Two Year Survivor Day!

I am a breast cancer survivor. 

That's a status that you never want to achieve, but also, I'm proud to have achieved it.

What I mean is, nobody ever wants to face cancer, period. But if you do, you want to hurry through the "fighting cancer" stage and achieve that "survivor" status.

On April 25, 2018, I had a mastectomy to remove the tumor and 4 lymph nodes. After that, I had chemo, radiation, and targeted therapy. Then reconstruction surgeries. I still take a daily hormone blocker, and I go in quarterly for an injection to induce chemical menopause.

I am a survivor.

What I guess I never realized is, even as a survivor, the fight goes on, but it looks different. I'm fighting to stay well. I'm fighting to keep the cancer from coming back. I'm fighting to keep my sanity, because this chemical/hormonal yo-yo will make a girl crazy.  I'm fighting to make my body work properly. I'm fighting to figure out what this body is capable of, because it's so unfamiliar that I'm not always sure.

I am a survivor. But I'm still a fighter.

And I'm going to celebrate with cake.

Fear and Faith

We are in the middle of an unprecedented attempt to contain, no, to slow the spread of a virus we've never seen before.

There's a lot of information out there - some true, some false, some just plain stupid. I'm not writing about any of that, because I'm not an infectious disease expert. There are a lot of reactions out there that fit those same categories. I'm not writing about any of that, either, because my mama said if you can't say something nice...... Anyway.

There's a notion out there that fear and faith can't coexist. I'm not a Bible scholar, I'm just a human. A real, flawed human. And I'm telling you right now that fear and faith are both very present and very real in my life.

I am afraid of the virus, a little. I am afraid of the longer-term impact of these lifestyle changes on my life and the lives of loved ones, a little more than a little. My fear is, admittedly, guiding some of my choices right now. I am reading as much as I can about what's going on, partly to know more, partly because I can't stop. For me, this is a fearful reaction, but it has good results in that the more we know, the better we can do. I am following CDC recommendations to stay put, and while this an EXCELLENT thing to do, I'll admit that I'm partly doing it out of fear, as well as just common sense.

I guess what I'm saying is, fear can motivate you to do smart things. Just don't let it motivate you to do dumb things - which I'm not even going to get into, just because. (Just, please use your brain, okay? Okay, that's really all I'm going to say there.)

Even in the midst of fear, I know, without doubt, that my God is so so good. I know that even when life is hard and messy and uncertain and downright scary, God is still good. How do I know? Because of faith.

Faith that the God of Heaven promised to watch over and protect me - go read Psalms 91. Now's a good time; I'll wait.

Faith that the Creator of the World made me - and you - and put us right here, right now, for such a time as this. What are you going to do about that?

In the coming days and weeks, as this pandemic likely gets crazier before it calms down, I hope you look for God. Look for ways that He shows up - for you, and through you. Because in times like this, God uses ordinary people to show up and impact lives.

So, find a way to help someone out.

Speak peaceful, comforting words to someone who is letting their fear run rampant. Don't speak more fear into an already fearful situation. (I'm talking to myself here, too!)

Listen to the experts as they try their best to walk us through this, and give some grace when it seems like they're stumbling. In fact, give grace all around - the whole world is struggling to figure this mess out, and there will be missteps that are crystal clear in hindsight. Give grace.

Look for the good, and be the good, in these crazy times.

Because God is good, even if you're scared.

March 9 - Two Years Ago Today

Flashback time: March 9, 2018

I showed up at the Baytown hospital and went to the Breast Center. I got checked in and changed into a fluffy robe and waited in the private waiting area. There was a girl there who I knew from my pre-Luke days of going to workout classes at the gym; she was also there for a diagnostic mammogram. We said hello, but truthfully I probably seemed a little rude because I couldn't really cope with actual conversation due to all the nerves.

It's my turn, and I go back for the mammogram. In case you didn't know, a diagnostic mammogram puts significantly more pressure on the breast than a routine screening mammogram. The harder they squeeze, the more they can see. But, it's not that painful, just more discomfort than anything, and it's over quickly.

Next up, I went to a different room and they used ultrasound to take pictures of both breasts - the lump, the area around the lump, and the other breast for comparison.

After that was done, I went to another room, more of an office with a computer where I could also see the images, to talk to the radiologist.

I will never forget the conversation that day:

Radiologist: "I'm very concerned about this. We need to bring you back in for an ultrasound-guided biopsy, blah blah blah is what to expect with that, do you have any questions?"

Me: "When you say 'very concerned,' what do you mean by that?"

Radiologist, in the most matter of fact voice you can imagine: "Oh, I'm very concerned that this is a breast cancer. So, with the biopsy.... " 

And I then tuned her out: I truly have no idea what she said after that. A bit later, a nurse was sitting down with me (in yet another room) to schedule the biopsy, and I just lost it. I remember this nurse was so kind and patient with me, and that made me cry even more.

Finally, I got myself together enough to go get dressed. I was still crying, but less hysterically and slightly more discreetly. My friend was actually in the dressing rooms, and I could barely even look at her - I sort of mumbled something about good to see you, and I left. The whole way to the car, I was still crying. I got in the car, and I lost control of myself again - the sobs just wouldn't stop.

So, I did what I do when I don't have words. I turned on some praise music. Y'all, those singers and songwriters are unbelievably gifted, and their words have brought me such comfort on so many occasions that I can't even begin to name them.

This day, I turned on YouTube to just listen because at the time I didn't have a single app or account to stream music on demand, just Pandora's random selections, and that wasn't going to cut it. I chose Zach Williams' Fear Is a Liar. I turned it up as loud as it would go, and I sang through my tears as I drove home. I was afraid, but listening to the truth in that song helped me get my head on straight. So I listened to it over and over and over again.

When I got home, both boys were happy to see me, and we were loading up to head to Buffalo for the weekend. I didn't want to talk about it in front of them, especially Jay, because he was (and still is) very perceptive. So it was more than an hour, maybe two, before I could finally tell James what they'd said. It was agonizing having to hold it in for that long, but I think it helped me to be a little calmer when I finally told him - I cried, but I wasn't hysterical like I had been at the doctor's office.

And so, that is the story of March 9. It's also the story of how a certain song can say the words that you aren't yet able to form in your prayers - whether you're too scared, or too broken, or too stuck to get them to come together in any sort of cohesive way. Music is kind of magical like that - it just speaks for you if you'll let it.

Here's the lyric video of Fear Is a Liar, by Zach Williams.

Commitments

Well. I took a little break from writing last week, but thankfully it was nothing like my last break!

What's new: On Thursday, I go back to see Dr. Spiegel for my 3-month post-op appointment. This is the first she's seen me since the OR in December, and I don't have any major concerns, so it should be an easy appointment. I promise to update if there's anything to share!

