Part 10

This time last week I was just waking up from going under the knife. I was full of morphine, codeine and numerous other drugs after the 3 hour operation. What I would give to feel that numbness of the first few hazy days again, full of blissful sleep and unremembered waking. At the moment I am struggling emotionally and also getting fed up of the pain every time I move. I feel extremely delicate and a bit helpless. I couldn't look at my body for the first week. I was kind of in denial because I knew I would lose it emotionally when I did.

Adjustable implant

I forced myself to look today and I sobbed for hours after. It's messy. My ribs are bruised, my breast is yellow, both scars are bigger than I thought they would be, one where my nipple was and one under my arm. I have 3 big holes from the drains, a lump on my ribs from the port (so they can inject saline into the implant later to expand it) and I'm covered in plasters and dressings surrounded by smeared blood. My body is too tender to get the marker pen off properly too. Not the prettiest of pictures. It hurts pretty much every time I move but I've stopped the painkillers now as anything other than morphine doesn't really do much. I could've easily gotten addicted to it!

My operation was delayed by nearly a week as I had a bad cough and cold to the point where I lost my voice for 3 days. I don't think I was quite ready either so I'm grateful to have been able to have a good skate 2 days before whilst I could. By the time it came round to Monday I was very calm. I went to the hospital by myself and sat and read a book on my ipod inbetween consultations with nurses, the anaesthetist and the surgeons. I met the other surgeon for the first time and he measured me and drew all over me with marker whilst the other 3 stood and watched. At 2pm I was wheeled round to theatre, tears rolling silently down my cheeks, and various drugs injected into my picc line. I had to take my arms out of my hospital gown and lie back down and that was the last I remember.

When I woke I was offered sips of water through a straw and each time promptly passed out again. Eventually I woke for a bit longer and decided I needed the toilet. I had drunk a lot of water up until 11.30am so I wouldn't wake feeling nauseous and it seemed to work. I had even managed a piece of toast at 7.15am. I called as best I could to the nurses standing around chatting amongst themselves and one of them came over saying they would get me a bowl. I refused saying I wanted to sit on the toilet and they replied there weren't any toilets in recovery and that I would have to wait until I got to the ward. She wandered back to the group and resumed chatting. My voice was hardly audible, probably from the tube that had been down my throat, so I waved my good arm as best I could to attract their attention again. I heard comments like “Is she trying to get our attention?” “No I think she's just itching” “Oh no I think she does want something” and eventually a couple of nurses wandered over again. I demanded to be taken to the ward so I could use the toilet. They wheeled me round on the bed and somehow I got up and sat on the toilet, holding my drains full of blood in my hand. The 2 nurses stood there chatting amongst themselves completely oblivious of me. I was desperate but I couldn't go so I asked them to leave, which they did still chatting and squeezing past me. Needless to say I was fine seconds after! This was my only bad experience of the nurses but I found it quite disturbing to have been treated in such an insignificant way.

So anyway, lets continue... I got up onto the bed - I think this may be quite unusual as everyone else I saw didn't move out of their bed until the next day – and then for the next couple of hours 2 lovely nurses spent all their time trying to find my bag which had been sent to a different ward. It had my new laptop, phone, special dairy free food, clothes, toiletries, and debit card in so I was ever so slightly worried at this time! It was pretty late and I couldn't call Maia to say I was okay. My friend JJ always says ask the angels, be specific, and they will help. So I asked please can the nurse bring me my bag within the next 5 minutes. 3 minutes later... It was probably 11pm by this time. I called Maia anyway but she was too sleepy to wake up.

I don't remember much of Tuesday to be honest. Wednesday I tried to cut out the morphine but by the afternoon I was begging for release and had some on top of the codeine. I cried myself to sleep. I cried a lot Thursday too. I had to have daily injections again to prevent blood clots (still suffering from the bruises on my thighs!) and wear constricting stockings until I got home. My blood pressure now has to be taken in my leg as my left arm can never be used for that or have blood taken from it or be massaged (due to the lymph nodes being removed which may cause problems with drainage and result in swelling at any time) and my right arm has the picc line. I'm not sure if its because my calves are quite developed from dancing and skating but I find it very painful most of the time.

I didn't move much really, only to go to the toilet. I had to carry my drains in a bag every time I moved anywhere, even round the bed. I didn't have much coming out of my 3 drains – 75 ml, 75 ml and 60 ml over 3 days, some of my fellow 'inmates' were 160-180 every day, so because it was well under 100 they took them out on Thursday lunchtime. Probably not the best time to take it out right before lunch!

No it wont hurt said the nurses. Well the first 2 didn't really but the third one under my arm had obviously started to mesh with my body and I felt the most painful ripping sensation that I cried out to stop. It took 2 goes before it came out. I lay down and sobbed for the tenth time that day. Lunch sat there for 3 hours. I cried a lot in hospital. It was very tough.

The nurses on the ward were really lovely. They took the time to chat and help you and even gave me a hand and foot massage and painted my finger and toe nails purple to cover up the horrible yellow ridges left from the chemo. The head chef came and spoke to me a couple of times about what food I wanted and prepared me special dishes, and most of the other ladies on the ward were lovely too. There was 5 of us, 3 of them elderly, 1 younger but didn't talk much and 2 of them I felt particularly comfortable with. We would sit on each others beds and chat and listen and encourage each other to do our thrice daily arm exercises. By Wednesday my arm had stiffened up a lot and I had less movement. It is slowly getting easier every few days. A week on and I can just about lift it to horizontal in front of me. There are small, tingly but quite sharp pains in my arm where they have removed my lymph nodes and a numb patch under my arm half way down to my elbow which I think will be there permanently but to a lesser extent.

Maybe I should start a Pharmacy! *

I went home on Friday at 2.30pm armed with lots of painkillers, vitamins, iron, and the most foul tasting antibiotics in the whole world I swear! They left my picc line in but the dressing hanging off – well I wasn't waiting for it to be sorted out when they'd had all day! I just wanted to be home. I'd have to ring the district nurse and wait around on Saturday for her to come and flush it and change the dressing but at that point I didn't care.

So I stand here with a thin covering of hair now growing on my head, my eyebrows thickening up a bit but still no eyelashes, yellow fingernails and toenails, bruised thighs, a tube going into a vein in my right arm all the way to my heart, and a yellow and bruised left side with 2 big scars, a bump protruding from my ribs and a fairly useless left arm at the moment. How the last 6 months has ruined my body! And is trying its hardest to ruin my mind. I'm fighting it all the way but it is getting fucking hard now. 

* (30 Dihydrocodeine, 84 Codeine Phosphate, 120 Tramadol, 84 double strength Ibuprofen, 132 Paracetamol, 63 Cyclizine Hydrochloride plus Iron and Vitamin C)