For more surgery. A mini one, but like tomorrow afternoon.
The "situation" as I have been calling it was my left breast just wasn't healing as it should. Not real bad but not cooperating and the source of a lot pain among other things.
It has been my entire focus these last few weeks besides "operation get the drains out me" was to do all I could following orders to ensure I don't get infections. And many think that means lie in bed and do nothing. Believe it or not moving in careful ways as instructed is good. Note: get medical advice from your own doctor and heed my previous warning about repeating medical things I say with any confidence to anyone else. I'm taking narcotics for the first time in 15 years people!
The idea is to ensure blood flow and oxygen moves back to areas that were well -how to say this, how to say this- sliced and diced some. It's a common after breast cancer surgery issue and concern. Manage pain and heal. If not, more surgeries to fix the problem thus delaying recoveries, with more time added onto the sentence (sorry that's how I see it now) to get to the end result. Which to me is get back to my regularly scheduled life.
For about a week now I kept referring to the situation (trust me you don't want the whole thing described in detail) as the dead rat in the left side of my bra. Now here's the thing, I have been to both surgeons and my regular physician in the last week alone. You just make the rounds during recovery from cancer surgery. First weekly then maybe every 2 weeks, that's in addition to the oncologist and now it seems a cardiologist to prep for chemo. I told you I was busy. I tossed my primary care doctor in the mix for a few reasons. Im off work with time to do it and extremely important with so many doctors to have that one doctor that has all my information, all the medicines I'm taking (very very important) and when all is said and done she will be the person I continue on with monitoring my health.
In these 3-4 doctors visits during the last week or so glances and exams were done to see how healing was coming along. Yes count with me, person number 73 who has seen me without shirt in last month (I had to add all the lovely hospital people that's why it jumped from 52). All agreed the skin was the color it needed to be. Fine. Ok.
My issue with my bionic nose is I started to smell something not so nice. I named it the dead rat. I'm that person. Yes, the one that smells everything about half a day before anyone else, and it's annoying. Each visit I ask: so everything looks good right? Answer each time: yes so far. And then: well what about that smell? Answer: What smell? Once when one of my docs leaned in to try to smell more while declaring it slightly weird out loud I resisted the urge to pull my camera phone out and snap a pic. Yes, I'm immature. No one agreed with me on the dead rat smell situation.
This morning with a call to my surgeon office, the email exchange and photos it was decided to have me come in. The Doctor assistant calls and said doc is in surgery, she reviewed email, photos and wants to know if you can come in. Can you do that? I said girl I have been waiting in my kitchen with my purse in my hands all afternoon ready.
In the doctors office I dramatically warn them to hold their nose during the reveal. It wasn't as bad as I describe I'm told but the result is I go tomorrow for outpatient skin trimming clean it up type mini surgery thing. For me to be comfortable and to not feel pain you get twilight anesthesia. I think two things: first is punch me out or hit me with a frying pan I don't care but no more pain and the other is please don't let me be like that girl who was hysterical over her murdered wisdom teeth after anesthesia which was videotaped by her "loved ones" and went viral on the internet. I start my mental work on detaching from anything coming off of me so that doesn't happen.
Prayers and thoughts are appreciated for a speedy recovery my dear family and friends as well-no internet videos. All are equally important.
This is my life right now. Not my whole entire life. Just right now. Quote: If you want to forget all your other troubles, wear too tight shoes. ~the houghton line, November 1965
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
There are just going to be times
When you feel like no one could possibly understand the struggle, the pain or frustration you are going through except for maybe a song sung by one of your favorites.
For those reasons I haven't blogged much in a week or so for some very important reasons:
1. Pretty busy processing news I'm not happy about, the next steps and kickin rocks like a little kid with my hands in my pocket because I have to do things I don't want to do- I move slower these days so that takes up a lot of time
2. Still pain and more terrible curse words so I hang out with foul mouf people to feel more normal and better about myself
3. Operation get the drains outta me required me to not move my arms, point a lot and only when absolutely needed. The report to that story is the mutha fuggan drains are out
4. Lots of doctor visits (I have 5 now)- each visit bring homework or prep and sometimes more kickin rocks
4. Monitoring a possible infection situation that was making me distracted and nervous-after calls with my doctor, email and photo exchange of my boob I was promptly seen
5. Very busy checking that I could have sent pictures of my boob to my entire email address book and need to double check my sent emails twice to be sure. Ok ok three times. We are ok, email sent to proper recipient
The reality is some days are good, some are meh and some are just a straight up country song. One thing after another it seems. No different than any other time in our life with just different content. So while sitting more still than I ever have or at least in a long time listening to some soul music (i like to toss it up) I heard some words In a song that hit me hard. You know that feeling? Similar to like when you are in church and the preacher or priest is doing their thing and you feel without a doubt that the sermon that day was wrote and meant entirely for you. Surely when this happens it's no accident. We are meant to see or hear things at the times when we need.
