Boobs Are Not My Friends

Even when they tried to kill me, I didn't hold any ill will against my boobs.  It wasn't their fault, after all.  It was something in my environments somewhere in my lifetime that exposed me to cancer, not my breasts themselves, per say.  Yet, after all I've been through, I'm beginning to not trust my girls - real or fake.

After a double mastectomy at the end of January to ensure that cancer couldn't hurt us again, I lived with two, rock-hard, spheres that were a little too close to my armpits for comfort.  They made it difficult to sleep, though I must say the ability and freedom to go bra-less all summer was liberating!  I was so excited when the whole ordeal was going to be over and I was going to replace the rock-hard "expanders" with permanent, saline implants!  Wrong.  Even the fake ones have something against me!

I had what I thought would be my final reconstructive surgery on September 18th.  I took a week off of work so that I could recuperate - even though the plastic surgeon told me I could go back to work as soon as the next day if I really wanted to.  One week after the surgery, on Monday, September 24th I went to the doctor for my post-op visit and they said everything looked good.  I still had a drain in either side, but was given the okay to return to work.  I felt fine.  My energy was good.  Why not?  I had told my district office that I'd only need one week and they agreed I wouldn't have to file for a new year of FMLA leave.

I went back to work on Wednesday.  My students were happy to see me and I was happy to see them.  They wanted to know how things went, and I shared my experience with them.  It was homecoming week, so I was able to dress in ways that helped disguise my drains.  On Friday, we had a pep assembly.   Sitting toward the top of the bleachers, I began to feel flushed.  I had felt this way almost every night since my surgery, but thought that was just a side-effect.  I also was frustrated that I was assigned to the top bleachers where the trouble-makers sit while other teachers were not even IN their assigned spots.  Whatever.  As I drove home immediately after the assembly, I realized that my right breast was sore.  It felt somewhat like when I had had breast infections while breast-feeding.  I picked up my youngest son from school, stopped home for a quick pit-stop, and took both of the boys to swimming lessons.  The pain and temperature got worse.  I called the surgeon as soon as I got home.  I explained that I'd been back to work for three days and that I felt similar to when I'd had breast infections in past.  The doctor said it was probably over-exertion.  He told me to take it easy over the weekend and rest and he'd see me first thing on Monday morning.  I slept most of Friday night and Saturday, feeling feverish and sore.  I felt a little better on Sunday and then went for my appointment on Monday morning.

The physician's assistant  took one look at my breast and was certain I had an infection.  She was going to give me a stronger dose of antibiotics to take but wanted to call the surgeon who was in another office just to get his opinion.  When she came back into the room she said he wanted me to check in at the hospital where he wanted them to give me some stronger IV antibiotics.  I asked how long I'd be there and she said it would at least be over night.

I called Beni to let him know what was going on, called work to let them know things weren't looking good and I probably wouldn't be in all week.  I drove home to get some clean undies and a book and my laptop and headed back to the hospital.  I checked in and was taken to a room.  It seemed to take forever to get an actually IV hooked up to me.  My veins are in hiding, so finding a good one took a while.  Then, because it was such an unexpected admission, it took forever for the nurses to figure out what exactly my surgeon wanted.  I was given alternating does of Zocyn and Vankomyocin (sp).  During the first round of the V-stuff, I realized I had a slight allergy to it.  It made my scalp and neck and chest itch like CRAZY!  Like no amount of scratching was bringing any relief.  From then on, I was given a healthy dose of Benadryl along with it, which of course made me fall asleep.  That went on until Wednesday morning when the doctor came to check me out for a second time, and seeing no improvement, decided he'd remove the infected implant, clean out the "pocket" and put in a clean implant.

So, fifteen days after the reconstructive surgery, I was back in the OR.  I stayed in the hospital until Thursday, the 4th and then came home where I await nervously.

This was supposed to be the easy part.  I was supposed to have my last surgery and be on my merry way.  Now, I think I am more nervous than at any time in the entire experience (with the exception of the diagnosis itself) because there is no knowing whether or not another infection can occur.  Granted, I am trying to stay hopeful and I have not had any of the evening flushes or slight temperatures I had the first time around, so I am taking that as a positive sign.

 I have found a healthy respect for boobs, both real and fake and I'm hoping the fake ones residing in my body right now take it easy on me.  It's kind of like Beni's cell-phone ring-tone from "The Good, The Bad and The Ugly".  I'm at one end of the road, my boobs at the other, guns drawn.  Hopefully, at some point in the next few days, we'll lower our guns, slowly approach each other and shake hands.