It’s been two weeks since my surgery. I thought I’d be up and on my laptop sooner than this, but honestly, that sucked and my healing timeline is proving to be longer than I thought. The last two weeks have been quite an experience. I came home the same day as my surgery, and it was deceptive coming home so early. The power of a nerve block is that you’re superhuman after surgery, but by Day 2 & 3, you just want to die.

Luckily, pain meds exist for a reason and got me through that first hard week. I thought I’d be bored or agitated. No. Quite the opposite. I was in a daze and unable to do much except listen to my mom nervous talk for 4 days straight and mindlessly scroll through social media. My whole family has been phenomenal with helping me out with my kids, bringing over food, etc. But with every pro there is a con. The pro is I can call a few people for help at any time, the con is I’ve had very little alone time in the past two weeks. This introvert loves her alone time. I can barely take a nap because someone is always checking on me. It’s amazing to be so loved and cared for, but it is also exhausting to not have the freedom I’m used to having. I know, it’s not a bad “con” to have. I’m just whining now. Not ungrateful, just missing my freedom.

The mastectomy itself was successful. My breast surgeon cleared out the cancer, including one compromised lymph node. All of my margins were negative (which is good!). She tested and removed 3 lymph nodes. 1 of the 3 lymph nodes were bad. It sounds like only have one bad lymph node is a good thing, but one is enough as a red flag for my oncologist. So overall, a good outcome from the cancer perspective.

From the vanity perspective, to my disappointment, I woke up from surgery to be informed that they could not do the reconstruction right away and I’m stuck with a plastic expander sewn in my chest for a few months. I wasn’t being vain when I asked the question, it was my quest for efficiency. I just did not want to have another surgery, but that is not the case. It was in my best interest to wait until my skin wasn’t so “stressed” to move forward with a more natural looking reconstruction. Sigh. Okay, fine. I’d been told this may be the better option.

One week after surgery, I had a week of three appointments. First up, my oncologist. She is direct, honest, and offers zero fluff. I appreciate her realism. I loathe her lack of bedside manner, which I didn’t know I appreciated until encountering my other doctors. My other doctors are masters at offering emotional support simply by being more communicative and not solely focusing on percentages of chance of survival. Low and behold, just like last time, I was in tears the evening after my oncologist visit. She keeps saying, if the recurrence rate returns too high, I’m in for 6 months of chemotherapy.

The day after the oncologist visit, I went to my breast surgeon. Right now, she is my favorite. Afterall, she eliminated the cancer cells from my body, and then she had good news about margins, and she helped me understand the need for chemo better, without making me cry. Something about being diagnosed with early (stage 2) breast cancer paired with 6 months of chemo wasn’t sitting right with me – sounds like an oxymoron. Like why do I need such a dosage for something that is “early” and “common” and “survivable”? I keep getting the same roundabout answer – it’s because I’m young. I don’t think of myself of young, but the doctors do. If you’re under 50, you’re “young”.

I guess the more years you have left to live naturally paired with your chance for recurrence, they turn up the dial on the precautions. I’m now waiting for a score, and oncotype score, to decide the fate of my treatment plan. Nothing like waiting on a number to dictate my future.

My third doctor appointment of the week was the plastic surgeon. He is the one I’ll see the most and be monitored by when it comes to the stitches and drain removal. I was so hopeful I’d get my drain removed. Not so. It was too soon. I made my next appointment for early this upcoming week, hopeful again that maybe it can come out. Having a drain attached to you for 2 weeks is exhausting and frustrating.

So my surgery and two weeks has come and gone. I truly thought I’d be doing more by now, at least be driving, but it isn’t so. And it’s okay. For some reason I’m meant to slow down. That thought keeps crossing my mind. There are times when live goes fast, and there are times when life goes slow. I guess I’m meant to go slow right now.

Stifle Me Not