It has been three months since my breast reduction surgery and I have to say that things continue to go well. The discomfort is barely there, and only when I stretch too far in one direction or another. The scars are fading and my breasts are becoming softer as the swelling continues to dwindle away. I finally got a chance to go out bra shopping a couple weeks ago. Having good fitting bras is absolutely wonderful, and I feel so good when I get dressed now.

I bought four bras on my trip. Three from LaBratique and one from Herbergers. I always have to remember when I go to a place like LaBratique that I’m spending money for good every day bras, and not looking for something sexy. I prefer to wear sexy bras all the time, but that’s not really feasible cost wise. I got a nice black and white checked bra on the clearance rack for a good price. It’s so comfortable, and my favorite of the bunch. Then, I got a good every day nude bra and a sports bra. My trip to Herbergers ended up with me getting a strapless bra, something I haven’t been able to wear since I was a teen. It actually stays up and is comfortable. I didn’t even know that was possible.

This will likely be my final blog on the subject and I wanted to include some takeaways.

First, I am SO GLAD I made the decision to have this surgery. Even with the complications I had, it was worth it. I feel great now both physically and mentally. I even have the drive to start exercising, which is huge. Now I can take care of the rest of me.

The complication I had with the Pulmonary Embolism is not a common thing. If you are reading this and my experience scared you, please don’t let that affect your decision. If you don’t have any reason to suspect a blood clotting issue, it is highly unlikely that you will have the same issue. We are still in the process of discovering why I might have had that complication. I am suspect that I may have an underlying condition that predisposed me to it with the surgery. So please, don’t let this scare you.

I waited until I was in the right place in my life to have the surgery done. The major factor in this was the ability to breastfeed. It was very important to me, and so I didn’t even consider the surgery an option until my youngest weaned. And even then, I waited a few months. Without the support of my husband, I never would have been able to handle the recovery, especially with my complications. You have to weigh what’s important to you with the physical pain you are in and decide how to move forward. Only you can make the right decision for yourself. I hope this blog helped explain the whole process and make it a little less mysterious. That’s why I wrote it.

I hope this blog helped explain the whole process and make it a little less mysterious. That’s why I wrote it. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to post as a comment here and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.

It has been four weeks since I had my breast reduction surgery. This whole month has just been a whirlwind, and I will be glad for the new year coming up in just a few days. It has only been a few days since I last posted, but a lot has happened since then.

On Sunday, I dropped John and the kids off at my in-laws and went out shopping. I had $20 in Kohls Cash to spend, and this was probably my only chance to do it. I went in to look for another bra and then to see if any shirts caught my eye. I was hoping to match a new necklace I bought, but didn’t end up finding anything. I did, however, end up buying a new dress, a new bra, some stockings, a couple of cheap earrings to fill in where I didn’t already have a pair. The dress I bought was something I never would have considered before. It was a different style than I’m used to, but something about it felt right. I figured it would be good to wear to my Poppa’s funeral, and also something I could wear when attending events for work. I ended up spending $80 and saving $140. That’s a pretty damn good deal.

I needed some shoes to go with it, so I stopped at Famous Footwear, just across the street. I found a pair of shoes to go with the dress, and then I found a pair of brown boots (which I’d been wanting) and a new pair of tennis shoes to replace the worn-out pair I’d been wearing for far too long. Gotta love a good clearance sale.

I wore the new outfit to the funeral and got a ton of compliments. Every compliment really hits home. My body image is improving so much over what it used to be. After the funeral, I headed towards Edina to follow-up with my surgeon. Everything was still looking really great, and he lifted all my restrictions. Back to business as usual! I was so excited. I can finally take a bath! I can pick up my kids! In a few weeks, I’m going to get a membership to a club and a personal trainer. There’s still a lot of healing to do, and I can’t just jump right back in, but I’m not banned from anything anymore. No more excuses to sit on my ass.

I also had a realization as I was leaving the surgeons office. I haven’t had any back pain recently. None. At all. It’s really an amazing feeling to know that one of the reasons I went through this is actually paying off.

