It’s Finished, Except…

I’m done. No more doctors’ appointments except for routine visits. My surgeon released me from his care today, barring any issues.

Although freed from his constant care, there are lifelong repercussions. I will need to massage the area for the rest of my life. If I don’t, the implant can grow stiff and immobile. However, the massage is easy. Push to one side, then the other. Push up and then down. I don’t have to this all day long, only a few times a day, after a shower, when dressing or undressing, getting up in the morning or going to bed at night.

Month Three—Almost There

No wonder my surgeon waits two months from the last saline fill before performing the next surgery. It’s day five, and I’m still tender from the muscle spasms, and the rock on my chest has grown to a boulder. My surgeon assures me this will subside as my muscles and tissues expand.

I take hope and strength knowing I am almost done. Only the surgery to remove the expander and place the prosthetic is left, besides the last six weeks of recovery.

This experience has broadened my view on many things. The number of other women I have encountered who have, or had, breast cancer and undergone mastectomies and reconstruction is much larger than I comprehended. According to my oncologist, one out of eight women are diagnosed with breast cancer in their lifetime. No wonder I know so many, including myself.

Even without dealing with cancer in one of its many forms, few of us escape this life unscarred or unscathed in some way. How well we adapt depends on many factors. For me, faith is at the top of the list. Prayer has seen me through this difficult time and my preceding trials. Attitude comes next. Anger, although natural, can adversely affect healing and places extra strain on our mental stamina. Denial can be dangerous, causing us to neglect to act promptly. With cancer, time is not our friend. I found acceptance and trust to be the most powerful attributes of my faith in any situation.

With my recovery and reconstruction almost complete, I thank God for every pain free day.
Something I will never again take for granted. Another thing I will not take for granted is time. I have slowed down my usual hectic pace and enjoy His gifts more fully, no longer rushing my prayers or my devotions. After prayer, I place time spent with my husband, parents, children, and friends at the top of my To Do list. My plans to develop and use my talents are still in place, but not at the forced, frenzied pace I’ve used in the past.

Life can change with my next breath, and none of us know our expiration date. It is a shame to waste a single moment not loving, praying, smiling, laughing, and being thankful.

The Simple Things

Unless something, like a surgery, upsets our daily routine, we don’t realize how many things we take for granted, like reaching for a shelf above our heads, bending down to pick something up from the floor, or pushing a grocery cart.

Exercise has improved my mobility, but the expander complicates some movements. It’s rigid and I can feel it move against my chest muscle despite the sutures stabilizing it. This is not painful per se, but not comfortable either.

The good news, the prosthetic will replace it in about two months. (Two more saline fills and a six month wait period before that surgery.) The implant will allow a more natural movement, but it will never be the same as biological tissue. I still prefer it to a flat space and a large scar.

Even if movement isn’t always comfortable, there are many who would trade places, restricted movement better than none. Something I need to remember whenever I’m frustrated. It could be so much worse.

I often think of St. Paul and the sufferings he encountered. He remained hopeful and cheerful despite appalling circumstances.

“None of these things move me.” Acts 20:24.

Someday, I hope I can say the same.