So here I am in my house just feeling those words, and I gotta tell you I may or may not have said in a louder than normal voice or well just shouted: amen or can I get a witness?! Like I said May or May not. There's only myself and my dog to tell the tale of what really went down.
Partial lyrics to song sung by Anthony Hamilton, Jaheim, Musiq soulchild
Struggle no more..................................
Lately It’s been hard times
I’m talking about them
Financial ones aside
And they say when it rains it pours
Well it’s running at my door
If it ain’t one thang (one thang) it’s another
And I’m so glad that we got each other
I’m so sick and tired of being stressed out
Lord please help me from this mess I’m in
Lord lift me over the hurt and pain
Deliver me from the rain
See I don’t wanna stress over stress no more
I don’t wanna strug-gle no more
So lift me up over the hurt and pain
Deliver me from the rain
See I don’t wanna stress over stress no more
I don’t wanna strug-gle no more
For those reasons I haven't blogged much in a week or so for some very important reasons:
1. Pretty busy processing news I'm not happy about, the next steps and kickin rocks like a little kid with my hands in my pocket because I have to do things I don't want to do- I move slower these days so that takes up a lot of time
2. Still pain and more terrible curse words so I hang out with foul mouf people to feel more normal and better about myself
3. Operation get the drains outta me required me to not move my arms, point a lot and only when absolutely needed. The report to that story is the mutha fuggan drains are out
4. Lots of doctor visits (I have 5 now)- each visit bring homework or prep and sometimes more kickin rocks
4. Monitoring a possible infection situation that was making me distracted and nervous-after calls with my doctor, email and photo exchange of my boob I was promptly seen
5. Very busy checking that I could have sent pictures of my boob to my entire email address book and need to double check my sent emails twice to be sure. Ok ok three times. We are ok, email sent to proper recipient
The reality is some days are good, some are meh and some are just a straight up country song. One thing after another it seems. No different than any other time in our life with just different content. So while sitting more still than I ever have or at least in a long time listening to some soul music (i like to toss it up) I heard some words In a song that hit me hard. You know that feeling? Similar to like when you are in church and the preacher or priest is doing their thing and you feel without a doubt that the sermon that day was wrote and meant entirely for you. Surely when this happens it's no accident. We are meant to see or hear things at the times when we need.
So here I am in my house just feeling those words, and I gotta tell you I may or may not have said in a louder than normal voice or well just shouted: amen or can I get a witness?! Like I said May or May not. There's only myself and my dog to tell the tale of what really went down.
Partial lyrics to song sung by Anthony Hamilton, Jaheim, Musiq soulchild
Struggle no more..................................
Lately It’s been hard times
I’m talking about them
Financial ones aside
And they say when it rains it pours
Well it’s running at my door
If it ain’t one thang (one thang) it’s another
And I’m so glad that we got each other
I’m so sick and tired of being stressed out
Lord please help me from this mess I’m in
Lord lift me over the hurt and pain
Deliver me from the rain
See I don’t wanna stress over stress no more
I don’t wanna strug-gle no more
So lift me up over the hurt and pain
Deliver me from the rain
See I don’t wanna stress over stress no more
I don’t wanna strug-gle no more
Sunday, November 17, 2013
The things a girl gotta do
To get stuff done. Last week I had several doctors appointments. The first one to visit my surgeon checking how everything looks and if my drains could come out. These days while I may not have much to do except heal I still make daily goals. So my goal before the visit besides drink more water and try to make it from bed to bathroom without taking a break was to do all I can to get drains removed during this visit. They don't usually stay in this long but it's different for everyone.
I talked about the drains before, they are stitched into the side of my body with long tubes that empty into these grenade type things. They need stripping, recording and emptying and stripping and recording and well you get the idea. Annoying. Not to mention messes with my fashion choice when I leave the house. I need to be super creative hiding them. I don't wear or own tent like shirts so that rules that out. I thought I scored and found a shirt that hides them well enough only to look in the mirror to see that tucking the drains in made it looked like I had droopy boobs (big sigh), and I mean droopy, like down to my waist droopy. Yea no, def not the look I'm going for. Ever.
I waited holding my breath while they read the drain report card. She laughed a little. Not because this is a laughing matter. It's you record the times next to entry and one day I woke up late, at like 10am, and I wrote don't judge me next to it. Anyway she said nope not ready, stop using your arms so much. For sure I don't mop, vacuum or do dishes, everyone in a 10 mile radius knows I don't do this. Well, what else are you doing she asks? I suddenly remembered doing lots of cleaning counters and picking things up. I might have even swept the floor because I couldn't take it anymore. I felt the dust would move into one whole piece and attack me or something. So of course she advised well stop doing it, if you want them out don't use arms repeatedly.
