Archives for posts with tag: Humor

As I mentioned earlier, the surgeries went fine yesterday. One of the surgeries was a delay procedure and it is designed to eliminate blood flows up to the abdominal area so that all blood flow comes from above the area. (I know that there are medical directional terms but I can’t figure them out.) The reason for this is that blood flow to the breast comes from above. In the abdomen the blood flow from below is a lot stronger so Dr. Welk made two small and relatively shallow incisions to my abdomen to cut off blood supply in that direction. That will make the flow from above stronger, which will reduce the chance of complications when the tissue is moved to my breast.

The other procedure was the placement of the tissue expander. See below for photos of deflated and expanded tissue expanders. They come in different shapes and sizes but all look like they have a yolk in the middle. When it’s implanted, it’s filled up a little bit with saline solution but since they don’t want to torture women, they don’t fill it all at once. So there needs to be a minimally invasive way to fill it incrementally in the weeks following surgery. The yolk is a magnet that it used to find the port into which the saline is injected. Dr. Welk says he uses a device like a stud finder (I suggest “babe finder”) to locate it. One of the pictures shows the tubing that is attached to the syringe to fill up the breast. So why am I eager to fly? Because the metal yolk sets off air security alarms! I have my very own “Device Identification Card”, signed by Dr. Welk to prove that my breast means no harm to the people of Earth!

In the mean time, I am resting and also trying to figure out how to pad out my bra on the right side a little. I thought I was really smart and organized when I ordered a smaller breast form. Dr. Welk said he’d fill up the expander about half way. I guessed that half would be about an A cup and then further guessed at the size of a breast form. I considered just waiting and getting some of those “increase your cup size” inserts at Target, but I figured that I’d end up lumpy and lobsided. To make a long story short, I’m more like a B cup so the breast form is too big. It is also shaped differently than newly leavened breast. When I put the breast form in, I was about a size G on the right side. Plus, it just looked weird because the breast form angles differently than my breast. I can’t explain it without showing a picture and I’m not going to put a photo of my breast on this blog. Let’s just say that since skin from the top of my breast was removed that now that it is filled, it appears to be defying gravity, especially once particular area, resulting in a major googly eyed effect. I suspect that this effect will not go away until the TRAM procedure, during which Dr. Welk will add some skin to my breast from my abdomen. I’m hoping that he avoids using the skin decorated with my pregnancy stretch marks. The guy is all about aesthetics so I’m sure he will.

So now you know how the expander looks. As to how it feels, it feels like I have a water balloon right below my skin, which is basically the truth. If I tap on my breast with my finger, it sounds like I’m tapping a Tupperware container. Maybe I can push on it to “lock in freshness” or practice Morse code or something. Finally, pain-wise I am doing okay so far. I took a couple of Percoset (not at the same time) yesterday but today I have switched to Advil combined with Traumeel, a homeopathic pain reliever that is actually evidence-based. (I have long been leery of any kind of homeopathy, and remain so as a general rule but this one looks like the real deal. Check it out for yourself here.)

I’d like my breast sunny side up, please!

So my mom has been dying to come up with a name to contribute to the name game. Earlier today she told me that she didn’t think she could think of something because because she “loved me too much” and didn’t want to make light of my cancer.

Oh how the love has faded because, drum roll please…, she has contributed:

Liv and Let Live

My dad, not to be left out and offering a mechanical interpretation:

Built and Re-Built

Both of those ideas made me laugh aloud after a very hard day. So I guess they love me a lot after all.

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Okay, so my cousin, Beth got me thinking about coming up with names for both righty and lefty. They are a set of a kind. So here goes, my stream of consciousness. As I did yesterday, I will add more as inspiration arises:

Boob and Boo Boo
Scooby and Scrappy
Lefty and Lucy (inspired by John’s suggestion “Righty Tighty and Lefty Loose-y”, which is backwards, unfortunately)
Benjamin and Button
Mammy and Mummy
Party and Pooped
Ta-da! and To-do
Zan and Jayna (The Wonder Twins, suggestion thanks to Lisa)
Waggy and Baggy
Jiggly and Scraggly
Lennie and Squiggy
Herman and Pee Wee
Judy and Punched
Hit and Miss
Denver and Phoenix (Okay, a little obscure but think about it and then groan.)
Teton and Won Ton
Ham Bow and Big Ow
Yin and Yang
Mickey and Mini (spelling intentional and I hear you all groaning.)
Bonnie and Clyde
Cupid and Psyche
Ernie and Bert (Okay, this one makes no sense but made me smile so I’m keeping it.)
Lilo and Stitched
Oscar and Felix
Simba and Scar
Wow and Ow

