Road to Reconstruction

I went to see my plastic surgeon this week to review the last details of my surgery and receive the last fill of my expander. I have requested that my surgery occur in March but also listed my preference as after March 15. This will better coincide with Steve and the kids' Spring Break.

My doctor also added another 100 cc's to my expander, which now contains 450 cc's. For the first time, it hurts. I guess, I should not say that it hurts, but it is fairly uncomfortable. I know that I can have cc's taken out to relieve the pressure. However, I am reluctant to do so as I am a bit tired of going to doctor appointments. Having cc's taken out would add two more appointments to the docket--one appointment to take fluid out and one to add it back.

In case I have not explained the process, my expander is held in position by muscle, its purpose being to expand the muscle and skin slowly in order to hold the future implant. They add anywhere between 50-100 cc's of saline to the expander with every visit, spacing my visits about three weeks apart. It feels a bit like getting your braces tightened.

Unlike many friends that I have met on my journey, these expansions have never bothered me. Watching my the expansion on my chest grow into something that looks like a breast has been kind of like watching Christmas presents multiply under the Christmas tree as Christmas approaches. Now, fully expanded to the size of an actual breast, I am excited but yet feel more like that pregnant mother whose baby is two weeks overdue.

It think what bothers me the most is the combination of its size and hardness. The thing is as hard as a rock. I move, it does not. When I sleep, the only way I can get comfortable is on my back--and I am a side sleeper. That being said, I always wake up in the middle of the night sore, having rolled onto my side while sleeping.

I suppose, this will all get easier as by body adjusts to this most recent expansion. However, I know it is not getting any softer. My plastic surgeon has assured me that by new breast will feel nothing like its current substitute. Thank goodness!

That being said, I am just keeping my eye on the prize and trying not to think too much about the actual surgery itself because I am really not looking forward to adding another scar to a different part of my body. But this is another blog entry, altogether.

I really do not mean for this blog to sound negative. Actually, I am in a fairly good place right now. I am busy with work and the kids, enjoying most aspects of the crazy, busy lifestyle we have made for ourselves. The kids sports are gearing up as they usually do this time of year, with their participation in soccer, baseball, softball and gymnastics, all running at the same time. They are growing and learning so fast, I do not want to miss any of it. Work is busy but rewarding, as I continue to adjust sans a more hands-on supervisor. Life is good.

In closing, I am thankful every day that I survived cancer and the only thing I have to complain about is a rock-hard, fully filled expander on the left side of my chest. And what I have not mentioned is my excitment of having a breast on my right side again. No more prosthetic, yay!!!!!  My road to recontruction is coming to a close and I could not be happier.

The Game of Life

I just finished a rockin' game of Life with my kids. The Sponge Bob version to be exact. Harrison assigned himself to Mr. Krabs and Madison was Sponge Bob. I got to be the paperclip. (We are missing some game pieces.) Harrison was the banker. Madison was in charge of the game cards for which she sang every word on the card in perfect pitch during the entire game. We worked our way around the board experiencing job changes, pay days and expense cards. We laughed and we bickered. We even danced a little. Mr. Krabs, the cheapskate by character, won. Kind of fitting, I think. As was playing this game on this night after this week.

Today, I was presented with an opportunity to be a part of a research study on nutrition for cancer survivors. However, only survivors diagnosed with cancer in stages I to IIIa qualify to participate. I did not think I was a fit, but I called Steve because I wanted to know for sure. For those of you who have read my past blog entries, you may remember that I never wanted to know my stage. Thus, I don't. I knew it was bad. I knew I had to fight a monster regardless of heavy weight ranking.

Steve knew definitively. "You were stage 3c or 4a, " he said. "The doctors said that it was stage four because it was inoperable but was downgraded to 3c when the chemotherapy worked."

Oh.

"I really defeated a beast, didn't I?" I said.

"Yes, you did, honey. I am proud of you."

I was fighting for my life, after all. This past year, when people used that expression in regard to me, I always thought they were being over dramatic. Hmmm...maybe I was wrong.

Yesterday, I had a doctor's appointment where they filled my expander. The expander now harbors 200/350 cc's of saline, which is gradually being added in order to prepare my skin and muscle to hold the implant. While I waited in the quiet procedure room, I had a moment to reflect on my strategy for living my best life in the short term. I have been in such a rush to complete my journey that I had not thought in depth about the repercussions of having my last surgery immediately after Thanksgiving. I know how strong I am and how much I can handle physically. However, what I had not considered is what I can handle mentally. During this brief sanctuary of quiet reflection, I concluded that I do not want another Christmas season like the one I had last year.

I have a vivid memory of last year's Holiday Sing at the elementary school. Sadly, I do not remember anything about my child's performance. What I do remember is that my hair was falling out in clumps from the chemotherapy. I remember telling myself that my hair falling out was a good sign in that it meant that the chemo was working. However, inside, my heart was breaking. That night, I had clipped my hair up in a style aimed to hide my growing bald spots. I was sitting in the front row of the auditorium and people were filing in to sit in the row behind me. The rows were narrow and some parents inadvertently bumped my head as they squeezed by. I remember thinking that if one more person bumped my head that all of my hair was going to fall to the ground. I was astonished that it did not. That bitter memory is burned in my brain. I want to replace it with new ones.

This year, I want to go to ALL of the holiday parties. Go to my kids' school performances. Go to the December and January soccer tournaments. Bake cookies. Wrap presents. The kids are getting so big, so fast. At ages seven and 10, it will not be too much longer before Christmas loses its bright-eyed wonderment - which to witness is truly one of the best rewards of being a parent. I do not want to miss another moment.

So, playing the game of Life tonight with my kids tied my week's experiences up in a bow, like a gift. A sweet reminder of what could have been or not have been as the case may be. How lucky I am. How blessed I am to have countless more chances to sit around the coffee table in my living room and play a board game. I'll take being that paperclip and any Life expense cards you can throw at me. Mr. Krabs, I want a re-match!