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.
07.27.09
Talk Dirty To Me
I admit it. I have a problem communicating my needs to my partner sometimes. I really don’t want to be a bother or a burden. I’ve been enough of that already in our 13 years of marriage. When it comes to things for the house or for others, I have no problem talking to him about those needs or desires. When it comes to my personal needs, especially when it comes to my breasts, I just seize up and turn silent.
I had it stuck in my head that my breasts were ugly, wedge shaped flaps of skin and for my 40th birthday I wanted beautiful breasts. Honestly I’ve always wanted beautiful breasts since the bra fitter at the local store when I was 15 said I should have teardrop shaped breasts and I didn’t. Of course at that age ANY girl is looking in a broken mirror. But that right there is the first incident that set me up for this screaming disaster.
Ken said if I could find a way to have the surgery then I could. So I did. I found a surgeon who was part of our barter network in Orlando. I checked him out and found that he had no record of misconduct and no pending or former law suits. To my eager mind, it was perfect. So I scheduled the surgery. If you haven’t read my blog before, please go back and read the first post to see what happened.
What is a barter network? It works like this: Say you have a product or service that someone pays you $100 for. You then take that $100 barter dollars and use it with anyone else in that barter network OR its affiliate networks. This surgeon was in that network. I’ve also gotten contact lenses, housekeeping, printing and LOTS of other stuff on barter. So it just made sense to me because I wanted pretty boobies THAT BADLY. I was obsessed.
Of course after the implants came out, the surgeon said he would perform the reconstruction for no additional cost. My bad decision had already cost us enough so I agreed to make Ken happy. I didn’t want to be any more of a burden than I had already been with all the appointments and V.A.C. bandage changes. As mangled and emotionally messed up as I was, I was convinced, even though Ken had never given any indication, that if I made any more waves, I could end up alone.
It took my best friend threatening to kill him while we were up in Atlanta for a visit (goodness knows she was serious) if he took me back to the guy who did this to me in the first place. I just wasn’t brave enough to tell him what I needed. I was just SO terrified that I felt frozen in place. I can only guess that he was going through his own mental issues because he never seemed to notice how terrified I was when we went to see the surgeon. But then, I used to act, so I put on the brave face of a good soldier and just dealt with it. After all, I was damaged goods in my mind. If I made too many waves, he would well within his rights just to leave. That’s how insecure, neurotic and emotional I was.
I would like to think that eventually I would have found the courage to tell my husband what I really needed but I honestly don’t know. I’m grateful that I had someone in my life who knew just by looking at me that there was something terribly wrong.
My point here is that if you’re going through a really difficult time like this, find a way to talk to your partner. If you have to write a letter or even seek out a therapist, do it. Communication with your partner is the most important tool in your tool box. In all likelihood, your partner feels just as helpless as you do.
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.
07.03.09
Everything’s Gonna Be Alright
When I was fully enmeshed in what i was going through and I felt my strength (and sanity) slipping away, there were always three sentences that helped me through and made me believe that everything really WAS going to be okay. If you’ve never been through a major trauma of ANY type, you probably know what it’s like to flounder around feeling helpless and alone. These three sentences, when repeated multiple times out loud, will go a long way to healing the emotional wounds and replenishing the hope that we all harbour, even when that flame flickers and threatens to die.
“Everything is going to be alright”
“It’s not your fault”
“I love you”
Even now I ‘m tearing up because I know, beyond a doubt, that those three sentences gave me strength when I couldn’t find it.
A good support system is also an imperative. Sure you can get through on your own but it’s so much more difficult without people you can lean on when you’re not so strong. If it weren’t for my husband and my best friend, I don’t know if I would have made it through. Thanks to their support and the support of my family, I found the strength in myself when I thought there wasn’t any more to be found.
Yeah. Everything’s Gonna Be Alright. No matter where YOU are in your process, just remember that there’s no such thing as a permanent problem. You’re gonna be just fine and so am I 
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?
10.28.08
A Ring and A Date
I once listened to an episode of Dr. Laura in which she told a young woman that her engagement wasn’t real until she had a ring and a date. Friday morning I booked my “engagement”.
