What would I do without you?

My Mum headed back to Queensland this morning. We could not have survived these past two weeks without her and we are all so very, very grateful that she swooped in and took charge of our nest the way that she did!

 

My Mum shows love through action. My Mum shows compassion and empathy because the people in her life...her family, her friends...are at the top of her priority list, always.

My boys adore their Nana. She is a Super Nana because she truly treasures the time she has with them. She is a no-nonsense Nana and the boys know that trying on a tantrum is pointless, her patience and calm persistence wins out in the end, every time. But she is also incredibly hands on and loves getting in and playing their games, is larger then life when reading stories, takes them on walks to the park and even jumps in the pool with them for swimming lessons.

 

What I love most is how she really listens and has the most fantastic conversations with them, particularly with Harry.

Mum is an amazing cook and has the house running like clockwork without being overbearing. When she is here I feel completely relaxed. As does Hubby, he genuinely loves to have her here and why wouldn't he...there is no shortage of TLC going his way either! No matter how old we get, there is nothing like having your Mummy take care of you when your sick! There are probably going to be quite a few times over the next 6 to 12 months that we will need her support and you can be sure that we will never take her for granted.

Thank you Mum...we love you to the moon...and back! xxx

 

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On the road to recovery - in hospital.

When I finally managed to shake off the fog of the anaesthetic I found myself in my own little room with a view of the sun setting behind the Brindabella Ranges and my husband by my side. I was hooked up to an IV & oxygen, a tube protruded from under my right rib and ran down to a bag on the side of the bed to drain the blood and fluid away from the wound and two large cuffs wrapped around my calves, massaging them at intervals to prevent clots from forming. I must have been quite a sight, even more so still covered from neck to belly button with flamingo pink betadine. Mmmmmm...pretty! Hubby stayed for a little while then headed home as I drifted in and out of sleep.

In the morning I woke feeling quite good. Sore and a little unsteady but well enough to get out of bed and tentatively take a shower unassisted. Despite best efforts I couldn't get rid of the flamingo pink. My right breast was incredibly bruised and a little puckered around the edge of the implant but my surgeon had managed to preserve the skin and the nipple so essentially it didn't look all that different. I was really pleased with how it was and could picture how good it was going to look after several weeks had given the swelling time to dissipate and the implant to settle in.

My surgeon called in to see me just after breakfast and went through the details of the surgery. The pathology on the sentinel nodes had shown that the cancer had spread to the lymph nodes so he had removed just over a dozen of them to give a good clearance. The rest of the surgery had gone well so now it was a matter of waiting to see what the pathology would come back with in approximately 10 days time.

Hubby came to visit at lunch time and rest of the afternoon was a stream of nurses, physiotherapists and visitors. I was so glad to see my Mum and my boys. Harry, my four year old, was incredibly intrigued by the drainage tube that came out of my side and the cannula in my hand. Jack, my 18 mth old was just happy to have a Mummy cuddle and some grapes to snack on. Two of my girlfriends came by at the same time so the room was full of happy, noisy kids and adult chatter.

In the early evening I was whisked away from my private little room and plonked into a double room next to a very old lady. I'm ok with this I naively thought...but it quickly dawned on me that she was an incredibly noisy old biddy and any notion of rest and recovery were soon banished. I couldn't blame her, she was in obvious pain and discomfort from a knee reconstruction and she was as deaf as a lamp post. Unfortunately I had to listen to every moan, groan, burp, retch and fart that emanated from her ancient and failing body and to add to the cacophony, she snored like a freight train the entire night. I gave up trying to sleep after several hours staring at the ceiling and sat up chatting to friends in Western Australia and overseas on Facebook instead. By the time the sun came up I was exhausted, in real pain and completely over it. I started to laugh maniacally when the nurses asked her how she had slept and she chirped cheerfully, "Oh just wonderful Luv, best sleep I've had in aaaaaages".

Eeeegads! Thankfully my darling friend of ten years came to my rescue with proper coffee, a hot breakfast and her beautiful baby boy. We had a really good laugh and she lifted my spirits immensely.

Added to that the surgeon came by and gave me the all clear to go home.

I was incredibly grateful that I could leave the noise and fuss of the hospital and go back to my own space, be in my own bed, surrounded by my own family.

 

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Operation New Boob - Part 2

Typical Australia...one week bushfires are blazing out of control and we're receiving messages from the fire service to prepare to evacuate and the next there's torrential flooding and cyclonic conditions that wreak havoc along the east coast, cancelling flights and cutting off roads. Blimey...you can't say that we're a dull lot!

