Monday, December 20, 2010

8 Weeks Out and A Treat For You

No Duncle Dody, there's nothing wrong with your computer.  This is my blog in Christmas colors.  LOL.

It's been eight weeks since my surgery (bilateral mastectomy with 5 lymph nodes removed); what a difference after having some time to heal and some physical therapy.

The long scars under each breast don't hurt or burn anymore, and are only occasionally tender (unless I try to put them in a bra). The quarter moon scar under my left arm where five of my lymph nodes were removed is also healing well. At this point, most of my tenderness is when I raise the left arm; it pulls from my rib cage up into the underside of my bicep. It is considerably better though, and although there are still spots that are numb, the prickly pain is mild now, and the "rubber band" inside doesn't feel like it will snap.  It just pulls.

I still have a cinched feeling across my chest underneath my breasts, but it no longer feels like a nylon rope digging into my skin.  It feels more like a belt.  It changes as it goes around to the back, where it becomes a wide band of aching muscle, and there is still a vertical line of numbness between my shoulder blades leading up into my neck.

I have gotten used to all of this, although still rather puzzled with what to do with the deflated, sleeping like rocks, Flopsy and Mopsy.  I can only wear the loosest fitting sports bra for a couple of hours and these girls don't fit into a regular bra.  I decided to schedule with the mastectomy bra fitting specialist after the holidays.  Maybe she can MacGyver them like they do for radiation.

Speaking of radiation, I am growing fond of my two radiation techs, "R and R."  They have worked together for the last ten years.  I thought they were early twenties but are actually late twenties.  The girls met in college, landed their first job together at another hospital and worked there as radiation techs for five years.  In 2005, when the Cancer Center where I receive treatment opened, they were hired together there.

They take good care of me, and their music selection cracks me up.  They play one of their ipods in the radiation room and some days as the lasers flash I'm listening to classic Christmas carols; the next day its contemporary Hawaiian pop.  I get a kick out of them, and was surprised to hear they've been doing the job for ten years, and together no less.

Sometimes when either "R" or "R" carefully removes the bubble wrap platform underneath my left breast after being radiated, Flopsy hits my chest with such a smack it sounds like a clap.  Maybe I could go on David Letterman and do the "Stupid Human Tricks" segment.  Well hell, if some guy can play the Star Spangled Banner spanking his armpit, can't I let Flopsy flap?  Maybe I could get one of those clapper things that turn the lights on and off, and surprise the audience when Flopsy flaps, the lights go out.  What do ya think, do I have a shot?

Anyway, as far as Flopsy and Mopsy are concerned, I usually wear loose upper clothing and let them hang, or rather lay, fast asleep, like good little flat little bunnies.

Between my hair and boyish chest, I feel like Mary Martin when she starred in "Peter Pan." Some of you are too young to remember that.  Look it up baby, you got a computer.

Oh fine, do I have to do everything for you?  Just click and enjoy.  This is what TV used to be like.  Those were the days.

1 comment:

Buttercup said...

You do so make me laugh - maybe your next calling should be as a comedian!! I love your sense of humor!!!

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