So I go home to tell my housemates the news and ask for a game plan. I live with cooperative helpful lovely people. They really are. The issue is me. You see my boyfriend isn't a messy man it's just he doesn't see anything wrong at all with 8 shoes piling up at the bottom of the stairs, clothes on the floor in our room or his shirts on chairs in the kitchen. Clearly it doesn't bother him. Once I came downstairs and his military bag was on the floor about half a foot from the kitchen, next to it were his pants still with the leg holes outlined like he dropped them and just stepped out of them. I never said a word. Why? Because it's my issue and not his. So I pick it up and shut up. I long ago came to the reality that if things bother me about cleanliness I need to make choices. Shut up and pick it up or leave it. I want peace always. Besides there's bigger things we can discuss nor do I want to constantly complain to a sweet cute man. It's unattractive. While in my career often times I have been "the boss" at home however I just want to be a sassy little kitty who twirls her hairs, smells good and wears lipgloss. But I got goals. So I have to employ methods to accomplish the mission.
Me: my handsome man, there's something really scary in our room. I can't go in there. I'm afraid. (Meaning his underwear and tshirt is on the floor)
Him: oh shucks sweetie, I'm sorry. lemme go pick it up.
Yes, yes of course I happen to live with a southern man who never raises his voice to me, says things like shucks and doesn't curse. Excellent! Truck driver Lolita tossing out cuss words left and right with nerve pain. I apologize constantly.
Me: Hercules (one of my names for him) I think there's spiders in the bathroom on the floor. I think they gonna bite me.
Him: ok ok mami lemme go sweep while kisses me
Him: here my love here's your morning shake, how does it taste?
Me: oh goodness it's great! I bet you looked real cute making it (he def forgot a few key ingredients and I never once held my nose or grimaced while drinking it down)
As for his shoes pileup? I haven't found anything to say for that so each time I go upstairs I wear one and kick them off into his closet so I'm not using my arms.
Don't worry folks. Operation get the friggin drains outta Lolita or she gonna go loco well under way. Mission soon to be accomplished.
I talked about the drains before, they are stitched into the side of my body with long tubes that empty into these grenade type things. They need stripping, recording and emptying and stripping and recording and well you get the idea. Annoying. Not to mention messes with my fashion choice when I leave the house. I need to be super creative hiding them. I don't wear or own tent like shirts so that rules that out. I thought I scored and found a shirt that hides them well enough only to look in the mirror to see that tucking the drains in made it looked like I had droopy boobs (big sigh), and I mean droopy, like down to my waist droopy. Yea no, def not the look I'm going for. Ever.
I waited holding my breath while they read the drain report card. She laughed a little. Not because this is a laughing matter. It's you record the times next to entry and one day I woke up late, at like 10am, and I wrote don't judge me next to it. Anyway she said nope not ready, stop using your arms so much. For sure I don't mop, vacuum or do dishes, everyone in a 10 mile radius knows I don't do this. Well, what else are you doing she asks? I suddenly remembered doing lots of cleaning counters and picking things up. I might have even swept the floor because I couldn't take it anymore. I felt the dust would move into one whole piece and attack me or something. So of course she advised well stop doing it, if you want them out don't use arms repeatedly.
So I go home to tell my housemates the news and ask for a game plan. I live with cooperative helpful lovely people. They really are. The issue is me. You see my boyfriend isn't a messy man it's just he doesn't see anything wrong at all with 8 shoes piling up at the bottom of the stairs, clothes on the floor in our room or his shirts on chairs in the kitchen. Clearly it doesn't bother him. Once I came downstairs and his military bag was on the floor about half a foot from the kitchen, next to it were his pants still with the leg holes outlined like he dropped them and just stepped out of them. I never said a word. Why? Because it's my issue and not his. So I pick it up and shut up. I long ago came to the reality that if things bother me about cleanliness I need to make choices. Shut up and pick it up or leave it. I want peace always. Besides there's bigger things we can discuss nor do I want to constantly complain to a sweet cute man. It's unattractive. While in my career often times I have been "the boss" at home however I just want to be a sassy little kitty who twirls her hairs, smells good and wears lipgloss. But I got goals. So I have to employ methods to accomplish the mission.
Me: my handsome man, there's something really scary in our room. I can't go in there. I'm afraid. (Meaning his underwear and tshirt is on the floor)
Him: oh shucks sweetie, I'm sorry. lemme go pick it up.
Yes, yes of course I happen to live with a southern man who never raises his voice to me, says things like shucks and doesn't curse. Excellent! Truck driver Lolita tossing out cuss words left and right with nerve pain. I apologize constantly.
Me: Hercules (one of my names for him) I think there's spiders in the bathroom on the floor. I think they gonna bite me.
Him: ok ok mami lemme go sweep while kisses me
Him: here my love here's your morning shake, how does it taste?
Me: oh goodness it's great! I bet you looked real cute making it (he def forgot a few key ingredients and I never once held my nose or grimaced while drinking it down)
As for his shoes pileup? I haven't found anything to say for that so each time I go upstairs I wear one and kick them off into his closet so I'm not using my arms.
Don't worry folks. Operation get the friggin drains outta Lolita or she gonna go loco well under way. Mission soon to be accomplished.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
The side effects of cancer recovery
Brings a lot of surprises. I have blogged about some of it.
