A Boob Funeral

The 2nd Mastectomy

On Tuesday at 1:00 I had to go into surgery again to remove the new breast that had not survived the skin transplant.  I had decided that I wanted Dr Burke to remove both breasts even though one would have mostly survived. The reason for this is two-fold. First, I did not want to go a year with only 1 boob. Secondly, I thought that having implants on both sides would make both breasts more likely to be the same shape and size and all together more symmetrical. Dr Burke came in to see me right before surgery and I advised him of my decision. 

Just like the first surgery, I couldn't have anything to eat or drink after midnight the night before surgery. Unlike the first surgery, this time I wasn't going in until 1pm (I went in at 8am the first time).  Also, this time I was on medication that made me extremely thirsty.  I wasn't really able to eat anything the whole time I was in the hospital anyway but drinking? That was another story. Over the past 6 days, I went through about 10 of those little hospital pitchers of water a day.  I was never more thirsty in my life. And the time from midnight to 1pm the next day was completely torturous.  My tongue kept sticking to the top of my mouth, my lips kept drying together.  You would swear I was left abandoned in the Sahara for a week.  I kept rinsing my mouth out with water and spitting it out, just to trick my body into thinking it was being replenished.  That was my only complaint. 

 

Breast Expanders

Going into surgery this time I had no boobie glasses. I had no cute post-its.  It was a funeral of sorts for my new, ill-fated boobs. It was a somber occasion. They had a whole life ahead of them. Their time on Earth was cut short. It just wasn't fair. They never even saw the light of day, a colorful bikini, a cute bra, a hot tub... all the life they were missing brought tears to my eyes.  So this time, I went under without a lot of drama. On the bright side, when they removed the ill-fated boobs, Dr Burke was going to put in 2 new expanders. The expanders would be put where my boobs would eventually be, under the pectoral muscle, so that it could slowly stretch the skin and muscle to the point that Dr Burke could put a silicon implant in. So I would be relatively flat for now, but over the next year, my new, perky boobies would be slowly growing in.  So in the grand scheme of things, I was pretty lucky! 


How a Breast Expander Works

Right before surgery I had to sign another release form. This one was to allow Dr Burke to use a foreign substance in me to create the breast ridge. The ridge is what is underneath the breast to keep it in place or else it would slide down to my abdomen. Dr Burke explained that this substance was a cellulose-type substance that is harvested from cadavers but it has no DNA in it, so there is nothing for my body to reject.  The substance would basically create a shelf for the expander to sit on. Wow... two minutes before surgery I learn that I will have cadaver parts in me. So this is why they wouldn't let me eat or drink because I am pretty sure I would have thrown up. Oh well, on we go!

The Unfortunate Outcome

The surgery time for my second mastectomy was not nearly as long as the first. I was out of surgery by 3:30.  Unfortunately, I came out of surgery with bad news.  As Dr Burke had told me, the problem with my breasts were that they were getting good blood flow to the boob, but the veinous flow away from the boob was poor.  This came up again. When he removed the breast tissue and went to put in the tissue expanders, there was too much blood in the area to support the tissue expanders. As a result, he was unable to install them at this time.  Dr. Burke felt that the wound site needed to heal 4-6 weeks before we could attempt to install tissue expanders again.

This news was devastating.  No boobs. No expanders. Just me and my new monopoly board chest.  My only bright spot was that I could try again in 4-6 weeks. But then I think "Great. Another surgery, another leave of absence from work. WTH?"

What's worse is the stitches they left in my chest. If the first stitches looked scary, these were even worse.  Thirty stitches across my chest. Each one a big blue knot. And the slits across my chest were not straight. They were curvy all over the place and they dimple and gather. The sight of my new chest was pretty scary.  Being in the hospital for 7 days did not make me feel vulnerable. Not being able to get myself in and out of bed did not make me feel vulnerable. Not being able to shower myself for 2 days did not make me feel vulnerable.  Having my chest look like a serial killer got to it... that made me feel vulnerable. Suddenly I felt frail like an 8 year old child. Coincidentally, that's what I look like in a shirt now.

 

Preparing to Go Home

After my 2nd surgery things were not as exciting in my hospital room. During surgery they removed one set of surgical drains so now I just had 2 in my chest and 2 in my abdomen. In addition, they removed those drains from suction. They were just hanging from me now, relying on gravity for suction. That gave me more freedom to move. My stomach incision was almost a week old now and starting to heal. I was able to get in and out of bed, although not easily, and the fact that the bed was adjustable helped a lot. First I would move the back straight up and use the bed to get me into a seated position. Then I would lower the bed as much as I could to get my feet on the ground. Getting back into bed was a much harder chore. I could sit down and everything, but you probably have no idea how much ab function is needed to lift your feet off the floor and swing them onto a bed.  I needed someone to lift my legs on the bed so if I got out of bed unsupervised, I would have to call a nurse to help me get back in.  Although I was longing to go home, getting in and out of bed at home was not something I was looking forward to.

