Reconstruct...take two.

 

(Warning...graphic post op images ahead.)

 

 

It's done.

My final surgery is complete.

 

I woke Friday morning feeling anxious. Everything irritated me and I was impatient and snappy towards my Littles when all I wanted to do was cuddle them. I was tired. Tired of everything to do with cancer. Tired of the mindfuck that comes with surgery. Anticipating it but worrying it would be cancelled again. Preparing for the inevitable frustration of waiting and the pain that follows.

 

Husband dropped me off at the hospital a little early so that the Jackman wouldn't miss out on his gymnastics class. I sat in the cafe courtyard for a while, soaking up the warmth of the late morning sun. That little bit of quiet time was just what I needed...feeling the radiant heat on my skin, thinking of everyone I loved, telling myself that I could do this, just a walk in the park.

 

Then it was a case of going through the motions, a routine I now had down pat. A game of twenty questions with the nurse; gowning up; waiting; moving to the holding bay; cocooned in warm blankets; waiting; twenty questions again; anaesthetist tapping my arm to find a vein; waiting; surgeon graffitiing my chest; waiting and finally into the ice cold theatre. Stretching out on the table like a slab of meat on the butchers block, mask coming down on my face and then....black nothingness.

 

I have no memory of recovery, nor of the several hours afterwards. Eventually the pain crept into my foggy mind and woke me. It was 9pm, it was dark outside but the room was bright with light. Peeking under my gown I saw skin covered in flamingo pink betadine, always an assault on the eyes. Then my right breast, swollen and bruised but seemingly more even than before. Skin stretched taut, no longer puckered from radiation. Relief. A quick call home to say I was ok and then a night of sleep broken by hourly obs.

 

Morning...a change of shift, new nurses coming in and out. Head heavy with painkillers, dozing on and off, sun rises. Out of bed...tentative steps to the bathroom...wincing as the bloodied gown and bandages around my waist are removed. Then the shock of bruises revealling themselves. I hadn't anticipated so much. I hadn't thought about the aftermath of the liposuction. My poor, poor body. A long shower to wash away the gaudiness of flamingo pink. Slow work getting dressed. Blood still oozing from under dressings. Body aching and fragile.

 

Surgeon stops by to check his handiwork, encouraged with how the surgery went. I am so grateful for this softly spoken man who took away my cancer and rebuilt a most beloved part of my body. A few more hours of waiting, dozing off now and again, head still heavy with painkillers. Then home, home to my boys for cautious cuddles and rest.

 

 

 

 

This is it. I am done. My surgeon said we'd know in a few months if any more surgical "tweaking" is required but I know that I won't be needing it. I was never seeking perfection. Close enough is good enough for me. I am satisfied with what I have and I know that I won't be putting my body through any more surgery. I am so grateful that my treatments have given me a future. Now it's time to nurture this body back to health.

 

 

 

 

Time to rest and let the healing take hold.

xx Em

 

 

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Mind over Matter...Matter over Mind.

The greatest mistake in the treatment of diseases is that there are physicians for the body and physicians for the soul, although the two cannot be separated. ~Plato

 

And so begins my mental health recovery.

I finished up my short course of antidepressants on Monday. They had an incredibly positive impact on both my emotional state and the reduction of my menopause symptoms. I expected to feel a bit lower after finishing them but was shocked just how intensely those awful emotions came crashing back down on me. The hot flushes ramped straight back up to unbearable and I found myself constantly exhausted, fragile and on the verge of tears. I muddled my way through the next couple of days until I was able to see my GP for another script. In some ways it frightens me that I've fallen into such a heap at the end of my cancer treatment, in others, I feel proud of myself for holding it together for as long as I have whilst under duress. I had to face my demons eventually...now is the right time.

 

 

 

 

I am so very grateful for the incredible friends in my life.

Early yesterday morning my friend Rach called offering to take Jack for the day. Her timing was impeccable...I was really struggling and the opportunity to have some time on my own before my GP appointment was something I happily took up. After dropping Jack off I went to Lanyon Homestead for a bit of solace. And I found solace sitting in the sunshine with coffee and eggs, listening to the quiet. It was good to breathe deeply and feel the sun on the back of my neck. It was good to listen to the birdsong and the hum of a distant tractor. It was good to savour simple food and good coffee.

It was good to be still.

 

 

 

Lanyon has become a haven for me since being diagnosed. A beautiful, peaceful space tucked in a valley, looking out to the mountains. I've found clarity in the quiet and comfort watching the landscape respond to the seasons. Seeing blossoms on the apple trees reminds me that life indeed goes on. There is more to my life than cancer.

 

 

 

 

Standing in the orchard, blossoms overhead and at my feet...I felt for a moment, the toxic anxiety of cancer slip away as the drone of bees filled my ears. An hour at Lanyon was enough to get me through the morning. By afternoon I had started another course of antidepressants and by evening I felt like I could cope again.

