Recoup Time

Wow -- it's been a long time!! Inspired by my daughter, Kate's, new blog after a volunteering trip to Costa Rica, it's time for me to get back behind the laptop and catch you up on the last two (what??? how can that be?) weeks.

The next few days after my surgery were spent in relative peace and quiet being a La-Z-Boy resident, feet up, Olympics on. My need for T3's decreased as each day went by and, by the time we were driving into Kamloops to load me on a Castlegar-bound airplane, I was feeling pretty good. The plan was that hanging out with sister/nurse Maureen and having several relaxing visits with my Mom and Dad would be the perfect cure for boring recuperation days in Ashcroft. 

Miraculously, the clouds demonstrated impeccable timing, parting at the appropriate moment for the plane to actually hit the tarmac at the airport nicknamed "Cancel-gar" for its difficult landing conditions. Arriving in Trail at 3 p.m. on February 14th allowed me to attend the Valentines buffet at Mom & Dad's seniors' facility. By the time dinner was over, however, I was more than ready to head to Maureen's and hit the hay. To say I was exhausted was a huge understatement.

Valentine's Buffet at Mom & Dad's

After my morning shower, Maureen asked to look at my surgeon's handiwork. Ever the nurse, she noticed that my implant side looked "a little red".  Oh great!! What next?? If you remember back to January 2013, a stay at Maureen's was when my armpit had swollen to the size of a large orange! With the help of a black felt pen, Maureen mapped out the edges of the red "ink blot" making its way across my breast. She wasn't "concerned" at this point, she claimed it was merely the best way to track the progress or regression of the red area. At this point in time, the area didn't seem hot -- a telltale sign of true infection.  Naturally, it was hard for me to put the threat of infection out of my mind. We did our best to get my mind off my chest with a little retail therapy in lovely Nelson.

After another restless night's sleep -- due largely to trying to find a comfortable position packed among four fluffy pillows -- Maureen and I thought we would attempt my first exercise since surgery. We headed out, with thoughts of taking a lengthy jaunt along the Columbia River on a beautiful, paved walking trail. Unfortunately, the balmy temperatures of the day before hadn't lasted through the night, creating a clear-as-glass skating rink on every square inch of the sidewalk. After several near-fatal falls, we glided back to the car and headed for an indoor walk. The cement oval behind the seats in the Trail arena (a REAL skating rink!) is an extremely popular walking location. It's flat, dry, ice-free, and relatively warm. We managed to clock about 20 laps before I had to call "enough".  It felt fabulous to get my body moving again.

We recorded our "icy" moment

before we headed indoors to walk.

The next three days were spent in true recoup fashion -- casual visits, a bit of catching up with friends, and very wee bit of school work. By the time David arrived by car, I was pretty much ready to head home. Home-Sweet-Home brought thoughts of returning to school -- was I ready? did my students work? was my classroom a mess?  

All those questions were answered on Saturday.

A Quick Hello

While I was away on a recuperation hiatus in Trail, my trusty little laptop was checked into rehab! Seems some website I went to, or something I downloaded caused some nasty spyware to get its tentacles wrapped around the inside workings of my computer. This caused all sorts of frustrating pop-ups and other annoying distractions, so I gritted my teeth and decided I could be without it while away from home. 

WRONG!!

Boy, did I miss this laptop!!! Several times, I tried to get to my blogger site on my sister's iPad, to no avail. It wanted me to have some special app downloaded or some such nonsense, and I didn't feel right doing that to a device that wasn't mine.

Long and short of it is ... I'm home now! And, even though I'm just headed off to school to get organized to return to work on Monday -- YAY!!!! (I think?!?) -- I WILL update you on my recuperation after surgery, the results of my check up with the plastic surgeon yesterday, and my plans to get my strength back over the next few weeks.

Until later ...

Alive to tell the story ...

