Author: Amanda Lundberg

St. Agatha

I’m not Catholic, but I’m a fan of Saints. They give us feast days and my life goal is to return to Wales on St. David’s Day and eat some more of those amazing biscuits. They were life changing, and almost 20 years after I last had them, I still remember them and crave them in the spring. St. David’s Day, his feast day, is March 1. I’m sure he is important for a lot of reasons, but I see him as the patron saint of Welsh biscuit cookie things.

 

So, who is St. Agatha and why am I writing about her?

Little pink flowers with 12 points, light pink outer, darker toward the middle, and a green/yellow center.
Alien flowers*
*May not be true name of flower.

 

She is the patron saint of breast cancer patients. Also, of Sicily and Palermo, bellfounders - people who make bells, rape victims, and wet nurses. You can celebrate her feast day on February 5th. She is often depicted in art with her breasts on a plate, making the depiction of her chest flat like mine.

 

My first thought on hearing that there was a patron saint for breast cancer was, “Cool!” But now that I’ve read a synopsis of her short life - approx. 231-251 A.D. - I’m slightly horrified.

 

She was born to a rich family, but from a very early age, she devoted her life to God. She was, by all accounts, very beautiful, so her decision to become a consecrated virgin was apparently too much for some dude to take.

 

One dude - Quintianus - thought he was so very important that he could force her to marry him. When she kept saying no, he did what every normal spurned man does and had her arrested under an edict from the Roman Emperor Decius that required Christians to sacrifice to the Roman gods and the emperor. Because, naturally, this made sense.

 

Okay. This makes no sense. It’s like that time in history where they would put animals on trial. Look it up.

 

Anway, Jews were exempt from the Decian persecution thing in 250 A.D., so that’s good that they weren’t being forced to sacrifice animals and stuff.

Peach-colored daylilies that are about to bloom.
Daylily not yet open.

Anyway. This arrest brought her before a judge. You’ll never guess who the judge was!! Quintianus. The dude who wanted her to forego her vows and become his gorgeous wifey person. The offer was: Be my wife, or be tortured and maybe die.

 

She said, “No.” Well, with more words and more tears I’m guessing. She would not give up her path in life to marry this obviously well-adjusted dude who couldn’t take no for an answer.

 

So, he had her imprisoned in a brothel, naturally. She suffered for a month, not wavering in her faith, so Quintianus had her brought back. She still would not marry him. She’d found her freedom in Jesus Christ. She would belong to no man on earth.

 

Result? He sent her to prison and ordered her to be tortured. Stretched on a rack, torn with iron hooks, burned, whipped, and finally he ordered her breasts to be cut off. He sent her back to prison with no wound care, not even a band-aid, and she miraculously healed after St. Peter came to her in a vision.

 

Quintianus pretended that hadn’t happened and had her rolled over hot coals that they’d also added sharp shards to because, well, who wouldn’t think of that? After this torture, she prayed to join God in heaven and passed to Heaven. Even a future saint can only take so much of this earthly torture.

 

As I said, I’m horrified. But also happy that I can now and forever refer to her torturer as Mr. Anus. You know, for short.

 

Conclusions: Don’t question anyone else’s path in life as long as it’s not physically hurting anyone. People are going to go different ways, and it may seem odd to you, but it’s better if everyone is just able to be who they are. In fact, I recommend being friends or acquaintances with as many different people from different walks of life/different backgrounds as you can. You learn stuff and oftentimes they have some really amazing food that I did not eat growing up in the Midwest USA. Seriously.

Arthur on the couch, on his side, eyes closed, mouth partially open, looking blissful while getting pets from me.
THIS is what love looks like. Peaceful and happy.

And abuse should never be used on someone you claim to love or who claims to love you. I mean, I’m not sure he ever loved her - he just wanted arm candy - but you know what I mean. If you need to escape abuse, visit thehotline.org or call 800-799-7233. If you’re unable to talk, text LOVEIS to 866-331-9474. Love shouldn’t hurt you physically *or* emotionally.

 

I’ll leave here with St. Agatha’s prayer:

Saint Agatha, you suffered sexual assault and indignity because of your faith and purity. Help heal all those who are survivors of sexual assault and protect those women who are in danger. Amen.

 

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Frustration

Recovery is not linear.

