GLORY DAYS

I've been told that there comes a day after a major surgery that you wake up and feel 100% (ok, 80%) better. My turn-around-day was last Friday. Thurs I was fairly miserable. Friday I was me again. It was nothing less than glorious. Don't get me wrong, I still get tired & sore quickly and at the end of the day I move like a 90 year old, and I definitely need a few more weeks off work to make sure I get all these photo albums finally done, but the bruises are definitely fading to yellow-- I can even drive now. So I am giving myself this quasi-well but still off work time as an (almost) guilt-free gift to myself (happyhappydays). I still can't pick up anything (i.e., Liam). which sucks (especially for jim, who has to do all of the 5:30am wake up duties) but he (liam, not jim) is toddling around like a champ these days. He's so proud of himself (liam, not jim).
So, I've been thinking (now that I'm off the drugs, it's a bit easier) when do/did I become a breast cancer survivor? Now that I feel better? (I often think about the fact that the it was the treatment and not the disease that made me feel bad... but that's good, right?) I've still got a few more (small) surgeries to go-- do I wait until after that? I heard that at the Race for the Cure "Survivors" get a special tent and wear a nametag with a number. 2 years... 5 years... 50 years (ohbuti'dliketobethatperson) What's the starting point? When I was diagnosed? (can you believe it's been almost 8 months??!!) The doctors say the tumor was there for years before I found it. (freaks me out, I look at photos of things past and think: "it was there then, and I had no idea" (...whenmyguyswereborn, onmyweddingday, atmygraduation...) It's sort of like when you dated for a long time before you got married and people ask you how long you've been together-- "um, we've been married for 5 years, but we lived together for 2 years before that and dated for 3 before that... what's that add up to?" I've never liked that word-- survivor. I don't know if it's because I don't like considering the alternative, I don't want to be associated with the "stigma", or (maybejustmaybe) because it means I'm done fighting and have to get on with the rest of my life.
Speaking of which, (finally) happy things on the horizon (save the dates):

• Join team TigerOx during the Denver Race for the Cure on Sunday October 8th at the Pepsi Center. You can do the Women's 5K Walk/Run (7:15am) the Co-ed 5k walk/run (8:30am), the Family Fun Walk (9am-less than a mile), or the Sleep in for the Cure. If I get really inspired (I'm off work, afterall) I'll make up t-shirts.
• Come to our Thank the Village Party Saturday October 14th from 3-7 in genesee. It's about time I fed you guys for a change. more info to come on both events but if you're interested in either, let me know.

And finally, some amusing boob anecdotes (TMI alert):

• I don't have feeling in my boobs anymore, and they're a little bigger than they used to be (thank you, extra brownies). In any event, I don't really know my own "boob strength", as it were (potentially a new superpower?) I will knock things off tables, etc. without knowing what I've done until something crashes to the floor. I've heard people say that this whole ordeal has just been an excuse so that people won't hug me, but take this as a friendly warning.
• We were discussing the new airline restrictions the other day and someone said that they have banned gel-filled bras. Does this mean that I wouldn't have been able to get on a plane if I had gone the saline-implant route? (can you imagine?!) Chalk another one up for the belly boob.

NUTHIN' MUCH

I have been uninspired to write lately because the road to recovery, although progressing, is pretty dull. Plus my stupid hand is still bugging me a lot so it's hard to type (although I am getting better at left-handed stuff). I am back home, and it's great to be back around the guys, but I have to admit I miss my cocoon easy-chair sitting, cable-watchin', sleeping-in life at Richard's where all I had to worry about was when to take the next Vicoden. Now that I'm half-way thrown back into the life of responsibility-- almost sick kids, never ending laundry, schedule-juggling blah blah blah-- I am easily overwhelmed, often incompetent, and habitually feeling miles away from who and where I want to be.
But on a moment-by-moment basis, things are good. I can sit down on the floor and liam will toddle over and give me a hug. I almost look like I chose my hairstyle. Jim pointed out an Animal Hospital at a strip mall and Xander said "that's where mommy was!" I'm closer to my Mom than I've ever been. I'm way further along at 3 weeks than I'd ever imagined I would be... in the next few weeks I'm looking forward to the return of my wit, energy, and renewed superpowers.

