, I resent the intrusion into my non-cancer life, my little ordered world where I was in control and happily humming along, and I blow up. How dare you come into my happy little world where I am a regular person, doing regular things again, and make me think about the fact that I had cancer (or could get it again, which is worse - the possibility)?

The more I contemplate, the more I am sure it is this anxiety that blew into Pam this week and shoved me down into depression world. I did not want to make time for anything cancer related, again, and had to - a fill at the plastic surgeon's office, bloodwork for my Zometa treatment on Monday, finding a babysitter for that treatment, figuring out rides for kids on Thursday and Friday next week because of my surgery (which I still have to do), sitting down to watch a stupid 20 minute video about anesthesia (great if you haven't already had 4 similar procedures in the past 10 months, annoying if you have), thinking that if I don't run today, I'm sure going to miss it for the next 4 weeks when I can't run, realizing I have just a week left before I have to be out of things again.

Oh how I hate this stuff coming back into my life again, just as I am feeling like it was a million years ago! And oh, how it doesn't matter that this is the last reconstruction (hopefully) for a long while, that it is the last monthly Zometa treatment for 3 months, that it is the last fill ever, that it is the last time I have to give up running or erging for a month (not like I am doing this all the time, but it is my safety net - I like knowing I CAN do those things if depression rears it's ugly head. I panic thinking those things are off limits.) It also doesn't seem to make a difference that I have an awesome vacation planned, will be able to buy a real bra, stop needing to worry when clothes shopping if something reveals my port, or a lopsided breast, or anything. I just hate it coming back, and can't see past to the good stuff.

But, as I said, this frustration, or anxiety, happens every time before a surgery or treatment, like clockwork. You would think I could plan for it and adjust, but I always forget it happens until it does. So then it happens, and I'm miserable, and then I realize "oh, THIS is why I'm miserable". And I'm glad to have that reason for my misery, to see the pattern, because I know what happens next and it is easier. Following the misery, I can move into total preparation mode and become that patient again. Again, let's put away regular Pam for awhile and bring back cancer Pam. It's so hard to do that, but once it happens, I'm ready to get back at it.