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Archive for the ‘recovery’ Category

Grampa is at peace. We lost him the other night, which was absolutely what was best for him, given the circumstances. It’s a small comfort to those of us left behind, as we would prefer to cling to him here, but that’s not fair, either. So we let his body go and all keep with us the pieces of the man who helped mold each of us in different ways. For me, I will always remember the grandfather who bounced me on his knee chanting about the duckies; introduced me to my love of theater; was my first minister; spanked me, my older brother and cousins when we got into mischief; took me to the top of Mount Washington; and welcomed us at the Cape. He furrowed his brow as much as smiled, and we loved and will miss both.

I apologize to all those who’ve commented on how silent I’ve been lately. It’s really been an overwhelming two weeks – in a totally different way than the preceding ones. From Mother’s Day when Grampa had his stroke, we’ve spent at least part of every day at the hospital, luckily surrounded by family. Tara rightly pointed out that one small silver lining was the timing of all this, in that at least with this happening during this point of my recovery, I was able to be there for him and my family, which certainly helped me. (None of us ever thought we would – or wanted to – know the Longwood district and all the hospitals so well. But we’re constantly thankful to be in Boston with some of the best hospitals in the world!) Now it’s planning and preparation for his service this weekend (details here). I’m doing a write-up on him for the funeral home’s web site, but struggling: it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever written. And I am beyond touched that Ginny and the rest of the family decided to direct people to donate to Dana-Farber for breast cancer research in lieu of flowers.

At the same time as all of this was happening, I also was running across the street from Beth Israel to Dana-Farber and Brigham and Women’s for my appointments. I had my first physical therapy (PT) appointment, which both felt like progress and hurt. I’ll continue PT twice a week for the next few weeks, in addition to my exercises at home. Also in the hurting category: I had my first tissue expansion injections with the reconstructive surgeon. The four giant syringes intimidated me at first (uh, do I really want boobs that bad???), but the process was fine, not nearly as bad as I expected. (I closed my eyes, although my mom was brave and watched.) Mom warned me not to get too excited about not hurting, as they gave me numbing stuff first. And boy was she right! I am still in pain that almost rivals the original surgery – no wonder he’s spacing these injections out to every four weeks! The highlight for me (in addition to now having slightly larger mounds where my breasts used to be) is that I am tentatively cleared to go back to work on Monday, June 4 – I really can’t wait. I will just need to take time off as necessary for all the appointments/additional surgeries and for when (if – as I am still dreaming I won’t be) I am sick from the chemo, which will now begin on June 12.

Also this week, my Dad and Maggie surprised me by driving up from Tennessee (where they went after I left them in Florida). My father was close to my grandfather and wanted to be here for him, as well as for me with all of this fun cancer stuff, and to help my 100-year-old Nana with things around her house, now that she is (momentarily) willing to accept a bit of help – boy do I know where my stubbornness comes from! (As well as some of the strong, independent woman DNA, although I am lucky to have that on all sides of my family!) It is comforting to have them here – and simply always good to see them, as it was when my brothers were both here last week.

This has definitely all been a reminder on the importance of family – including your closest friends who you consider family. Nothing is more important than spending time with the ones you love. You may not always see eye-to-eye, you may have knock-down, drag-out fights, you may not always be able to stand each other. But when it matters, you’re there for each other. And hopefully in the days in between you spend time together. It doesn’t matter what you do, as long as you’re together. Some of Nick and my favorite times were sitting on the deck at the Cape, simply talking with Grampa and Ginny and whatever aunts, uncles, cousins were around. Those are moments we will always treasure, and wouldn’t trade for the world. We love you Grampa , and miss you so already.

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Sunday, May 13, 2012

I know, and am incredibly thankful for, the unbelievable amount of prayers being said for me daily around the world. I would appreciate it if you could add to those a bit: we spent today at the hospital with my grandfather, who had a stroke early this morning and fell down the stairs. My instinct, of course, is to pray for him to live, for us all to have more days with him. While he has lived a good, long life – tomorrow is his 82nd birthday! – none of us are ready to say goodbye to him. Who ever is?

But that may be selfish. He is an active, energetic man, in both body and mind, and would hate to be confined to a bed and to not have control over his body – he’s a bad patient, as one of my family members said today. So I am praying for God to do what is best for Grampa – whether that is to take him home to heaven, or to grant us some more precious time with him – and that he hopefully will be well enough to be at his Cape house with all of us this summer, as we’ve planned.

