Two Weeks Out

This is why I am not a real blogger: because I can't manage to write more than once or twice a month. Woops.

But, I have a blog, and I'm writing, and you're reading, so here we go again.

It's been two weeks since my big surgery.

Two weeks already!?!

 and also...

Only two weeks?!?

Overall, things are going really, really well.

My boobs look like... Boobs. The first time I saw them, two nurses had my bra open and the foot of my hospital bed was filled with at least 4 people from my surgical team. I'd just come back from a second, unplanned surgery (more on that, later). I looked down, checked out each of the girls, and announced, Cool! I don't really know what I was expecting, but I was pleasantly surprised. And also heavily medicated, but whatever.

So, let's back up and I'll give you a recap. This might get long; sorry in advance.

Monday morning, I ended up driving myself to the hospital, and 103.7 was playing all the good music so I had church in my car all the way to the hospital, and I walked in with a smile on my face and a pep in my step. God is good, y'all.

Wait, I've gotta back up a little more, so you know why I drove myself to the hospital. The short story is, my sister and 4:30am are not friends. The long story is, James was still in the hospital. Not even the same hospital I was headed to, either.

On Saturday morning (the 10th) after several days of stomach pain without relief, I sent James to a freestanding ER, where he was diagnosed with appendicitis. Houston Methodist (my hospital) was full, so he was transferred to Clear Lake Regional, and that evening he had an appendectomy. My mom and mother in law juggled the boys so that I could be with him, and I stayed at the hospital with him that night. We saw the surgeon Sunday morning, expecting to be released since it was a laproscopic procedure, but that wasn't the case. It was "a particularly nasty" appendectomy, so he'd be staying at least another night.

I'm not gonna lie, leaving the hospital on Sunday afternoon, to go home and pack my own surgical bag and love on the boys, was one of the hardest things I've had to do on this journey. I've decided that it's a lot easier being the patient, than the loved one.

So, James was released on Monday, but he had a drain in place for a week, so he couldn't come up to my hospital because it was an infection risk. So instead, my sister was going to be the one staying with me. And like I said, she and 4am aren't friends. But, she and my dad met me in my pre-op room in plenty of time to hang out and pray before the big party started.

James is doing great now, by the way. The only stomach pain he has now is when the boys manage to knee him right in the spot where they did the procedure. They have quite the talent for that sort of thing, so it happens a couple times a day, but he's a tough guy and a good sport about it.

So, back to Monday, Surgery Day. It was an easy day for me; I slept through most of it. I think it was from 8-4ish, but I could be totally wrong on that.

Dr. Spiegel measured the tissue removed during the mastectomy, and it was, to the gram, the same weight as the abdominal tissue for that side. That's only happened a couple of times in over 1,500 surgeries, so she was geeking out about that.

Tuesday, the goal was simple: get out of bed and sit in a chair. Repeat. The Chair Trials, they called it. It took a nurse and a tech to move me from the bed to the chair, partially because it hurt my abdomen to move much, and partly because I had 24 tubes and wires coming off of me that they had to rearrange. Then I sat for an hour, with checks to my many monitors every 15 minutes. Then back to bed and check it all again. Then repeat later in the day.

On my second trial, I was in the chair a little longer than I should have been, and some of the numbers were fluctuating a lot more than they should have been. The nurse said she'd call and let the doctor know, but she didn't. That was around 8pm... Fast forward to 3am, and the resident was NOT happy with the way things were going and the way the nurse was handling things. He paged Dr. Spiegel, and I don't remember what time she arrived, but it was much earlier than her normal rounds.

A little bit later, the numbers were continuing to decline, so they decided that I needed to go back to the OR to "have a look around." They found some bleeding behind the new tissue and cleaned it up, and I think it took maybe an hour or 90 minutes. My platelets and hemoglobin had both tanked, so they ended up giving me 3 units of blood in the OR, which is kind of a lot.

Looking back, I am nothing short of amazed by the peace I had going into that surgery. Both, really, but especially the second one. The consents I had to sign were really serious, but my mind just didn't even stray to the many many What Ifs. God is good, y'all.

A little bit of background info: throughout most of my chemo and subsequent infusions, and even still, I have had low platelets. I also had low platelets during both pregnancies, and they caused some slight issues during Luke's delivery, but nothing dangerous or lasting. Platelets are the things in your blood that make it clot, so you don't just keep bleeding and bleeding. Not having enough platelets means I bruise easier on a normal basis, or bleed more during (and after) surgery. And the cool thing is, the doctors have no idea why mine are low. They considered treating with steroids beforehand, but decided that would be too risky because that might make my blood TOO clotty, which would be bad, also.

The rest of Wednesday is a bit hazy, between the anesthesia wearing off and the morphine.

Thursday was the day I was originally supposed to go home, but now, it was my new post op day 1. Which meant: The Chair Trials. This time, they went great.

Friday, I finally got to shower, and it was amazing. I also had my first shot at walking. I made it to the door to the neighboring room, and my back just seized up. It wasn't like normal pain, it was like, it just stopped being made up of moving, flexible muscles. It was either sit, or fall, so I sat in a nurse's chair that was conveniently nearby. After a few minutes, I worked up the nerve to walk back to bed. Later that day, I walked again, and made it to the end of the (rather short) hall.

Saturday, I finally got to come home! It was wonderful to get to come home and see my family. Luke kept coming up to me and saying Hey, Mom! with a little wave. Jay was a little more distant; I think he was processing everything, and probably remembering last year's surgery. He's come around now, though, and he's the best back scratcher ever.

I've had one post-op visit, and everything is looking great. I'm still walking around like Quasimodo, but no more back spasms. I still need LOTS of assistance with things like showering and getting dressed. It's really turned into a blessing, having James off work for more time than we'd planned. And of course, my mom is saving the day around the house and with the boys.

And, that's what I've been up to around here!