For some reason, I am finding a need to refer to the right side of my chest as something other than “surgical site.” It’s going to be several weeks before I start the temporary inflation process with the tissue expander so a name would be handy. And yes, I could stick with “righty” but that implies some kind of symmetry with “lefty”.  A few ideas of various levels of quality:

The Tissue Formerly Known as Righty
Breast-to-Be (I kind of like this one. Maybe a friend will throw me a shower before surgery. Yay, presents!)
Vegetarian Sweater Meat
Ugly Duckling (Some day it will turn into a bee-you-ti-ful swan.)
Breasterpillar (Some day it will turn into a bee-you-ti-ful breasterfly.)
Puppy Pupa (continuing with the metamorphosis theme)
Empty Jug
Sad Sack (waah!)
Berefticle (waah!)
Scarla
Storage Chest
Bosom in Waiting
Breast, in Space Saver Mode
Unleavened Breast
Late Bloomer
Bosom’s Buddy
Fixer Upper
Do-Over
The Start of Something Big
Under the Shoulder Boulder Holder

Dear Surgical Drain,

By now, having sit for a few hours in the exam room waste receptacle at the True Family Women’s Cancer Center, you have realized that I’ve left you and moved on with my life. I imagine this was a shock to you as it was rather sudden on my part. To be honest, I just wasn’t that into you. I mean, I needed you for awhile for your draining function but once you’d finished the job, I was dried out and done with you. I want to wear semi-normal clothes again without having to disguise your lumpy presence with blousy tops with wild prints. Yes, you embarrassed me. Frankly, your contents were kind of gross. Don’t despair, I will need you again in a few months when I have my TRAM surgery. We can catch up on old stories. Just remember this time, that this a TEMPORARY relationship of limited scope. I am a married woman, after all. But I do thank you for coming to my aid when I needed you most.

Sincerely,

Elizabeth

(Note: I meant this post to be funny but now I am feeling ridiculously and irrationally sorry for the surgical drain. After being off work for two weeks, I have this back log of empathy and I’m applying it to plastic! No wonder my high school creative writing teacher taught us not to anthropomorphize objects. It’s not only bad writing, but it is dangerous! Don’t try this at home!)

You should be so glad that I screened out the grosser images of Jackson-Pratt drains, which came up in my Google images search. This one is unused and straight out of the package. You’re welcome.

Okay, I know a lot of you are thinking, and not in the creepy 1-900 kind of way, “What are you wearing?” I am wearing a post-surgery camisole. The particular brand is Softee. It is made of super soft  white material. There is also a little ribbon bow in the front, just like the undershirts we used to wear as girls. For an irrational reason, this bow irritated me so I removed it. There are four pockets on the Softee, two on the exterior and two on the interior. Soft prostheses can be placed in the exterior pockets depending on whether you have a unilateral or bilateral mastectomy. Each prosthetic is filled with the same polyester stuffing that you can buy at a fabric store. You can adjust the amount of stuffing as needed. They are not exactly a perfect match but a reasonable visual facsimile for a breast until a more realistic prosthetic can be used (they are too heavy and hard to use now) or until reconstruction is completed. The interior pockets are designed to hold the surgical drain. This is a very handy feature since otherwise the drain would hang free and the tubing, which is attached to the drain, would pull against the skin. (Sorry, squeamish readers, I am keeping this as non-gross as I can. A function of my blog is educational and designed to demystify this process.)

So for now, the surgical camisole is my bra-facsimile. As for my main other clothes, I am wearing very soft PJ’s. Technically, I believe they are considered “lounge wear” because I could hypothetically wear them outside of the house. I will test this hypothesis on Tuesday for my two medical appointment. Today’s PJ’s (which to be truthful were also yesterday’s PJ’s) feature a loose smock in zebra print over stretch capri pants. I consider these to be my “dressy” PJ’s. Between the black capri stretch pants and the animal print, I believe I would fit in well in Palm Springs, especially if I carried a tiny dog in a pink leather purse.

In a couple of weeks, they’ll remove the surgical drain and I will have slightly more style options. I am insanely happy about this. Cancer is making me wear pants! That’s the last straw! Evil cancer! My body is made for dresses, not pants. I’ve been asked more than once by patients, “Dr. Elizabeth, why do you always wear dresses?” Rather than answering, “If you ever see me in pants, then you’ll know”, I say something about that fact that dresses feel more comfortable to me and that I like the way they look. Now before you all start posting comments like, “You have a beautiful body”, “I’ve seen you look good in pants”, yada, yada, yada, just know that I report the facts. (See, I filed this post in the “facts” category.) I happen to believe that I can be beautiful and still not look good in pants. Pants and I can be friends but we have different needs. I need them to be dresses and they need me to be a quite different shape.

