And, so, the journey to healing begins. In reality, it probably began when I first sought medical attention. It's the first step in finding a way to be free of a disease or, in this case, free of a condition (that of having an open wound exposing me to infection). You could think of surgery as the beginning but it's really somewhere in the middle. Seeking answers is probably the beginning. Even before, being aware of a problem.
Each step after that is toward some goal or resolution. Each decision is with an image in mind, a vision of the end result.
There's a certain "been there, done that" (don't think they have a t-shirt for this yet) mentality this time around. This particular journey didn't start with a diagnosis of cancer. Rather, it is a Groundhog Day version of reconstruction, jumping into the middle of a story already in progress and getting stuck in an never-ending loop. (Although, I sincerely hope this is my last time around this particular track.) My point being, I think even my healthcare providers expect I know what to expect.
With the cancer diagnosis I was guided through every step. I had a three-inch binder telling me everything I could expect. This time, I'm asking my surgeon's staff things like, "should I sleep on my back or be propped up on pillows?" They look at me and blink saying, "I don't know. I'll ask the doctor." And, then, they never get back to me. In a perverse way, I'm glad I had cancer last year. At least, I received the tools I need to take care of myself this year.
Hubby is the same. He's been great in the Picking Up The Slack department though I was pretty well organized before the surgery. I got stocked up on groceries and had meals in the freezer. The laundry was done and the sheets had been changed. He hasn't had to do much but I'll give him 5 stars for letting me do nothing.
In the In Sickness or In Health department, I would give him 3 stars. He hasn't been attentive to my schedule regarding when to take my medications (or times when I need to eat so I can take my meds) or when to empty my drains. I've done that mostly on my own. But, when it came to taking off my bandages, he was right there beside me as I saw myself for the first time without one breast. We dealt with my body's new image together and it was fine. We were ready, supportive, and caring.
He gets no points for Pampering. I have had zero coffees in bed. Just before surgery, my office mates ponied up a total of $45 to be added to my Starbucks card for my birthday. (They know me so well.) I was already in quarantine in anticipation of the surgery so I couldn't go out to get one for myself and I didn't want to risk Hubby bringing home something more than coffee by going out to get it for me. I told him that I was looking forward to have a triple grande soy latte in bed the day after surgery - the popsicle to my doctor's visit - but three days later, it has yet to materialize.
I'm griping now because I actually made him coffee.
Maybe it's more than my body that needs to heal!
I can tell you that regrets and unfulfilled expectations are no salve and won't do anything to help my body heal. Moving forward, trusting, being patient, and accepting my image as it is - that's what I'm learning. And I'm also learning that small kindnesses are important to me and that it makes me feel good when I do those things for others.
The surgery went well. The pain and bleeding were minimal. It's only the drain that bothers me now. It's in a very awkward place and I keep getting tangled in the tubing and yanking on the stitches. I'll ask if I can get that removed tomorrow.
Despite the lack of bedside coffee, there is a light at the tunnel. It's bright and joyful and I'm headed straight for it. All will be well enough.
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