What’s interesting is that through last night’s insomnia, I prayed quite a bit – more than I have in a very long time. It occurred to me that one of the things I have not done enough of lately is pray (yes, you can say ‘duh’). And to not necessarily pray for what I want. I think there’s a lot of truth in Garth Brooks’ song Unanswered PrayersRemember when you’re talkin’ to the man upstairs, That just because he doesn’t answer doesn’t mean he don’t care, Some of God’s greatest gifts are unanswered prayers. So I usually leave it to Him to determine what is best. Even though I don’t always know why some things happen, I do believe they usually happen for a reason. And praying, and putting my concerns in God’s hands, simply makes me feel better.

Interestingly, I prayed last night for today to be different since I’m starting to go stir crazy in my house, but I didn’t expect the hospital to be my change of scenery – although it was nice to be with many family members I haven’t seen in so long. (Why is it that it often takes tragedy to bring people together?) It was very tiring; many encouraged me to go home and rest, but I had a make-shift bed in the waiting room and could rest there as well as I could at home. (And thank you, Nick, for going home to get my pills – couldn’t have made it through the day without them…) It really was an exhausting day. Another thing I prayed for last night was to no longer have insomnia but I didn’t expect a long day at the hospital to be what would tire me out – I do believe I will be asleep before 2 a.m. for the first time since I was being drugged to sleep each night.

With my grandfather, we do have hope. I left him just a couple of hours ago. Throughout the day he went from completely unresponsive to now moving quite a bit in bed, squeezing our hands, opening one eye off and on, and nodding in response to some questions. He can hear, understand and acknowledge us. But he still has a very, very long way to go, should God chose to let him stay with us for a while more. There may be another blood clot, and he is having heart issues on top of the stroke. So thank you for adding him to your powerful prayers and positive thoughts. I know he and my entire family will appreciate them as much as I do…

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Warning: Somewhat explicit content. Don’t read if you don’t want to know too much or face details (I wish I could heed this warning!)…

Oh. My. Gosh. I never knew showering (alone) could be so tiring! Late yesterday I had the fourth and final drain removed. I was so happy because in so many ways it signals freedom: no more required bed rest, a decrease in medication, I can begin raising my arms and doing the beginner arm exercises, and, most important, I only had to wait another day to shower – no more sponge baths!!!

After spending the morning visiting with Tina (and snacking on her incredible avocado dip), I took a deep breath and headed for the bathroom. And then I froze. As much as I was dying to get completely clean, it suddenly occurred to me that in order to do so, I would need to get naked. And then I might see.

This might surprise some, but in a way I am still in denial. I have not looked at it yet. I am pretending they are both still there. Every time the doctors checked it in the hospital, I didn’t look. Of course, I didn’t (always) clamp my eyes closed or deliberately look away, either, since I didn’t want them to notice that I was avoiding it and tell me – as the doctor in a book I read did – that I had to look and face it before leaving the hospital. And each time I’ve been back at the hospital, for the drain removals and dressing changes, I’ve also averted my eyes. And otherwise, including during my baths, I had my surgical bra with the dressings on, since I couldn’t get the area wet yet. But now I’ve been given the all clear.

I did everything I could think of in the bathroom, like brushing my teeth and weighing myself (and texting Tara to ask how much she thought my boobs weighed to see if maybe I really have lost weight, even if you don’t factor cutting them off – which made me feel a bit better) before taking a deep breath and getting undressed.

Yes, other than a brief accidental glimpse, I was able to avoid seeing my chest. I guess it’s somewhat easier when there’s basically nothing there sticking out. But you can also do a lot with your eyes closed. Of course, when you’re trying to get thoroughly clean, you can’t avoid some touch, and that was difficult enough (mainly feels like a mound of muscle on the outside, while I still feel so tight and achy, like an elephant stepped on my chest and caved it in, on the inside).

But boy, I never thought I could get so tired just washing my hair! I can’t lift my arms very high, so I alternated bending my head down (eyes closed of course) and bending it to each side and just using that arm. I was completely wiped after – and I didn’t even attempt anything as complicated as shaving!

I needed a nap immediately, I could barely stay on my feet. As I drifted off, I thought how I guess the next time someone in a review or interview asks if I have something I have to work on, I guess I could add ‘being in denial’ to the list. And I will work on it – just not yet…

And then I contemplated whether to share something this intimate or not – and obviously decided yes. Some may wonder why, so I’ll tell you: because as much as I loved the book I recently read about a woman’s similar experience – and the movie version that I just watched the other night online – I was really surprised at how little time was spent, especially in the movie, on this part – the recovery, pre-additional treatment. It feels so long, painful and tiring, and each day is something new. So I thought since many others have not gone into it, I would…

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