Hematoma

So I know it's been over a week since I posted. It's the Polish Procrastination Gene I carry...seriously though. It makes me delayed for everything in my life! So last week I had a double mastectomy and node removal. My friends and nurses were awesome to say the least. When it came time to go home (and believe me I was ready) I thought about taking the nurses with me. It would have been kind of like Big Love, only different. It's strange to see the little bulge of a belly I have without breasts to balance me out. In their place is a horizontal scar that states loudly "Yes, breasts were here!" I have a port for chemo put in on my left side. It's foreign to have this thing in me that slightly protrudes and itches as the stitches dissolve. I had three drains put into place. My son nicknamed them my "babies" because I would carry them as I walked. I had them removed on Wednesday. Hallelujah! But wait! Before we sing a praise unto the Universe I have to tell you this story. I giggle at the grossness of it now, but really, I was terrified. OK: so I'm eating lunch at Yesterday's Cafe when all of a sudden I feel wet. I look down and pull up my shirt a little. There is a lot of drainage coming out from where the drains had been. A little was to be expected but this was more than that. In the car I look. Sure enough where I had no breast an hour ago I had one now. Back to the doctor's office. Hematoma. "It has to come out. Now." As the nurse takes off the dressing (mind you I am sitting up), blood squirts everywhere! I am given local anesthesia and my doctor takes the scalpel to me. The sound of skin being cut is something I never really wanted to know about outside of horror movies. At the end of this process I see it. Nasty! Gross! Intriguing! It had to be taken out in four different pieces after she had gotten two other pieces out. It was like a really well-set jello. This version of it is much more mild than how I tell it verbally. Trying to spare to reaction of heaving that it has gotten. Moral of the story: I should have been more specific when I prayed for new boobs.

synchronicity

Chopra teaches us that synchronicity is the foundation of life. Let me be a little more specific: nothing that happens to us is coincidence. Have you ever noticed that when you're in need of something somehow whatever you need comes into your path? Sure it may not happen exactly at the moment you want it to happen, but it happens when it's supposed to. So in my life things have worked out that way. For instance: I applied to do my clinical placement where I have my job currently. Needless to say, my application got lost in the shuffle. Months later I end up calling the HIV dept about something and my name rings a bell with Darla. I applied for a job and lo and behold--my career! So I tell this story because I believe that things happen to us and people come into our lives when it's supposed to happen. I have been so very blessed to have the love, friendship and support of my department (and really the whole clinic) that perhaps I may not have received should I have been elsewhere. This is synchronicity. Plain and simple.
Cancer has taught me to be more forgiving and less resentful. Mind you, not that I was carrying around a bag of resentments, but we all have our things to carry with us. I have learned a lot.
Tomorrow, I will learn what I always preach: beauty is not on the outside. Just remind me of that when I will be bald and boob-less. And really,  I'm in love with my boobs. But who else can head into their 40's with new boobs and  a head of new hair? Damn! I'm one lucky girl!    Mardi Gras, Here I come!

Retail Therapy

Retail therapy is just that: therapy. It fills a void that we have at that very moment. I'm very good at this type of therapy, but this past week I think I could have been entered into the Guinness Book of World Records! So on Monday I had a follow up appt. My best friend and I agreed that she didn't need to come since the doctor was going to look at the incision sites, give her thumbs up and send me to my medical oncologist for my chemo schedule. Instead, I found out that there is more cancer and I have to have a mastectomy. So in approximately one month I will be bald and boobless. Nice. So I filled the angst with retail therapy. I went to Penny's looking for a duvet cover since the one I had was old. Instead, I walked out with a comforter set. They didn't have one in Queen size, so I made them take the display down. I NEEDED IT. I totally convinced myself. Even though it is not my style. I thought "bad news=new bedding." Rational, right? Well, 2 days later I decided I didn't like it. All the tags are off and I'm stuck. But wait--Tax returns!! "Tax returns=new bedding" in my style! So I placed my order for what I really wanted: a purple Indian sari duvet cover. It's purple and gold. Hand made. exactly my style. It's coming this week...along with my new address labels that I paid to have 2-day shipped because they just can't get here fast enough. I've been working on patience my whole life. Doesn't always pan out. Perhaps I will learn some when I'm out of work for 2 weeks and reading Rumi and Chopra. I'm just thankful I don't get the Home Shopping Network. That would be serious Retail Therapy that I just could not afford!

eat. pray. love.

Did I ever mention that I tried to be Hindu once? Yes. I was in search for God. For something. I thought I would become mystical. That didn't happen. I always heard these stories of people going through cancer as "finding something more than they already found." This hasn't happened. I think maybe I'm waiting for my room to light up and some random and beautiful angel will hover over me and give me some great message. You know, like what happens in Angels in America. This hasn't happened either. It's not as if I've lost my Faith, per se. It's more like I think I have to work at it to keep it. It just seems like I'm working so hard already. I believe that everything happens for a reason. Lately though, I think my reason is so that I can become a saint to the mangy squirrels in the trees. This is what has happened this past week of doctor-ordered home-boundness: I feed the squirrels, watch them, pray for them. In essence, I have become a "squirrel-peeper" much to the chagrin of my father who would love them in a way I can't fathom (with a pellet gun).This is my truth. I wish I could say it's the meds, but I can't use that anymore. So instead, I say that it's the boredom.

Perhaps Ganesha will remove the obstacle of cancer within me just as he will remove the obstacle of mange in my new friends.

Namaste.

Bored.

So I finally took a shower (YIPEE!!!) and went to the grocery. This too was awesome, but I suppose there is a reason that my doctor said to stay home. At 35 I'm holding on to the side of the cart that Miguel is pushing as though I am 75. All I need is a cane. But I suppose if I could have one thing, it would be for my boobies to be the same size. That's right: the one is the size of a fricken grapefruit. Not cool. I now have an insider's glimpse as to what having big boobies is all about. Let me just say that this is not for me....anyway, I'm thinking that the incision in my armpit from the lymph nose dissection is much more uncomfortable than my chest at this point. And now that I'm off the drugs, I'm just bored, especially since I still can't do anything. Oh, and I have a cold. Ok, ok, I know I'm whiny today. But this is what boredom brings a Bizzie Bee that can't do anything...