Things were going all right with the drain and the concept of sleeping on the sofa. I was as comfortable as possible and I binge watched Northern Exposure which made me happy. I was tired and a little cranky, but not bad all things considered. The weekend came and we watched TV and movies and sat around and waited for the end of the drain phase of the recovery. It was supposed to be in for a minimum of seven days, but my surgeon was busy, so it would be nine days for me. Fun. The saddest part was that I was getting used to the routine that was actually a nightmare.
My husband showered me every day and helped me with my hair. I always wear my hair up in a pony tail, because I'm too lazy to get a hairstyle, and my husband was getting used to putting it up for me. It wasn't great, but he's a manly man and he did his best. It wasn't half bad, so I was impressed. I didn't have any problems eating and the pain wasn't affecting me much; so life was all right under the circumstances. As I'm sure I've said before; I don't really feel pain in my torso area.
The next issue came on Sunday morning. I was sitting with my arms out from under my blanket as I slept in the sofa and I woke up in the morning just like I always do. The problem was that for one brief second, I forgot that I'd just had major surgery. I did what I do almost every morning of my life. I sat up straight and stretched my arms. Not a good idea. Something pulled free. I wasn't even sure what it was. All I knew was that we had a problem. I yelled, and my husband jumped up. I was scared to move. I didn't know what kind of damage I'd done, if any. I was probably more scared at that moment than I had been before the surgery. Before the surgery I knew what was happening. When I stretched, I had no idea and I knew that whatever I'd done, it was in addition to the wounds I already had.
The drain was still in. There was still a little blood in the ball at the end of the drain tube. I wasn't hurting. I didn't know what to think. Neither did my husband. We decided to wait. I didn't feel bad and everything trucked along just the way it had before. We had some breakfast, had some lunch, watched a lot of TV, and sat around. Finally, we went to look at the would early in the evening. There was an enormous swelling where the drain was.
That was it. We did the one thing that we'd both hoped we wouldn't do. It was Sunday night and we had to go to the emergency room to get the thing checked out. I hate going to the emergency room. I never get answers when I go there. I always figure that there's no point to going, but I had to give it a shot that night. I was scared. So, we packed me up and went to the emergency room.
When we arrived, there was strangely nothing much going on. I live in a town full of drug addicts and what not, so the place it normally full of all kinds of nut jobs, but this night was not that case. We got in quickly and I saw a doctor that I had not seen before, so that made me feel good. The ones that I knew I wasn't too confident in. He examined me and then went to make a call to the surgeon on duty to ask him what he thought we should do. In the meantime, my husband and I sat and waited.
Finally, the doctor came back and had talked to the surgeon. Of course, the surgeon on duty wasn't my surgeon. Therefore, he didn't want to get too involved. He said to go home and call my surgeon in the morning. Great. Another scary night for me. I'm never surprised in a good way at my local emergency room.
We packed me back into the car and went back home. We hunkered down on the sofa and tried to sleep and waited until morning to call my surgeon.
The next day was Monday. My appointment was Wednesday. The nurse was coming to visit Monday morning. I called my surgeon and the girl told me not to worry about it unless the swelling got bigger, or I had a lot of pain. I reminded her that I wouldn't feel a lot of pain, so that wouldn't help me. She said it would be fine and they would see me Wednesday. Great. No answer there.
I called the lovely lady who had been designated as my Breast Cancer Navigator. She listened to me. I liked that about her. She always listened. She said to call her when the nurse came to check on me and that they would discuss the matter. Sounded good to me.
The nurse came and examined my drain and swelling and then she called my Navigator so they could talk. They discussed everything and then they told me that there did not appear to be any damage to the area. They were concerned that the drain may have had some blockage, but there was nothing that could be done about that until the drain came out. They assured me that it would not harm me, so I could wait and go to see the doctor for my appointment. I was satisfied at that point, because at least they had examined me and consulted before giving me an answer. Both of them were nurses with a lot of experience with mastectomies, so I believed what they told me.
The nurse completed my visit and went on her way. Then all I had to do was wait for the appointment when the drain was supposed to come out. I was nervous. I didn't know what would happen next. All I could do was sit on the sofa and watch some more Northern Exposure.
Sometimes you learn as you go. I thought that when I heard that I had cancer that was the scariest thing I'd ever heard. I then thought that having my breast cut off was the scariest thing I'd ever heard. Waiting is the scariest part. Waiting is the one thing that no one ever wants to do and no one ever really knows the outcome of. I was more scared at the point that I had to wait than I was when I knew what they were going to do. The last two days of the waiting after the surgery was worse than the surgery itself. I never knew I could feel that way until then. It was the first time that I'd truly been scared and that I'd wondered if I'd made the right decision.
Next, when I get a chance to write that is, I will tell you all about what happens when something goes wrong with a drain after a mastectomy.