After a rather restless night's sleep, I procrastinated getting ready to leave the house yesterday by lazing on the couch with the Olympics on. At the last possible moment, I stared reality in the face, threw on my already set-aside, carefully-chosen clothes (zipper up the front), and we were Kamloops bound. As luck would have it, it was seniors day on the highway, with the average vehicle speed hovering around 88 kph -- or were they also part of a well-laid plan of avoidance in getting to the hospital??

Esther met me at the front door and, after a quick stop at Admitting, we walked up 4 flights of stairs to Day Care Surgery. The ward is run rather like an assembly line, with three distinct holding areas -- chairs, beds, and "on deck"-- before one actually hits the bright lights and frigid temperatures of the operating room. Usually, I've had about a 10 minute wait in the "chairs" section of the OR assembly line, before being taken to gown up and climb into bed for the long wait to be called. Yesterday, we waited in the chairs for over an hour -- agonizing! Somehow, just getting called to stage two (the beds) makes it seem like you're making progress towards the OR. My wait was so long, I began to think they may have lost my paperwork or forgotten about me -- or were the nurses also part of the well-laid plan of avoidance?? Thankful for Esther's company, we livened up the waiting room with laughter and catching up on each other's week.

Finally, the call came. After being weighed and measured, it was time to gown up and have my vitals taken. The nurse told me my blood pressure was through the roof -- likely due to my nerves and pounding heart. Right on time, my OR time was still slated for 12:35 p.m. To my surprise, about noon the nurse asked me to visit the washroom since the OR had already called for me. What?? I wasn't ready! I needed more mental preparation time. The OR waits for no man -- or woman, apparently. Just as the orderly was starting to wheel me away, my plastic surgeon, Dr. M arrived for some "before" pictures and to cover my chest in intricate black felt marks, charting out the course of his work.

David and Esther accompanied me all the way to the "on deck" holding pen, where I got my IV and chatted with the anesthetist. He promised he would load up on the anti-nausea meds this time around, to avoid the experience I had after having my port removed. Time to go ...

... I HATE the sensation of the lost time -- in this case 1.5 hours in the operating room, and then recovery. It will always be one of life's strangest non-perceptions. Waking up seemed to be less groggy, less affected than any of my other surgeries. Perhaps the anesthetist did find a magic new concoction that my body and brain likes better than the last option. Esther and David came to check on me, and I was out of the hospital within one hour.

Although I had a virtually sleepless night (for reasons not connected to my sore chest), I feel pretty darn chipper today. My pain is very manageable with one T3 every 5-6 hours, which is a much lower dose than the doctor recommended. I've watched Olympics, paid bills, enjoyed carrot ginger soup (thanks David!), and talked to several family members on the phone.

All in all, a much less traumatic event than I was anticipating. 
And, what a HUGE relief to have it over with.
Last box, checked!!

Using Humour to Battle Fear

I don't really have anything new or earthshattering to say this evening, just ... the nervousness continues. Hence, my thought to try to battle the fear with some humour.

No ... there will be no "augmentation" taking place during my surgery, but I thought this cartoon was cute. I was looking for something to make me laugh!

Catch you on the other side of my surgery :)

A Chemo Anniversary

A momentous anniversary occurred on Saturday and I neglected to mention it in my post that day. February 8th marked one year since my first cycle of chemo.

Chemo is rather like pregnancy and childbirth in so many ways! Childbirth first ... a painful and rather traumatic experience, but one that brings incredible joy. So much so, that one's brain is apt to quickly forget all the discomfort and agony to concentrate solely on the end result -- an indescribable, precious gift in the form of a baby. When people ask me how chemo was, my brain is apt to quickly forget all the discomfort and agony, as well. I respond with things like, "It wasn't that bad.", or "The 16 weeks flew by." HOGWASH!! It was that bad!!

On Saturday, when it struck me what the date was, I thought several times of that first chemo experience...