My Mum had planned to fly in to Canberra from Queensland the day before my surgery to perform her Super Nana duties but the weather gods had other plans and her flight was cancelled. Logistically it was a little tricky as both our boys had chicken pox and the only girlfriends available to babysit on the day of my surgery were heavily pregnant or had young toddlers who were yet to be immunised. Clearly not an option, we couldn't possibly expose them, so we decided that I would drive myself to the hospital and Hubby would stay home with the kids until my Mum arrived on another flight that afternoon. I was ok with it. It was better for my husband to be busy and occupied with the boys rather than sitting around in a hospital waiting room for hours on end.

I kissed all three of my boys goodbye and drove to the hospital at 8am. I checked in to the surgical admissions lounge, sorted out the admissions forms then wandered over to Nuclear Medicine for my radioactive dye injection. I was a tad anxious about how painful it would be but I took it as a good sign when a rather handsome young doctor called me in...now there's a good distraction to take your mind off a painful procedure if ever I've seen one. Highly recommended girls, I barely felt a thing! After the dye had a chance to work it's way through my lymph nodes they took some films and marked the sentinal nodes in my armpit and I was sent back to surgical admissions. I had a couple of hours to waste before they prepped me for theatre so I wandered the halls of the hospital, read my Martha Stewart Living magazine and all the text messages wishing me luck from family and friends. Before long it was midday and time to get changed into the incredibly glamorous paper knickers, green stripey gown, compression stockings & paper booties. If only I'd had a camera, I totally rocked that look!

I started to feel a little scared just before I was wheeled into theatre at 2pm. My surgeon came and drew what resembled a roadmap on my chest, the anaesthetist came and had a chat and several nurses popped in to confirm and reconfirm my details. I'd had three previous surgeries during my lifetime. One took away my failed 2nd pregnancy and the other two delivered beautiful, healthy little babies into my arms. This time I was losing part of myself, a part I was immensely proud of, a part that had fed my babies for the first 12 months of their lives and given my husband and I great pleasure for the last 12 years. I couldn't help but feel sad at the loss. Thankfully the anaesthetist had a cracking good sense of humour and a wife who had also endured a double mastectomy and survived breast cancer so I was put at ease.

Just like my c-sections, the theatre was filled with people all busy with purpose. The room was incredibly cold and the blanket covering my body was toasty warm. One of the nurses held my hand and then...

...I woke up...nearly six hours later.

 

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Operation New Boob - Part 1

I went to my pre-admission surgical consult armed with a long list of questions and one of my dearest girlfriends for moral support. I had spent the week before my appointment reading voraciously about treatment options and made the decision with my husband to opt for a mastectomy instead of breast conserving surgery.

Having my girlfriend with me proved invaluable. Not only could we chat and laugh while we waited, she wrote everything down during the consult, asked questions that she knew I'd forgotten and gave me a reassuring squeeze every now and again which gave me courage. We both felt immediately comfortable with my surgeon who took his time to explain all my options and happily answered all our questions. I deal with difficult situations best when armed with information and I felt empowered with the facts Dr M had provided.

Ultimately I agreed to his recommendation of a full mastectomy with an immediate reconstruction using a silicone implant and a sentinal node biopsy/auxiliary clearance of the lymph nodes in my armpit. And dependent on pathology chemo/radiotherapy and hormone therapy to follow. I was also offered the option of removing the other healthy breast 6 months down the track. I know that some would consider this avenue of treatment far too frightening and extreme but to me it was a case of let's do this once and do it right. I wasn't afraid of losing my breasts or the horrid side affects of chemo. I was more afraid of taking the conservative route and having the cancer return as a result.

With a decision made I finally felt like I was taking back some control.

My surgery was booked for the 29th of January and I started preparing for Operation New Boob.

One of the first steps that I took in preparation for such a life changing event was to cut my hair short. My hairdresser's response when I told her why I wanted the chop was "Holy Fuck Emily, I can't believe you have cancer!". It was exactly what I needed to hear and made me laugh...hard! I decided to go for an Anne Hathaway look. For practical reasons I wanted something easy to look after because I wouldn't be able to use my right arm for several weeks and for emotional reasons I wanted to prepare myself for chemo by going shorter so that when I did end up losing my hair it wouldn't come as such a shock.

I went from the same old bob I'd sported for the last 4 years

 

To this...

It feels incredibly liberating, takes no time at all to style one handed and I feel fabulous! And you know what, if I didn't have cancer I would never have built up the courage to do something so drastic. I love it!

 

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