I’m a little behind on this update, as I haven’t had much to update. We’ve been really busy getting ready for Christmas and so most things went by the wayside. The healing process is still going really well, surgery wise. My incisions bother me less and less every day and my new bras make me feel more normal. I’ve started going through my clothes as there are a lot of things that don’t fit me anymore. There are also things that look better on me now than they ever did. Case in point: this dress I made a few years ago. The ability to wear it without a bra excites me.

I feel better in my skin than I have in a long time. I get a lot of compliments when I see people for the first time post-surgery. I’m still really tired from the PE, but that could take weeks to months to really get back to normal. I just have to know my limits and take care of myself when I hit them.

I also put together a page on this site to show the healing process with photos. This page is most definitely NSFW, and if I know you closely, I really don’t need to know you’ve looked at it. When I started doing research, I found it really helpful to see what the incisions and scars looked like from a breast reduction. It also helped to find people who went from a size similar to mine to the size I was thinking about. Seeing the comparison really helped me prepare, and I wanted to pay that forward. Although I haven’t uploaded a before photo yet, I’m hoping to get access to the one that the surgeon took and add it to the photo gallery soon.

That’s all I’ve got this week. I see the surgeon again tomorrow. I’m hoping that some of my weight and movement restrictions are lifted and I can start doing more normal things.  I’ll post again about that in a few days.

It’s been two weeks since surgery and the longest two weeks of my life. From my own medical issues to those affecting various family members, I feel like I’ve been on a roller coaster that has had mostly downhills. As if I hadn’t already gone through enough, last night my Dad was hospitalized for pneumonia, and then later that evening, my Poppa passed away. My Dad is where he needs to be, and I trust that the doctors will help him get back on his feet. My Poppa, he was a really great man, and, based on my planned topic for this blog, I think he would have approved. Those of you who knew him will know what I mean momentarily.

First, let’s start with my check-up with the surgeon yesterday. I finally got to see my surgeon for the first time after surgery. I should have had a one-week check-up, but that whole PE thing threw that right out the window. The appointment went a lot quicker than I had anticipated. Although, I guess I’m not really sure why I thought so. He came in, inspected my incisions, removed the steri-strips that hadn’t already fallen off, and then asked if I had any questions. He said I could start wearing a bra any time now, and while I was there, I felt like I might not have been ready, because I still had some discomfort in the incisions under my breasts. So I declined the bras they had in stock there, and he wrapped me back in the bandage with a little bit of dressing in case my exposed incisions drained a bit.

At that time, I couldn’t think of any questions, so we set another appointment for two weeks out.Of course, once we left, I remembered all the questions I wanted to ask. I’ll post them here so I don’t forget again.

• When can I soak in a bath?
• When can I try to sleep on my side?
• When can I resume sexual activity?

I’m still under weight restrictions, and although he said I could probably do a little more arm movement, I shouldn’t overdo it, and should continue to keep arms in for a while yet. He did this because I was still a little bruised, which is likely taking longer to go away due to the blood thinners I’m on. As long as I’m bruised, I’m still at risk for bleeding. Add in blood thinners, and we’re taking extra precautions. I do NOT want to end up back in surgery or the er or the hospital. So we’re playing it safe.

After he left, the lady who runs the front desk came in and asked if I had wanted any of the bras there. I told her no, but she insisted we take one home. She said that the pressure from the bra on my incisions would probably feel really good. So, we guessed at the size (they run small and are hard to fit), and grabbed one on the way out.

I tried it on at home that night and she was right, the sizing was really off. It didn’t fit. I threw the bandage back on over a t-shirt. I’d have to look at buying some bras soon, just to try it out. We’d bring back the one that didn’t fit.

This week I’ve been back to work, which has been nice, but also exhausting. Monday I petered out at 1 pm, today I petered out at 1:30 pm, but pushed through to 2 pm. I left and spent some time relaxing over at my Nana’s house. It was nice to spend some time with her, but also sad to think that Poppa would never be back. All afternoon I’d been experiencing some discomfort. I wanted to crawl out of my skin. My incisions, my skin around the incisions, and even my skin nowhere near my incisions was crawling. Add that to my exhaustion and I was going crazy!