Besides that, I've realized that my internal commitment to writing daily was... ambitious, ha. So, I'm revising my goal to be once a week minimum, but hopefully 2-3 times. I plan to have something new every Monday, because I know that we all need some goodness to get through Mondays, and hopefully reading this is a little bit of goodness for your life.

Commit your work to the Lord, 

and your plans will be established. 

Proverbs 16:3

This is me, committing my plans to the Lord. To myself and to you, as well, but most importantly, to Him. Because what am I doing, if not pointing you to Him?

You Are Faithful

Songs are one of the ways that I get through life without going crazy or spiraling into the depths of sadness or discouragement.

Sometimes, a song will come on the radio at the exact moment, and I know God sees me where I'm at and meets me there. (I've got a great story about that, but not today. Sorry, you'll have to wait for that one!)

Other times, we'll sing a song at church that just MOVES me, and it sticks in my head for days.

And then occasionally, I'll just stumble onto a new song "randomly" and it is exactly what I need in that moment. I say "randomly" because I know that this type of thing is never actually random.

So one day, I'd heard a song on the radio - I can't remember what it was, but it was about God's faithfulness, and I needed to hear it again, to really let it soak into my bones. I love doing that with a new song - just put it on repeat and hear all of the words and phrases and meanings within the song. The funny thing is, some seasons I'll hear one meaning, and then listen to the song months later and it means something else to me.

Anyway, I was looking up a particular song, and in searching for it, I came across this one. I listened and listened and just let it pour over me and soak in. It's simple, really, but beautiful in both melody and truth.

Enjoy!

Made and Remade

There's a verse that has been important to me for years.

I praise You because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. Psalm 139:14

Another version says "your workmanship is marvelous" and another version finishes with "it simply amazes me to think about it."

You could say that I have always had a pretty healthy body image. Sure, I had my hangups, but overall, I never went through that stage that so many young girls go through where they hate their bodies. And as I grew into a woman, I kept that self-confidence - in large part due to the above verse being spoken over me from a young age. Sometimes there were extra pounds I didn't want, or more cushion than I would have liked, or I didn't feel comfortable in certain styles, but overall, I was okay with my body, because I recognized that it was God's masterpiece and his temple (1 Corinthians 6:19). Disrespecting my own body was disrespectful to God.

And then.... I had a diagnosis about that body. And surgeries that, shall we say, modified it significantly.

I have had a very good opportunity for some body-hatred. I have scars - one of which is really big and red and ugly. Some things are missing, some things were repaired but don't look anything like the original. And a whole lot of things certainly don't feel like the original. "Foreign" is a word that sometimes comes to mind when I look at myself.

I could hate what I see in the mirror. I could resent the changes to my body. And some days, I am tempted to. But it's a choice - I choose what I will think about my body.

Would you ever say to a friend that her body is ugly? Would YOU tell ME that? No, you'd remind me that I am alive, and healthy, and thriving despite these changes. So that's exactly the sort of stuff that I tell myself.

I like to memorize important scriptures, but I also like to personalize them. I'm not saying that God's Word isn't already perfect, but it feels more applicable to me and my life when I personalize it. Or when I look at different translations, or sometimes even combine different ones.... it's sort of like seeing an old, very pretty, but really snuggly-looking quilt sitting up high on a shelf. You could dust it off and hang it on a quilt hanger, and then you'd be able to admire it much better. Or, you can grab that blanket, take it to the couch, put on a good movie, and really snuggle down and enjoy it. That's what I'm talking about doing with these scriptures. I'm not preaching to you, here, and telling you that you have to do this. I'm just telling you what I do in my own life, to make God's Word come alive in my own life. So that's my disclaimer.

Remember the verse above? Maybe scroll back up and reread it; I'll wait.

Ready?

Here's how it looks to me, now.

I will continuously praise You, God, because I am fearfully and wonderfully made and remade.

Your workmanship is marvelous, it simply amazes me to think about it!

Pursued and Pursuing

I love to tell my boys stories. Sometimes, they're stories from when I was a little girl, and sometimes they're made up on the spot based on a topic of their choosing. Occasionally, I'll tell a story about them, maybe something they did that day, or a behavior that they need to stop or start. My stories always start with 'Once upon a time,' and end with 'happily ever after.' So today, here's a story for you. Spoiler alert: I can't end it with 'happily ever after' because it's far from over, but I think it's far enough along that I can share with you.

Once upon a time, there was a girl. Woman? Lady? Whatever. Once upon a time, there was a mom/wife/friend. Whatever, again. Once upon a time, there was me. It's a story about me, okay? Moving on. (I promise, my kids' stories are way better than this.)

So anyway. Once upon a time, there I was, kicking along through life. Occasionally attempting various methods of self-improvement, like people these days are prone to do, but generally living a good life. I was doing my wifely things, and my motherly things, and going to church like I was supposed to. 

One day, way back in September 2018, I won a little contest on my friend Jami Lee's disciplined living Facebook page. The prize was an e-course called Make Over Your Mornings, by Crystal Paine. 

If you know me, you know that I'm not much of a morning person. I finally downloaded the materials in December of that year. When I got to the part about setting goals and such, well... I flunked out. Who flunks out of a 14-day e-course? This girl, right here. (Sorry, Jami Lee.)

The main reason that I gave up is because it was all about getting up a little earlier to start your day in an intentional way, and I just wasn't sold on the idea that I needed to get up earlier. I LOVE my sleep, especially the sleep that happens in the mornings, because I'm a night owl. So, I couldn't get over myself enough to see the value in getting up earlier, and so I didn't.

But the funny thing is, I began waking up earlier than my alarm, on a consistent basis. And staying in bed, and often getting really grumpy that I wasn't able to go back to sleep. Remember, I really love my morning sleep.

So, in April 2019, I went on a ladies retreat with my church, Second Baytown. On Sunday morning, I woke up really early, and decided to just get up and start my day. In the pre-dawn light, I walked around the lake to the pier, turned on some praise music, and did some yoga as the sun came up over the water. It was a really beautiful moment, and in that moment, the realization hit me: God has been pursuing me, all this time. 

I'd love to tell you I went home and began a beautiful and spiritual and productive morning routine after that special moment on the pier. And I did... for exactly 9 days spread over the course of the next month, and never more than 3 in a row. 

And then I flunked out, again. The God of the universe was pursuing me, and I flunked out. I consistently woke up before my alarm, and I rolled over, and didn't even go back to sleep, I just chose not to pursue Him back.

You know what, though? God is so faithful. And persistent. And patient. And He continued to pursue me, to gently push me toward wanting to have that relationship with Him. What I mean is, He continued to wake me up, to give me little hints that I needed to get up and spend time with Him.

