My wounds are sore, but healing, and healing well. Yesterday we went downtown (again) to the surgeon (again) and got my drains pulled out (hurrah!). She also removed the tape from my stitches and pronounced me healing well. The nurse was amazed at how well I’m healing, actually, and we start PT next week to help me regain movement in my arms.
My stitches are just about healed. Perhaps one more day with the neosporin, and then we’ll be ready to start the aloe compresses to prepare the skin for radiation. Wow. I try to think positively, but I honestly wasn’t sure we’d make it this far. This is amazing, and I feel lucky to have every day now.
Today I slept late again, and was in pain when I woke up. But mostly I’m just stiff (in my arms) and sore (across my chest), like I’m wearing a bra that’s way too tight. Of course, that’s a problem I won’t have to deal with again (unless I want to), as I will never need to wear a bra again. Not out to dinner, not out to playdate, not even out jogging. Hum. The freedom!
I did get out this week. For anyone wondering about mobility after surgery, it’s not impossible. I had surgery on Jan 22. The next Monday (Jan 28), WonderDaddy drove me down to the surgeon for a follow-up visit. On Jan 29, Widget and I went to playdate. Jan 30, back to the surgeon, this time on the Metro! We even stopped at WD’s workplace to say hello and hear the latest news at a press conference. On Jan 31, I slept, but Feb 1 brought another trip back down to the surgeon on the Metro, this time by myself, and then back home with WD. Tonight (Feb 2) we went out to eat to celebrate my mother-in-law’s birthday. Perhaps this paragraph was incredibly boring, but what I’m trying to say is this: Don’t sell yourself short. It IS possible to get out your first week after surgery. But choose wisely, as it is exhausting.
The area under my right arm/pit is still sore and painful when I move it too quickly. That’s the area where my lymph nodes used to live, so I should go easier on it. I just want to be healed and back to normal again. I am ready to go to playdate, to the bookstore, to shop for new blouses to flatter my new shape … all kinds of places, to do all kinds of things. Mostly I just want my energy back and to celebrate being alive.
But already I can do the things I most wanted to do. Hug my children. Sit on the floor and play with them. Cuddle the toddler who falls asleep on my lap at dinner, and kiss the baby on his forehead as he squirms off to explore something new. Kiss WonderDaddy, and hold his hand, knowing that we are partners in this too, and we have another day ahead of us still.