My Double Mastectomy Part III: More Surgeries
7.14.2023
It has been nearly three full months since my last surgery. Wednesday I was unceremoniously deemed healed and all restrictions lifted! Woohoo! It honestly feels a bit surreal. I don’t ever have to see my surgeon again? I can lift that bag? I can run? I can finally scoop Ezra up into my lap? Wow. I have been consciously avoiding these physical actions for the last six months. It’s going to take some practice to remove that mental wall I’ve built against actually doing things with my arm and chest muscles, but I have a feeling those bricks will crumble quickly. I am more than ready to reclaim the kind of woman I was before my surgeries - playful and active. My boys whooped in delight when they found out that I could ride all the slides with them at Roaring Springs yesterday. (We had a blast, by the way.)
The last six months have been a wild unexpected ride. I think I’m still processing what went down. I had cancer and by the grace of God beat it before I knew it even existed. I feel so overwhelming lucky that I am not a typical cancer patient, that I get to thrive this summer instead of fighting for my life. But at the same time, I went through a lot! In fact, during each of my last three or four visits to the surgeon’s office, as soon as I stepped onto the elevator I wanted nothing more than to melt into the floor. I felt nervous. And my blood pressure proved it! I could barely speak coherent sentences with the doctor during my last visit and when I saw my face in the mirror it was bright red. Haha. Dr. P must think I’m a nutcase! I feel so embarrassed. But the stress is real.
Anyway, let’s wrap up this story, shall we?
March 10
I made a phone call to my surgeon’s office with some concerns about my left breast incision not healing and continuing to bleed. I followed directions to keep both incisions clean with iodine and religiously covered my left nipple with a gigantic bandaid. My bathroom countertop was piled high with antibiotics and drug store first aid. I was pretty sure I was going to lose at least part of my left nipple. I ultimately did.
March 17
Bron and I drove to Meridian for my post surgical drain removal with Nicole. I realized then just how sick I had been! I was feeling a hundred times better. It’s crazy what our minds and bodies do in an effort to survive.
It also felt a bit awkward to live with a lopsided chest, but it was actually virtually unnoticeable underneath a sweater. I surprised myself with the realization that if worse came to worse, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if I wound up being flat chested.
March 23
I felt great! I had been done taking antibiotics for a week and my right breast was looking healthy. I went into the doctor’s office for a pre op check. The good news was that my right breast looked ready for a new implant. The bad news was that I needed to have an in office surgical procedure to clean up my left breast incision that was not healing correctly and showing signs of necrosis. So after a copious amount of iodine, a scalpel, and some stitches, I was on my way home.
March 28
March 28th was the day I had surgery to replace the right implant. My left breast nipple was still trying to heal. When I took off the bandage, it bled through the hospital gown til we got it covered again. Despite that, I was a happy camper that morning, drugged up well. Bron and I had some good laughs as they prepped me for surgery. I told him I needed a theme song as they wheeled me off. He came up with Metallica. “Hush little baby, don’t say a word, never mind that noise you heard…”
I awoke from surgery with a wound vacuum attached to both breasts. It was a brutal and painful few days afterwards. I remember being late with my Tylenol and ibuprofen regimen one evening. I was in so much pain I couldn’t even pull my own sweatpants off for bed! Fortunately, Bron came to my rescue.
As someone wheeled me out from surgery that morning, I remember seeing a gorgeous girl dressed in black yoga pants and a white sweater. I thought to myself, “Ugh. Who is that high maintenance beauty?” It was my sister, Lauren!
Bron flew my sister out to take care of me for the week. It was the sweetest surprise! And the best medicine. We talked and laughed and watched comedies. Lauren made something painful and heavy feel much brighter and lighter. The boys loved having her in our home as well. In fact, they mistook Lauren for me multiple times! We are like twins, four years apart. I love you so much, Lauren!!!
This was also the week I decided to put Ezra into daycare full time for the months of April and May. I just could not keep up with him! Ezra wound up loving it. And better yet, he started speaking. A win-win!
April 5
My neighbor Lindy drove to Meridian with me for my drain removal. I knew I’d be too tired to drive both ways on my own. It was fun to have the company; Lindy talked my ear off! We also ate the most delicious brussel sprouts and tacos while in town. Strange combo, I know. But tasty!
April 12
The day I got my wound vacuum removed! It took me all of a nap after initially getting home from the hospital to stick a pair of googly eyes on the vacuum and name it Constance. In reality, it was like wearing a little purse around the clock. It clicked and whirred as I moved around, but especially when I laid down to sleep. The first week was okay, but by the second week the vacuum started to feel cumbersome.
I couldn’t shower. Instead, I opted to fill the bathtub up about foot and then unraveled the tube so I could climb in while the vacuum sat on the dry floor. I bathed and shaved without getting my dressings and tape wet. Then I hopped out and leaned over the tub to wash my hair. It was quite an inconvenient routine to stay clean!
So it was a good day when I got to say goodbye to Constance. But really, I would rather deal with a wound vacuum than mess with iodine and bandages twice a day; that felt a bit more stressful trying to keep my incisions clean and healing when they were struggling.
