April 12: Ron and I are not known for our spontaneity or really even our creativity. I decided this year for my birthday, we were going to make plans so it wouldn't be another "here is comes, there it goes" kind of birthday. I don't want birthdays to become the forgotten day that often happens in the craziness of adulthood. Shouldn't we all embrace the Elmo birthday cakes of childhoods gone by? In an attempt to do this, but to replace Elmo with something a tad more fitting and less perky, we decided to take a vacation to downtown Raleigh (about 15 minutes from our house for those of you not from N.C.). Almost a month ago, we bought tickets to see Ira David Wood in "To Kill a Mocking Bird" tonight, then for Saturday we would spend the time downtown scoping our galleries and museums with dinner plans at a new (now old) restaurant downtown called Oro. We'd sum it all up with stay at a local bed and breakfast. I had won the bed and breakfast in a raffle and having never stayed in a B&B before I was super excited for this fun weekend and chance to better explore the very town we live in. Creative, huh? Well, creative for me anyway. I'm turning 38 (or 25 to those of you I've lied to), and I wanted to cushion that with some purposeful excitement particularly considering how crazy this year had been both personally with a double mastectomy and professionally with a project that is running about 350 mph. So I find myself sad. Ok maybe a little bitter. Dare I say angry? Nah, not angry. That's a bit much. Jaded, yep that is a good description. I'm jaded and wishful for the weekend plans we had so carefully crafted for a birthday I really wanted to celebrate (and this is a very different desire from previous years).
Instead of celebrating the successful navigation of the past year with two nights on the local town, I find myself launched right back into last fall (different, but similar) left trying to muster up some normalcy. A good start is my friend Kristen is bringing macaroni and cheese on Sunday. Is there a better way to celebrate a birthday than with some comfort mac and cheese? We are also trying to see if we can still fit in a dinner downtown this weekend. We have to eat right? So what if I look a little scruffy and uneasy on the eye?!? I sh ant let the trials of this week totally unglue the purposeful intention of celebrating 38. But in all honesty, despite everyone telling me how stoic, positive, inspirational I can be, there is a side of me intertwined with all that positivity that feels a good bit bummed. Bummed! Jaded! Don't mistake it - I'm so grateful that God allowed option #1 to occur with the introduction of boob 2.2 (instead of going 4 months with no boob at all where all you would see of me is BASKETCASE!), but I would have been perfectly fine with boob #2 and no surgery at all. I was floating along in a bliss of life is good, work is good, relationships are even better to now find myself sitting on a sofa infusing antibiotics 7 hours of my day, unable to drive, pulling at stitches, cleaning holes where drains once made their presence known, and fumbling with not being able to lift much more than 5 pounds. I want my independence back! I want my birthday weekend! I even want to be at work digging through the trenches with my team. I love that! ( I will deny it if ever asked in public). I DO NOT, however, want to be here. There it's said and out in the open.
Ok so now for the return of the silver lining positive focused Sally that we all know and understand. God is gracious. He has his purpose. I have met some amazing people in the hospital and have been re-reminded of the many friends that love me and would drop their schedule at a moments notice to provide me dinner or drive 45 minutes to visit me in the hospital. I love that! I've always been a person of relationships. They mean more to me than anything else this life can provide. Also, I've been working tirelessly, and maybe God needed me to slow down and be still. To know him as Father and Orchestrator of all things. And as I assumed from last fall during the mastectomy, maybe this journey still has absolutely nothing to do with me and everything to do with someone walking along side me. I should not be so prideful to assume this life is about me. Maybe the reason behind this journey to a new impostor boob will never be fully understood. But this I know, people have great hearts. They can be selfless, they can make life worth trudging through. If it takes boob 2.2 to remind me of this again for fear I had forgotten since last August, it is worth it. (I think!)
So let's raise a slice of cake to 38 (25) which will darken my door this weekend. And instead of mourning the plans uncelebrated (although there is still hope of propping me up in a theater seat with antibiotics), here's to a new boob the ripe old age of 5 days and to a new found remembrance of the meaning of relationships in life. I celebrate each of you! And if you need a reason to celebrate too, I offer up boob 2.2 as a reason to embrace life again. Let 2.2 remind you to accept the good and the bad as God has purpose in it all.
April 12, 2013 - 5 days post operation- Introducing the Picc Line
The picc line and infusion. Some have you have been asking, so what's better than a picture?
The line is inserted in the upper inner portion of my left arm. The ball you see is the vancomycin infusion that is infused by pressure created in the ball. Genius, huh? The other antibiotic is administered on a portable pump. Two hours for the vancomycin, 0.5 hours for the zosyn three times a day. Then all the flushes and such and it makes for a fun morning and evening.
Now to wrap it all in seran wrap and tape every morning so I can shower and keep it dry.
It really is a hoot and hollar around here.
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