I left for my INR appointment (we’re finally over 2.0 and I get to stop the Lovenox!), and afterwards got a boost of energy or something because I decided to go across the street and try to find a bra. Anything to get out of the bandage, which I was now sure was what was driving me crazy.

I spent way too much time there. First I looked at shapewear. I hate how my belly looks right now because it sticks out in really weird ways. I wanted to find something to just smooth things out a little. That was hard because most shapewear I can’t pull up due to my arm/weight restrictions. They were just too hard! I also looked for a bra, the main reason for the trip. I found a couple that looked like they would be comfortable. They were the same brand, just different cuts. I tried them on and I couldn’t stop smiling. I looked in the mirror and not only was the bra extremely comfortable, but it looked amazing. I looked amazing. Okay, so my belly was hanging out and not quite so amazing, but this was the first bra I’d tried on in a store like Kohls in 10, 15, maybe 20 years. I kid you not. 20 years.

I was so excited I took a picture. I’m going to be extremely vulnerable here and post my picture because I’m just THAT excited about it.

The brand is Bali Comfort Revolution. If you are reading this because you are considering a reduction, these bras are amazing. If I could have walked out wearing it, I would have. The band is soft and wide, so it stretches over my incisions and doesn’t cut in. There’s no underwire (which is not necessary anymore anyway), and they stretch. The sizing is not typical bra sizing, but they have a chart included that helps find your size, I just happen to be a Large, which corresponds with 38D perfectly. They happened to be on sale buy one get one 50% off, so I grabbed two.

High on the excitement of this new bra, I went into the clothing section. Now, I have plans for a major shopping trip after the holidays, but I’ve been feeling really bad about my current wardrobe. Most of my clothes now get caught on my belly, which makes me feel awful, or, they’re big and bulky and don’t fit in the chest anymore. So, I tried on a couple things and picked up two shirts that I felt good in. For the first time in two weeks, I’m excited to get dressed tomorrow. I’ll get dressed thinking about how, if my Poppa could just see me, he would have approved.

I will be so happy if I never see the inside of an emergency room again. Three times in one week, four times in two is four times too many. Just after dinner this evening, I was sitting out and felt a sudden twinge of pain in my chest. It was right above my breast, so my first reaction was that it was one of the sharp pins I’d been experiencing all week in my breasts. Only issue is, those pains have been mostly centered around the incision sites and this one was above the nipple. Then I breathed in and felt the all too familiar triangle of pain that I had experienced Sunday night and beyond. I looked at John and told him what was happening. I wanted to watch it for a bit to see if it got better or worse.

It was getting close to bedtime for the kids, so I had contingency plans running through my head. Who would I call to bring me to the ER? Or would we drop the kids off? All the while, with every breath, it felt like my back and my ribs needed to be adjusted by my chiropractor. The pain was sharp, not dull, and it felt like I had pulled a muscle in my shoulder. It was exactly how it started on Sunday night.

I sat down on the couch, proclaimed how fucking ridiculous this all was, and then laid back. The pain got worse. I started thinking through my options. Do I go in? The pain wasn’t horrible yet. But did I want it to be? What would happen if we didn’t go in? Pulmonary Embolisms can be fatal. But I was already on blood thinners, there wasn’t really much they could do. Unless the pain continued to get worse.

When the pain sharpened with lying back, I told John that we should probably go in. We swept up the kiddos, dropped them off with Grandma and Grandpa and made our way there. On the way, I started having second thoughts. I mean, I really didn’t want to be in the ER for the third time this week. I kept breathing deep, monitoring the pain, and then having to remind myself not to do that because it was making me dizzy. I tried calling a nurse line, but got put on hold for way too long.

