Another One Bites The Dust
Well, it’s been a little while since I did a full update. Things were going so well that I almost didnt have time to think of what to share! My kids are having a great Summer, Matt is doing fantastic things in his career, and I’m happily working with Hewson Brothers and diving into the construction industry in Cambridge.
And just when things can’t get any better, the universe likes to humble me.
Last Sunday, I needed a nap. Which is weird, because my morning was great and I had great plans for the week ahead! I woke up from that nap with a fever of 39.6 and super painful underboob. Given I have no nerves across my chest, it’s weird AF when something hurts there. I popped in to see my doctor on Tuesday and he said it looked like I had a bit of an infection, so he sent me home with some antibiotics.
Wednesday
My fever was still kicking around, I was light headed and my boob was on fire. So I coordinated my kids with friends, called my doctor and planned to check in for some heavy antibiotics to crush this stupid infection. Beds were in low supply so I slept in the emerge hallway, and got to be the guinea pig for the nurses who had never seen a port accessed. So at least I made someone's night!
Thursday
Still absolutely no change, except that the painkillers were better. I spent all day attached to an IV and honestly worked on some stuff that I was excited about for work. At one point, I went for an ultrasound to see what was going on and they found huge amounts of fluid surrounding the expander in my left breast (the original one that tried to kill me). Using the ultrasound machine, they tilted the bed negative and drained over 16oz of fluid from the one side of my chest wall using a tiny knife and a little tube. Call me a Capri Sun Pouch!
Thursday night was the worst sleep of my life, my roommate on one side screamed on and off all night, while trying to kick and bite her nurses, and the other guy kept flashing the nurses Fatal Attraction style and asking them to join him in the shower… That was the tip of the iceberg with that room.
Friday
I still mostly just sat attached to an IV and worked away, read some books, went for some walks with my best friend, the IV pole. Nothing had changed at this point as far as my infection went. I just was beside myself by this point. I was isolated in a room with people who were making it such a stressful place, I had no answers, I wasn’t getting better and I miss my freaking family more than life. That said, a semi-private room opened up for me so I finally knew I’d at least be able to sleep, and then the icing on the cake came when my ex-brother-in-law brought Olivia into Hamilton for a few hours to hang out with me for movie night (complete with clean clothes and essential snacks!)
Saturday
Today, I argued a lot more for myself. I wasn’t going to sit here and have no idea what was going on. I didn’t want to wait any longer to see if the antibiotics would just kick in, even though they didn't over the last 4 days. So I demanded more of a plan. What would get me home and healthy fastest? What were my options?
After speaking with my surgeon and the infectious disease department, my options boiled down into two:
Wait for further cultures from my biopsies and adjust the antibiotics over the next few weeks. Spending anywhere from another 1-3 weeks in hospital.
Have surgery, remove the infected expander, flush out and disinfect the entire area, and go home flat the day after surgery.
In all honesty, missing my children and Matt as much as I do, option 1 was never really valid. When everything boils down to missing moments with my kids and my partner, quality of life and a guaranteed outcome VS. the hope something works in the name of keeping a boob? I’ll chop the boob off every time.
Tomorrow morning I go for surgery, I should be home by Monday. If there is any appearance that the infection is making its way to the other side, they’ll take that one out too.
It’s been almost exactly a year since I was diagnosed. I’ve been cancer free since my scans in February. It’s amazing to me how I can go from celebrating beating this, to being reminded so harshly that it’s not quite over. I gave myself a black eye washing my face, because my platelets are so low that I bruised my eye by washing off old mascara. I’m on the mend but it’s long, and I am not good at patience. What is important to remember though, is that this is JUST A FREAKING BODY. The people that love me, don’t particularly care if it has scars, they don’t care if I’m a little roughed up.