Overthinking because of time on your hands. Seriously. I'm well on my way to solving world peace
Being so exhausted I have to take a break on the way to the bathroom from my bed and sit on the couch that is mere inches from my bed
Copious amounts of narcotics to take due to pain pain paaaiiinn (singing)
Need to drink prune juice (oh my gosh did I tell you that????-said in a strange high voice)
And now apparently something else, very serious. Sorta of a modified Tourette syndrome. If you don't know what that is please google it. It's terrible and nothing to make light of the people who really have this. I just have no other explination. But it causes people to move their body unexpectedly even if they don't want to and some times shout things out? Please My dear friends, never ever take anything medical I say on this blog and repeat it with any confidence. To anyone. I know just enough to be dangerous and ALL that I know from my entire life fits on the head of a tiny pin. Maybe half. So please don't go having a conversation with someone repeating medical stuff saying...well the other day Lolita said blah blah blah (fainting at the thought). It's why I bring people with me to appointments. I TRY to focus. I really do, it's just all I want to shoutout is ppeerrfecct- just wheeeeennn do we get to the--and now they look pretty and I can stop taking my shirt off constantly-part!!!! But of course I don't shout that. I listen, I nod my head and ask questions then I look at my brother and say ok um Kev? Do you have any questions? Praying to the big man upstairs he does and it's a doozy so we look smart.
Back to the Tourette's issue. You see there is that shooting nerve pain thing you get after surgeries like this. It just comes on sudden and nasty nasty. So there I am sitting around, minding my own business, there it goes POW!! I immediately gasp out----loud. My hands ball up in fists up at the side of my head, then release and of course I say ummm stuff. Really bad stupid stuff that I am trying super duper hard not to say. So when I apply this effort at a time I'm in shocking pain I am truly embarrassed what comes out and the combination of things. I don't even say this stuff on the regular in real life! Hey, do you like how I just tried to act like this time in my life isn't real and pretend (nodding my head-you caught that, right?)? I'll spend some time on a therapy couch somewhere for that. What I'm trying to say is I don't normally say these things. Rather this combination of words. The other day I texted my sister in her room late at night telling her sister if you hear cursing from our room, to not worry my boyfriend and I are not having a fight. It's the shooting nerve pain. She replied. Feel better sister. Sorry and don't worry I won't tell nurse muneca (our momma) you have a mouth like a truck driver. K?
True real life examples. Note: Kids- cover your ears. Religious people-change the channel or clutch your bible to your chest and pray for me. Judgemental people-kiss my grits
Shooting pain #1: gasp fuuuuuck shit balls!! What?? I don't say balls. I hate that word.
Shooting pain #2: gasp oh my god!! fuckin can o beans!!! What! what? I do NOT take The Lords name in vain. I'm teased for saying oh my gosh all the time.
Shooting pain #3: always a loud gasp. ass monkey!! (Silence) I have no words
I have a friend who says What the French Toast?!!!! Great way to not say bad words, classy and cute. I have said it. Awesome. However I'm not able to carry this grace under shooting nerve pain situation.
Shooting pain #4: gasp?!!!! Ooo yyiiiii fuccckk the French toast!!! (Head in my hands)
Overthinking because of time on your hands. Seriously. I'm well on my way to solving world peace
Being so exhausted I have to take a break on the way to the bathroom from my bed and sit on the couch that is mere inches from my bed
Copious amounts of narcotics to take due to pain pain paaaiiinn (singing)
Need to drink prune juice (oh my gosh did I tell you that????-said in a strange high voice)
And now apparently something else, very serious. Sorta of a modified Tourette syndrome. If you don't know what that is please google it. It's terrible and nothing to make light of the people who really have this. I just have no other explination. But it causes people to move their body unexpectedly even if they don't want to and some times shout things out? Please My dear friends, never ever take anything medical I say on this blog and repeat it with any confidence. To anyone. I know just enough to be dangerous and ALL that I know from my entire life fits on the head of a tiny pin. Maybe half. So please don't go having a conversation with someone repeating medical stuff saying...well the other day Lolita said blah blah blah (fainting at the thought). It's why I bring people with me to appointments. I TRY to focus. I really do, it's just all I want to shoutout is ppeerrfecct- just wheeeeennn do we get to the--and now they look pretty and I can stop taking my shirt off constantly-part!!!! But of course I don't shout that. I listen, I nod my head and ask questions then I look at my brother and say ok um Kev? Do you have any questions? Praying to the big man upstairs he does and it's a doozy so we look smart.
Back to the Tourette's issue. You see there is that shooting nerve pain thing you get after surgeries like this. It just comes on sudden and nasty nasty. So there I am sitting around, minding my own business, there it goes POW!! I immediately gasp out----loud. My hands ball up in fists up at the side of my head, then release and of course I say ummm stuff. Really bad stupid stuff that I am trying super duper hard not to say. So when I apply this effort at a time I'm in shocking pain I am truly embarrassed what comes out and the combination of things. I don't even say this stuff on the regular in real life! Hey, do you like how I just tried to act like this time in my life isn't real and pretend (nodding my head-you caught that, right?)? I'll spend some time on a therapy couch somewhere for that. What I'm trying to say is I don't normally say these things. Rather this combination of words. The other day I texted my sister in her room late at night telling her sister if you hear cursing from our room, to not worry my boyfriend and I are not having a fight. It's the shooting nerve pain. She replied. Feel better sister. Sorry and don't worry I won't tell nurse muneca (our momma) you have a mouth like a truck driver. K?