 

 

 

 

Today my friend Nicole offered to look after Jack while I went to my first counselling session at the hospital. I had planned to take Jack with me but was very grateful to do the appointment solo. I'm still learning to ask others for help. It doesn't come naturally but these sessions require my full attention so asking for babysitting favours is less luxury and more necessity. My girlfriends are generous and supportive and I really value their help. Jack had a fabulous time playing with Nic's girls at home while I dashed up the road.

 

It was a great first session. I felt comfortable opening up to my counsellor. There are so many aspects to cover. Cancer has a ripple affect on everything. It has touched every part of my life and I want to be able to acknowledge its affect and learn to let go of the emotional residue that built up during treatment. It feels like a safe forum to deal with a couple of awful situations that happened during treatment that I haven't had the liberty of sharing on here. Things that I just didn't have the capacity to deal with during chemo and beyond. It will probably be messy and painful but I honestly believe that I can work through it and find strategies to deal with it.

 

 

 

 

Since being diagnosed I have actively sought out the beautiful in my world. Even when I've felt completely overwhelmed with cancer and the damage it's done to my body, my saving grace has been noticing the beautiful around me. I've been looking for the beautiful a lot lately. Actively seeking it out and capturing it to share with others. There is an abundance of beautiful around Canberra right now. Spring has burst into colour and perfume and sound.

 

I don't know how long it will take for my mental health to recover. I just know that my emotional resilience and wellbeing is just as vitally important as my physical recovery and wellbeing. Cancer will not leave me less. It has shaped me but I will not let it define me.

 

 

 

"Spring drew on...and a greenness grew over those brown beds, which, freshening daily, suggested the thought that Hope traversed them at night, and left each morning brighter traces of her steps."

― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

 

xx Em

 

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The brain drain.

My drain is out. Freedom!

You would think, having played the original mastectomy game just 19 months ago that I would be well schooled in drain etiquette. No. Oh goodness no!

Having a metre long tube emerging from under my ribs with a blood filled bag attached to the end wasn't obvious enough to remind my brain about the 'for gods sake don't walk off without it' rule.

I blame chemo brain.

 

 

For the eight days that it was part of me, I managed to snag myself on average about half a dozen times a day. The bag was tucked inside a pretty rainbow polka dot fabric tote that I'd made. I would hang the tote on the back of the chair or by the side of my bed and inevitably get up and walk off only to lurch back after a couple of steps with a burning pain in my ribs.

 

Ow bloody ow!!!

Of course, now that it is no longer attached to my body, I stop to collect it before getting up from my chair only to remember that it's not there. Oh how very amusing my chemo addled grey matter is these days! Time to get cracking on the brain gym program and start reconnecting some neurons.

 

 

Anyway, to celebrate my escape from tangled tubes, we went out for a family dinner last night at Grill'd in Manuka. It felt really great to feel well enough to go out. Grill'd is the perfect place for dinner with my boys. I love the interiors and the casual atmosphere. I love their tokens for local charities program.

And the food...

 

 

I went for the triple sliders with chicken, wasabi and pomegranate; beef, mustard & pickle and; chicken & asian slaw. So good, so so good!

 

 

Made better with a side of sweet potato fries & sweet chilli sauce.

 

 

We bumped into some friends we hadn't seen for a while on our way out, then the boys danced their way around the block on the walk back to the car. The weather is warming up, am looking forward to Spring and all the gorgeous outdoor adventures that come with it.

 

Wishing you all a wonderful weekend.

xx Em

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Perspective and Gratitude

 

 

It's been a week since surgery and I'm in a much better frame of mind.

 

Being home in my own safe, comforting space for the last few days has made a big difference. My boys have been lavishing me with such gentle cuddles and Husband has been doing a stellar job taking care of me. My body may still be fragile and sore but my head & heart are in a much better place. Time, rest and nurturing have allowed perspective to creep back in again and with perspective comes gratitude and a deep appreciation for what I do have.

 

I'm grateful that my cancer was picked up relatively early and that my surgeon was able to do nipple sparing mastectomies with immediate reconstructions. I'm very mindful that for a lot of women its not an option. I'm grateful that my surgeon did such a beautiful job reconstructing my breasts so that they look almost normal, even if they feel far from it.

 

I'm grateful for every nurse who took care of me during my time at Calvary. I have a huge amount of respect and admiration for the work that they do. I was never left waiting for pain relief no matter how busy they were. They were always so gentle when administering my Hepron injections or checking my wound and didn't make me feel bad for falling into a teary heap.