Fast forward to January 2020. Yeah, last month. Crystal Paine was having a sale on her e-courses, and I forwarded the email to Rissa, who decided to do Make Over Your Morning. And she peer-pressured me to do it with her. 

A quick side note, here. Rissa is also not a morning person. Possibly less of a morning person than I am, because I have small children who sort of force me to be somewhat functional in the mornings, and she does not. And yet, here she is convincing me to give the course another go. God's got a sense of humor, you know.

So finally, finally, I am actually working through the course. I'm on day 13, although I've been working at it for a month, give or take a little. I'm getting up early most days during the week, and spending some time in the Bible. I'm not 100% consistent, and some days I get up early but things like dog puke keep me from sitting down to quiet time with my Bible. I'e still never made it more than 3 days in a week. But.... I am pursuing this as a discipline, a change to my normal, because I know that the reward for giving up a little of myself will be to see a little bit of Jesus in return. I am pursuing this, because I have been pursued, consistently and faithfully, by a good, good Father who wants a relationship with me. How can I continue to run from that?

Hear me on this: I am absolutely not telling you this story to brag on myself. It hasn't even been the requisite 21 days required for a new habit to stick, and I haven't even managed a full week's worth of mornings yet! I'm telling you this for accountability for me. I'm telling you this to encourage you. I don't know what your life looks like, but I know that God, our heavenly father, and the creator of the universe, loves you. He knows you, but He wants to know you more, and He wants you to know Him. 

Resources:
Jami Lee's Disciplined Living

Make Over Your Mornings

Thirty-Five

I'm not the kind of person to freak out over an age.

(Usually. I did freak out a bit about 25... gah, what did I even have to worry about back then? Anyway.)

But with my birthday coming up, I'm thinking: What have I done with my 35 years on this earth?

My first thought is this beautiful family I share with the best husband God could have given me.

There's probably other notable stuff I've done. Made my parents' lives either so complete, or so chaotic, that they decided to be done having kids. I'm going to assume the former, despite Rissa and Allen trying to convince me it's the latter! Hopefully I've impacted your life in a way, made it better somehow. I've had jobs, and done some well and some I've been terrible at.

But these beautiful boys are far and away my proudest accomplishment.

Photos by the oh-so-patient Randi at

Sweet Clicks Photography

They're handsome, sure, but they're also SO special.

Jay is kind, and smart, and funny, and so thoughtful that it slays me some days. He's sensitive to a fault and driven to do well in whatever he does, and crushed when he fails. I see my own flaws in him, and that slays me too, if I'm honest.

And Luke... well, he's our mischievous one. I cannot count the number of people who comment on the twinkle in his eyes that lets you know he's up to something! But he's also sweet and snuggly, and tries his best to crack jokes just like his "brudder." In fact, he tries his best to do everything just like his brother. They might fight sometimes, but don't you mess with Jay, because Luke is coming after you if you do!

And so, on my birthday, it's not all about me - it's about this beautiful life that God's given me, and my impact on those around me, but especially on these boys.

What a weighty calling. 

A New Hair Do, and a Few Hair Don'ts

One thing I've learned on this journey is:

It's just hair.

We put a whole lot of time, effort, and money into keeping up with our hairstyles, and the reality is, It's just hair. It doesn't define you, and if it does, you're placing your value in something that could be gone tomorrow.

But... it sure is nice when you've been to visit your favorite stylist (I'm talking to you, Kasey!) and you feel all freshened up.

 Big shout-out to Kasey Willis at Aisling Salon.

In honor of my new 'do, here's a look back at how far it's come!

I woke up like this. Jan '20

A good hair day for both of us - Nov '19 

Curls today, gone tomorrow - Sept '19

 Mowhawks with Jay - June '19

 Sometimes I could tame it, sometimes, notsomuch. Summer '19

June '19 - I don't even know how this crazy curl happened.

More Mowhawk Action - May '19

 Crazy waves - May '19

 March '19

 March '19

Jan '19

Hair!! - Dec '18

No Hair - Summer '18

Blue Hair - May '18

(also courtesy of Kasey)

If y'all share some of these, I'm not gonna be your friend anymore. Ha!

The Path Of Life

You will show me the path of life,

In your presence is fullness of joy;

At your right hand there are pleasures forevermore.

Psalm 16:11 AMP

This is one of those verses that I cling to, especially that first part in times of uncertainty.

I realized the other day that I never shared the story of how I came to have the treatment team that I have, and it's a really good story - a God story, if you will. Definitely a time when God showed me the path of life.

It was January 2018, and I'd found a breast lump. At my friend Holly's urging, I made an appointment with my OBGYN, Dr. Hall, in February. We were all relatively sure it was just a clogged milk duct, as I'd just finished nursing Luke, but she said it'd be best to go have a diagnostic mammogram and ultrasound just to be sure.

In early March, I had an appointment with the Breast Center at Houston Methodist San Jacinto, aka the hospital in Baytown. It's a small hospital, but it's close, so that's where I went. I showed up after a MOPS event with Luke in tow, and they wouldn't see me because he couldn't go in the back due to the radiation risk. That had never crossed my mind when scheduling the appointment. I hadn't thought I was worried about it, but I left the office in tears because, as it turns out, I was worried deep down, and I just wanted to get it over with and have them tell me it was nothing.

So I went back the following week at a time when James was off work to watch the boys. That was March 9, and that day's events are a story for another day. But when they told me it was probably cancer and that I needed a biopsy, I scheduled it there, but then decided that if they were saying the c-word, I needed to be at MD Anderson.

I had my biopsy at MDA on Monday, March 19, and got the dreaded phone call on Wednesday. They told me the news, and we scheduled an appointment for an afternoon two weeks later, on April 2. The plan was that I'd meet an oncologist, surgeon, plastic surgeon, and radiation oncologist all back to back on the same day and figure out exactly how to move forward.

This is where it gets good, so stick with me.

In the meantime, I went back to Dr. Hall, my sweet OBGYN, on Friday the 23rd to have my Mirena (IUD with hormones) removed. She had been out on vacation that week, but when she saw the report from my mammogram and heard what was going on, she agreed to come in early on Friday to see me - she normally doesn't see patients until 9:00, but she saw me at 8:30 and stayed with me for quite a while, talking through the whole process, and discussing surgery and treatment and doctors and such.

She said, I know you already have your appointment set up with MDA. But I've got a friend who is a breast oncologist at Houston Methodist, and I really think that you would like her. Here, let me call her.

Ring, ring, Hi Tejal, this is Hailey, and I've got a patient here with me......

They talked technical stuff on speakerphone for a few minutes, and then Dr. Patel (aka Tejal, my obgyn's friend) said her office would call me back in half an hour or so to get me an appointment. So before I knew it, I was scheduled for a second opinion for the following Tuesday morning, which was technically before my first opinion at MDA. I was amazed at how fast they were able to get me an appointment!