True real life examples. Note: Kids- cover your ears. Religious people-change the channel or clutch your bible to your chest and pray for me. Judgemental people-kiss my grits
Shooting pain #1: gasp fuuuuuck shit balls!! What?? I don't say balls. I hate that word.
Shooting pain #2: gasp oh my god!! fuckin can o beans!!! What! what? I do NOT take The Lords name in vain. I'm teased for saying oh my gosh all the time.
Shooting pain #3: always a loud gasp. ass monkey!! (Silence) I have no words
I have a friend who says What the French Toast?!!!! Great way to not say bad words, classy and cute. I have said it. Awesome. However I'm not able to carry this grace under shooting nerve pain situation.
Shooting pain #4: gasp?!!!! Ooo yyiiiii fuccckk the French toast!!! (Head in my hands)
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Lately it seems I have had a lot of time to think
Well we always have time to think don't we? But when we are multi tasking or running around just living life it may not be as centered as we would like or as clear. At this time for me it appears I'm in a way demanded (I don't want to say forced) to sit or be still somewhat. For a while. Doesn't really matter if I like it or not. That's just the way it is. The good in this is it allows me to have more centered thoughts.
What I have been thinking a lot about during this last month is quite a few things but I can assure you at the tippy top of thought list is not my cancer. I do think about it of course. I have to. To say that I didn't would be just straight up lying. It's that it sure doesn't completely occupy my each and every thought. I think about it clinically or in a detached sense. Sometimes in a funny ridiculous way, yes that too. I've always done this when tough or hard things come my way. It helps me process in a way that doesn't completely engulf me. It allows me to be freer to make choices and decisions. Really really tough decisions, some I don't want to make but I need to. Times ticks louder it seems when you have a more aggressive type of cancer.
So for a long time now especially lately I use my time when I can to think about ways to be inspired, to find and keep enthusiasm in me, to look for all the beauty that is right in front of me. In others, places, or words. It doesn't matter. For the very important reason is that I feel strongly my job is to remain in my center and in light. As much as strength allows and no matter what comes my way. No matter what. Of course I have a job or career that I love, that I need to pack up and drive to everyday. Well not now, soon though. I'm referring to my job as a human or person.
Life has shown me no doubt that it's far easier to stay in the middle or remain in a good vibration than try to lift myself up higher when all the way down. My my, has that ever been revealed to me. Talking in the mental sense, if I want to go higher or feel higher I simply lift my pinky finger to get up where I need or want. Easy peasy.
The physical sense? Weeeelll that's a lil bit different story. These last few days it's just harder for me to move from lying down to in the simple get up position. Even inches. If I decide to lie down or sit back I had betta be committed to that, for a little bit at least. Every single day, every morning, every time I have to get up. And you wanna know what? It sucks. Sure does. My process has been to stay there for a bit, think about it, visualize, pep talk myself some, take some deep breathes, some false moves and then finally move. Slowly so very carefully. Yes, it hurts that much. Its my biggest struggle of the day. So what do I do, what's the cure? Stay upright all day? Ha-if only. Life it seems isn't that simple and doesn't always allow us to avoid pains or struggles. Physical or mental. Which is why I realize my job of staying in the light or higher vibration in every sense is important. So there is my action now. I'll apply it each and every morning and throughout my day.
I have had many incredible people call me, write to me, reach out to me in so many forms. How very beautiful to not just believe people are with you or love you but to receive actual confirmation. We don't always get that luxury do we? What the common theme seems to be besides I have a funny outlook on life is that I may be inspiring or that I'm a positive person. That's wonderful. Surely I want others to feel my love for life, for them and all things. What else would I want them to know? That's it's not just now because of my diagnosis or that I only present it occasionally and then hide in a corner to break down, feeling sorry for myself or sad. Melancholy maybe (smiling) but not actual sorrow for myself.
I have been working my thought muscle in good ways for far too long and it's been ready. Now its clear what I have to work is my stomach muscles (slight grimace) to get myself upright easier, to the middle, although physical this time and with less pain. I'll do it, of course I will. The beauty of life and time I find is it never ever stays the same. Movement is my prescription now.
Why I'm sharing this with you is not ever to illicit emotions in you to feel sorry for me. We all have pain. Its simply to share what's going on right now. More important I believe it's for me. Whatever I say I direct towards myself first. Whatever else anyone gets from it is just some nice tasting gravy on a well cooked meal.
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
There's a story behind the story
And it's kinda long. Indulge me some if you can.
