This was it, another 60cc's of saline. I thought I only had room for 40, but what the heck do I know?
I asked why it was the most uncomfortable week last week (other than after the initial surgery), and it turns out, as the expander nears capacity, it just becomes harder. Yup. I'm screwed for sure this week. BUT, I don't have to have another fill! I go back in 2 weeks, after we meet with the oncologist to find out if I need to be all Hulkified. I sure hope we don't need the radiation - and by we, I mean my fake breast and I. But if we do, it'll just suck a little more for a while. I still choose life.
We really haven't touched on chemo again - and I really feel confident that I'm in the clear. Besides not being a believer in killing every freaking cell in my body to get a few feisty ones, I think even if there is a smidge of cancer floating around, I can kill it off better while keeping my luxurious locks, and my lunch.
My daughter has been asking a lot of good questions after reading Cancer Vixen. Some wonderful friends sent it to me, not knowing that my breast surgeon is in it! I almost fell over when I saw his name, and realized the drawing looked just like him. Freaking celebrity. The truth is that he's so wonderful, he really should have a fan club. I'd like to be president. My doc (actually nurse practitioner) said that everyone in her large medical practice really loves him. I know why.
My girl has been asking about lumps, tumors, and other things, but never with fear in her voice. Just questions. She wants to know about my case, and what she should be aware of in the future. How many 11 year olds know these things? How many mom's open up like this? I was so scared as a child, because I was told nothing, shown nothing. Just in the dark. I'd sometimes come home and realize my mom wasn't there. I never knew what she was going through, or how long she'd be away.
This weekend we were away, and there was a pool. I had a feeling that I wasn't allowed to go in the water (and confirmed it today at my appointment - not that I could wear any of my bikinis and look normal anyway!), but I remember as a kid not knowing why my mom couldn't go in the water. She was a camp counselor, and I had nightmares for the better part of one summer about her falling in the lake. Thinking it would kill her instantly, instead of just risking infection - which still sucks, but is not a death sentence. I like my method of being open with my girl. I know it's different times and Mom did what she thought was best, or what she was told was best. But growing up as I did, I know that I want my daughter to experience cancer with knowledge, not fear.
I found out that I can now do abs as long as I feel ok. Um, nothing feels ok. My pec was so full today after that fill that I dragged myself to the gym and labored over 30 minutes on the elliptical. I was gasping for air, the pressure was incredible. But I did it. I also hadn't really eaten all morning, I think the thought of another fill made me a little nauseous. I was thrilled to enjoy a coffee protein shake when I got home, and I dilly dallied on the internets until it was time to pick my daughter up. Thank goodness for Advil, or I never would have made it. I'm having pangs now, and it just feels like some invisible bully is poking me with a long needle. I know in reality that it's my muscle spasming, and I'm grateful in some odd way that I'm as numb as I am - but I wish I could get feeling back someday. I know it's not really a possibility. It's so weird. I'll have something there that is technically part of my body but is so separate. I've already experienced some bizarre phantom pains. Gee, thanks. I love that PMS still affects my breast that no longer exists.
My scar tissue in my armpit is still quite the little bitch. It has been worse this week, and my doc's assistant helped me by excruciatingly aggravating it to the point of submission. It's true, I can't massage it as hard as someone else can. I like deep massage, but not in my damned armpit! So I've instructed hubby that he is to dig in, and I will try to not hold it against him as I silently scream. It's a good thing I adore him.
So it's getting late, and I should stop pretending that I'm going to get something useful done and at least lay in bed. I can't even imagine sitting in my massage chair right now, I'm petrified of the new boob being jostled - heck, it bugged me just walking to my girl's school and back home. Breathing is not a picnic right now, either. Guess that means it's time for more Advil. I'm so not into meds - and I'm taking my turmeric and other crap that supposedly kills cancer - which also help with swelling etc. But I need the heavy guns for now. I'm actually scared to lay down - I know tomorrow will be a bitch in the morning. All I have to do is think about it and my face scrunches up. Will that cause premature wrinkles? I'm not in the mood for more crap to deal with. I really should ask my plastic surgeon if I can get a discount on future voluntary work for all the business my one breast has brought in. Of course, I really have a hard time imagining going under the knife voluntarily right now. *sharp pains shooting now - damned invisible needle dude*
Off I go to pretend to try and sleep. At least I'm honest! And alive!
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