I felt really optimistic by all of this, but I didn't do such a great job of explaining it all to James, because he was quite confused at why we were even having a second opinion, especially because I'd been adamant that I wanted treatment at MDA, and also there was the fact that we hadn't even had our MDA consult... I remember his exact words in Dr. Patel's waiting room: "Tell me again why we're having a second opinion before we even have the first opinion...?" But he's a good sport and went along with this new plan.

So Tuesday morning rolls around and we have our appointment with Dr. Patel. She explained SO much about my diagnosis, what each aspect and unknown word meant, what the treatment plan looked like, what if this happened, and what if that happened. She answered every question I had, and a hundred questions that I didn't know I had. She took notes as she talked, writing down the statistics and the big words that she was throwing out, and drew pictures to explain... And then handed me 3 pages of notes at the end. When we were finished, James looked at me and said, I can see now why we came here!

Cool, right? I'm not done.

When I'd seen Dr. Hall the previous week, she had recommended a couple of plastic surgeons that are leaders in their field, including one Dr. Aldona Spiegel. Dr. Patel encouraged me to make an appointment with her, just for a consult, even though I wasn't sure which team I wanted to use. Her office helped make an appointment for the following Monday morning, which was the same day as my initial MDA consult.

Dr. Spiegel is a woman to be reckoned with. She's confident but kind, matter-of-fact but compassionate. She drew pictures on the paper that covers the exam table to explain the DIEP procedure, which is the current leading edge reconstructive technique. Many doctors around the world do this procedure, but she is a pioneer in reinnervation, where they attempt to reconnect the severed nerves from the chest wall to the new tissue to provide some sensation. At one point in the consult, she asked who my breast surgeon was. (It takes a breast surgeon to remove the old tissue, and a plastic surgeon to rebuild things.)

I replied that I hadn't met with anyone, but that Dr. Patel had recommended Dr. So-and-So or Dr. Lim.

Dr. Spiegel pursed her lips into a sort-of smile, and said with a nod, "I work with Dr. Lim, mmhmm."

There are some parts of this journey that I'll forget - some I've already forgotten - but the sound of her "mmhmm" and the purse of her lips and her single nod is etched in my memory.

Since it didn't seem like much of a choice, and Dr. Lim was already highly recommended to me, I said that sounded fine to me. Dr. Spiegel said I'd need to meet with her, and her staff would coordinate that appointment. A staff member came back into my exam room a couple minutes later and said, "Get dressed, Dr. Lim can see you right now, and if you have more questions that come up, just call!"

So minutes later, I was walking into another waiting room in the same building, and was called back almost immediately. Dr. Lim gave me the rundown of surgery (in which I fully broke down into uncontrollable sobs when she left the room).

I learned later that Dr. Lim hadn't even been scheduled to be in the office that day, but had popped in for a particularly difficult consult, and agreed to see me right then before she left again. If I'd been 15 minutes earlier or later, it wouldn't have happened.

Now, remember, we still haven't had our "first" opinion, with MDA - that was scheduled for later that same day. So we grabbed some lunch and headed down the road to MDA. The four doctors that were selected for me (oncologist, breast surgeon, plastic surgeon, and radiation oncologist) came into the room together to meet me and a nurse rattled off my diagnosis, then they all left the room. One by one they shuffled back into the room and out of the room, showing a few pictures and telling me the treatment plan - the same treatment plan that Dr. Patel had walked me through, but with MUCH less detail. While I am sure that they're all quality doctors, I hated that I had no choice in who my doctors were, especially the plastic surgeon. I have always viewed reconstruction as the end of this journey, and I didn't fully understand all the stuff in the middle, so that's where I was focusing. And to just have a doctor assigned to me... well, it wasn't very comforting.

When the first doctor left the room, James looked at me and said, I see now why we went to Dr. Patel. Before the consult was even over, we both knew in our knower that we'd be using the Houston Methodist treatment team.

And that, my friends, is the God-story of how I came to have the treatment team I have!

If You Can't Say Something Nice...

I'm breaking Mom's rule, here... shhh, don't tell her.

I'm going to let you in on a little secret right now. In the days leading up to Phase 2, I was ANGRY.

I was BITTER.

I was FURIOUS.

I felt HATRED and RESENTMENT and, gasp, I said ugly words. Not TO anyone, but still, I said them, out loud, and I fantasized about saying them TO someone.

Do you believe all of that? If you've been watching me, you probably don't believe a word of it. And that's because somehow I've managed to walk this walk with a smile and grace that is unnatural, or should I say supernatural? But that's because that's the side I choose to show. I've talked a lot about how important words are, and your attitude in whatever battle you're facing, and THOSE are the reasons why I work really hard to maintain this rosy attitude I've been accused of keeping - not because I care what anyone thinks about me. This smile isn't really for you, friend, it's for me.

Because when I let go of the smile, there's ugly lurking in there, and sometimes, it squeezes its way out.

Like the week before surgery. There was some ugly peeking out that week. If you still don't believe me, just ask James.

Why? I was coming up on the last, final surgery - a surgery that marks the nearly-finished line in my battle against this disease. Isn't that cause for celebration, even if there are some nerves about having another procedure?

Well, sure. I was excited about that aspect. But at my consult about a month before, I was informed that part of the lipo for the symmetry portion wouldn't be covered by insurance. A $3,500 part of it. Remember, my surgery was December 18... one week before Christmas... on top of the fact that I'd already met my insurance's out of pocket maximum for the year on everything else I've done.

Someone at the doctor's office had alluded to this a long time before, but I thought that surely in my case, that wouldn't be so - it couldn't be so. See, they did some lipo on my love handles (they refer to them as flanks, but that sounds like a horse) as well as inner and outer thighs. So, insurance has decided that flank fat is acceptable to use for new boobs, but thigh fat is "cosmetic." Which translates to, "not covered by insurance and payable in full before the procedure will be done." Even though my doctor told me - ahead of time - that I did not have enough fat in my sides alone so she'd have to use my thighs to get the results I "wanted," which was just boobs that look pretty similar to each other.

Y'all.

I was MAD. I felt cheated, betrayed by my doctor's office and my insurance company both. LIVID that someone, somewhere had the audacity to decide that any teeny tiny portion of reconstructing breasts that were removed due to cancer, could be considered "cosmetic."

I was even more frustrated because if I'd chosen implants, then they'd be covered at 100%, even if I chose to have 36EE boobs. (Remember, this surgery only added 100cc's - I'm still in the A/B range, here. That doesn't seem very "cosmetic" to me.) And down the line, if those implants needed replacing, which they generally do, that'd be covered, too. Never mind that they've discovered that some implants ALSO CAUSE cancer. Never mind that many women are reporting enough adverse symptoms that they've named a disorder "Breast Implant Illness" and these women are having their implants removed. Insurance would cover those. But my own tissue? That isn't even as perky as an implant? Yeah, that's "cosmetic." Cue the ugly words, *here* because even now, I can feel them burning inside.