By this point I was able to shower unassisted although washing my hair was going to continue to be a challenge for weeks to come.  Raising my arms above chest high is something we women take for granted. My hair was going to suffer until I got my full range of motion back.  No long, luxurious washes, blow dries, or hair do's for me for awhile unless someone else was doing it (spoiler alert - that was never gonna happen). 



Portion of Surgical Drain that is visible outside the
Body

Another challenge in the shower were the surgical drains.  Up to this point, they just hung from my body.  I was starting to get feeling back at the surgical sites and having a little water balloon on a tube simply hanging from my abdomen was very uncomfortable. Accidentally snag something on the tube while showering and it got much worse. I don't remember showering without tears for at least the first week or so after my 2nd mastectomy. 

Portion of Surgical Drain that is INSIDE the Body

 

How Drains Hang

 

The doctor told me he would like me to spend one more night in the hospital after my 2nd surgery because my hemoglobin counts were still very low and I may need another blood transfusion. So I planned on spending Tuesday night there and going home Wednesday.

 

Tuesday night I slept pretty good with one exception. Hot flashes.  I thought I had experienced a few hot flashes before but I was wrong. This sucked. I would be lying in bed and all of sudden feel so hot it was cold. My face felt like it was completely blood engorged and was going to explode. My hair was immediately soaked through with sweat and so was my back. It would last about 10 minutes. When it was done, I would start to freeze because my entire body was sweat covered and now the cool air was going right through me. The nurse said this is because my breasts were removed so my hormones were out of whack. When I mentioned this to Dr Burke the next day, he said it was bologna. Well, something is clearly out of whack when a 37 year old woman who had their period a week earlier starts to experience hot flashes.  The consistency of the hot flashes would fade away over the next weeks, but they would continue at night for quite a while.

 

Come Wednesday everyone was exhausted from the drama at the hospital so I pretty much spent the day alone. I wrote in my blog a bit. I read some of the book "The Life of Pi" that I brought along for the trip, and I turned on the TV for the first time... well the 2nd time. The first time was Sunday night to watch the Walking Dead.  I did have one visitor that day. My sister's boyfriend was at ECMC for an appointment of his own, so he was nice enough to stop in and sit with me for awhile. He told me everything that was going on with the family, how Dad was, and how many days it had been since Buffalo's last homicide. This last fact came up because the church across the street from ECMC displayed the information out front, so everytime he came up to the hospital, he was excited to see the update. Four days since Buffalo's last homicide. Good to know.

 

Coming Home

 

After my husband got out of work that day, he came up to the hospital to bring me home. It took him 4 trips to get my bag and all the flowers out of the room. The nurse escorted me to the lobby in a wheelchair which was a good thing. I thought I could walk fine, but just going through the hospital in a wheelchair was making me dizzy and nauseous. Imagine what walking would have done! The nurse waited with me while Rory went to get the truck. The truck. He should have brought a step stool so I could get into it. That was a challenge too. If you recall I couldn't get my own legs up on the bed. The truck sits about 3 feet off the ground. And I had to sit in the back because my incisions on my abdomen and chest were too new to put a seatbelt over.  Even though the hospital is only about 15 minutes from my house, it was a very long 15 minutes. Every pothole, every crack, every piece of garbage we drove over I felt. And not just in my chest and abdomen, I felt it in my right arm.  My right arm was super sensitive for some reason. I figured it was from not moving it. The nurse said it is probably the position the doctors put it in during surgery. I bought this line of bull at this time.  Sounded plausible. 

 

I hadn't really been able to eat while I was in the hospital. First of all, I wasn't hungry. Second of all, every time they brought me food it was cold. Third of all, the food was atrocious. The first 2 days I thought I could stomach some chicken soup. When they brought it to me, it was the look and consistency of canned cat food. And it was cold.  I am not discerning when it comes to food. I will eat anything. I even eat buffet food from Ponderosa or Country Buffet. I have been known to enjoy Chuck E Cheese pizza.  So my tolerance for crappy food is high.  No way, no how could I stomach this hospital food.  I would go before a judge right now and swear on a Bible that they tried to serve me cat food, that's how conviced I was.  How in the world do they expect anyone to heal eating this crap?  The chicken soup was the worst. Some of the other meals looked ok, but when I tasted them they were cold, dry, and bland. I started ordering cereal and milk for every meal. But the milk would be warm and turn my stomach.  So on the way home from the hospital, I asked Rory to stop at McDonalds. I was starving, but my conscience got the best of me and I knew I shouldn't eat that crap so at the last minute I said nevermind. Some of my great friends and family had brought precooked meals to the house while I was in the hospital for the family and I had heard there was some ravioli left, so I looked forward to that. Upon getting home, I kissed and hugged the kids, and then I proceeded to eat 2 full plates of homemade ravioli, thanks to my friend Cheryl.  That was the best night of my life!  I felt like I had been saved from the week of wandering through the Sahara!