 

Some days, I really do feel okay. Other days… I just want to sleep. I go to work most days, thankfully from home, and enjoy my work and learn things. Some days I struggle. Every day at some point, I notice how my shoulders ache. It’s weird because you’d think they’d be happy without the extra weight. They’re still learning, I guess.

 

If I don’t do my physical therapy exercises for a few days? I know. I’m back at it yesterday and today. Back to lighter weights as it seems that the heavier weights might be causing my scars to pop out more. Massaging them to try to get them to be more flat. Trying to balance getting my strength back, losing the weight I’d gained during treatment and after surgery, and not overdoing things so that I can keep moving forward.

A Columbine flower, Yellow center, white petals surrounded by pink petals that make it look like it's in a frame. There are unopened flowers in the background, they're pink.
Columbine flower.

It’s frustrating.

 

We walk the dogs every day. That’s one good constant. I’m even strong enough to walk all approximately 42 lbs of them together on days when my husband has wandered off or is busy. But mostly we all walk together.

 

I don’t go anywhere except on those walks. And to the bank. I use the drive up teller, which is a video call basically. I put a glove on to touch the screen and the buttons, deposit my check, and remove the glove before touching the steering wheel. If I ever do go anywhere, I will wear a mask.

 

I survived cancer. I don’t want to try my luck with an illness that can keep people in the hospital or in their own beds for weeks. I mean, I’ve hit my deductible, so it’d be covered, but…

 

It’s frustrating.

 

My husband goes to the store. Some places, masks everywhere. Others, maybe 50% compliance or less. It’s sad to know how many people just don’t seem to care about others because they’re uncomfortable. I’m still wondering how many times my surgeons passed out on me during my 6 hours or so in surgery. They must have if masks make you breathe in your own CO2.

 

Maybe someone stands by the table and catches them as they fall and then the next surgeon jumps in to take over? I know several worked on me. That’s probably why. Yep.

 

It’s frustrating.

Dark purple iris flowers.
Iris.

 

Makes me sad because I honestly don’t know when the next time will be that I feel comfortable just hanging out around people. I mean, if they suddenly discover O negative blood types are immune? Maybe… but I still couldn’t because I’d hate to be a carrier and give it to someone. I love people. I hate their lack of self-awareness and self-control. Their denial of science.

 

It’s frustrating.

 

But there’s hope. I’ve talked to some friends more than I have in years. It’s been nice to catch up some. To get back into the lives of some people who I really, really care for and love.

 

Anyway. It’s frustrating. But I’ll stay the course. I’ll just have to shrug when others don’t understand my reticence to going out and doing fun things that are inside. Maybe we could go camping, though. Outside. Except I am a fan of indoor plumbing.

 

So, so frustrating.

 

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Sunday Drive

I have been pretty much stuck at home since my surgery in March, so we have gone on  two drives to break up the monotony a bit. The first one, we did not plan and ended up going in a giant circle. Oops. This one, we planned to drive through a few parks. Much better outcome.

A tree-lined dirt road. It's very green with a blue sky.
Into the woods!

The first park was Hillman Park. It’s very rustic and is apparently a good place to go hunting. We saw some people starting a trail ride, so now I want a horse. Except you can’t have just one horse, must have at least two so they can have a friend. Except some horses don’t get along with some horses. They’re just giant dogs, really.

Anyway, we drove through that one - very pretty. Very wooded. Maybe a place for a hike in the future, but not in the fall because hunting. We decided to keep on going and head to a park a few miles past that one called Raccoon Creek State Park. There appeared to be a creek. Check. The group campground was closed, but got out and wandered around there for a bit. There were no lawn mowers, no weed trimmers, no people, even. Just quiet and birds singing.

Until someone showed up and also started wandering around, so we left. As we drove, I poetically noted the dappled light filtering through the trees.

A fireplace that used to be inside of a cabin. It is about 20 feet tall and made of stone.
Giant pizza oven!

We headed to the other side of the park and saw that the normal campground appeared to be open, and then drove over to the beach to wait in traffic for a bit. There was maybe social distancing going on? We did see someone in a bikini and a mask, so people are still trying. That’s good. The beach was a mess of cars and people and we drove around the parking lot and left, waiting in line to get out since there was a bridge with only one lane and only one car could go at a time.

Then we headed home. The GPS, having lost signal, had decided we were now doing everything in kilometers, causing some slight confusion as to why it thought we were doing 70 until we realized what was going on, and also advised us that the approximate time we would arrive at home would be four, colon, 30pm. Okay.