But ya know what?

I did the surgery anyway. My sweet, sweet husband was the voice of reason for me. He held me and let me ugly-cry, and spew the anger I was feeling, and then he put the brakes on it. See, I'm the person who generally handles our finances, but he very sweetly reminded me that we could manage this, that it didn't change anything about our Christmas plans, and most importantly, that I was worth it.

If I think on it, I can still feel those ugly feelings. But, I'm not going to keep thinking on it. Writing all this out brought it back for me, more than I care to admit. And so, I'm moving on. I wanted to be real with you for a minute, to let you know that even though I always look rosy and cheerful, I'm not.


In the book of Philippians, Paul writes these words from prison:

For I have learned how to be content with whatever I have. I know how to live on almost nothing, or with everything. I have learned the secret of living in every situation, whether it is with a full stomach or empty, with plenty or with little. For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength.

Philippians 4:11-13

If he can be content with whatever his station, whether it's freedom or prison, poor and hungry or full and satisfied, then I can, too. I have the same source of contentment in my life that he did: the grace of Jesus. That is the secret of living in every situation. But, it's a choice - a minute by minute choice for how you want to respond to every situation.

Post-Op Complications, Or, A One-Night All-Inclusive Stay in the Fabulous Houston Methodist Guest Suite!

After surgery, I woke up in Recovery crying out in pain, tears running, and begging for more pain medicine to make it stop. So they gave me some. And I begged some more because holy moly it still hurt, and so they gave me some more. 'Lucid' is not a word you could use to describe me at that moment, but I think they gave me 4 doses of possibly 2 different meds. I'm not sure it helped.

I can remember that they let James come and see me for about 5 minutes, and seeing him and holding his hand gave me some strength, and then he had to leave and I was crushed and just kept thinking "I can't do this by myself, it's too hard and hurts too much, please don't make him leave, it hasn't been five minutes yet!" But I'm pretty sure I didn't say anything nearly so cohesive. I did cry some more, though, and probably managed something like "don't go yet!" but of course he had to go.

So then they took me to a post-op recovery room. The idea was that I needed to be able to walk on my own and go pee, and I'd get to go home.

Ha, haha.

If I laid super still, then the pain in my legs was about a 6-7. When I moved my legs, it rocketed up to 9-10, and felt like my muscles were being peeled off the bones. When it was time for me to get up and use the restroom, it was, shall we say, less than pleasant. But then, about the time I sat down to use the restroom, the nausea hit, and it hit hard. I didn't vomit, but I sure felt like I was going to - which would be a pretty bad thing, given the condition of my abdomen! I finished my business and thought I'd be going home, but it took everything I had to make it back to bed, and I just kept thinking, there is no way they can let me leave like this, I am NOT OKAY RIGHT NOW.

When I got back to bed, I asked the nurse for a cold pack.

Did you know that putting an ice pack on the back of your neck does wonders for nausea? I'm not kidding, it's amazing, and I've never thrown up when I've used this trick. And I had some serious morning sickness with both boys!

Anyway. Nurse was very nice, but she had other concerns, like giving me nausea. I kept demanding the ice pack (nicely, I am sure I said please), and she kept saying things that were not related to ice packs, so my brain wasn't processing them. When you feel that bad, you get focused on what you think will work for you and nothing else matters. If I could just have that ice pack, I'd survive, and she just didn't understand how vital it was for me to get the ice pack! Finally, after either 3 hours or 5 minutes, someone brought me the ice pack. Aahhh, sweet relief. Also about that time, the nausea meds hit bottom, and I was soooo sleepy. Nurse said that was best, to just go ahead and sleep it off. I'm not sure if it was all the pain medicine in Recovery, or the anesthesia, or the actual pain that caused the nausea, but sleeping helped. I have no idea how long I slept, but it was definitely dark when I woke up.

All through this nausea episode, I noticed but didn't notice the staff's concern with my blood pressure. It was concerning to me, too, but not as concerning as the nausea, because when you feel that bad, nothing else really matters. Except ice packs, of course. Normal blood pressure is 120/80. Mine tends to run a little low, around 110/70. This is normally a good sign, as it means your body isn't having to work too hard to get blood everywhere. But after surgery and with this many pain meds plus the anesthesia in my system, my blood pressure tanked. I'm pretty sure it was hovering around 80/50, and I definitely saw both of those numbers go even lower.

After my medication-induced nap, I woke up feeling much less nauseated, but my BP was still in the toilet. So, they made the decision to keep me overnight. That meant I had to change rooms, because the room I was in wasn't staffed overnight. So, we gathered up our things and they wheeled my bed to a different floor, and I had to get up out of that bed and crawl into the new bed. That was super fun, because remember, being statue-still was the least painful position!

All night, my BP stayed pretty low, and honestly, I think it was only like 88/58 when they released me the next day, but I guess they decided it was stable enough and figured I'd be fine on my own at home.

And I have been fine, but not on my own - Mom kept the boys for me, and stayed for a couple of weeks to help out when James was at work. The first week was the worst, but after that, I noticed an improvement every day. I am 8 weeks out now. I've been released to exercise and lift my boys, but I still have to take it easy sometimes because my body has taken a beating, and certain movements/activities like to remind me of that. So I'm just getting really good at listening to my body, and when a part says NOPE, I stop.

Reconstruction Phase 2: Complete!

Phase 2 is what we, in the world of breast reconstruction, call a second surgery that goes back in and tweaks things. This is a planned surgery, and at one of my consultation appointments, Dr. Spiegel explained that the big surgery is Phase 1, where she builds the foundation, and Phase 2 is where she puts the finishing touches on the project.

So, in Phase 1, she relocated the fat from my abdomen to my chest to create breast mounds. (Isn't that an awful word for them? Mounds? Ugh.) This is a highly skilled microsurgical procedure where they have to connect blood supply from the chest wall to the new tissue. Yes, it's breast-shaped, but it's a bit rough around the edges, you could say.

So, Phase 2 is where they shape things up, literally and figuratively. There are two aspects of Phase 2: Symmetry and Scar Revision.

Symmetry

They took fat from my sides and inner and outer thighs and added it up top to make things match a little better.  This is called fat grafting, and they were able to transfer about 100cc's to each side, plus do a little tweaking to help improve the appearance.

One side effect of the radiation I had in 2018 is that the skin and tissues kind of tighten up, so the right (radiated) side was positioned quite a bit differently from the left side. Adding some more fullness to both sides helped to offset this problem.