We got to the ER and the pain was feeling a little better until I got out of the car to walk. This reaffirmed my decision as the pain once again spread throughout my back and shoulder. I checked in, and was brought back to triage. I answered the questions, had a nice sharp pain when I sat down, my blood pressure was ridiculously high, like 158/128. And then just as suddenly as it all started…it stopped. All the pain was gone. I took a deep breath. Nothing. UGH! Of course I was glad that this was probably a trip for nothing, but damnit, we were here and there was no backing out at this point.

We got back to the room, I felt embarrassed explaining everything to the doc with the fact that the pain had just suddenly disappeared, and I got an extremely uncomfortable IV put in my arm. My poor arm. I don’t think it has anything left to give. They still wanted to check me out for any complications. I got a chest x-ray, an EKG and some bloodwork done.

While we waited for results to be returned, I remembered having seen ads on Facebook earlier in the day for Mary Poppins on ABC. So, we turned it on and waited. Everything came back normal. INR still not therapeutic. The doc basically said that it could have been another clot, or it could have just been some irritation in my lungs. Personally, based on the sudden start and stop, I think something was moving around in there. I don’t know if the pain comes on suddenly when a clot gets lodged, but it stopped suddenly as though it was pushed through and no longer causing issues. Perhaps since my blood is thinner it was just easier for my body to move it through quickly, unlike Monday’s episode.

So, we were discharged, picked up and kids and just got home. Tomorrow’s excitement may include a doctor visit for Magnus. No rest for the weary.

For the first two, possibly three weeks after the reduction, I am bound to wear only an ace bandage for support around my breasts. Some surgeons use a special bra that’s basically like a sports bra, but mine prefers the ace bandage. This shows me to keep the pressure compressive, yet comfortable.

I have to wear a t-shirt under the bandage for a few reasons.

1. We don’t want any drainage in the first week to ruin the bandage
2. For comfort. I can’t even imagine having only the bandage over my incisions. Ouch.

I spent the first week in just a t-shirt and bandage and, because of the hospital stay, finally started putting on a shirt over everything yesterday. It’s quite the routine in the morning.

On Monday I see my surgeon for the first time since the surgery. I was supposed to see him last Monday, but that whole pulmonary embolism thing put that visit on hold. I’ll get to find out how much longer I’ll need to wear the bandage, what restrictions will be lifted, and get a sense of what the rest of my recovery might look like.

It’s possible that the blood thinners could lengthen my healing time, but I’m still feeling well, and things are looking good.

If I do get to put aside the bandage I’ll get to start with simple sports bras and tank bras. I won’t want to spend a lot of money on a nice bra until the swelling has settled. This could take a couple of months. I’ll start with something soft and comfortable. I’d go without a bra at all, these girls hold their own quite nicely, but my nipples have a mind of their own. They must be restrained.

I’m still really looking forward to going through my wardrobe and then heading out to shop. I wish my tummy wasn’t so jiggly around the middle, all the changes have altered my silhouette, but I’ll take care of that in time.

Thursday morning started out really well. I was resting, getting up to walk periodically, and even doing some work from home. I’d even gotten my incentive spirometer up to 1500! This made me cough quite a bit, though, but I figured that was a good sign that I was using more of my lungs and getting back to normal at a steady pace.

After lunch, I sat down to watch some Game of Thrones and felt a good coughing fit come on. The coughs were productive. Like when you’re sick and have mucous that needs to come up. There was definitely something that needed to come up because it wasn’t just a quick cough and then done. I was also starting to taste metallic with each cough. Oh great. Then I coughed up a good sized piece of bloody mucous. It wasn’t like blood streaked mucous, the entire damn thing was saturated with blood. Because I had been tasting metallic, I knew I needed to get a look at what was coming up, so I coughed it out into my hand, took a picture in case the doctor needed to see, and then went to the bathroom for a tissue.

I walked in and told John, “Now don’t freak out, it’s probably normal, but I just coughed up blood”. He immediately responds, “You’re going to call in to make sure, right?” Of course. So, I called the nurse line at the hospital, explained the situation, and they asked us to come in. Our paperwork had also mentioned going in if I started coughing up blood.

