10.31.09
Zombie
While I was doing the wet to dry bandages before the debridment, I frequently felt like I was a zombie. No, I didn’t want to eat brains, though I DID want to severely damage the HiQ.
***WARNING! GRAPHIC CONTENT AHEAD***
No what I mean is that when I would peel off the wet to dry dressing and pull away bits of dead flesh, I couldn’t help but feel like I was, at least in part, an undead zombie. Here I was dropping bits of flesh. And that’s what zombies do…walk around, eat people and drop bits of their body.
Instead of eating people, I felt like this situation was eating me alive. And not just in the literal sense. I began losing myself to this situation. I WAS a bouncy, vibrant, spur-of-the-moment type of person before I became Zombie Maria.
It has only been in the last month or two that I’ve come back to myself. I’m not there yet. I still shamble a bit, though there are no brain cravings. And unfortunately I still haven’t gottten past the point of wishing the HiQ ill. I really couldn’t actually do anything myself. I’m not that kind of person. But you can damn betcha that I wouldn’t be feeling bad if he were to accidentally get his hands crushed.
10.29.09
Misty Watercolor Memories
The human memory is an odd creature. Or at least mine is. I have been trying to remember incidents from the first four or five weeks after the initial lift and implant insertion surgery. I’ll try to zero in on that time and then my mind will slip sideways as though the memories had a silicone shield. Everything just slides right off. Non-stick memories.
I’m guessing this happens because I tried so hard to repress and not think about what was happening WHILE it was happening. I just dealt with one second at a time, did what I had to do and cried about it afterward. I was on what amounts to auto pilot. Either that or I detached and focused on the anatomical details. Although that really started more after the second surgery.
I wonder how much of this is a coping mechanism. Avoidance used to be a major part of my modus operandi. From what I learned when I was (briefly) a psych major, avoidance isn’t considered a healthy way of coping. Though I’m not so sure I WAS avoiding. I was changing the wet to dry dressings twice daily and going to my regularly scheduled doctor appointments with the HiQ.
I have to wonder how clearly people remember incidents of severe trauma. Does our brain initiate a response that allows us to be protected from the harshness of those memories? Is it some sort of conscious mechanism in which we tell ourselves that “this gets filed back here and we’re not going to remember this any more”. Rather like sticking our fingers in our ears and yelling “LALALALALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU LALALALALALA!!”
***WARNING – VIVID DESCRIPTION AHEAD***
And then…sometimes I get some vivid memories back. Like one of the times I was pulling off one of the wet to drys and a big chunk of flesh the size of a quarter came away with the necrotic tissue and I felt like Imhotep from “The Mummy”. Or a Zombie.
I actually spent a moment or two trying to put it back in the spot. You know…like when you’re a little kid and you break your favorite toy. You try to put it back together and it won’t go but you just can’t figure out why it won’t go back together.
Yeah, I think I was a little insane for a while.
07.06.09
Pieces
A few days ago I was talking to my best friend. Ninety-Nine percent of the time she’s right about what she says. I value her advice because she IS right so often. So those very few times when we disagree I find it very disconcerting. This is one of those times when I’m still trying to figure out if she is right yet again.
During our talk she went to great lengths to tell me something. She stressed that even when I was in the midst of the very worst and the necrosis was slowly eating my breasts away, or the sutures were tearing open and I had two tennis ball sized gaping wounds where I once had breasts, I was still whole. That no matter what happened to my body, in essence I was still me.
To some extent this is true. Even when I felt like a mangled, worthless subhuman thing, I was still Maria. I still had the basic make-up that makes me who I am.
There IS a point I have problems agreeing, however. If a situation, no matter what it is, breaks your spirit, if your mettle is pushed beyond the breaking point and you shatter under the weight of the situation, are you REALLY still whole?
Here is where I have to say No. Those pieces have to be put back together again. In many cases, those shards come together to create something stronger than before. Mettle isn’t tested unless it’s been through the forge.