We turned on to Potato Garden Run Road and shortly thereafter were back to miles per hour. What a fun road name. We passed a sign that said: GOT FAR WOOD. And, well, we should have stopped. I didn’t get a picture, but believe me, it was there. It made us smile, and you know what… we do have a far pit. Probably should get some far wood.

Arthur chi-mix giving sad eyes with his head on my purple robe.
Why did you leave???

We arrived home around 4, colon, 30pm and were greeted with so much joy. I actually think they’re relieved we left them for a bit - get some doggo alone time to just chill and not worry about where the humans are wandering about in the house.

It was a nice day. Much needed. I hope we can go camping soon. We haven’t gone in ages and I miss it. But I’m only going if the terlets are open.

 

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I Graduated!

From physical therapy, that is. On Friday. Yay!

 

While the world is changing around us - hopefully for the better - it’s good to remember that lives are still going and the small victories are happening. So, yay! I graduated. What now?

 

I had been going every two weeks after going twice a week and then once a week. My therapist taught me basic lymphatic massage along with exercises to strengthen my chest, back and shoulders.. I purchased lymphedema sleeves to wear when working out or gardening. Yes, gardening. Except I want different ones for everyday wear. But they’re expensive.

A Columbine flower, Yellow center, white petals surrounded by pink petals that make it look like it's in a frame.
Columbine flower.

Which brings me to the topic of lymphedema wearables and the lack of insurance coverage. On December 12, 2019, the US House of Representatives included the Lymphedema Treatment Act as part of HR3, a drug pricing bill.

 

The Senate has no plans to pick this bill up, because from what I can tell, they are just focused on confirming judges willy-nilly.

 

Why do we need this bill? Because lymphedema wear is *expensive* and for many people, medically necessary. And also not covered under most insurance plans. My sleeves were $60/each. I have not yet developed lymphedema, but could if I don’t take measures to protect myself through light compression on my arms since I had lymph nodes removed.

 

Quick reminder: The lymphatic system moves fluids around your body, much of it nearer to the skin. Lymphedema is swelling caused by a faulty or damaged lymphatic system. It cannot be cured, but it is 100% treatable!

A small red rose about to open.
Red roses.

If you can afford it.

 

I am happy to be able to afford it. I am fortunate. Last week I didn’t get a blog post up because I have been working so much and been so busy, I just did not have the energy to write. I’m thankful I have this weekend off and have finally gotten up the energy to write. I still get tired more easily than I used to. Hoping that will eventually go away.

 

So, I guess the only ask I have is for you to vote this fall. Vote for people who want health care for all. I’ve never understood our system. I do remember hoping I never got sick because the premiums were high enough without having to worry about deductibles and out of pocket expenses. If you’re reading this, well, we know how that turned out. I had a lot of help last year with that - y’all are amazing! - and some this year, but I’ve also put the last big payment on a payment plan.

 

Vote for people who are interested in protecting the most vulnerable. Children should never go without health care. Adults should never go without health care - right now is a good example with so many people unemployed who had health insurance through their jobs. Sure, they were all eligible for COBRA (Consolidated Omnibus Budget Reconciliation Act) insurance, but if you’ve ever been offered COBRA, you’ll know it’s unaffordable if you, well, don’t have a job.

Light purple iris flower in the foreground, an unopened one behind it and then a spent flower.

I’m thankful we have health care for our senior population, but it’s still so, so expensive. No one should have to choose between paying for a prescription or paying their rent. The rent will win, and a treatable condition gets out of hand, leading to more hospital readmissions and more expense on the system.

 

And let’s help out with this lymphedema stuff. If it gets out of control because someone can’t afford compression garments, they end up back in the hospital and end up costing more to care for than if they’d just been given two sets of sleeves to wear.

 

Vote to take care of each other. That’s all.

 

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Lymphedema

Ever since the pandemic has been going on, I’ve basically left the house to go to doctor appointments or walk the dogs. Or physical therapy (PT). When I go to PT, I see a lymphedema specialist. Why? Because they stole some of my lymph nodes on each side! Meanies.

 

I had two on the left and three on the right removed. What do lymph nodes do? Well, stuff! To the Google!

Two painted rocks. One is blue with a heart. The other is pink and says, "Strong."