Spoiler alert: 100cc's isn't a whole lot. So, when I look in the mirror, I can't tell that my thighs and waist have been touched, other than the lingering darkness that's a reminder of the worst bruising I've ever seen. But, The Girls do look much better!

Scar Revision
During Phase 1, there were some areas, at the ends of the incisions, where the skin sort of puckered. It's sometimes called dog ears, because of how it looks, and it's a natural and expected result of removing a section of skin and tissue and closing things back up. In Phase 2, they reopened the outer thirds of my abdominal incision and sort of nipped and tucked to make things lay right. So, I still have an incision that goes from hip bone to hip bone, but it lays flat now. They also did a very small amount of lipo here and fat grafting there to make things look a little more normal and less like SpongeBob SquarePants.

Now, a word about the fat harvesting process, also known as liposuction. It $&(#ing hurts!!! I am not exaggerating in the least when I tell you that the lipo was far and away the most painful part of this whole reconstruction process. Possibly the most painful thing I've experienced. If they ever said I needed another round of it, I'd say "No thanks, have a nice day!" and walk myself right out of there.

All in all, the surgery was about 2 hours, and I was supposed to go home that night. Spoiler alert: I didn't, because I just don't like doing the expected thing, apparently! More on that, later.

The exciting thing is, This was my last surgery!!! I don't have to go check into the hospital any more, no more anesthesia, no more lifting restrictions.... I am FINISHED having surgery!

(I do have a few more tweaks to make before The Girls are all finished, but they're all going to be done in Dr. Spiegel's office, so that totally doesn't count, right??)

And because my pre-op scans were all clear, I have moved to the "Every 6 Months" category with my oncologist, instead of every 3! Both of those are huge milestones for me!

Too Much To Say

Well, hello there. It's been a minute since I've updated. I found myself with too much to say and not enough to say all at once, so I decided on nothing at all.

What did I have to say?

I had my final surgery!!

And in the process of preparing for my surgeries, my scans confirmed that all is well in my body!

You're probably thinking, Angie, that's huge, how is it that you didn't have anything to say about that?

When I was a little girl, my mama always said, If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all.

As I've grown up, I have learned that the reasoning behind that is because our words are powerful - they give life to the feelings behind them, like fertilizing a flower or watering a weed patch. Whatever feelings you  give voice to will invite their friends to settle alongside them in your heart, and raise you up or bring you further down. Your voiced feelings will affect those around you, too.

A lot of the words swimming around in my head and fighting their way out were not, as Mom would say, something nice. And so I didn't say them.

But, as time has passed, I'm in a better space, emotionally, so I think that all the things I have to say can find their way out of my head and into the world, and I can share with you in a way that will feed the flowers and not the weeds.

And, I want to be real with you. So many people I talk to think that I have maintained this happy, cheerful, rosy attitude all through my battle, and that's just not the case. I am real, and I have some real harsh, bitter, angry feelings. But, if you water the weeds, they'll take over the flowers, so I try my very hardest to recognize those feelings, feel them, and then shut them down and move forward.

So, stick around, and I'll update you on what I've been doing, and what I've been feeling.

Say What You Think

It's been 3 months and 1 week since surgery, and I let the day come and go without so much as a mention here. I see Dr. Spiegel again on Thursday, so I was kind of waiting for that to update, I guess.

But.... hip hip hooray, I'm off of all my restrictions!!! I'll come back soon with a medical update, but for now, I have a little something to say. I feel like this is especially relevant as we head into the holiday season, where sometimes the busyness leads to frustration and short tempers.

I am not going to come here and tell you that I have radically changed the way I live my life in the last year and a half.

Yes, I've pulled closer to God to get me through this. Yes, I've leaned on people more than is my norm. But I've always known God is there for me and relied on him, and the people I'm leaning on have been there for me in other, smaller trials as well, so none of this is radical.

There is something that I try to do, now, that I definitely never did before. I wouldn't say it's radical, but it's definitely life-changing for me, and maybe for someone else, too.

When someone impacts my life in a positive way, I try to let them know.

That's it. 

Whether they're a stranger or a friend, whether it's a big impact or just a little ripple, if I am able, I try to let them know.

The customer service rep I spent an hour on the phone with, but she was helpful and cheerful the whole time? I tell her that her cheerfulness was a pleasure.

The person who let's me out in traffic? He gets a super big wave, and maybe a thumbs up.

Basically, if I have a nice thought about someone, instead of keeping it to myself, I try to tell them.

       You were really brave.

       I know that situation sucked, but you handled it very gracefully.

       Thank you for always ___.

       I am proud of you.

       I love that dress.

       I can tell you love your job.

These words are often reserved for special situations, close friends or family.... But what if we sprinkle them farther and wider in the world? The grocery store cashier, the phone support person, the fellow shopper. Everyone needs a pick-me-up; the world needs more kindness. 

So say what you think.

Breast Reconstruction Awareness Day

Apparently, that is today. BRA Day, ha, ha, someone has a sense of humor.

I feel like I need to warn you that I'm about to talk about breasts, including mine. I mean, this is a blog about surviving breast cancer, so that seems obvious, but still, I'm about to write about boobs, so... You've been warned, ha.

Breast cancer takes and takes and takes. If I wrote about what all has been taken from me, you'd click off the page cuz it would get real whiney. So I won't.

The most obvious thing that breast cancer takes, is your breasts.

Breasts. Boobs. The Girls. Tatas. I'm sure there's a million more names for them. Most of the time, we think of boobs in a sexual sense, but there's so much more to it than that.

These breasts fed two babies.

My chest is where I pull my boys into a hug to comfort them when they've got a BoBo. In fact, every hug I give involves chest-to-chest contact.

Every article of clothing I have assumes that I have a filled-out and symmetrical chest. Well, except my pants, obviously. But you get my point.

I see the girls every day when I get out of the shower. Heck, I even have some little decorative mirrors and one is positioned Just So, so that when I'm shampooing, I can see them then, too. (Poor planning on my part, woops.)

There's no arguing that breasts are an integral part of any woman's life, and not just her intimate life (not that I'm negating the importance of that part, either, because let's get real, it's preeeetty important too!)

Breast cancer strips all of that away. Sometimes, women go flat - whether by choice or by medical necessity. Sometimes, a medical device is placed to give the look (when dressed) of symmetrical feminity - a prosthesis worn in the bra, or an implant. I had a tissue expander for over a year. This is like a breast implant that starts out flat, and they gradually add saline to it to help the skin stretch until it's the right size. For me, this was a temporary measure, a placeholder until my final reconstruction.

Also for me, it was unsightly and asymmetrical when naked, uncomfortable at best, and sometimes painful. And it could have been life threatening: when they removed my expander during reconstruction, they found that it was becoming infected.

So...what is breast reconstruction?

There are a lot of different methods, but the goal is the same: to replace what was taken. To recreate breasts in a way that has as natural of a look and feel - in and out of clothes - as possible.