I figured it was either from the damage to my lungs, or, worst case, I started bleeding somewhere, and we needed to get it checked out. We drove to the ER. When we got there, they put me in the same room as I was in on Monday. I thought that was kind of funny. At least, I was in good spirits this time. The nurse came in, asked about everything, hooked me up to an IV and we waited for the doc.

The doc came in and based on the fact that I hadn’t continued coughing up blood, didn’t seem concerned. Her immediate thought was that my INR had increased too much and that I was bleeding too easily and my meds would have to be changed. They had drawn blood and said it would take an hour to get the results and just to sit tight.

The wait was long, a little over an hour. I joked with John that maybe they’d give me a punch card for all these visits. We discussed Christmas gifts while we were waiting. Finally, the results came back and my INR had hardly changed since I left the hospital. This meant no change in meds, and that I’d probably have to be on the Lovenox for a lot longer than expected. Fun. She gave me the information I needed to know for when to come back in. I definitely didn’t want to have to run to the ER for every blood tinged piece of mucous I coughed up. I feel confident now that we can make those decisions when we have to.

We had to stop at Target for more pillows on the way home. John’s Mom had picked up the kids for us. We stopped at home to grab my meds and do my shot and then went to their house for dinner and to grab the kiddos. I even had a very small glass of wine.

Although I woke up a bit tired this morning I’m looking forward to trying again for another day of recovery and some semblance of normalcy.

Okay. So I was talking about my visit with the doctor when we ended last time. A couple more things I learned from him. I also suffered from Pulmonary Infarction which means that some of the tissue in my lung died due to the lack of oxygen. Wait, did I say that in blog 1? Maybe I did. Kids, this is your brain on morphine.

So, that morning I was enjoying being relatively pain-free. The feeling was still there when I took a deep breath, but the feeling was much duller. The doctor mentioned getting up and out walking a couple of times that day. He also ordered me off my PCA and half of the wires and tubes coming out of me to get me more mobile. They also had me start using an Incentive Spirometer to help get my lungs back into shape and make sure I’m not at risk for pneumonia. Apparently with all the shortness of breath I was having, pneumonia was a real complication. That actually scared me into using it. I’m still not where I need to be, but it’s become a game. I told the kids it was a game Mommy had to play to get better. They thought that was the coolest thing ever. The goal is to get the dial to 2000, I’m finally hitting 1000 consistently while at home. I was 500-750 all day on Tuesday. By the way, I had to look up the name of this thing because I can never remember what it’s called (I had to look it up for the blog). I keep calling it my breathy-inney-thingy. Scientific. I know. Here’s a picture! 

Okay, so that morning went pretty well. Larry stopped by shortly before lunch to say hi, and then John arrived just before Larry left. After lunch, which still didn’t consist of much more than broth and a couple bites of other things I thought might go down, but were not appetizing at all, we went for my first walk. The doctor had said to go half as far as I thought I could. Did I listen to him? No. I went 3/4 as far as I thought I could because I’m an idiot. By the time we got back to the room, I was exhausted. I crawled into bed and started having more pains again. By 2 pm I was breathing short again and John convinced me not to be a hero and to take more pain medication. He was right. So, another round of Dilaudid. Another couple hours of dozing off.

Around 3 pm my Mom showed up, and she was a very welcome visitor as I was starting to feel a little lonely. We talked family history, she got into a great conversation with my nurse, and we just chatted for a long time. Oh, and she brought me a bubble tea from Indigo Tea Co. Apparently, she didn’t know what kind to get me so she showed the lady there my picture and said, “My Daughter is a customer of yours and usually gets a bubble tea, but I don’t know what kind. Do you?” And the lady knew exactly who I was and what I usually get. So awesome. I haven’t visited as much lately, but I’m glad they at least still recognize me.

The bubble tea was the first thing that tasted good to me in days. It was a life saver. During the two hours that Mom was there, I perked up a TON. I felt the effects of the morphine dwindle away and I finally started feeling like myself again. The pain was only there when I had a random spasm or burp or quick breath, and even then, it wasn’t as bad.

