Yesterday was one of those “both” kind of days. It was my first visit to his office since the big surgery, and when I walked in the door, his nurse gasped, I can’t believe how well you’re walking! I told her the same thing I told my tennis teammates when I went to watch their match Wednesday: it’s been more than a week since the surgery; I’m done.
I’m wardrobe-challenged again, like I was post-mastectomy. While it seems like an eternity ago that I was scrounging through my closet after the mastectomy to find something, anything, to wear, it’s all coming back to me now. How complacent, how cocky I have been in recent months, thinking I can just pull any old thing on and get out the door. Now it’s once again a carefully orchestrated project that involves lots of shuffling, digging, flipping, re-hanging, and cursing. This time, though, the challenge is because the remaining drains are at the super-long incision on my belly. One drain on each hip, like an unruly set of twins. I’m starting to despise those twins. I got a mild scolding from Jenn (Dr Spiegel’s PA) when I saw her Tuesday because I was wearing jeans, and they don’t want anything to rub on that gigantic tummy incision. I may just start wearing my pajamas everywhere until that bad boy heals. Or maybe I’ll wear whatever I want and send the same message that Shia LaBeouf sent. Seemed to work well for him.
The first thing the good doctor noticed when he graced my exam room was that I have several bruises on my leg. I got him good, though, by telling him they were from playing tennis. The look on his face was priceless. Oh how I wish I had a freeze frame of that look. That moment between what he thought (she’s been playing!) and reality (no way she could have played already, it’s only 10 days post-op) shines in my memory as one of my favorite moments.
Every visit to my doc’s office results in innumerable nuggets of wackiness. First runner-up for nugget of the day was when his nurse said she thought my new chest looked really good. I said, yeah, if you’re into that sort of thing. What I meant was, if you’re into a mostly cleaned-up mess, a partially cleared train wreck, and that the docs did a great job with the concaved, ET-looking chest I ended up with after the infection. Compared to that fresh hell, the new, improved version is pretty amazing. And as a testament to the skill and artistry of the surgeons, yes, it’s great.
The highlight of yesterday’s visit came when the good doctor examined my tummy incision and took a look at my lower half. Remember how he thought I needed to gain a bunch of weight to provide the building material for the new girls? And how even after I gained several pounds, he was still convinced it wasn’t enough? Well now that the dye has been cast and the pounds that weren’t reallocated have stuck, he’s not happy with the extra bit that settled on my hips, and says, and I quote, “We need to suck that right out. We need to get rid of that. I’m going to suck that right out so it is gone.” I swear, There is no pleasing that man.