Weeks 17 & 18 A.D.
My first week back to work was like going back to school after summer break. My Teams chat was on fire with welcome back well wishes. My meetings were a lot of personal catch up conversation. I looked forward to seeing the smiling faces each time I’d be on a call with someone new. It was amazing feeling the joy people had for my recovery and my being back. My community at work is something I’ll forever be grateful for.
I had a couple in person work engagements that first week and the hugs! I’m a hugger when it comes to people I know really well, and there were hugs all around! I appreciate the care and concern everyone took with their hugs—being careful to ask if I was ready to hug, doing air hugs, and soft side hugs. I am so happy to be able to accept any hugs offered. Lucky, rather. My surgery or care plans could have taken different routes, ones that could have caused longer term pain and discomfort. I am so grateful and also even more aware of the physical and mental burdens of cancer treatment some people will have to carry on with them their first week back to work.
I had another follow up with my plastic surgeon. This time, I got to drive myself there. Each part of making my way up to the office dredged up memories from before. Before I was whole-ish.
As I was pulling up to the building I recalled that anxious feeling I had going there the very first time. As I made my way onto the elevator, I remembered the first post-op visit when I had to hang onto Zach’s arm as I shuffled in. My post-op sweatshirt wrap was all bulked up at my sides where my drains were (not so) discretely hidden. When I got to the waiting area, I thought about the anticipation I had sitting there when I waited for my moment the nurse would remove my last drains
I have come a loooooong way in six weeks. I remembered when days like this seemed like they would never come. So many days I feared I’d never be a whole person again, but I am. Whole-ish.
Sitting in the waiting room, I noticed the other women in there and wondered where they’re at in their journey. If early, and living in fear and anxiety like I was, I wanted to tell them that it’ll be ok. Maybe not today, but one day.
When I was called back, I knew the drill, dress in the wrap front kimono shirt, open in the front. When my surgeon came in, we talked about my cording, which was starting to dissipate. Finally!! My swelling was about completely gone, save for the one spot on my lower, left side boob where it puffs and dimples where the two drain scars remain. That whole area remains slightly puffed and tender. The surgeon explained that it’s where the biological mesh (cadaver tissue) is sutured on to hold the implant in. It’s likely developing some internal scarring, combined with scar tissue from the drain tube area. He explained that continued stretching and care will help it to loosen up over time. All normal.
We talked about some of the gaps forming around the implants due to the absence of tissue and fat around my chest. It’s pretty normal for someone with my body type and because my implants sit on top of the muscle. A trade off for a quicker recovery. I basically look like a really flat person got big implants. They look fake in a bra/swimsuit, tank top or low cut shirt. The remedy is fat grafting. I’ve held off on investing too much time thinking about that procedure. I just couldn’t fathom another surgery—seeing myself covered in bruises, feeling pain with every movement—I have not been interested in another mentally hard and physically painful recovery. But now that I’m settling into this new body, I’m becoming more open to tweaks.
My implants are prosthetics, so like any prosthetic, it might take some adjustments before I become comfortable in it.
I’d like to fill in the gaps so that I can feel like a woman with a more natural, curved breast shape.
I’d like to have nipples again one day. I don’t know what that will look like just yet. And I don’t know when I want to start seriously looking into that. Not today.
I’m going to take this re-building process one step at a time. Accept that it is a process.
This next step of fat grafting will probably come this year yet. So I will very likely have another surgery with another long recovery period. Although, not quite as long as the mastectomy itself. Thank goodness!
I left my appointment in smiles. I felt good. My body is healing well and I was released from all restrictions. No more 10 lb weight limit. No more exercise limitations. I can also take a break from the tight compression bras. Hallelujah!!
I had been keeping up with my daily walks and three-a-day stretches for weeks, but now I was ready to hit the gym. Slowly.
Before cancer, I had signed up for a new gym membership. The gym opened just a week before my mastectomy but I never made it in. I had planned to use this membership in addition to my 9Round kickboxing gym membership but everything went on hold post-op. 9Round is intense. There’s no way I could go back cold turkey—too much jumping, jostling and chest work. I decided to ease in with some mild leg days, arm days and light body weight work.
It still hurt.
Not in a surgery pain way, but in a 6-weeks off is 6-weeks too long sort of way. It hurt to sit. It hurt to walk. It hurt to move. I’ve never been so happy to have two lacrosse players at home so I could use one of their rubber balls to massage out the muscle pain.
I hit up a Barre class and a Pilates class. Then, I got back together with my gym friends for a Sunday workout.
More hugs. More smiles. More “welcome backs”. I never thought I’d be one of those people with gym friends, but I am and I’m lucky to have these people cheer me on louder than the voice in my head when it tells me “I can’t”.
It was a hard fucking workout! They don’t mess around. But damn it, I did it. I did it all. I did the jumping, I did the jostling. I did the chest work,
Apparently, I can do hard things now.
Midlife Mamacita 