One of the last instructions my breast surgeon gave on the day of surgery was to remind me again (maybe the 3rd time) to be sure when I got home to take the pain pills they were going to give me. Along with the Valium. About every 4-6 hours. Don't be stoic she says knowing my aversion to narcotics (much more on this later). She tells me this again for a few reasons. When you are healing from such a major surgery with skin being put back together and nerves reattaching its important to get the blood flowing in that direction for the best healing she states and if you can't due to the fact you don't move because you are just soooo (she drags out the word) racked with pain and stiff it won't help our healing process. To illustrate she puts her body real stiff like with arms straight at her sides like a corpse to show me exactly what she means. We can't have that she says. She does this in the room witnessed by my crew about a half hour before surgery. My mom-nurse muneca tells her don't jew worry, I take care of that. Good my surgeon says satisfied it's all going to go as needed.
Before you think my doc a drug pusher or has stock in some pain med companies there is a back story to the cancer story I have been blogging about. You see in September I went in for a much needed non cosmetic (don't get wild ideas) surgery with a different doctor. It was an overnight completely under anesthesia hospital stay. Scardy cat I am of course I put it off as long as I could. A few days before I'm with the nurse for after surgery instructions. Along with the instructions she hands over like 3 prescriptions. One was for a narcotic pain script. What's this I ask narrowing my eyes? It's the pain meds you will need to take while at home. Oh boy. I asked her in the sweetest voice if I rreaaalllyy needed narcotics and what was the strongest non narcotic thing they could give me. She was stunned and slightly frustrated saying you have to take them and then--well you are gonna need to talk to the doctor about that. It seems as if no one refuses the pain meds and it's not the first time I have gotten this reaction.
Here's my thing with narcotic pain meds and pain in general. I don't like pain and for sure I do feel pain. In fact if you even slightly try to bend my little finger back I will promptly yell and poke you in your eyeball in 2 seconds flat. It's just I don't like narcotics. At all. And I really don't like me on them. They make my stomach hurt after about a half a day on them, they make me itch terribly in particular my nose. I talk real sloooowww while itching my nose. Sometimes I even miss my nose in that itching effort. Pathetic. Thats how bad I am on them. It reminds me of this guy Randy that used to come around from time to time when I was in high school who was obviously a heavy narcotic drug user or anything he could get his hands on. Picking at himself, itching himself talking super slow slurry like nodding off in the middle of talking to you then wake up half hour later like he never stopped while itching again. I simply can't erase the visual of poor Randy from my mind and ignore the fact that I miiiigghhtt look a little like him when I take them. It really freaks me out. I have avoided taking them. In fact if any doctor even starts in the direction of writing the script I hold my hand up, question pain levels, after effects and explore other options. Worked so far.
Later in my doctors office sitting on her couch I ask her to tell me or describe to me the level of pain or discomfort she thinks I might have after surgery. She is actually very well known and recommended for her skills in this area and for her amazingly little downtime after surgery. It's the very reason why I chose her. I wanted to be up running through fields of daisies and back at work quickly. How terribly terribly ironic in hindsight given what we now know isn't it? So I say doc, is this pain aaannnyyy (emphasizing this word) worse than the ridiculous pain I have had for the last 2 years I have managed by taking just a few prescription ibuprofen? She took off her glasses and looked at me calmly answering no it's not at all, that's real pain you have been going through, there's no reason you couldn't continue to take it after surgery, I agree if you don't want the pain meds don't take them and you will be fine. It's settled then. No narcotics. Before I leave she says see ya Thursday (for the surgery), here's your prescription for your annual mammogram peeling off the paper from her prescription pad. Great I say, see you then and stick the paper in my purse.
My surgery went well. My overnight stay was fine. I fell in love with my nurses who were amazing, thankfully so because there I was again last week. Same room same nurse. More on this in another blog. After surgery at home true to form I did extremely well and never once needed to run to the pharmacy desperately asking for "the juice". A few people told me to stop being super women and just take the pain meds. I let them know the truth that the only discomfort I really felt was the air or gas they fill you up with during surgery. A friend said oh my goodness then, just let it out!! Meaning the gas. I told her it wasn't that kind of gas you just can't pass it like she was suggesting. It simply had to be absorbed by the body. Except it passes or moves up into your right shoulder area and makes you feel a little like you are having a heart attack. Visions of Redd Fox on that old show Samford and Sons who would pretend to have attacks stumbling around saying Elizabeth (clutching his heart) I'm coming Elizabeth (looking up to the heavens) would come to mind. Because It's like that except you know daing well you aren't having a heart attack because your heart is on the other side.
It was during my rounds of cancer doctor visits not soon after this other surgery they find out how well I recovered, how quickly and without narcotic pain meds. Everyone wanted to look at the incisions. The first visit she meets me my breast surgeon says huh? hmmm let me look at those incisions! I just can't believe it. After looking, wow you heal great and seem to be what we call a high pain tolerant patient. Let's not get carried away I tell her. If I gotta take it and if it's that bad I will I just want to talk about it or have a choice.