Of course this was after a long, heartfelt discussion with Dr. Elliott. As you all know I’ve been freaking out. As Ken and I were waiting for the doctor to come in, I broke down and he walked in while Ken was comforting me. So the interview starts with me talking about how terrified I was about complications after this surgery.
He proceeded to tell me that what I was feeling was perfectly natural and that it was completely understandable that I would feel this way. HOWEVER he chose the specific Latissimus Dorsai Flap (http://www.emedicine.com/plastic/topic137.htm) reconstruction because there was a lower risk than the Tram Flap or Tummy Tuck style procedure.
He also explained that with someone my age, that a standard anchor style breast lift was a bad idea because it thinned tissue that was already stretched by breastfeeding and age. Then add to that the pressure of putting an implant in to make an area larger that the lift made smaller, plus the lack of drains in the incisions and it wasn’t surprising that I developed necrosis.
If you follow the link you’ll see that what happens is that sections of muscle, fat and skin are removed from the back and then rotated around to the front and molded into a breast mound. I have always wanted what I refer to as ski slope breasts. They’re the ones that are rounded on the underside and the top slopes down to the nipple. Dr. Elliott said what I requested as far as breast shape is actually the ideal shape for me. Because of the way the V.A.C. machine healed my chest, I have no bottom roundness so that is going to need to be completely constructed.
Of course I’ll have scars but honestly I’ll just be happy to have breasts again.
Then, once that part has healed, I’ll have one more surgery to reconstruct the nipples. After that, all that’s left is the medical tattooing.
After the consultation I spoke with his scheduler and I’ve set a date. The surgery will be May 29 2009.
Why so much time between now and the surgery? I really don’t want to be laid up over the holidays. This is our busy season for our business. Plus I have schoolwork that needs to be completed. My birthday is the end of January, our youngest son’s birthday is in February, our anniversary is in April and Balticon is the end of May. Then I have about 11 weeks to recover before DragonCon. It’s a helluva schedule which doesn’t even include family issues that we’re dealing with OR the move back to Atlanta that we’re planning once we get the house sold down here.
All that aside, my “engagement” is real. I have a Ring and a Date 
10.23.08
Interview
While I’m at Dr. Elliott’s office I’m going to be doing an interview with him about the process. I’m also going to be asking about the reality of complications, how frequently they really happen and what really causes them. Once RoyallMedia.com has the new site up next month I’ll be posting that interview. it will also be in one of the future episodes of BoobCast.
I’ll let you all know how it goes
PS: After a brief conversation with Hubby, I feel a bit better. I’m still overwhelmed, but as long as I remember that we’re taking it one step at a time, it’s easier to handle.
That, and remembering to take deep breaths when I start to freak out… Also a major helper. Oxygen: it’s a GOOD thing!
Terrified
Thursday morning at 11 am I have second appointment with Dr. Elliott. We’ll talk more about the Bilateral Tram Flap reconstruction process, take pictures and do whatever needs to be done for preliminaries.
I’m nauseous.
On the up side I used to be nauseous and shaking. That last part seems to have abated, so that’s a good thing.
I’m just so terrified that something else is going to go wrong. I’m scared beyond belief of having another severe complication like I had with the first (or second) surgery, only worse.
So why am I even doing this? I’m on the verge of tears, I’m so afraid. I don’t know if I can do this. Logically I realize that this is an unreasonable fear. Dr. Elliott is far more experienced than the motherfucker who screwed me up before. He has only had ONE instance in 22 years of a failure of the flap. He learned how do the procedure by studying under the doctor who INVENTED the damned thing.
And yet…I’m going to throw up.
I’ve said before that I’m torn. I can’t live like this. I’m mangled. My chest is a ruin. Yet I’m terrified of something going wrong. This decision is ripping me apart. I think deer in headlights have more idiomotor control than I do right now.
I’m hard headed (thick skulled?) though. I’ll find a way through the fear. I have to.
I’m going to write another installment after my appointment. So stay tuned boys and girls. Same boob time. Same boob chanel.
