The first week few days home from mastectomy surgery aren't bad. Medication controls the pain. Nine well placed pillows prop me and I am, surprisingly, able to sleep on my back. Two of these pillows are little flannel hearts that fit comfortably under my armpits to prevent chafing. God bless the hands that sewed them. I am wearing an ingenious garment. It is a camesole of the softest cotton knit with thoughtfully constructed interior pockets to hold drain bulbs, tubes and prosthetic breasts(which are empty). The bulbs attach to tubes running from each under arm acting as suctions siphoning off body fluid until the lymphatic system kicks in and takes over. Twice a day my husband removes each bulb and squeezes the murky contents into a measuring cup to record the amount collected. He manages this task with great attention to detail and a deft touch for my comfort. It's the way he approaches everything. One day as he was absorbed in these ministrations my mind flashed back 35 years ago- I was a flight attendant and my husband was the captain of our DC10. Upon descent into to Boston's Logan Airport we lost an engine. The older flight attendants assured us we had nothing to worry about, Captain Yamauchi was at the helm. His reputation as a skilled airman dispelled all fear and he gently set our big old bird down, passengers none the wiser. These are the same hands that care for me now I am thinking.
We saw my plastic surgeon three days ago. He removed the bandages and we got our first look at my massacred chest. From my vantage point, I can't see too much which I'm sure is a blessing. I prefer to investigate later in private. For now, looking down I can see the outline of the tissue expanders creating little malformed mounds. I check out my husband's expression. He wavers between curiosity and horror. I love him for trying to control this transfer of thoughts to expression but his heart is clearly broken for me. We are entering a whole new kind of intimacy.
Dr. Mosharrafa points to a place on my left, heretofore healthy "breast", and explains,"this is a burn where Dr. Corn was cauterizing" outlining 4 square inches and two 1/4" holes of skin damage. Its said matter-of-factly and I'm too stunned to respond. Considering the rest of the devastation, it seems to makes little difference now. I'm not up to assessing this new information and neither is my husband. We are two weary warriors and this information is more than we can deal with right now.
There is a lot more pain the second week because twice a day Shoyei has to change my dressings. I realize now that I'd never thought this far out. It's a nasty job and seems too much to ask. But this too he does with love. Did I mention he was a child prodigy - he played piano with the San Francisco symphony, he played for the king and queen of Norway. He has a feather touch and my skin is numb anyway so I can't feel the wiping or stinging. Unconvinced, he continues his gentle ways. What I feel a is a deep aching pain that has me sucking in air and concentrating on my diaphragm breathing.
This new regimen has me doubling my pain pill intake but Shoyei's stingy with my meds. For one thing he's afraid I'll become addicted. Yesterday afternoon he tried to get me to hold out between doses. "On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you describe your pain?". Like the hospital nurses would ask. I tell him I am a 4(10 being childbirth). I know perfectly well he doesn't want me to suffer. He plunks a heavy naturopathic tome on my lap and points to the paragraphs he wants me to read. It states that narcotics(i.e. my Percoset pain pills) may actually contribute to the spreading of cancer. Two of my doctors have already poo pooed this. I feel caught in the battle between traditional, heavily documented medicine and the naturopathic approach which sounds good but what about pain? Right now I vote for the route of pain relief. I've become hesitant to call Shoyei for a pill only to have him look at me like a junkie. My prescription says 'take 1 to 2 every 4 hours as needed for pain'. I take 3 to 4 a day but my nurse Ratchet would like to see that down to 1 or 2. So I guess it's obvious I'm growing grouchier by the minute.
Finally we agree to call the doctor who tells us both if I hurt, I get a pain pill. But they also agree to alternate my medication between Percoset and Valium, the latter is a muscle relaxant. Perhaps muscle cramps are a partly responsible for my pain. I'm happy to report, 24 hours later, it's already making a difference.
There has been a wonderful highlight to this week. We have been blessed with meal after meal provided by some women from my church. Flowers and gifts and cards have helped me through some of the toughest days. I keep reminding myself how very blessed I am.
Kathleen
"O Joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to Thee,
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not in vain,
That morn shall tearless be."
-George Matheson
No comments:
Post a Comment