[2023-07-18] Perspective, joy and recovery day 11
One of today's "firsts" since surgery was driving. I gave my daughter a lift to the park and ride, which is 2 km from my house, as Chris was under the weather with a stomach bug. I would not have been able to do it last week (my husband picked up this task) because even today, I could feel my chest muscles engaging as I drove, especially when rounding corners. It wasn't uncomfortable or painful to drive, but I'm glad it was a short distance. I imagine that this is what it feels like to walk for the first time after having a cast removed.
My second "first" was taking a shower. Up until now, I've gotten by on sponge baths and washing my hair while bent over the tub. Even though the booklet for taking care of my drains said, "You may shower," I was reluctant to do so because of this line: "Do not shower or bath until you have permission from your surgeon." And even though the doctor I saw last week in the plastic surgery department said that I could take a shower, I was still reticent.
Today, however, I called Dr. Cordeiro's office and spoke to her ever-helpful assistant. Kate was unequivocal: "Yes, you can shower." Her tone was definite, warm and with no hint of hesitation. I felt reassured. Sometimes we need to hear the same thing more than once before we're ready to take a leap.
I had called Dr. Cordeiro's office because I wanted to know whether it is normal to still be releasing more than 20 mL of fluid per breast per day after 10 days. She assured me that it is possible. In fact, drains can remain in for up to 3 weeks, she said, after which they would be removed even if the amount of fluid being released exceeds the daily 20 mL threshold. Presumably, 3 weeks is a point of diminishing returns. Kate provided a useful perspective on the drains: without them, fluid could accumulate in my body and, with nowhere to go, could turn into a seroma (a build-up of fluid) that would need to be aspirated (removed via syringe). "So the drains are my friends," I concluded. "Yes," said Kate, "the drains are your friends."
I asked Kate whether my level of activity might be contributing to the production of more fluid. She said no. Once again, she reassured me that I didn't need to take it easy just to get my fluid levels below 20 mL per breast per day. That made me feel that the efforts I am making to be quietly active are a good thing. Every day, I feel my mobility returning. I can reach higher in the cupboard and put on a shirt with greater ease. Even Chris commented that I am much more nimble than I was a week ago. I feel it too.
With a clear green light to shower, I encountered the next challenge: how to support my drains while in the shower. I thought about those little orange aprons the kids would get when they did projects at Home Depot on Saturday mornings. I know I had one with Shane's name on it years ago, but that souvenir is long gone. Chris suggested that I put the plastic bulbs attached to my drains in socks. That gave me the idea to pull out a couple of lanyards I had kept from my work days. Conveniently, I had two with sturdy clips on them. I clipped one lanyard to each ankle sock, put the lanyards around my neck, and placed the plastic bulbs into the socks. It felt like I was hanging Christmas stockings.
Feeling comfortable showering isn't simply a question of having the confidence that a shower will do no harm. There's also the matter of feeling physically and mentally ready for this next stage of independence. I moved tentatively, not wanting to jostle the drains, even though they are connected quite securely to my body with sutures. The shower went well. I carefully toweled off, making sure to gently pat the area where my drains exit my body and to ensure that everything was dry before calling Chris (who was, thankfully, feeling better) to help me into my sports bra.
Beyond my continued recovery, today I would add a few items to the list of things I don't want to forget.
The first thing I don't want to forget is the kindness of a friend who is currently undergoing treatment for breast cancer. She shared her own experience with drains, telling me how long hers had remained in after surgery, and acknowledging that she had heard of others who had had them in for the full 3 weeks. It's tremendously reassuring to know that it's not unusual to still have my drains after 11 days.
The second thing I don't want to forget is the kindness of a stranger—a man working at the Al-Balad Bakery on Hazeldean Road in Kanata. While waiting for Chris, I popped into his bakery to see whether they sell fresh pita bread. He said they can, but just need a bit of notice, say, 30 minutes to an hour. I proceeded to ask him additional questions, notably about which products contain pomegranate (I'm not allowed to eat pomegranate, as it conflicts with my ovarian cancer drug). He answered them politely then asked me, "Do you eat meat?" When I said yes, he tossed a meat pie into his oven, declaring, "I will give this to you." Uncharacteristically, I didn't have a purse on me or any money, so I couldn't even leave him a tip. But I happily accepted the meat pie and thanked him for his kindness.
The third thing I don't want to forget is the kindness of a woman, recently diagnosed with ovarian cancer, who sent me four photos to cheer me up, figuring the drain issue was getting me down. One was of her two rescue cats who like to watch birds, oblivious to the fact that they could be considered prey. Another was of a pair of mourning doves, who were raising their fourth set of chicks under the rafters of her side porch. A third was of a cold ginger ale in a Swiss Matterhorn glass. The final photo—my favourite—was of her morning porridge, adorned with a sunflower design in sugar, courtesy of her husband. I thought that was adorable, as was the fact that her husband sticks brightly coloured annuals in her garden to surprise and delight her. Among the wise things she shared with me were two powerful notions: (1) "Life doesn't always offer us the choices we want, but it does usually offer us choices of some sort, and that's where we have to look to find our power sometimes" and (2) "Joy really is all around us if we look hard enough, even if we sometimes have to pull away the spider webs hiding it in the darker corners."
Today and in recent days, joy has come in many forms. The kindness of healthcare professionals, family, friends, acquaintances and strangers. A story shared just with me. Birthday cards and presents in a continued celebration of my recent milestone. My first sighting of a green heron. Jokes to make me smile. And, of course, a warm shower.