April 19
A week later I sent a photo of my right breast in to the clinic. It didn’t seem to be healing well. I had been using steri strips on my incision, but the edges just didn’t seem to be coming together. In fact, it looked as if I had a tiny hole near the top! I anticipated I’d be told to come into the office and they would cut and sew it up like the left breast. Instead, I was told that I was having surgery TOMORROW! The surgeon did not want to risk another infection and was pretty sure I’d need to exchange my implant to a smaller one. Was the nightmare ever going to end? I suddenly felt so upset that I couldn’t even eat my favorite strawberries.
Bron handled it worse. He became a big protective bear. He actually talked to the surgeon for nearly an hour while I was out of the house that evening telling him how to do his job! I felt so embarrassed. I was the one having surgery tomorrow! Not him. And I kiiiinda needed this surgeon to like me at least a little bit. This was not the type of support I needed from my husband in that moment.
Our friends Mark and Bryce came over that evening to chat after the kids went to bed. Never in my life had I seen Bron so absolutely discouraged. Tears were shed. Blessings given.
March and April were probably some of the roughest and most stressful for Bron of his life. Not only was he dealing with me and all my surgeries and limitations, but he also started a new job in January as the general manager of a feed mill and everything seemed to be falling apart. There was a fire at work, train derailments, equipment failures, hiring and firing of employees, and the list goes on.
Long story short: Bron survived. And all the things are finally falling into place. Yay!
April 20
Bron and I drove to Boise for surgery that morning. It was an awful ride over; Bron was still upset. In fact, when the nurse called me back to prepare for surgery, she asked if I’d like to leave him in the waiting room until I got my IV placed. Uh, yes please! That’s a great idea. I knew his red headed anger was simply a sign of his unwavering love and concern for me, but gee whiz, Bron could sweat it out for a few minutes. I laughed when another nurse commented, “Your husband is scary!”
We talked at length with Doctor P about my surgery plan. Upon physical inspection of my right breast, it looked as if he might be able to simply cut away the necrotic tissue and sew it back up. The skin was still soft and pliable. That was plan A. But if he was not able to do that, plan B was to exchange the breast implant with a smaller one. I opted to have the left one exchanged too for symmetry.
Fortunately, surgery went well and I got the best case scenario: plan A. Hooray! Doctor P sent me home with yet another wound vacuum attached to just my right breast incision for two weeks and no drains. Hello again, Constance!
May 3
Two weeks later I had a follow up appointment with Doctor P. He removed the wound vacuum himself. Everything was looking good but wasn’t quite all healed up. Nurse Cori applied some steri strips with glue across my incision and I was sent on my way.
May 10
The steri strips were removed. My incision looked great! I was told not to go swimming or soak for another week or so, but other than that I was home free! Happy day!
May 31
How many pictures of a boob can a girl send across the internet? Quite a few! Haha. I had noticed some new purple coloring around my right breast the night before as I readied for bed. It didn’t feel like an infection. It wasn’t warm, but something had changed. My best guess was that it was a bruise? I wasn’t sure what I’d done that would cause that. I did carry Conrad’s hoverboard across the pasture from the neighbor’s house. So just to be on the safe side, I sent a picture to the office. The nurse called me back and said Doctor P wanted to start me on antibiotics right away and that he wanted to see me in the morning.
June 1
We drove over to Meridian first thing in the morning. Doctor P really didn’t have a clear explanation. I swear, I was born to challenge that man! We took some pictures and outlined the purple area with a sharpie in case it spread.
Fortunately, over the last month and a half the purple coloring has subsided on its own. Who knows?! I’m just grateful nothing more dramatic happened.
So here I am. I’ve come full circle. I have new boobs. I like them! They’re perky and full and symmetrical. But they’re also heavy and occasionally still feel a little tender. I can also feel the plastic as there is only skin covering my implants. I have some prominent rippling. However, the rippling is unnoticeable when the girls are supported by a bra or swimming suit. I have the option of one more surgery to graft fat over the rippling but I’m actually surprised by how *not* self conscious I have been this summer. So we will see what I want to do in the future. For now, I’m kind of proud of these new boobs! I earned them after all.
Where was God in all this? Well, He was right there beside me every step of the way. A few days before my very first surgery back in February I remember reading in Matthew 25 about the parable of the goats and the sheep. It hit me hard!
“Insasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”
I thought, “Yeah! I can totally level up.”
Little did I realize that I was about to be among the least, the one who needed help.
So many friends and neighbors checked in at the most opportune times. They brought gifts and food and sent messages. My friend Angie was able to watch Conrad countless times after school so I could go to all my appointments. One woman in our last ward texted out of the blue one day to ask if I needed anything. Well, yes, actually. I was going to have surgery again. She had no idea what was going on until I told her. Countless women acted as angels on earth towards me and our family. It was as if my Heavenly Father was saying, “I still see you. I know what you’re going through and it’s going to be all right.” I’ll never really know why I went through all that I did, but that’s okay. I think we live in an imperfect world and these kinds of things are just a part of living a full life!
I am now a part of an unspoken club; a club for cancer survivors and women with mastectomies—which is more common than I ever realized! It’s the worst club, but it definitely has the best members. I hope I can pass the compassion and love I felt over the last few months along to some other woman in the future.