The method I chose is called DIEP Flap Reconstruction, often referred to as just DIEP. The short story, if you're not familiar, is this: they remove a section of abdominal tissue, being careful to preserve the arteries that supply it. Then, they connect those arteries to the ones in your chest wall, and use about 47 gazillion micro sutures to put that belly tissue where there used to be boobs. The location where your belly button was, no longer exists on your body, so they make a new belly button in what appears to be the correct location for belly buttons: the lower/middle of your belly. Then, they puuuuuuulllll your belly skin closed. In short, it's a day-long craft project for a highly skilled microsurgeon.

There's this misconception out there that reconstruction is a free boob job.

It's not.

A free tummy tuck?

Nope, it's not that, either.

Breast reconstruction is a complete rearranging of your torso. It comes with a strange combination of pain and numbness. It's a bit mind-blowing when there's a place on your body that you know you're touching, but you can't feel it, and it has one of those painful stinging itches that you must scratch right-this-second. Only, when you touch it, you still can't feel your fingers on your own skin, and so you can't comfort it. And this phenomenon is not just in my new breasts, either, but in my abdomen as well. And that numbness may or may not go away - only time will tell.

Breast reconstruction is a hard surgery, with a hard recovery. I believe I was under for 9 hours. I had 2 surgeons, plus at least one PA, operating on me. Then I had another surgery 2 days later, due to complications, and needed 3 pints of blood. Y'all, the average woman only has 9 pints. So I needed a third of my blood to be replaced. I'm feeling great, but I still have another month of lifting restrictions, and I still have days where doing the normal life things just flat wears me out. And honestly, I've had an easy recovery, compared with some ladies I've talked to!

Is my belly flat? Pretty much. Do my new boobs look nice? They will, as we finish this process and the scars fade. Was all of this free? Hell no.

Some people might say, Well if breast reconstruction is so hard, why would you do that to yourself? Why would you elect to put yourself through such an ordeal?

This is not an ordeal. Cancer was The Ordeal. Surgeries and medications and life changes are The Ordeal.

But this, these reconstructed breasts? This, my friends, is the finish line of a marathon, the celebration at the end of a long journey, the morning sun after a nightmare.

I'm not finished, no, but I'm a heck of a lot closer to the finish line than I was.

Keeping It Real

The other day, a friend was asking how things are going, and I remembered that I hadn't updated the blog in a while. Sorry.

So, things are going pretty good. I've been walking upright for about 10 days now. On my first morning upright, I couldn't do it - there just wasn't enough slack in my abdomen to make it all the way up to straight! By lunchtime, I was pretty much straight. But then we went to lunch at this new place. When we walked out, James said, Stand up straight! And I couldn't because I'd used up all my abdominal slack on that burger, ha! But after a few days, I was fully upright, even with a full belly.

I'm back to sleeping in my bed now, hooray! I still have to prop my knees and sleep with an extra pillow under my head, but it's nice to be back in bed. And this evening, James surprised me by putting our room back in order - no more recliner squeezed next to the bed and blocking my nightstand!

I've started using silicone scar therapy sheets. My abdominal scar is angry and red, but I know it'll chill out eventually. My belly button sort of looks like a craft project gone wrong, so maybe with time (and maybe some help in Phase 2) it'll look better.

My belly is way less swollen, so that's nice. I still can't wear regular pants though, but I found some great jeans with an elastic waist, so I feel really normal now.

I have some tingling in my right hand and arm that is a little unnerving (ha, see what I did there? unNERVE-ing? Get it?) But I'm starting physical therapy this week so hopefully that resolves that issue. Otherwise, I see my oncologist in a couple of weeks and I'll get her to figure out the problem.

Last week I walked a couple of days - once around the block, and once I did half a mile on our neighborhood trail. By the end of it, my belly was feeling extra tight, so I ended up walking a little bent over, but it was still so nice to move.

I still have lots of days where I feel suddenly and totally exhausted. If I'm home, I usually sneak a nap, but sometimes that's just not possible. But I also have lots of days where I'm going and doing all day long, and again, it feels so normal. Normal is a good thing!

I'm having some skin issues - idk if it's a rash like I had a couple weeks after surgery, or if it's more of a breakout type thing from my hormone blocker, but hopefully it clears up soon. Otherwise I might make an appointment with my dermatologist and see if he can straighten me out.

I think that's about all that's going on with me. So when I told my friend all that, she said, You always keep such a positive attitude about it all.

And you know what, I do keep a positive attitude. Keep being the key word, there.

The default is not always positive. Sometimes, my first thought when I look in the mirror is revulsion. Sometimes, my first response to a random pain is fear. Sometimes, my first feeling after a setback is defeat. I'm not going to clarify "sometimes" because it varies from rarely to often and back again. But just know that I do have those feelings. But I keep a positive attitude.

Keep. That is the key.

When you clean house and go through toys and clothes and papers, you toss some and you keep some. You make a choice about which things are important enough, good enough, valuable enough to keep. There is this big decluttering movement about only keeping things that bring you Joy, and you pick up each thing and make a split-second decision about it, based on how it makes you feel - keep or toss, keep or toss.

Emotions are the same way. I have all the emotions. The question is, which ones am I going to keep. Which ones improve my life, make things better, build me up and push me forward - those are the ones to keep.

It's all a choice. So I'll continue choosing to keep a positive attitude.

A merry heart does good like a medicine
But a broken spirit dries the bones. Proverbs 17:22

Pinktober

I learned a new word today.

Pinktober (n): the month of October that is flooded with pink in an effort to raise awareness of breast cancer. Also known as Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

It's not Pinktober quite yet, but already I'm having some mixed feelings about the, ah, festivities, so I wanted to share some thoughts.

Pinktober comes with shirts and posters, sports teams in pink socks, and Facebook messages. But mostly, everywhere I look, I see pink ribbons.

(For the love of all things pink, if you send me a FB message asking my bra color to raise bc awareness, I'm deleting you. I'm plenty aware of breast cancer, and if I'm even wearing a bra, it's probably uncomfortable at the moment because I'm still a bit tender from having new boobs built.)

Sorry, I got sidetracked there. Anyway.

This journey of mine is a roller coaster of emotions.

Some days, I see a pink ribbon and want to pump my fist in the air and shout, Man, I kicked breast cancer's ass!

And other days, I see a pink ribbon and want to burn it.

A pink ribbon can be a tribute, a way of honoring how far I've come.

A pink ribbon can be a slap in my face, a reminder of just what all I've been through in the last 18 months.

A pink ribbon can say, Hey, I see you struggling with this journey, but I'm here for you, I'm walking with you.

A pink ribbon can say, Hey, I see what you're walking through, and I don't really feel comfortable actually being there for you, so I'm gonna put on this ribbon and then I'll feel good about myself for being "supportive" of you.