 

I'm incredibly grateful for friends in high places who arranged for me to stay in a single room for the duration of my stay this time. I desperately needed the privacy and peace of my own space so that I could mourn my loss. I'm grateful that I had such wonderful people on the ward looking out for me during a time when I was broken and vulnerable and weak. I'm grateful for little things that made a big difference during my stay at Calvary. A decent coffee delivered with a hug from a very dear friend. A view of the Brindabellas at sunset. Hospital food that was surprisingly fresh, healthy and delicious. A Bosom Buddy volunteer who took the time to sit and share her experience and left a beautiful gift bag donated by a local church.

 

I'm grateful for a warm, cosy house to come home to. I appreciate having a Husband who could take a couple of weeks carers leave. He's been incredibly supportive during this recovery and is a rockstar 'Mr Mom'. I'm grateful for the family & friends who haven't given in to compassion fatigue during this drawn out journey. I'm grateful for an incredible online cancer support group that I'm privileged to have just become part of. The timing is serendipitous and the strength and humour that eminates from these amazing women is so uplifting. Being able to talk to others who truly appreciate every aspect of the fight is gold!

 

 

I am grateful for all the emails, comments and messages of support from my online community. For the phone calls, visits, flowers, gifts and cards that have brightened my days from family & friends.

 

I am very much aware of what is good in my life.

Cancer may have stretched my resilience to breaking point, but it can't steal away my gratitude.

 

xx Em

 

 

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Pandora's Box

I'm home from hospital now.

My second mastectomy was a success. I'm doing ok and glad to be back in my own bed again.

 

I wanted to share the below post that I wrote two days after my surgery. I was in a very dark place. I think that I have a fair bit of work ahead of me in coming to terms with the emotional fallout that comes after battling cancer.

Also, heads up...this is a post about mastectomies. Squeeze your eyes shut if the sight of my reconstructed boob is not your cup of tea, or, you know, harden up and deal with it. It's just another boob.

 

**********************

 

Friday, August 8th

It's done.

 

 

The tears began to trickle from the moment I walked through the hospital doors and haven't stopped.

I wiped them away so that the nurses wouldn't notice in surgical admissions.

I wiped them away as I lay for hours in the room next to the theatre, waiting for my turn.

I wiped them away when the anaesthetist finally got the cannula into a vein, on the fifth excruciating try.

I wiped them away as they put me on the operating table and placed the mask over my face.

I wiped them away as I 'came to' in Recovery.

I wiped them away each time the nurses came into my room to do obs and give painkillers.

I wiped them away as my surgeon came in to check on me the morning after my mastectomy.

 

 

 

And then I stopped wiping the tears away.

 

 

The nurses came in bright and bubbly to give me my meds Friday morning and I burst into tears. Not the delicate kind. The great big hiccuping kind. The kind where speech is wiped out by uncontrollable sobs. They looked a bit scared, asked me what was wrong and when I couldn't respond they left me to cry it out in the privacy of my room.

 

I wanted to scream that I'd just had my breast removed, I wanted everyone to stop treating me like I'd just had my appendix out. I felt devastated. I felt entirely overwhelmed with the sense of loss. I wasn't alright. I wasn't the least bit alright. All of the sadness and stress that I'd managed to lock away during my treatments last year began bubbling up to the surface. This surgery was the last hurdle and I felt so completely broken by it. I felt like I'd slipped into a big black hole.

 

And so I cried, and cried and cried some more.

 

My breast care nurse came in and gave me the hug that I'd craved. She said everything that I needed to hear. She knew exactly where I was coming from. I felt understood. She 'got' the kind of loss that I felt. The tears didn't stop but I didn't feel the need to hide them anymore.

 

 

Last year I was in survival mode, jumping from one hideous treatment to the next with no time to really process my feelings. I became very good at telling myself to keep going. I had to keep it together for my boys and I couldn't lose control. I was quietly terrified of facing my Pandora's Box of emotions so I tucked that box away.

 

Well...the lid has now been opened...and its messy...and it feels endless.

 

 

Physically I'm sore and bruised and fragile.

 

 

Emotionally I'm raw and weak and worn.

 

I want the tears to stop. I want to recover and just get on with my life. This surgery was the final step and now it's done. It's done.

 

I want to focus on recovering, I want to be positive about my future. I am grateful that my treatment has given me a second crack at life. I don't want to take that for granted.

 

But for now, the tears keep coming and the sadness feels immense.

 

xx Em

 

 

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First Post Chemo Haircut

 

Momentous occasion this afternoon folks!

 

For the first time since the beginning of chemo, when the last wisps of my hair were shorn off, I stepped through the doors of my hair salon for a cut.

 

 

Its been six whole months since my last haircut.

Six months...

 

 

It was so very lovely to see Marina again. Love my hairdresser! We caught up on those missing six months as she tidied up my hairline, with Harry occasionally coming over to join in the conversation.

 

(Harry pulling a Kate Moss pose)

 

The amount of hair that came off was minuscule but the act was monumental, another step closer to normality.

 

Felt great to be able to walk out of the salon saying "See you in six weeks".

 

 

xx Em

 

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