Looking At It

I looked at the incision. To do that I rolled down the camisole and the Ace bandage. There is still some curve to my breast. How much is swelling, I don’t know. There are angry stitches on the edge by my underarm and sunken-in stitches about three-fourths of the way across the breast, making the breast look smooshed in, like it’s been in an accident. It hasn’t been; it’s been in an on-purpose. Not as horrible as I thought. I put the bandage back on and then replaced some gauze as protection, between the skin and the mastectomy camisole.

Not much later I was measuring the amount of blood in the bulbs and then put them back in place. I turned to leave the bathroom, then walked right into the outer edge of the door, leading with my right shoulder. For some reason my left underarm felt pulled and burned. I was afraid that a tube had dislodged. The feeling went away in a few minutes. It reminded me that I underwent major surgery two days ago. I have to be careful.

I just decided to call it my Soviet camisole; it’s unlovely and utilitarian and looks like it was designed by a committee way way before Perestroika.

3 comments:

Garry said...

I was able to stay in the hospital until they took the drains out, which was a relief. But on the other hand, I had a catheter for 3--count 'em--weeks. After the 3rd day home, I retubed myself to the small catheter bag that I could strap to my ankle so I could go for a walk. (You retube the end that goes into the catheter bag, not the end that goes where no tube should ever go, in my opinion). It was evening, and I limped gingerly into the park down the block, sat on a bench, reached down to my ankle and opened the drain on the bottom of the bag. It was the first time in my life I could take a piss in the park and not get worried about being arrested. Despite that, I would rather not have had the catheter.

Anonymous said...

I've walked into a door in the middle of the night after a surgery - it just makes you feel like you're losing all of your faculties at once! Like, do I have to lost my mind AND my left breast??

Josh said...

This makes me uncomfortable ready because I imagine what you're going through (I have a vivid imagination) and it doesn't feel good at all. I can't imagine (well technically I guess I can, but I doubt it's close) what you're going through in real life. Maybe I should put together a play to go along with your blogs. Is "The Cancer Diaries" taken already? Maybe I'll let you come up with the title.