Last night, Ron and I had committed to taking off the surgical bra, the bandage, and finishing a shower. Well sometimes the best of intentions fall to the way side. I had had such a great Saturday feeling great without pain medication. I could barely feel the incision at all and my grogginess was wearing off. Score one for Team McCollum. However, as the evening came about I realized just how tired I was from being up all day feeling great. A few tears during dinner and a hurried step to climb into bed to shut down for the night, but then remembering we still had the tasks with the bandage hanging over our heads. I was committed, simply just to get it off my plate on the day we were supposed to. It was a goal of mine, but as we started the process and got down to the bandage, Ron in his wisdom realized the bandage removal (it was larger than we expected and every inch covered in tape) was going to be more than I could handle in my exhausted state, much less tackling a shower after it's removal. We decided to abandon ship and delay the removal to today when I was more rested. What difference does a 12 hour delay make, right? Climb in bed and settled in for the night.
About an hour into my sleep I woke up with severe abdominal cramps and nausea and vomiting. I literally crawled myself back and forth from the bed to the bathroom about every hour. At one point in the night I had a short little nap on the bathroom floor. Yes, I know that is disgusting, but sometimes you have to make do with what you have at that very moment. Believe me when I say, this was not on my life's bucket list, but I can check it off all the same. I was miserable and it had nothing to do with the incision except for when it impeded my crawling back and forth. It would have been a hoot had it not been so pathetic.
Ten 10 hours later and I was a new woman. My abdominal symptoms have almost resolved, just a little lingering nausea, but I am functional and alert and oriented! Strong improvement. We decided to tackle bandage first thing after breakfast to get it done with once and for all. It didn't take that much coaxing, as I was ready to get it over with, but it did take some heavy breathing, a few unneeded tears, followed by begging to stop and count for 5 seconds before tearing more of the tape away (repeat x 30). It actually went quicker than it has in the past, and I equate that to my getting better with each passing bandage. Of note, I still didn't look myself, as I never do during bandage removal, but Ron did as he always does and described it to me so I could start my mental preparation. It's rather large spanning the entire width of the breast and is covered with stitches and a glue adhesive, but according to Ron the tissue looks healthy with minimal drainage. Back into the infamous sports bras and I'm in tact as a whole person once again and back on the sofa.
I'm through the tough part now. I did it. The bandage is off, and I didn't smack Ron upside the forehead. Score two for Team McCollum. I survived the 5th surgery intact both mentally and physically. There never was a doubt really, but I don't love this emotional woman I became with mastectomy. But for whatever reason, I'm now quite taxing with bandages and scars. It is what it is, and it serves whatever purpose it serves. Maybe I'm even better for it on the other side, maybe. At least I know Boob 1.i and 2.2 are better on the other side. Both implants are exactly where they should be, without one slipping down into my knee cap. Talk about fashionably awkward.
Ron is headed back to work tomorrow, and I can't say I adore that, but that is more about my insecurity than my health. That first day he goes back is always tough for me as I worry about the "what ifs" (and I bore easily), but it's always fine and I quickly realize that as I get into my day. I plan on sleeping most of it away anyway. Just the anticipation of that first day that doesn't go smoothly. I'm working hard to get enough energy (still quite the groggy person) and mobility (can't move m arms over my head and have a 5 lb weight lifting restriction) back to go back to work myself on Wednesday. The surgeon thinks it is totally possible (Shhh, it's our secret that he's been wrong the previous 4 surgeries but he doesn't need to know). The sooner I get back to work, the sooner this surgery is behind me. Warning: if you see me at work with my clothes on backwards or inside out, just know I did my best considering. I can't be perfect all the time!