Apparently they help keep you from getting sick. So, so comforting. And apparently they’re shaped like beans. And there are hundreds of them in your body. They do a lot of social distancing, except in the neck, underarms - where mine were removed from - chest, belly, groin. My PT specialist squishes the ones in my neck, across my chest and does a thing on my belly. This last time we also squished the ones in the middle of my chest more. “Squish” I’m sure is the technical term used in classroom teaching about lymph nodes.

 

To continue. They are part of the lymphatic system. They work with your spleen, tonsils and adenoids. What do people with no tonsils or adenoids do, I wonder? Do they have to squish too? Deep thoughts…

 

They are near the surface and kind of are connected by vessels. No veins, but I suppose we can just call them lymph veins. Why not? They move fluid around your body that is clear and watery. And there are cells! Yes. Cells. Lymphocytes. B-cells and T-cells.

 

T-cells. Brought to fame via the AIDS epidemic. AIDS kills CD4 T-cells that help protect you. Back on track now - I could probably research more and go down a rabbit hole here trying to figure out the mechanisms and progression of the disease and also why it took so long for it to be taken seriously. I digress.

A game setup similar to chess with little dudes facing off from each other.
I lost five games of Onitama. Must work on my strategery.

 

B-cells. Basically, they put a little orange flag on germs to let the immune system know that they need to go. It’s not really orange, but just humor me.

 

T-cells. Multitaskers. Some go after the germs. Some are administrators and keep track of immune cells. It’s good to know if you need more of X immune cell and that some of the Y immune cells can be decommissioned.

 

In short, the reason your doctor grabs your neck every chance they get is that they’re looking for swelling. If your lymphatic system isn’t working right, or is, uh, backed up, they start to congregate and cause swelling. That is my medical explanation.

 

Because they stole some of mine, my system will probably need a little bit of help forever to drain and move stuff around properly. I’ll have to be very cognizant of swelling in my arms and legs, and I’m slowly learning how to do a little bit of the massage myself. Probably slowly because darnit. I prefer someone else to do the massaging. I do feel better after I get things moving more. I will probably get sleeves to wear on airplanes - assuming anyone ever flies again - to help prevent swelling, but so far, it looks like my system is adapting fairly well. I still do have swelling under my arms, but that’s due to healing and all the fun that goes with that. The most important thing is medical-related. I should not have my blood pressure taken on my upper arm and I still need to figure out where I am to get blood draws. Light pressure on my upper arms is fine, but I nee

Selfie with a weird combover that somehow looks great.
And some days it looks like this.

d to avoid the crushing pressure of a blood pressure cuff or a tourniquet for a blood draw. Blood pressure can be taken on the lower arm, and so far it's been entertaining to see the

Selfie, hair is a mess.
Some days, it ends up like this.

wildly different readings different nurses come up with!

 

I do have an issue with my right underarm hair though. Someone pulled that one way down and my underarms are lopsided. Oh well, not going to worry about that. Just save it for a party trick! Hey, look! My underarms are weird!! Wait until you see my chest!!! I’m good to go shirtless now, by the way. No nipples? No problem! Hahahaha!!!

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Blog 71

First of all: Happy Mother's Day!!!

 

This is, in fact, my 71st blog post since I started writing last summer. A few things have happened in the last year, but thank you to everyone who has stuck with me through this. I can feel the love, even though I haven’t seen many of you in quite some time. Okay, most of you. What with social distancing and friends all over the world and whatnot. I’m sending virtual hugs to all!

 

I can do hugs again now. They’re different, but that’s fine. Currently, I’m only hugging my husband because of social distancing, but I hope to hug friends, family, and complete strangers who need a hug again in the future. And, yes, I’ll be happy to wear a mask.

 

Edie beagle taking a nap on a colorful rug.
I think the rug matches our Beagle perfectly!

Right now I’m very thankful for a lot of things. A big one is that, while some stenographers are struggling during this time, I’ve been as busy as I want to be. I’m taking this weekend mostly off - just a few hours of on-call work to help out someone who needs some time - but it is definitely needed. I am glad to be back to work. Glad to be busy. But ohmigosh! I’m exhausted by the end of a day or a week.

 

I’m still recovering. I want to just be back to normal, go, go go! But I am constantly having to remind myself: These things take time. Your body has undergone an enormous amount of trauma. It needs time to heal still. It’s just harder to remember that when mostly I’m fine.

