I AM DOWN ONE DRAIN AND I FEEL VERY SHOUTY ABOUT IT
After 8 weeks, I finally got rid of one of the drains. Fucking finally. I do fear that I will have to be buried with the other one, but let’s tackle one thing at a time, shall we?
The drains have to drop below a certain output for two days in a row (30 ccs, to be exact). It will likely be at least another couple of weeks before the other one is even close. I’m not above leveraging the pity that the nurses and my plastic surgeon are starting to feel for me, either. If it comes to that, I’ll do whatever I have to. To say I’m over it doesn’t even begin to describe it.
And yesterday when I called the plastic surgeon’s office to see if they could fit me in, I played a really stupid day-long game of phone tag with the nurse (my surgeon is out of town this week, so of course that’s when I finally reach the threshold). I mentioned that the drain had started leaking right where the tubing attached to my side. (I know, as if having to deal with them for this long isn’t bad enough.) When she called back, she mentioned that it could be a sign that the tubing was plugged and she might be reluctant to pull it out.
I lost my shit.
It was fine. If I know anything, I know about my body and, for better or worse, I’m hyper aware of everything having to do with it right now. I hit the threshold before the leaking started, and quite frankly, there was no way I wasn’t getting it out. It all worked out.
So, I was supposed to start radiation last week.
The first appointment is what they call the “planning” session. They map out exactly where you’ll receive the radiation and what position your arms will be in so that it is exactly the same for all 33 treatments. They even give you small tattoos to help with the positioning. I’m suddenly regretful that this will be my first tattoo. I had hoped for something a lot more exciting.
Heavy sigh, 33 treatments. Every day for about 6 and a half weeks.
I’m ready to get going with radiation, not because it will be so fun, but because I want to be done with it.
The reason for the delay? The drains, of course. Can’t have radiation with that plastic still in there. My radiation oncologist assures me that we’re still within the timeline and that there’s no additional risk by having to delay radiation by another couple of weeks. I, of course, cried when she said that and then I think she didn’t know what to do with me. The tears flow easily these days. I’m not sorry about that.
It has been a real struggle these last few weeks. I’m incredibly fortunate to have a lot of tools for support - family support, therapy, coaching sessions, anti-depressants, prescription sleep aids, walks outside now that the weather and air quality are better, and still more Netflix.
More than anything, I’m trying to give myself a lot of grace. If all I can muster is a day on the couch, I try to let that be okay. I am still supposed to be resting, even if I hate that. I also do what I can to make sure I don’t have too many of those days in a row.
Sean and the girls gave me a honey badger stuffed animal before my surgery. I’ve been thinking a lot about it over the past few weeks. Do you remember the viral videos from a few years ago? To start, the name “honey badger” is completely misleading. It’s the baddest ass of the animal kingdom. The honey badger is impervious to even the deadliest snake venom. If it’s bitten by a puff adder, it basically takes the hit, takes a nap, and then gets right back to its business a few hours later.
So obviously, the honey badger is my new mascot. I even got the shirt.
