**I'm going to pre-face this with a *trigger warning* because it entails talks of surgical stuff! Even though I had incredible surgeons, I don't think anything can truly prepare you for a mastectomy and reconstruction. My surgery was in October of 2020, and pandemic restrictions were in full swing. Thankfully, I was allowed one support partner and they were able to come back into pre-op with me before my surgery. We checked in early morning, and I got all set up and prepped. My surgeons came into pre-op and marked my body up with a marker. They were going to try their best to save my nipple, and thankfully they were able to do so. Those minutes leading up to getting brought back were agony. I broke down when they walked out of the little room. Part of me felt so much hatred towards my body. I still don't know the root cause of why I got this illness. They don't prepare you for the emotional side of this surgery. I felt like less of a woman, I breastfed my son so diligently for almost three years just to lose the lifeline source that nourished his little body. I also felt so guilty for even having these thoughts, because the majority of women getting this done are women who have cancer or have the gene for cancer and are taking the measures to save their life. I didn't have life saving grueling chemo up next for me. I had one more surgery and then I'd be okay. It's a weird place to be mentally because I felt so alone and had nothing to relate to in my experience.
They finally came to take my back to surgery, and rolled me down the hallway. I gave my guy a masked kiss and an I love you, and I was rolled through the doors. I climbed up on the operating table and was surrounded by my team. It's always the weirdest experience to just hop up on an OR table, it feels like you step into a different world. I remember just laying there waiting, shaking. Staring at the ceiling. Ready to put this hell behind, to not be in pure agony anymore, ready to be able to hold my son again, to wear a bra without filling it with blood, to look at myself and not feel disgusted. Before I knew it, a mask was on my face and I was asleep. Seven hours later, I woke up in post-op in the worst pain I have ever felt in my entire life. It felt like someone set my body on fire, and was slowly ripping me in half. I remember it being so busy in there, and they wouldn't allow my support person to come back in there because it was after 8 pm (even though he tried his best to find a way back to me.) I was crying so hard from the anesthesia and the pain and the little amount of meds they did give me in post-op didn't even scrape the top off of how I felt. Usually, after a mastectomy you have trouble with mobility for quite some time. I wasn't able to lift my left arm at all. My entire left side was wrapped and bandaged because of the skin they took, and I had drains coming out of me. I remember not looking down at my now missing breast. They had put the expander in during surgery and filled it with about 45 CC but it was just all nipple. I had always been a D cup, so I was used to big breasts since my late blooming self finally got them at 17. I was so out of it, I couldn't wrap my head around anything. I had no voice from being intubated for so long and post-op had other patients crashing so I was alone for a long time. I remember being so upset because they wouldn't let my support come back to see me and that's all I needed in that moment. A familiar face to tell me I was going to be okay.
For some reason, they did not have a bed available fo me on the breast surgery floor. It made no sense to me because this was scheduled for months. I should've known then that my hospital stay was going to be a nightmare. They placed me on some random post surgical floor at around 11 pm that night. My initial nurse that night was wonderful, and that was the only good thing about my days there. My plastic surgeon's team came in a few times to keep checking my new skin on my breast, because at first it wasn't taking and changing colors fast enough so that was a big worry. Every time they came in, mostly residents, I was tugged on and moved forward and poked to see color change. At this point my pain was becoming insane. I asked my nurse for pain medicine, so she put an order in for me. I hadn't been given any since post-op a few hours before. An hour went by and nothing. Then another hour. Nothing. The resident just kept telling her he'd call it in and wasn't. I was at the level of pain where I wanted to die. My body felt like pure lightening. I was able to text with my right hand (did I mentioned, I'm a lefty? Not being able to use my left arm for a while was the worst) I texted my sister, and my guy telling them they weren't giving me any medicine for the pain and I was hysterical. I was texting them to literally come find a way in to kill me because I could literally not take the pain anymore. My nurse got to the point where she had to scream at the resident to get me pain meds. It was 2 am by the time he finally called anything in. The smallest amount he could order. Thankfully, my nurse advocated for me and I got more with a wise ass remark on his end. I have a HIGH pain tolerance. I labored with my son for over twenty hours naturally until I had an emergency C section. That was NOTHING compared to this. I know this isn't the case for every woman, but I'm just sharing my experience. Because I had the LAT FLAP procedure also done, it made things really painful. I could probably go on for hours, all the crap I endured during my two day stay but it's not even worth bashing the hospital for at the point. I slowly walked out of there two days later with a UTI from never being taken to pee, and extra antibiotics for it. Trust me though, both of my surgeons apologized profusely when they found out the treatment I received and reprimanded the residents that were on that first night.
I was so happy to finally be home with my little guy. But, those first two weeks post-op were the hardest two weeks. I couldn't do anything myself. I had drains coming out of my back and breast, a giant incision on both. I needed help sitting up, sitting down, laying down, walking, brushing my hair, putting on my robe (which I lived in.) Everything. I had never felt so helpless in my entire life. I felt so confused, questioning if I did the right thing ( I did.) But, at the time when you're in so much pain you are going to ask all of these things to yourself. Mentally, it was a very dark time for me. For months on end. Although this mastectomy was a necessity for me, it tanked my spirit. There were some days where I just completely disassociated mentally because it was the only way I could cope. I remember the day I had to go for a follow up with my sister, and I wanted to try so bad to put my sweatshirt on myself and I got completely stuck in it. All I could do was cry. I was so tired of feeling helpless. That day, they finally took out my drains which is a wild experience and started to slowly fill my expander. The first time, I was terrified but it was not painful during the process. You have a little port they connect to, and fill it up that way. I went about every week or so until it was the size that I wanted. The day after a fill is a little sore but it's not really painful. Expanders are very uncomfortable, and feel nothing like a real breast. It does not move, and it's as hard as a rock. I wasn't allowed to wear a bra for months until my exchange surgery so I lived in baggy tee shirts.
In my next blog post, I will talk about my second surgery which was my exchange surgery from expander to implant, and also a second reconstruction on my back from the FLAP procedure. I'm going to link the couple of products that helped me so much post surgery. I have no affiliation with the products, just want to pass along what helped me. My e-mail is always open to chat!
Mastectomy Necessities
robes, button downs, and anything with a zipper will be your BREAST (hehe) friend!
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