Thursday, May 31, 2012


It's been well over a week since my double mastectomy, and I'm still feeling like absolute poo.  You heard me. POO.  

Yesterday, my neighbor dropped me off at the hospital for my follow-up visit to the plastic surgeon.  I wobbled out of my house, and off we went.  I am so unbelievably lucky to have amazing neighbors like I do.  The neighbors across the street from me are so nice and helpful.  It's a guy maybe in his mid to late 30s, his super sweet girlfriend, and his two teenage boys.  His girlfriend was the one who took me to the hospital and then afterwards, walked my dog as I did my best to keep up with the two of them.

The family that lives right across the alley from me are all such nice people.  Every single one of them.  Boomer loves the second-youngest daughter in that family and would leave me in a heartbeat for her.  If Boomer happens to be outside when J comes home, then my dog will start crying and try to leap over our 5-foot fence.  

Anyway, at the plastic surgeon office, I happily learned that since my drain output was less than 20 ml within 24 hours, all four of my drains could be pulled.  After my surgery, two JP drains (or as Jo referred to them, "goo grenades") were placed on my left and right side.  When I got home and had to take care of the drains myself, they quickly became cumbersome.  Two to three days ago, the drains on my right side caused this redness to appear behind my shoulder.  Yesterday, the plastic surgeon attributed the redness to the fact that, and I quote, I'm a "delicate flower." 

Plastic surgeon also scolded me for not logging my output correctly.  I summed up all the drainage, instead of marking each JP individually.  "Nobody told you to do that," he scolded me.  "I've been on heavy narcotics for a week," I replied.  "I'm lucky I know my name."

Seriously, between the morphine in the hospital and then oxycodone, my memory has been cloudy and full of holes.  Maybe the nurses at AGH shouldn't give patients discharge instructions without a non-drugged person present.  Just a suggestion.

When the nurse came in to pull my drains.... oh my dog.  I knew it was going to hurt and sting "a little" but the first one hurt like an absolute torture device.  

One.  Two.  Three.

I could feel the tubing just being ripped out of my body, and it honestly felt like the kind nurse had just stabbed me in the side.  The stinging sensation lasted minutes, not seconds.  I started crying and feeling like a failure for not being able to take the pain.  "Tough it out, [last name]," I muttered to myself through tears.

I really wanted to take every procedure thrown at me with an amount of sarcasm and toughness.  The drain pulling, while a relief, affected me a lot more than I had anticipated.  I mustered up all the strength I had left in me, and made it through the three remaining drains.  Right now, I have bandages on both sides.  I'm also finding myself a lot more skilled in wound care than ever before.  Clean, disinfect, cover.  

Now, I have to just keep resting and slowly working my shoulders and arms to get back to the pre-mastectomy abilities.  I'm getting my stitches taken out next week, and then 3 to 4 weeks post mastectomy, we are going to start inflating up my faux-boobs to whatever size I want.  The doctor did say my wounds look amazing and that I'm healing beautifully.  

Next up, fake boobies!


  1. Oh man, that sounds so horrible. Hang in there!! Hope this isn't offensive but I think it's hilarious when you refer to your "foobs."

    1. Heh, not offensive at all. I've heard others use foobs before, and it's definitely appropriate.

  2. Parts of that sound terrible, glad that parts done with though. Healing thoughts your way and woo hoo new boobies! :) what size will go with, lols