What not to do post-mastectomy
By now I thought I would be posting about an uneventful recovery from my prophylactic bilateral mastectomy. Had I written this on Mother’s Day that’s what you would be reading because on that day – I felt good. Or, should I say – good enough that I was up for company. The weather was gorgeous and I didn’t lift a finger while I enjoyed the afternoon with family.
When I say I didn’t lift a finger, that’s not entirely true. While my husband was out, I tried to tidy up the yard. This is the time of year where the pollen is falling from the trees faster than you can sweep or blow it away. Its just everywhere and the minute you clear an area, you need to start all over again. Its just impossible, especially when you live in the woods like I do. I picked up the leaf blower. I knew as I pressed the button that it was not a good idea so I stopped myself, knowing that even doing the smallest chore is more than I should be doing now. I went inside.
Then the sneezing began. Ohhhhh Boy. Sneezing is not fun when you are recovering from such a big surgery. With each sneeze, I worried about popping a stitch or causing unnecessary “trauma” to the new twins. So I tried to stifle the sneeze. Do not try any of this at home.
I did not “work” during the day, meaning – I did not serve, prep or even set a table but I was on my feet much more than I had been in previous days. When I felt like I needed to rest, I did. I even went inside to sit on my rented Lay-Z-Boy, which had become my “home” and happy place the minute I arrived home from the hospital. When I went inside, family followed and we visited there. I felt fine.
It was a great; I slept well that night and woke up Monday (5/12) looking forward to the removal of my drains. This is a milestone event during recovery. Once the drains are out, the expectation is increased mobility, a return to your normal wardrobe and a big step closer to normal.
However, that was not the way things worked out. One week ago today, exactly at this time, I found myself being wheeled once again into the operating room at St. Francis for emergency surgery.
So, what went wrong?
First….emboldened by how well it was going, I decided not to “bother” anyone and drove myself to my appointment at the plastic surgeon’s office. I drove slowly, used a pillow and was as careful as could be. Once I arrived, one drain on my left side was removed.
I was told it would feel like a “wet noodle”. It did not. Not even close.
There was some bleeding. The doctor asked his assistant for some gauze. Then some more gauze. As he applied pressure to the area, he remarked that this was not common. Ohhhhh kayyyy, I am thinking – this isn’t common, but it’s fine, right? More gauze. More pressure. Then the assistant was instructed to remove a drain on the right side. This felt like a serrated knife cutting through the soft, tender and bruised area. Not at all like a wet noodle.
Still bleeding. More gauze. The 2nd drain on the right side is then removed with more pain but other than that – uneventful. In the interim, the bleeding has stopped on my left side and the final drain is removed, mercifully – like the previously-promised wet noodle.
I am so relieved and happy. The doctor finishes up by putting bacitracin and bandages on all of the wounds and tells me to sit for 5 minutes to ensure the bleeding has stopped.
I sat. No blood. I left.
As soon as I got in my car, my phone rang. It was the doctor asking where I was! He wanted to look before I left. I told him I was right outside his office at the traffic light, just felt a bit of pain on the left but otherwise no visible sign of bleeding. I asked him if I should go back for him to look and he said not necessary but to keep checking for signs of bleeding once I got home.
I never made it. It was rush hour and plenty of traffic as I made my way east on Northern Blvd; as the minutes went by, the pain increased. I unzipped my surgical bra when I stopped at a red light and as I looked down, I panicked. My left breast was growing back right before my eyes. I was reminded of Bill Bixby as he morphed into the Incredible Hulk when he got angry and busted out of his clothing. The pain was increasing, my breast was bulging and I was stuck in traffic.
I began to get light-headed, overheated and the world was closing in around me. I have had this happen before when I’ve experienced extreme pain or stress. Ever have a Vasovagal reaction? This is the preamble to that. It doesn’t end well. In the past, I’ve ended up passed out on the floor, not remembering how I got there.
I called my husband who told me later I was incoherent. I remember him imploring me to pull over but there was no place to do that until I happened upon the next big intersection at Route 107. I pulled into the service station there just in the nick of time and parked. I cranked the air conditioner and immediately put my seat back to fully recline so my head was below my heart. My husband was on his way and all I had to do was wait and hope no one saw me laying there with my top off – hyperventilating in a cold sweat with my right arm draped across my chest to hide the twins. This was not my finest hour.
David pulled up, grabbed my car keys and found the person on duty. He explained that we had to leave our car and whisked me away all the way back to Great Neck.
It took less than a minute for them to determine that I had developed a hematoma. While the external bleeding had indeed stopped, the internal bleeding was a huge concern. Twenty minutes later I was being wheeled back in to the O.R. for another surgery.
Intubated again. Cut open again. Drains again.
By 10:30 that evening, I was back at home and back in my rented Lay-Z-Boy recliner right back where I began just a week before.
That ordeal (and it was an ordeal) really upset my family and my friends. Multiple people admonished me for doing too much, for driving myself, for having company on Mother’s Day. I learned my lesson and quite literally – did not move or exert myself for the ensuing week.
Today, we tried it again. This time I had a friend drive me to my appointment and my remaining drains were successfully removed. This time there was much less pain and zero drama.
Beating me to the punch, my friend asked the doctor what I am now allowed to do, and more specifically – “what is she not allowed to do?” (knowing that I tend to do too much, too soon).
Well, I can drive (yay). I can take a real shower (double yay). I can do anything but exert myself. No weights. No treadmill. Nothing that will increase my heart rate.
I can live with these limitations. The only thing I want to do is heal well at this point.
I regret over-reaching and driving myself to my drain removal.
I do not regret Mother’s Day. Not one single bit. I’m so grateful to be on the other side of all of that and so grateful for my community. This community. Here on Substackor however you found and read my post. I have never felt such love and support in my life.
The headline here, if you or anyone you know is going through something like this – Don’t be heroic. Don’t overdo it. It won’t get you closer to the finish line. Trust the process, baby yourself and your healing body.
More soon xoxo
Thank you, everyone for the flowers, gifts, words of inspiration and support. You all really pulled me through an awful few weeks.
As always, thank you for reading, subscribing and sharing!