Once in a while, for some people, those pieces don’t quite mend right. Mental illness can develop from extreme stress. When someone endures long periods of high stress levels, that saturation of adrenaline, etc can actually cause changes in brain chemistry. I’ve talked about post traumatic stress disorder before. Panic disorders, anxiety and depression are other issues that can develop. All of these mental issues can become life threatening. Depression can lead to suicide. Panic attacks and anxiety can lead to high blood pressure, stroke and heart attack.
Of course modern pharmacology can supply you with a pill to alleviate the symptoms of those mental illnesses. But the underlying cause still remains, possibly for years. This raises the question: Are you really whole if you don’t FEEL whole?
My friend’s premise is that our essence or soul cannot be affected by what happens to our bodies. That essence remains whole and perfect. That’s all well and good, but if the MIND, that mental spark that makes us who we are, is damaged, are we still whole?
In THIS regard, I have to disagree. Once something is broken it can never truly be made whole again. I will NEVER be the same again. I don’t just mean physically, either. Perhaps I am ‘whole’ but I am changed and I will never be the same.
That is not to say that I am not still ‘Maria’. I am. I have been changed by what has happened though. Who wouldn’t be? In some ways I am stronger. In others, I am weaker. Those aspects may eventually change. Right now, only Time will tell.
06.23.09
9 1/2 Weeks
From the title of the post, it’s pretty obvious what today’s topic is.
Medical updates.
The spot on my back is still troublesome. It’s not really getting any better. I’m still not too worried about it though as no one else at Dr. Elliott’s office is overly concerned. Last night Ken said he thinks I should “be seen” by Dr. Elliott’s contemporary down here, Dr. Roxanne Guy. I have an appointment for Thursday.
Honestly, I am SICK of “being seen”. I am SO over all of this medical crap. I just want to get ON with my life. I think that’s part of the reason I’ve started doing Ta Ta Tuesday. Even though I may not be completely done with all of this, I want to start enjoying the completion of the major stage.
The nurse at Dr. Elliott’s office had suggested that I wait another month to take the tape off the suture line. I got tired of waiting so I went ahead and took the tapes off four days early. Really I could have taken the tapes off at 6 weeks but I tend to be overly cautious as far as suture lines go.
I haven’t taken any acetaminophen for pain in a few days. I’m happy about that. It’s definitely a few steps ahead of where I was. My endurance, however, is another matter all together. I used to be able to be at Disney for anywhere from 12 to 14 hours. Now I can’t walk around for more than a couple hours without getting worn out. It’s possible that the heat could be exacerbating the issue, but I just don’t think so.
Mobility is another issue. I can raise my left arm all the way up next to my head. The skin in my armpit is still a little tight. My right arm is another matter. I can only raise it at a 55 or 60 degree angle without tightness and pain. It HAS improved since surgery. It’s just improving more slowly.
Emotionally I’m doing better, as the idea of TaTa Tuesday shows. I’m still trying to decide if I want to take a chance on nipple reconstruction. Some articles say that in experienced hands the failure rate is less than 2%. On other websites I’ve read women’s stories of how their nipples flattened out between six months to 2 years. There was also a fairly high incident of infection.
I have emailed Dr. Elliott and asked him to suggest someone who makes custom silicone nipples and write a letter of request. Every prosthetics maker I have found that does really good hand painted nipples requires a letter from a physician. Even if I decide to have the surgery later, I will still have the prosthetics in the mean time.
06.14.09
The Adjustment
Something I’ve been meaning to talk about for some time now is my process of making the adjustment from having a mangled A- cup to what I now know to be an F Cup. This has been a tremendous adjustment for me <no pun intended>. Not only have I had to make mental adjustments, but I’ve also had to make emotional AND physical adjustments. As I type this, I am tearing up because I STILL can’t believe that not only do I have natural, implant-free breasts, but I have HUGE, all-natural breasts. They’re mine. Not because I bought them but because the tissue is mine. They are a part of me.