And that's why my very smart doctor repeated herself a few times to me about the subject maybe worried that I might decide to make some choice that could possibly delay healing. Well now. This time around on the surgery train it's a whole other situation entirely. Lemme tell ya folks it hurts and you take "the freakin juice". In fact I would count (at least tried, one is not exactly perfectly lucid) to be sure it was not after the 4 hours between med times. Yes- while trying to itch my nose. Once when I said I wanted them at a time that wasn't exxaaccctttly 4 hours my sister who is very technical reminded me that the hour I was requesting wasn't the 4 hours- exactly (it was more like 3 hours and 20 min). I promptly said sister!! are you kidding me?! gimme the eff meds I'm certainly not gonna freakin OD. Except I was so effed up I said it real real real slow losing the dramatic effect I wanted and who knows probably while trying to itch my ear or something.
One of the last instructions my breast surgeon gave on the day of surgery was to remind me again (maybe the 3rd time) to be sure when I got home to take the pain pills they were going to give me. Along with the Valium. About every 4-6 hours. Don't be stoic she says knowing my aversion to narcotics (much more on this later). She tells me this again for a few reasons. When you are healing from such a major surgery with skin being put back together and nerves reattaching its important to get the blood flowing in that direction for the best healing she states and if you can't due to the fact you don't move because you are just soooo (she drags out the word) racked with pain and stiff it won't help our healing process. To illustrate she puts her body real stiff like with arms straight at her sides like a corpse to show me exactly what she means. We can't have that she says. She does this in the room witnessed by my crew about a half hour before surgery. My mom-nurse muneca tells her don't jew worry, I take care of that. Good my surgeon says satisfied it's all going to go as needed.
Before you think my doc a drug pusher or has stock in some pain med companies there is a back story to the cancer story I have been blogging about. You see in September I went in for a much needed non cosmetic (don't get wild ideas) surgery with a different doctor. It was an overnight completely under anesthesia hospital stay. Scardy cat I am of course I put it off as long as I could. A few days before I'm with the nurse for after surgery instructions. Along with the instructions she hands over like 3 prescriptions. One was for a narcotic pain script. What's this I ask narrowing my eyes? It's the pain meds you will need to take while at home. Oh boy. I asked her in the sweetest voice if I rreaaalllyy needed narcotics and what was the strongest non narcotic thing they could give me. She was stunned and slightly frustrated saying you have to take them and then--well you are gonna need to talk to the doctor about that. It seems as if no one refuses the pain meds and it's not the first time I have gotten this reaction.
Here's my thing with narcotic pain meds and pain in general. I don't like pain and for sure I do feel pain. In fact if you even slightly try to bend my little finger back I will promptly yell and poke you in your eyeball in 2 seconds flat. It's just I don't like narcotics. At all. And I really don't like me on them. They make my stomach hurt after about a half a day on them, they make me itch terribly in particular my nose. I talk real sloooowww while itching my nose. Sometimes I even miss my nose in that itching effort. Pathetic. Thats how bad I am on them. It reminds me of this guy Randy that used to come around from time to time when I was in high school who was obviously a heavy narcotic drug user or anything he could get his hands on. Picking at himself, itching himself talking super slow slurry like nodding off in the middle of talking to you then wake up half hour later like he never stopped while itching again. I simply can't erase the visual of poor Randy from my mind and ignore the fact that I miiiigghhtt look a little like him when I take them. It really freaks me out. I have avoided taking them. In fact if any doctor even starts in the direction of writing the script I hold my hand up, question pain levels, after effects and explore other options. Worked so far.
Later in my doctors office sitting on her couch I ask her to tell me or describe to me the level of pain or discomfort she thinks I might have after surgery. She is actually very well known and recommended for her skills in this area and for her amazingly little downtime after surgery. It's the very reason why I chose her. I wanted to be up running through fields of daisies and back at work quickly. How terribly terribly ironic in hindsight given what we now know isn't it? So I say doc, is this pain aaannnyyy (emphasizing this word) worse than the ridiculous pain I have had for the last 2 years I have managed by taking just a few prescription ibuprofen? She took off her glasses and looked at me calmly answering no it's not at all, that's real pain you have been going through, there's no reason you couldn't continue to take it after surgery, I agree if you don't want the pain meds don't take them and you will be fine. It's settled then. No narcotics. Before I leave she says see ya Thursday (for the surgery), here's your prescription for your annual mammogram peeling off the paper from her prescription pad. Great I say, see you then and stick the paper in my purse.
My surgery went well. My overnight stay was fine. I fell in love with my nurses who were amazing, thankfully so because there I was again last week. Same room same nurse. More on this in another blog. After surgery at home true to form I did extremely well and never once needed to run to the pharmacy desperately asking for "the juice". A few people told me to stop being super women and just take the pain meds. I let them know the truth that the only discomfort I really felt was the air or gas they fill you up with during surgery. A friend said oh my goodness then, just let it out!! Meaning the gas. I told her it wasn't that kind of gas you just can't pass it like she was suggesting. It simply had to be absorbed by the body. Except it passes or moves up into your right shoulder area and makes you feel a little like you are having a heart attack. Visions of Redd Fox on that old show Samford and Sons who would pretend to have attacks stumbling around saying Elizabeth (clutching his heart) I'm coming Elizabeth (looking up to the heavens) would come to mind. Because It's like that except you know daing well you aren't having a heart attack because your heart is on the other side.