When the drain is removed, I can move on to my one piece lounge wear, a collection of super soft t-shirt dresses, which were also purchased from the PJ section of Target and online from Sierra Trading Post. I favor micro-modal fabric. It is really soft and drapes nicely. It is a type of rayon but doesn’t wrinkle so much. I have pretty sensitive skin so when my medical oncologist, Dr. Rinn told me that I needed to invest in some super soft post-mastectomy clothing, I knew exactly what to get.

I’ve posted pictures below. Also, check out the clothing made by Chikara Design for women who decide not to do reconstruction or to use a prosthetic. I think the designs are elegant and clever.

Anyone who decides they must get me a toy poodle to accompany this outfit will be swiftly put on my “ex-friend list.”

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Tomorrow is the day that I say goodbye to rightie, the ta to my other ta, the oonga to my baz, and the crenshaw to my honeydew. And you don’t have to tell me that it’s sad because I already know. I do need to move forward and the sooner I have this surgery, the sooner I can get over the next round of painful and yucky stuff. My outward appearance with go from Elizabeth 1.0 to Elizabeth 2.0 to Elizabeth 3.0 by the time the holiday season comes upon us. (Just pretend that I was never a baby and I started out life as a 46 year old woman. Be creative.)

Elizabeth 1.0 did have a proper send off today. As I walked into Trader Joe’s, I received not one, but two compliments from the Trader Joe’s employee who was working out front. First he said, “Have a good time shopping” followed by, “I like your dress.” He may have even been younger than me. As an extra bonus, he was not one of the drunk guys at the bus shelter in the Junction, ergo the flirting was not the least bit creepy or boundary violating. The bus guys seem to be my main fan club. (And drunk guys, I haven’t heard a lot from you lately. Middle aged ladies need a little encouragement.) So hey, Elizabeth 1.0, you still got it and with a sober guy, too!

I am not going to be bringing my computer to the hospital tomorrow so I may not post anything until I get home on Thursday. John may have his computer and if I am mentally with-it enough I may be able to get him to post on my behalf. Otherwise, please be patient. I’m not sure what I am going to be up for communication-wise for a couple of days. I am confident that surgery will go well and even though it is likely to hurt for awhile and to be very upsetting, I will be okay. During my meeting with Dr. Beatty last Thursday I said, “I’m going to thank you now because next time I see you I may have lost perspective.” His reply was, “No, you won’t.” He’s probably right.

Goodbye, Girl; hello, long and healthy life.

The Trader Joe’s guy has an affinity for prints, apparently. I do think I looked better in this dress for the obvious reason. My whole head showed rather than being semi-headless like this model. To have an entire head is more aesthetically pleasing. I learned that in my art history classes. I do like her earrings, though. Buy your own dress at http://www.sierratradingpost.com/chetta-b-jersey-print-dress-v-neck-short-sleeve-for-women~p~4059u/?filterString=womens-dresses~d~257%2F&colorFamily=02

You remember who was in the chorus of the Gene Wilder musical classic? Yes, the Oompa Loompas. And what color were the Oompa Loompas? Yes, they were orange. And what color were my roots after using an unfortunate shade of Clairol Natural Instincts? Yes, they were a very deep shade of overripe cantalope. “Natural” Instincts, my ass!

I’ve never messed up a hair color before but I haven’t done it myself for several years and apparently, Clairol Natural Instincts uses a totally different formula as they did when I last used their products. And they are on a melon kick! Not to be seen in public (other than going to Target to get a fix for this), I used a non-permanent, normal looking reddish brown dye today. Ah, much better. Most of the melon is gone.

The Oompa Loompas would say that my parents are to blame for this mishap (“…the mother and the fa-ather”). However, the same thing happened to my mom and she warned me about it. When did I remember this? After I rinsed the color out of my hair! So, I’ve decided to blame Roald Dahl.

It will be so nice to be able to go back to the salon. It will happen.

P.S. The color was just like this except MORE orange. No lie.

The Oompa Loompas after disobeying their lax parents in the Clairol Factory and falling into a vat of Natural Instincts “Dark Auburn.”

Lindbergh High School Reunion '82, '83, '84, '85

Join us this summer for our reunion in Renton, WA!

George Lakoff

George Lakoff has retired as Distinguished Professor of Cognitive Science and Linguistics at the University of California at Berkeley. His newest book "The Neural Mind" is now available.

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