Granted, those parts used to be elsewhere on me. The Latissimus Flap procedure, as I’ve mentioned before, takes a piece of muscle from the back, as well as fat and skin which is left attached to the blood supply on one end and pulled through under the skin to the front and molded to create a new breast. After the complications from my initial augmentation, I have been adamant about not having implants. I will explain why in a future installment.
Mentally I’ve had to slowly coax myself into the realization that I am no longer a mangled thing. Yes, there are small scars but in comparison, that is so completely inconsequential now that it really boggles my mind. The first time I looked in the mirror and realized that what I was seeing was real, it shoved me headlong down the path towards feeling whole again.
Emotionally, blogging my journey has helped imensely. Knowing that I might one day make a difference in someone’s life has been a major motivating factor. One of my long-time Twitter followers, QueerCincinatti, actually linked to my blog and told me how much of a difference I’ve made. Check out that post here and susbscribe to the blog. It’s chock full of fantastic information. http://tinyurl.com/kldzgs
I have tried for several weeks to write this particular post. It has been very difficult for me to find the right words. I’ve spent SO much time trying not to think about the wreckage that was my chest. Now that I am focusing on it, I find that I’m easily distracted. It’s like trying to drill glass. My mind skates over the surface of the topic and skitters off in a different direction before I can stop it.
Right now, for instance, I’m wondering if Ken needs help in the office or when we’re going to leave to run the couple errands I’d like to get done today. I’m also gauging how much pain I’m in and wondering if I should get up to take acetominophen or do I need a 1/2 Darvocet?
No, I don’t have ADD. I’ve just trained myself for the last two years to avoid thinking deeply and seriously about the situation surrounding my breasts or, until 6 weeks ago, the lack thereof. So please bear with me while I…oh look! A butterfly!
No. Seriously. I have to work on retraining myself now. I have to remind myself that it IS okay to look in the mirror. It IS okay to look down at my chest because I actually have something there to look at now that isn’t mutilated or damaged in some horrible way. It’s going to take time to make that adjustment, too.
I thought I had made it to some extent. I was wrong. There are still parts of this that make me cry if I think about it. That’s just normal, human feeling. Recovering from major trauma takes time. Having breasts again goes a long way, but it doesn’t magically repair the emotional damage that watching the necrosis steadily eat away my breasts or not really understanding why it happened or even the emotional damage of having my concerns blatantly ignored by the first surgeon.
When I first started this post, I thought I would be talking about how I’m still adjusting to the size of the Twins. Really they still get in the way sometimes. The other day I actually whacked one against the doorjamb as I was exiting the bathroom!
It turns out though that after eight weeks the mental adjustment has gotten easier. I do occasionaly wake up in the morning feeling angry over what happened. Because this was the result of plastic surgery gone awry, we had to pay for the reconstruction ourselves. That really pisses me off to no end that people like me have no other option because cosmetic surgery is looked on as vanity-based or superfluous.
No one’s health issue, regardless of the initial reason, should be marginalized like that.
But again, I digress.
SEE??? It’s hard to actually stay focued on the mental adjustments I’m making. I’m thinking that I am probably not alone here.
Clothes shopping last week actually helped. I bough some new, sexy tops that showcase the Twins. Those really make me smile because I haven’t felt sexy is a VERY long time. Not because my Hubby hasn’t been supportive. He HAS been, telling me I’m beautiful no matter what. It’s just hard to believe that when I felt so mangled and sub-human.
I’m starting to come back from that though. I actually got called “gorgious” this morning by someone I’d just met yesterday. Yes, I got hit on 
That helps, though after all I’ve been through, it’s still pretty weird.
This post is running long so I’m going to wrap up this episode. I WILL be talking more about these adjustments though. And remember, dear reader, you are NOT alone. Email me. I am happy to talk to you any time.