I guess what I'm trying to say is... Think about that pink ribbon when you're putting it on, whether it's on your shirt or on your profile. Don't do it because the cool kids are doing it. Use it as a tool to raise actual awareness.

Breast cancer is a real disease. It affects young women as well as older women. It is a life-altering circumstance that nobody wants to face. And it happens to 1 in 8 women. Check your girls, girls.

One final thought: There is a huge difference between raising awareness of the disease, and raising funds for research. Awareness means you know about the disease: risk factors, warning signs, detection. Pink ribbons do not, by and large, raise much (if any) money for breast cancer research. Most of the products sold around this time are pure marketing gimmicks, with pennies on the dollar going to actual research. Before you buy that crap, please do your research. Don't waste your money and insult my journey with "save the tatas" bracelets or whatever this year's catchy slogan is.

A Little Longer...

Today, I saw the PA at Dr. Speigel's office for a check-up. I'm 5.5 weeks post-op, and here's the scoop.

My abdominal incision that had the little delayed healing spot? That's all better! The whole incision is looking fantastic - definitely not like a month old scar, that's for sure! I still have to walk flexed for 2 more weeks though, because if I stand up now, the scar will stretch and widen, so they want me to wait til 8 weeks post-op before I stand up fully. Or rather, start to stand up - I can already tell it's going to be a slow process.

Also at 8 weeks, I can start sleeping in my bed again, instead of the recliner. That will also be a transition too - one week with 2 pillows behind my head and knees, then a week with one pillow each, and then normal.

Another 8 week change is that I will be able to start using Silagen silicone scar therapy sheets. They're supposed to be amazing.

Pretty soon, I will get set up with the physical therapy group at The Women's Hospital, and that'll be twice a week for 6 weeks. That is for range of motion in my arms. They'll also do some cold laser therapy on some areas of hardness in my breast. The hardness is from the bleeding I had that required the second surgery, if you remember that. I still have some bruising from that episode, and where the bruising is, is hard... It's softening up, but the laser (which doesn't hurt) will help it improve faster.

Another thing they did today was remove the glue (dermabond) covering the breast incisions. On the left side, there are 2 tiny dots of "delayed wound healing" so I've got to use the special dressing I was using on my abdomen, there. It really looks like there were two little scabs that stuck to the glue instead of my body, so hopefully those clear up quickly.

And, that's pretty much all the news for today. I was pretty disappointed to not be cleared to stand up, but I love that she explained why, so I can be patient.

I'm seeing a trend of things taking a little longer than planned at each step in the process. 6 days in the hospital, instead of 4. 8 weeks walking flexed, instead of 4-6. So, I'm kind of starting to prepare myself for the possibility that I might not get to have my Phase 2 surgery before the end of the year.

Phase 2 is a second, planned surgery for symmetry and scar revision - Phase 1 is the big one, and it's meant to be a foundation, not a finished product. Phase 2 is always at least 4 months after Phase 1, longer if needed.

I was really hoping to have it by the end of the year, because all of my medical expenses are covered by at 100% by insurance right now. If it's after 1/1/2020, then we start over and I have to pay a big chunk of the cost. Which is manageable, but obviously if it's avoidable, then that's better! But my priority is the best outcome, and I fully trust my doctor to make that decision when the time comes. I will see her next on 11/21, and she will decide then if we want to keep our pencilled-in date of 12/11, or push it back.

That's what's new with me. If you're following the weather, you may know it's been bad down by us, but we've stayed safe and dry and I think it's about finished. Be praying for others in my area that flooded - some who also flooded during Harvey.

Post-Op #2 Report

Today was my second post-op appointment, and I got a little good news, and a little bad news. I like to end on a high note, so I'll give you the bad news first.

During surgery, they glued some special tape over the abdominal incision to give it some additional support and keep it from pulling open. Fun fact about me: I have really sensitive skin, and sometimes adhesive irritates me. This is one of those times. So they pulled the entire thing off today, which is earlier than they like to, because my skin was just done with that stuff.

They used a bit of adhesive remover to loosen it up, but it still felt about like a bikini wax coming off. So that was fun. Then, it continued to hurt... Because my skin is a little broken down in some spots from the adhesive. It looks like a bunch of small scratches that are just a teensy bit bleedy, and they sting like, well, a bunch of small scratches that are a teensy bit bleedy. Leave it to me to have a major surgery that impacts my entire torso, and the dang bandaids do me in.

I also have a bit of an itchy rash, so that's fun, but some rx cream should clear that right up.

The last bit of bad news is a little more serious, but they assured me it happens all the time and not to worry, just be extra careful. So during the tummy tuck part of the surgery, they're pulling your abdomen back together and there's not enough skin, so it's real tight. Hence the need to walk bent over. Mine is particularly tight, because they were able to use my c-section scar so that the final product is nicer, but it was lower than she usually goes, so the whole thing is a bit tighter. So a possible complication, which I am having, is that it sort of pulls apart a little bit - they call it "delayed wound healing" and she said it's really a very tiny spot and it'll close up just fine. I suspect it's probably complicated by my low platelets, but I didn't ask. So I just have to stay extra bent over, especially since I no longer have the tape on there as a reinforcement. They also gave me a special dressing that will help it heal, without causing the adhesive skin reaction above. And because of all that, I have to wait another week to drive, and I have to go back next week to make sure it's all healing well, instead of in two weeks.

Pause. That all sounds sort of terrible, doesn't it? But really, it's all going to be just fine, and it really is a very small spot. And the skin breakdown is very superficial and will probably clear right up now that the tape is gone. So, deep breath, and stop worrying and thinking doomy gloomy thoughts. I'm rocking this recovery phase!

Now then, how about some good news?

The girls are looking great. The left one is still all sorts of greenish purple from the bleeding (which was from a little clot, doc said), but they're healing so well, and they look pretty good, if I do say so myself.

I no longer have to wear the surgical bra, which is AMAZING because that little thing is unbelievably itchy. Or maybe that's the rash that was so itchy, but I think the bra contributed to it, so same thing. I am now allowed to wear those really comfortable camisole type bras, so that is very exciting.

I can raise my hands overhead and do range of motion exercises. Well, I can't actually raise them that high, but I'm allowed to start trying. Do you know what this means?!?! I can shave my armpits. Hallelujah, God is good, y'all. I can also wear whatever I want now, because I can move my arms around to get into real clothes instead of just button up shirts.

Oh, I nearly forgot! Because of all the issues above, I get to take a week off from The Miniskirt! Which, despite all my complaints, is actually pretty helpful for my sore swelly belly.

So overall, a pretty good appointment. I also enjoyed getting some one on one time with James, because he's been taking me to these weekly appointments. Date Day for the win!