EVERYTHING'S COMING UP RAINBOWS

I'm actually fairly sure that's the wrong expression, but after spending the week with my mom hearing expressions like "scrummaging through the trash" and "the room has no fung shu" (and being on vast amounts of drugs) I'm a bit fuzzy on correct word usage. Plus, if you saw my pathetic bruised arms, you would agree with me that indeed, I have become a colorful pallet indeed.
As hoped, I went home from the hospital last Wednesday, and have been camped in various easy chairs ever since. Physically, I have been feeling better and better, as long as I don't try to do anything, like say, walk far distances (i.e., across the room) make (inadvertant) quick moves, or go more than 5 hours without a percocet. Mentally, I'm typically quite chipper (especially since it doesn't hurt to laugh anymore) and but I definitely have my zone out/cry inconsolibly jags (which still hurt) but I'm trying to be patient with my mind and body (easier said than done).
The time in the hospital, although mostly a blur, was no better than you'd expect. Most of the nurses, although nice, were overworked and not particularly responsive. The worst moments were when the nurse changed but forgot to turn on the pain medicine, and when a blood transfusion didn't quite make it into my vein (ref. arm picture) Thank goodness I had everyone in my family there (in shifts) 24/7 to look out for me. Sweet jim spent 4 of the 5 nights there with me (thanks to Carol and Larry for watching the kids-- of course, Liam was sick and was home from daycare Mon-Wed-- figures) and loyal lisa was after the nurses every 2 hours to make sure I got my medicine on the the night she stayed with me.
My biggest complaint has been my arm/hand. Somehow, when I was stuck in surgery position for those 11 hours, circulation got cut off and/or a nerve got pinched. In any event, although I can move it a lot better now, it's very tingly, achy, and weak. (... which makes using the TV remote a challenge). It will get better with time, but because I wasn't expecting it, and unfortunately, because it's a nerve thing, the pain medicine does nothing to alleviate the discomfort, so it's pretty distracting and annoying (and I guess I'm going to get much better at doing everything (including typing) with my left hand).
Overall, though, I'm really happy with the results of the surgery. I'm thrilled I went the "natural" route with the belly boob surgery over implants-- I woke up feeling/looking similar to how I went to sleep... minus the belly, which, I have to say, is awesome. While I was in the hospital my eyelashes and eyebrows came back and I am super-fuzzy-- enough so that my hair actually gets matted when I sit in a chair all day! I've still got a lot of healing to do, but I think I will be happy with this new bod o' mine. Best yet, all the pathology came out clean.
I got to spend the weekend up at Carol and Larry's with Jim and the boys. It was great to see them... I don't think anyone has ever been as as happy to see me as Liam, who literally couldn't stop laughing-- until I couldn't hold him, which pretty much broke both of our hearts... but he won't remember and I will get over it (maybe). Xander is sweet as ever ("you better yet mamma?") and was very curious to see my new boobs ("you have bandaids!"). My mom is moving today, so I've moved to her boyfriend Richard's-- who has the most incredible home theatre system EVER... including internet access (finally). I'm not sure about where I'll be staying from here on out-- I miss the boys terribly, but when I go home it's going to be a real challenge not to hurt myself. I've cut way back on the meds, but believe me I know when it's time for the next one. I'm not sure when I'll be able to drive, or stand for more than 5 minutes, or lay on anything other than my back, or a bunch or other things that will come before I know it (but not soon enough). I saw a good quote the the other day: "You can only live happily ever after day by day"
Between reminding myself that, 300 cable channels and the internet, I'm all set.

THE BOOB BEAT

Doesn't that sound like the title of an underground jr highschool newsletter?
Greetings from the adjustable bed ("I neeeeeed one," says X) in room 620, brought to you by a stolen wireless connection. 11 hours of surgery, 2 new boobs, 5 days, and a whole lot of pain medicine later, I am getting there. I have shed all the "input" tubes, which is good, and I am hoping to go home today (or rather, to Moppy's). I finally have enough feeling in my fingers to type, although if someone outside of the hospital had given me the bruises I have on my arm (I've been having some vein issues) I could have them arrested. Nifty.
It's strange to be so slow-- in both thought and movement. But I can feel myself returning more to me every day. My sister said it's like I have narcolepsy because I'll seem alert one second and then next I'll be asleep. Right now the medicine is kicking in and typing has pooped me out, so I best return to adjustable-bed-land.
Thanks for all your thoughts and comments-- I truly appreciate and rely on them.