• The trepidation and uncertainty with which I arrived at the Cancer Agency, shrouded in an uneasiness I couldn't really describe.
• The relative ease of receiving the two sets of chemo drugs, largely due to my port.
• Asking myself 99 times over, "Do I still feel OK?" and the incredible relief when the answer was "yes".
• The disappointment and sense of defeat when the answer changed to "NO!!!" 
• My desire to stay as still as possible, not think about food, and especially not think about coffee (aka ... the pregnancy part!)
• Overwhelming nausea -- the worst I've ever experienced in my life.
• Having to face my first Neupogen injections in the midst of everything else.
• My intense desire to walk away from the entire process!!

I could not let this anniversary come and go without some quick thank you's ...

Rachel - You took me out for lunch at the scrumptious Italian bakery in Oak Bay, where we sat outside in the sunshine, and I tried to forget what was coming later in the day. You sat beside me and reassured me as I cried with fear in the chemo chair. THANK YOU!

Kate - You nursed me over the course of the entire weekend, drying my tears, bringing me bowls, mopping my brow, and offering rock-like support. You drove for ginger ale, crackers,and other anti-nausea supplies. You gave me my first injection when I couldn't face doing it myself. THANK YOU!

Moya - You initially went to my chemo-teach session with me, and then were there to offer support and help nurse me through cycle #1. You went for supplies and waited on me hand and foot. THANK YOU!

Maureen - You checked on me constantly by phone, and talked me through my roughest day of cancer treatment. You reassured me, when all I wanted to do was run! THANK YOU!

I'm beyond "there" now :) 

Beyond "There"

During Friday's particularly difficult morning workout, one of my workout buddies let out a huge "Ugh!! I'm there!", meaning she was totally done in. Vicky responded with "Push yourself beyond 'there'!" Since it was my last workout class before surgery (Monday is B.C.'s Family Day, so no class), I pushed myself harder than normal -- definitely "there" and a little beyond. Amazing what the mind can force the body to do! Vicky's words really resonated with me and have come to my mind over and over during the last day.

Yesterday, as I watched Ashcroft Secondary School become a tiny blip in my rear view mirror, it almost felt as if I was leaving on an exotic holiday -- Hawaii, Mexico, Thailand -- take your pick! Unfortunately, the cold, hard fact is that my surgery date is only three days away and I won't be back at school for a minimum of two weeks. For me, the thought of any surgery is accompanied by some anxiety. One would think that the dread and apprehension would be absent since this will be my fourth surgery in little more than a year. However, it always seems difficult for me to totally ban the "what if" thoughts as I'm mentally preparing for the big day. Refusing to get stuck in this negative frame of mind, I have been pushing my mental thoughts beyond "there", and dwelling on the excitement that accompanies the thought that this is my last surgery.

My walk/running one mile per day didn't keep up this week since the thermometer dropped into the -20 degrees C range virtually every day. Call me feeble, but I simply couldn't make myself don runners, toque, and mitts and face the frigid temperatures. Beat the Bulge's food challenge was all about beverages -- 8+ glasses of water each day, and only one caffeinated beverage allowed. Pretty simple for me. The physical challenge was to do squats through the first commercial on each and every commercial break while watching TV. The night I watched "The Biggest Loser" finale, I counted 120 squats -- ouch! My second weigh in brought another 1.6 pounds loss, with another meeting with the scale due on Monday. After expressing disappointment with my lack of weight loss, Kate sent me several gentle reminders that true weight loss takes time, and to not put quite so much merit in what the numbers on the scale are. Here's a good reminder for us all ...

Wanting to make more strides with my running progress before I'm unable to handle impact for a few weeks, I borrowed the use of a treadmill to run this morning. I was "there" several times over, but managed to push myself to complete 5.9 km in 35 minutes -- with a few 30 second walking breaks along the way. To be repeated one last time on Monday ...

No matter what it is you're trying to conquer or master, it IS possible to push beyond "there". I know you can do it!!