05.28.09
Six Weeks
There’s so much to talk about that I don’t know where to begin. Thursday May 27 will be six weeks since my surgery. Everything is looking good. The small opening on my back has scabbed over and is getting smaller every day. The other areas are all looking good. There is still the red spot on my right breast that hasn’t changed and there is still very minor bruising on the left. None of that is a reason for concern. I just find it odd that those things are persisting.
As requested by Dr. Elliott, I showered tonight, washed all the incision sites and re-taped them. I’m still not exactly certain why he wanted those re taped. He IS the expert here though so we deferred to his knowledge. My guess is that he still wants to keep the scarring to a minimum and that’s what the tape does. It keeps the scars flat and prevents them from becoming keloid scars (http://www.medicinenet.com/keloid/article.htm).
Something I noticed after my shower is that the skin on my back is still somewhat tight. It isn’t nearly as bad as it was six weeks ago when I felt like I was bound in a corset. It still feels like there is tape or some kind of light binding even when there isn’t though. I’ve also noticed that in a good portion of my back I still have absolutely no feeling. The only reason I know that I am touching skin is because my fingertips feel skin. I don’t even feel pressure in some places.
My armpits are almost as bad, though there is a little bit of feeling there. My left arm is almost completely back to normal as far as mobility goes. It’s still a bit sore, but it’s much better. The range of motion in my right arm is still limited. I still cannot straighten it directly next to my head. I CAN hold it at about a 60 degree angle though. I think perhaps I need to start working on stretching it. I may start a VERY light exercise routine of stretching to start increasing my range of motion. Before I do that though I’m going to call Dr. Elliott’s office and ask what they think first. No point in messing myself up if he says no. I’m all about avoiding the messing myself up bit.
Speaking of…I had another flashback tonight after I got out of the shower. It’s been a few weeks since the last time. I’m glad those horrific moments are getting fewer and farther between. I’m not thoroughly convinced that I may not be suffering in some small way from post traumatic stress disorder. PTSD isn’t just something that combat troops may have to deal with. Anyone who has been in a long term life threatening situation, whether that’s combat related, health related or even related to a rape, can develop PTSD. Flashbacks are one of those symptoms. For me, hell for anyone it’s completely terrifying to “see” incisions tear open like they did before. That was the first episode in a few weeks though. So that’s getting much better, too.
I’m starting to go out more frequently too. Before we left for my one month checkup I tried to get a hair appointment with my regular stylist because my roots were hideoulsy long. Unfortunately she couldn’t fit me in. So, silly me, I found someone else on the Pravana website and she squeezed me in. I say silly me because I actually expected her to do a good job since she claims she teaches at Brevard Community College in Cocoa. I even told her that for the dye to take properly, my roots have to be at least a gold color.
She screwed up. She lightened them to a medium brown and then tried to dye over that. My roots HIDEOUS. It looked like someone had tried to just dye over them. She promised that she would fix it for free. So against my better judgement I went back today. Somehow she managed to screw it up again. She DID manage to lighten the roots but not to the right shade because now they have an ORANGE tint to them!! I am NEVER going back to her again. I don’t care HOW desperate I am.
Now I have to wait at least a week before I can make an appointment with LeAnn at Belleza in Rockledge. I’m just going to have to call her, explain what happened and see how soon she wants to see me.
The day wasn’t a total loss though. After the stylist was done, Ken and I went out to Norman’s Raw Bar and Grill in Cocoa Village for lunch. While we were there we recorded the first episode of our food podcast “The Chipped Plate Chronicles”. YAY!!
I’m looking forward to Friday. I REALLY want to go see the new Pixar movie “Up”. It looks like it’s going to be absolutely fantastic! The reviews on www.rottentomatoes.com are phenomenal. I’ve also seen all the previews so I’m excited about it.