 

I’ve been really good about not exceeding my limits so far, though. I don’t want any setbacks. Am I taking my recovery too slow, perhaps? Maybe. But I’m fine with that. I’d rather be at the back of the pack of runners and still finish the race than be running flat out and then fall over in the middle.

 

I’m using a running analogy because that’s what I want to aspire to eventually. I used to run. I used to be so fast! Okay, I was 5 when that was happening. But still. I used to enjoy finishing my blistering 8 minute mile - yes, I know that’s not fast, but I have short legs? - and the feeling of accomplishment.

Arthur chi-mix and Gabe hanging out on the rug, looking into the camera.
The rest of my weird little family!

 

I feel like, without the extra weight up front holding me back, maybe I can run? Again, something I’ll have to start slow and work up to. Am not planning a marathon any time soon. I’ll be taking the same approach to running as I am to recovery. Slow and steady. Do the stuff you need to do every day. That’s physical therapy at the moment. And walking more.

 

I did at least 2 miles today. I would like to point out that where we live, it’s very hilly. And when I say hilly, I don’t mean rolling hills. I mean the type of hills that are tough to drive a car up in the winter if it’s just snowing, not icy, because they are so steep and just go on forever. My running will probably have to be confined to the short flat stretch between our house and the far stop sign for a while. That’s fine.

 

So, I’ll finish with today’s wisdom: Some things take a lot of work and a lot of time. I’m thankful that I wrapped my head around this in court reporting school (finally). I needed to get to 225 words per minute. I didn’t have a choice. I’d left my former life in mortgage banking to try this new career. It took me 3 years, but I did it.

A Luminex stenography machine.
The money maker!! Yes, there is dog hair in it.

And then promptly dropped out of school and started practicing at home. In my defense, I already had a Bachelor’s degree! But I kept practicing every day, and then when I started working, I practiced 7 hours per day while at work until they trusted me enough to go live. And since then, I don’t think I’ve ever had a single day where I don’t add a word to my dictionary or tweak how I write something.

 

The improvement and striving toward a goal may never end. That’s okay. I think that’s why I’m so busy right now. I am confident in my work, but I try to never assume I know everything or that I can’t get better.

 

Tomorrow I will do my PT again. I’m thinking I can push my bicep curls up more, but I don’t think I have any weights between 5 and 10 lbs. Maybe do 5 reps at 10? And then 15 more at 5? Perhaps. If not, that’s okay. One day at a time. I got this.

 

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More Recovery

Recovery is in phases and starts and stops. One step forward, two steps back. A giant leap back forward. Wake up the next day, exhausted. 2,000 steps a day! 4,000! Back to 3,000. It’s okay. Quantity doesn’t really matter. Moving matters. Do your physical therapy. PT is important. At least twice a day, no matter what. Ice under the arms where the drains came out. It’s usually PT followed by ice.

 

Use the inspirometer to check lung function sometimes. It’s good! Go for a walk with husband/dogs. I can tie my shoes now! I couldn’t bend over that far before. Avoid all people. When I do have to go out to an appointment, very little skin exposure. Long pants, although I wear a tank top to PT so they can see my arms better in case of swelling. Socks, shoes that are only worn to appointments. Face mask, safety glasses, a buff to cover my hair.

 

He drops me off, I go in. Do my thing. I come out, ride home. Drop clothes in the garage and go directly to the shower. Can’t risk getting sick. Husband runs laundry, showers. It’s been nice to see a few friendly faces from a safe distance, but mostly I stay home.

 

And work! I’ve started working again. It was about 2 weeks after surgery that I first started. Working two hours a day left me completely exhausted. It’s still exhausting, but it’s getting easier all the time. The brain fog that I had post-surgery appears to be lifting.

 

I’m thankful I have a job. I’m thankful I can work 100% from home. I do not take these things for granted, and it makes me sad to think about all the people who want to work but can’t. They need help. Sure, I’d love to have help and not have to push myself to go back, but it’s fine. We are fine. Many others are not.

 

We have to help each other since help doesn’t seem to be coming from anywhere else. Make sure the people you care about are doing okay. If they aren’t, help if you can.

 

Recovery is not linear. Some days, I feel great! Other days, I feel horrid and just want to sleep. More better days now. Thankfully. I got all of the glue off of my scars and now am in the minimizing phase. Coconut oil massaged on scars? Okay. A good, natural way to help them heal. I’m in. Although Arthur also likes coconut oil, I’ve discovered. It’s okay, I’ll just plan to not use it when it’s couch cuddle time I guess!

