Giving thanks.
My definition of family has grown immensely. My tribe includes Bobby, the boys, Shelby, my parents, my brother and my nieces.
It also includes my neighbors, friends both near and far, doctors, surgeons and nurses.
I cannot fully express how much I appreciate every visit, card, meal, daily check-in, gift, flower, thought and prayer.
I am blessed, humbled and deeply loved.
I’m caught in another waiting game: waiting for pathology results.
Because I chose to have my surgery through a different hospital system, there was some miscommunication and a delay in sending my results. What would typically take about two weeks is now taking four.
As I have mentioned before, my definition of time has changed since my diagnosis. I’m continually reminded that this is a “slow-growing” cancer, but I can’t say that puts my mind completely at ease.
Tick. Tock.
Pathology
My pathology sample will be used for Oncotype testing, which examines the activity of certain genes in the cancer tissue. The resulting score will help my doctors estimate the likelihood of recurrence and whether chemotherapy may be beneficial.
We already know that my cancer is estrogen-receptor-positive and that hormone therapy will be part of my treatment for the next 10 years.
Healing
I’m standing much more upright, and today I walked two miles—my farthest distance so far.
It seems I can walk well every other day. The following day, my back pays the price.
“No pain, no gain.”
My incisions are healing, but my abdomen is still very tight. Imagine filling your stomach with air and stopping in the middle of a breath. Tight!
My DIEP flap surgical sites are healing, and some sensation is beginning to return. For now, there is a great deal of tingling as the tissue and nerves heal. At times, it feels as though my shirt is made of sandpaper.
As uncomfortable as it feels, I’m told this is a positive sign.
Blessings
There are too many to count: family, friends, neighbors and all the mail. I’ve read every card more than once.
My meal train keeps my boys fed and my kitchen clean. My parents are “parenting” the boys, handling grouchy mornings and providing miles of taxi service.
My husband tends to my wounds and remains at my beck and call with icy water, hot coffee and middle-of-the-night pillow adjustments.
He even vacuumed today.
Yep, I can’t say I have much to complain about!
Saturday morning, I laced up my running shoes, ready for the Crush Cancer 5K.
I’m a runner. I simply love to run, and I’ve run countless miles. Only two weeks after surgery, I knew I couldn’t walk—let alone run—most of the distance, but I was going to do it anyway.
With special permission to “cheat,” I completed most of the 5K on an electric bike.
I looked like a Shriner clown in a parade, but I didn’t care. I was determined to be part of this community and support the cause that brought us all together. Cancer has affected everyone in one way or another.
I “ran” with my family, friends and neighbors. I walked the final portion of the 5K with my big boy, Justin, and Pink Petals.
Sure, I was the last person to cross the finish line, but next year I plan to place!
Once it was over, I was exhausted, but I had a wonderful time. I spent the rest of the day cozied up in front of Netflix.
I’ve been home for almost 30 hours and awake for perhaps four of them.
I’m in good hands. Mom, Bobby, the boys and our friends are allowing time to move forward while I slow down and recover. I slept in the recliner downstairs with B close by on the couch.
It’s early Sunday morning, and I have already made a new friend. Don’t ask me her name, but she is awesome. She is my home health nurse.
I knew she was coming. I planned to wake up early, shower, put on a cute pink post-mastectomy outfit and eat breakfast. I even wanted my medications working their magic before she rang the doorbell.
Instead, I awoke to a stranger smiling over me as I attempted to sit up, half-dressed and wiping drool from the side of my face.
There is no time for vanity.
My nurse, like so many nurses, is a gem. She begins my day by reassuring me that I’m healing.
I’m tired today. Exhausted, really. I take medication for nausea, and AJ wants to watch a show with me, but I don’t even make it through the opening credits.
I will temporarily be walking with a cane. I’m using muscles to stand that my body is not accustomed to using. Two hours later, I take more medication and I’m out again.
Bobby fashions a shower chair for me from a laundry hamper. The shower feels so good that I stay until I’m wrinkly and the hot water runs cold.
Clean body, clean drains and cute pink post-mastectomy clothes. I opt for a change of scenery and spend some time in bed. I attempt to watch another show with AJ, but I can’t resist the comfort of my own bed and once again fail to stay awake.
I miss spending time with the kid. Even while I sleep, he stays.
The day is now turning into evening, and we are waiting for dinner from one of our amazing friends and neighbors. Mom wants to watch American Idol.
Our evening is planned!
XOXO,
Lisa
Good news! The doctors took me off the IV and later told me I was doing well enough to go home earlier than planned.
Bobby had my things packed in a flash. It still took most of the night and the following morning before I was finally discharged.
We came home to a fabulous welcome from our friends and family. It was so touching that the ugly cry completely took over.
It feels wonderful to be home, but I am exhausted. I’ve already taken several naps, and I also have a home health nurse caring for me. I promise to share more details soon.
My original plan was to sit at the table with my family and play games, but I’m not quite at that energy level yet.
Thank you all for following my story. Please subscribe if you would like to receive my updates.
We received wonderful news: Only the sentinel lymph nodes were removed. This is a good sign that the cancer has not spread.
Last night, I was able to sleep in three-hour stretches. Throughout the night, the nurses remained vigilant—clearing drains, checking tissue, changing IV fluids, administering countless pills and monitoring my heart rate, blood pressure and temperature.
Regardless of the hour, even at 3 a.m., going to the bathroom is quite an ordeal. Bobby was sleeping so deeply that I resorted to throwing pillows and empty cups to wake him.
We unhooked cables, leg cuffs and monitors. I gingerly inched out of bed and, shuffling behind my IV cart, made the arduous journey to the bathroom. The journey back is another story in itself.
Last night, I received well wishes from so many friends and family members. My mom and the boys came for a visit and brought baskets of gifts filled with love. My boys took turns walking with me through the halls of the ward.
I hope to see them again tonight, but there are weather warnings, and we don’t want them traveling on unsafe roads.
It took some time to get comfortable this morning, but right now I am feeling pretty good. My teeth are brushed, my belly is full, Bobby combed my hair into a ponytail and I’m snug in my bed.
The doctors say I’m healing beautifully and expect me to leave on Saturday or Sunday.
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