It was during my rounds of cancer doctor visits not soon after this other surgery they find out how well I recovered, how quickly and without narcotic pain meds. Everyone wanted to look at the incisions. The first visit she meets me my breast surgeon says huh? hmmm let me look at those incisions! I just can't believe it. After looking, wow you heal great and seem to be what we call a high pain tolerant patient. Let's not get carried away I tell her. If I gotta take it and if it's that bad I will I just want to talk about it or have a choice.
And that's why my very smart doctor repeated herself a few times to me about the subject maybe worried that I might decide to make some choice that could possibly delay healing. Well now. This time around on the surgery train it's a whole other situation entirely. Lemme tell ya folks it hurts and you take "the freakin juice". In fact I would count (at least tried, one is not exactly perfectly lucid) to be sure it was not after the 4 hours between med times. Yes- while trying to itch my nose. Once when I said I wanted them at a time that wasn't exxaaccctttly 4 hours my sister who is very technical reminded me that the hour I was requesting wasn't the 4 hours- exactly (it was more like 3 hours and 20 min). I promptly said sister!! are you kidding me?! gimme the eff meds I'm certainly not gonna freakin OD. Except I was so effed up I said it real real real slow losing the dramatic effect I wanted and who knows probably while trying to itch my ear or something.
First day alone-don't worry it's jam packed. I'm very busy
9:00am: wake up, open eyes, curse out loud knowing that once I get myself into the upright sit up position I have to figure out how to turn to the left to actually get OUT of the bed
9:15am: make it to my couch in my room. Sit down and stare at my toes
9:18am: wash face, brush teeth. Carefully check for any new wrinkles as I have not been always able to do my nightly beauty ritual of slathering on my anti wrinkle eye stuff
9:15am: make it to my couch in my room. Sit down and stare at my toes
9:18am: wash face, brush teeth. Carefully check for any new wrinkles as I have not been always able to do my nightly beauty ritual of slathering on my anti wrinkle eye stuff
9:20am: feel fairly confident no new wrinkles have crept their way onto my face. To be sure I slowly reach for wrinkle cream and apply. You can never be too sure I tell myself
9:21am: think about making my way downstairs to do something
9:43am: make way downstairs. Decide to make my morning shake and refresh water
9:55am: while making shake I challenge myself to see how many more leaves of spinach I can fit in while still able to completely screw on lid and not have shake mix go all over the place while mixing-(not that this has happened to me, I'm just saying)
10:10am: finish shake and drink shake
10:14am: make personal goal of drinking my big thing of water by noon
10:19am: feel good I made a goal for today
10:20am: wipe down all ready clean counters. slooooowly
10:21am: wipe corner of counter down again as I'm sure I saw a speck of something
10:21am: tell myself I don't have OCD that I'm just tidy
10:22am: drink water
10:23am: stare at my nails but don't actually file them because I don't know how
10:24am: look at pics on Instagram. Press like on 3 of them
10:24am: attempt to teach my dog Spanish
10:28am: look around, wonder when everyone is coming home while resisting urge to wipe down counters again
10:29am: drink more water. feel proud that I'm getting closer to my goal
10:34am: say bad words out loud when I get a sudden shooting nerve pain. Silently I tell my momma aka nurse muneca I'm sorry. She told me I was gonna get in trouble if I keep doing that
10:35am: hope nurse muneca doesn't read this blog entry
10:36am: stand at bottom of stairs, look up. take deep breathe
11:10am: upstairs
9:55am: while making shake I challenge myself to see how many more leaves of spinach I can fit in while still able to completely screw on lid and not have shake mix go all over the place while mixing-(not that this has happened to me, I'm just saying)
10:10am: finish shake and drink shake
10:14am: make personal goal of drinking my big thing of water by noon
10:19am: feel good I made a goal for today
10:20am: wipe down all ready clean counters. slooooowly
10:21am: wipe corner of counter down again as I'm sure I saw a speck of something
10:21am: tell myself I don't have OCD that I'm just tidy
10:22am: drink water
10:23am: stare at my nails but don't actually file them because I don't know how
10:24am: look at pics on Instagram. Press like on 3 of them
10:24am: attempt to teach my dog Spanish
10:28am: look around, wonder when everyone is coming home while resisting urge to wipe down counters again
10:29am: drink more water. feel proud that I'm getting closer to my goal
10:34am: say bad words out loud when I get a sudden shooting nerve pain. Silently I tell my momma aka nurse muneca I'm sorry. She told me I was gonna get in trouble if I keep doing that
10:35am: hope nurse muneca doesn't read this blog entry
10:36am: stand at bottom of stairs, look up. take deep breathe
11:10am: upstairs
11:12am: sit down on bed. contemplate taking shower
11:12 and 40 seconds: lie down to take a nap
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