 

I look different. It’s my new normal. Still hoping my belly decides to go down more on its own. Am still convinced that it’s not where it was before surgery. At some point, I’ll have to accept it, but I am refusing to do so until I’m cleared to do anything about it.

 

It’s not really bothering me that the tatas are gone. I know that may seem weird or counterintuitive, but they were heavy and limiting and, well, they tried to kill me. I’m sure at some point I’ll be sad, but for now - tata, tatas!

 

Currently I can only do the exercises that I’m given to do in PT. Neck stretches, bicep curls, squeeze the shoulder blades together. Do shoulder shrug circle things. Forward, back. Lift weights in front - I’m up to 3 lbs! Might go for 5 lbs soon - to work shoulders. Now hold them up, out to the sides. And then goalposts. Then added chin tucks. I do those during my shoulder blade exercise. It’s to strengthen my neck. Also added, what I lovingly call “Staring into the Corner.” It’s a stretch for my chest.

 

Today we added more. Ws - hold a band in both hands, arms form a W, or two Vs, one on each side, if you want to get technical, and then draw them apart, back together. More back work. Also today we added one where you put the stretchy band around a handle of some sort - probably not a door knob because it might fly off and smack you - shoulder extensions. Pull the band back, hold it, and back forward.

 

And then wall angels, except I’m allowed to just kinda lay on my foam roller and let everything stretch out. I do that. It feels pretty great. A lot of times it pops my back and feels even better.

 

Then I ice my armpits! Except I realize I forgot to do this earlier. This is the only part of me that is still really annoying. Hoping it keeps getting better. And it’s less annoying today than it was yesterday.

 

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Appointments

First off: I’m doing better every day, thank you!

 

The last two weeks were appointments. I had the drain removal appointment on April 6th, which I talked about in my last post. I then had an evaluation for physical therapy (PT) on April 10th. They checked my range of motion and measured my arms as a baseline to watch for lymphedema. That’s twice I had to go out in one week. Just breathe.

Selfie: black mask, safety glasses, purple tank top, zebra-striped head covering with rainbow colors and black stripes.
PT chic!

 

This week was full of appointments! Monday was my oncology appointment, but did telehealth for that. Next appointment for that is in July sometime. We’ll get it scheduled later. Tuesday the 14th was PT. Lymphatic massage, and also, added a few stretches to my PT regime I had been given when I left the hospital.

 

Thursday we drove downtown for my gynecological surgery follow-up. He dropped me off at the door, I put on my mask and went in. I was asked the COVID questions - do you feel sick/have a fever? They took my temperature, and I went to my appointment. I saw a physician assistant (PA) because my surgeon was on call and had been called into the operating room on an emergency basis. I hope the person is okay.

 

I got my blood pressure taken - it’s back to normal, so that’s a plus - and then, because of the nature of the appointment, take off your pants! It was confirmed that I’m not nuts. I do, in fact, have a little stitch sticking out of one of the four little incisions on my belly. It doesn’t bother me, thankfully, but it’s still there today. It should eventually fall off or dissolve like the rest. Or I can pull it out if I want. I’ll just let it do its thing, thanks!

Selfie: black mask, safety glasses, gray jacket with Purell hanging from the zipper, a sticker that says: screened and the date. A head covering with muted colors and abstract design.
Hospital chic!

 

The PA took a look for interior healing and said, yep! Still healing. I am to not do anything crazy for at least another 8 weeks. And don’t, ah, stick anything up there, okay?

 

Why? Well… if the stitches at the top of the vagina are compromised and torn, my bowels could fall out. As awesome as that sounds? I think I’m going to just follow the doctor’s orders. The PA helped me get up off the table as getting up from flat on my back is still kind of a challenge, so that was nice.

 

Okay, so, that brings us up to Thursday. Friday was PT again. I’ve scheduled all my PT appointments for fairly early in the morning to not interfere with work and it’s been less than easy to get up and go. I’ve become lazy.

 

This PT appointment we did range of motion stretching and more lymphatic massage. An exercise to pull my arms up higher I think it really does help. My therapist is happy that I don’t appear to have edema - swelling - in my lower arms. It’s just localized in the area where the drains were. I was upset by other patients in the facility not wearing masks, but I’m suited up as best as I can be. I wish they’d cover up. PT is in the same building as my oncologist. There are vulnerable people there, dudes. I tend to go gender neutral for my blog posts, but… “dudes” is accurate here. So, while I’m at it: 97% of the people who have treated me throughout this process are women. They are my heroes. I think I’ve had one nurse and then the nerve blocker guys. Probably some people in surgery. I was asleep. Can’t remember.