We have also planned that for our weekly outing to Disney, I am going to try to walk from the car in the Minnie parking lot (Yes, we know a secret) to the gift shop where they rent the wheelchairs. I think I could make it into the park, but by the time I got down to Casey’s, I’d have to have a cast member bring me a chair.
In the next couple days I’m going to release a post called “The Adjustment” that is going to cover more of my mental, physical and emotional adjustments and how I handled them. And how I’m STILL handling some of them so stay tuned!
11.13.08
Distractions
After my last post, Ken led me into our bedroom, handed me my shoes and bag and led me out to the car. He *knew* I needed to get out of here. Since we have annual passes to DisneyWorld, we went to Animal Kingdom and saw our two favorite stage shows “Finding Nemo: The Musical” (mine) and “Festival of the Lion King” (his). It was a great distraction until I got home again.
Yesterday he took me to see “Zack and Miri Make a Prono”. I love Kevin Smith movies and that was a really sweet film. Oh and for anyone keeping track of such things I WANT a Monroeville Zombies hockey jersey for Xmas. Tell @SantaClause25 on Twitter
It was another great distraction. So was the shopping I did yesterday and the craft project I’m planning and work and school and the promotion I’m doing for the national equality rally on Nov. 15 http://tinyurl.com/57hns3
It’s ALL a great distraction. As I’ve said before I tend to push myself very hard. I’ll keep pushing and pushing until I hurt myself. I’ve managed to do that yet again.
I’m so ANGRY with myself because I keep thinking I should be over this. I should be able to deal with it better. I SHOULD be able to stand up and talk about this coherently without breaking down in tears while simply typing about how I’m feeling.
But I can’t. And I feel like a failure to myself and others because I can’t.
I talked to my Mom a couple days ago at length about this. She had something similar happen with her reconstruction after a double radical mastectomy and second stage breast cancer. She told me that she has never completely emotionally recovered from it.
So I wonder: Is it the same for every woman who goes through breast trauma? Even moreso, is it the same for everyone who loses part of their body?
Do any of us ever really recover? Are we ever really the same? Or do we just keep pretending for the sake of everyone around us? Buck up soldier. Put on that brave face so that no one around you knows that inside, we’re all grieving? Is that all that’s left? A brave performance?
I suspect that with the holiday season looming, many of us will be doing just that: putting on a brave face so that our loved ones will feel better. Who needs acting lessons when we have family?
10.17.08
Batshit Crazy
I was hooked up to a portable V.A.C. machine (http://www.kci1.com/35.asp), from December 7th 2007 until January 24th 2008 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Except for the few hours every three days that my husband spent pulling the specialized foam from the open wounds in my chest, cutting new pieces and putting the plastic and suction tubes back on, I carried this thing around with me as it slowly healed my chest.
It uses low level vacuum pressure to close the wounds and pull out dead tissue and fluids. In all honesty I think it saved my life. Up until the point that the surgeon’s nurse suggested it, I had been packing the open wounds with saline-soaked gauze three times a day. Even though i was grateful for the machine, it still made a soft clattering sound that was a constant reminder that I had made this choice and it was my fault that this was happening to, not only myself, but my husband and my sons.
During those months, I became even more depressed than I previously was. I think that I’m still suffering from what is called “situational depression”. I don’t like going to bed because during the day and evening there are so many distractions. When I go to bed, though, the distractions are gone and I’m left alone with my thoughts. Sometimes I can’t fall asleep until 3 am. Then I sleep until 11 and the cycle perpetuates itself.
I recognize depression in myself because there was a time when I loved cruising eBay. Now, I have little to no interest. I mean, I *could* look, but what’s the point? I’m not totally depressed. I still love my work and I’m excited about BoobCast. It just seems like some of the flavor has been taken out of the world.
I’m not the type to pin happiness on a situation. Such as, I don’t say things like “I’ll be happy when I get ________________”. I think I’m making an exception though. I’ll be happier when I don’t look at my chest in the mirror and feel mangled.
In the mean time…I’m batshit crazy.