Next week is two PT appointments. I’m looking forward to impressing them with raising my arms over my head! I did this the other day and was like a toddler that had just done something they deemed amazing - LOOK AT ME!!! It was a good day.

 

I also want to ‘graduate’ to just doing stuff at home as soon as I can. Yes, I’m afraid of getting sick. I’ve been through too much in the last year to end up in an intensive care unit (ICU) on a ventilator. Thanks.

Selfie: At home wearing a soft purple jacket with black on it. My mastectomy pillow is in the foreground - it's blue with little dog pictures all over it.
Home chic. My favorite.

 

I didn’t get a blog up last week because of all of these appointments. And because I’m working!! I worked quite a bit this week. I was tired at the end of my days, so I didn’t write. I worked a full day yesterday. Those jobs are few and far between right now because they’d mostly be conferences with people attending, but it was good to know that I’m capable of it. Today is Sunday, and I will rest.

 

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FREEDOM!!!

From my drains!! It really was a life-changing experience before and after. I no longer have to worry about Arthur landing on them in an exuberant body slam accident. I can start to think about rolling over and maybe - maybe? - someday sleeping on my side again. Or… even my stomach! Although my wedge pillow has been great and I am sleeping well.

Arthur under all my blankets looking apprehensive.
It's okay, buddy, you only landed on them a few times.

I’m being able to lift my arms higher every day. Progress. It’s great!

 

Well, except the leaking. I have two little holes in my chest, one on each side, and they’re still leaking a little bit. Hopefully they’ll scab up soon and stop leaking.

 

Ah, the human body. It’s wonderful and really freaky all at the same time.

 

But I’m not gonna lie. Going to the hospital was weird. Husband dropped me off - he wasn’t allowed in - and I went inside. I went to the nurses wearing masks and they asked me if I had any sore throat or exposure to anyone with COVID-19. No. I’ve been at home with my dogs since my surgery. Husband goes out sometimes, but he doesn’t breathe on me. Really. He covers his face when he’s very near me - very romantic. But necessary. Love demands sacrifices. I can look at his face from across the room.

 

They took my temperature. I passed! I put on a glove. I forgot to mention, I was wearing a buff - a head covering - safety glasses, a mask, dressed head to toe even though my toes are still cute. No exposed skin except a little on my face and my hands. Anyway, I put on a glove and used it to push the button on the elevator and went up to my floor. I used it to open the door. No kiosk check-in right now. I checked in with the receptionist.

 

I was the only one in the waiting room. It was eerie. The nurse came and took me back. Everyone was wearing a mask. The touching was minimal. Blood pressure was good, temperature was taken again, oxygen levels and heart rate were okay. I passed!

 

The physician assistant came in and explained that the drains come out first. They find people listen better if the drains are gone, otherwise they just sit there and worry about them coming out.

 

Yes, I took a video of my right drain coming out. No, I’m not going to post it here. Holy cow they’re weird. And really freaking long!!! It was like a foot past the tube that I could see sticking out of my body. That foot of tubing was white and perforated, which makes sense. The perforations allowed the, uh, body juices to ender the tubing and the suction from the JP drain encouraged those juices to head toward the exit.

 

It’s fascinating, but I don’t want anyone reading my blog to pass out watching it come out. It’s really, really weird.

Grape hyacinth flowers in our garden.
No drains. Just grape hyacinths. Aren't they cute?

Then we went over the next things. Physical therapy - that’ll be on Friday - with a lymphedema specialist. They’ll take baselines and get me started and back to 100%. Great. I have to go out into the world again. I have an appointment for next year where they’ll teach me how to do self-checks.

 

Yes. In one year. No, I’ll never not be able to think about cancer ever again.

 

We went over the pathology. Two lymph nodes out from the left, three on the right. All were good. Tumors had shrunk, margins were clear meaning there was no sign of the disease having spread any further.

 

Good news.

 

And the most important question I had? How much did they weigh??? She gave me the numbers in grams. After doing the math, how much was it in pounds? 8.2 lbs. Wow.

 

RIP, ginormous tatas.

 

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