Mom left around 5, just as I was getting word that John and the boys were on their way over. I told them not to worry about my dinner. And then…I ordered real food. I wanted real food. I ordered the Butter Crumb Cod, Buttered Noodles, and a Salad (to get me moving, because..narcotics!). The boys came with their Happy Meals and were upset to get another Lugia Pokemon, and I got to tell them all about my new breathing game and talk to them and play with them, and boy was it lovely. They rode on the bottom of my bed, and then finally had to go as it was after their bedtime.

Once they were gone I pulled out my Jamberry Nail Wraps and went to work. I’d been waiting to be coherent enough to do this for a whole day (that’s a long time in the hospital) and was glad to be feeling good enough. Just before I did my nails, though, my nurse came in and explained that the Doctor had changed my orders and that I’d have to be on Lovenox for a while as I transitioned to Coumadin. Lovenox is a shot, and one they fully expected me to give myself on my own, and at home. Oh boy. I’ve never really been good with needles. But, if my friend could do it her entire pregnancy, then I could do it for a few days, right?! (Thanks for the encouragement Tara! You didn’t even know you did it!) So, I got to give myself the first injection and talk about all the fun restrictions while being on blood thinners.

At that point, the nurses basically left me alone. It felt weird to not have people stopping in all the time. I got my nails to the point where I needed my rice bag warmed up,  but no one came in. So, I started blogging. Then I finished the blog. And still, no one came in. I went for a walk. Everyone was busy. I felt so selfish pressing that button to have someone heat up my rice bag for a beauty need, but I’d already gone forward and couldn’t go back. I finished my nails, cleaned up my room a bit, and went to bed.

The night was relatively calm. Shift changes happened and I had a hard time getting comfortable. I woke up a couple of times but otherwise slept soundly.

The morning shift change was when I was told I would be going home for sure. That was at 7:15/7:30. They didn’t know when, but it depended on when the doctor could stop by. Low and behold, 8 am rolls around and there he is! He apologized for not stopping back the night previous, but explained his reasoning behind the meds he chose to give me, which I agreed with. We talked about the dietary restrictions, who to follow up with this week (primary care) and later on (hematologist). Then, it was just up to the nurses to disconnect my IV, and send me on my way. It all happened within an hour. In fact, it happened so quickly, we got a phone call from my surgeon on the way home who had stopped by, hoping to catch me. Oh well.

So now I have a follow up on Friday for the meds, I have a follow up with the surgeon on Monday for my breast reduction, and then I’ll go ahead and figure out when to connect with the hematologist.

And now I’m home and it’s wonderful. A few days of rest, then back to work on Monday. Thank you for all the encouraging words over the last few days. My phone just completely blew up, buzzing constantly on Monday morning and I was so grateful to hear from every single one of you. Here’s my messy but so welcome view:

I’m writing from home today. Yay! So, I think we left off with the diagnosis on Monday morning. Shortly after diagnosis, I was admitted to a room on the second floor. They must have been busy because they put me up in the pediatrics unit. Holy moly those rooms are nice. Big, colorful, large tv’s (not that I would have watched anything), and the best thing? The therapy dog stops there first on his rounds. So I got to enjoy a few pets and kisses from Brisket, a very lovable Tibetan Spaniel.

John got there almost right away after I got settled in (didn’t I tell you I thought my ER trip would take just about the same amount of time as it would take for John to get up with the kids and then come get me?!)  That morning, although I wanted nothing other than to sleep, I had constant visitors from various aspects of the hospital and testing facilities. First up was an ultrasound of my legs to check for DVT.

I went down to ultrasound, which went fine, although it took a little longer because I had the student ultrasound tech. By the time we were done the pain meds were wearing off, so I was anxious to get back up to my room. They gave me Dilaudid right away when I got back, which took the pain away very quickly. When I got back I learned that 5 more people had stopped by looking for me. Yay. It was going to be a long day.

The next couple of hours consisted of the following:

• Ultrasound of my heart
• EKG of my heart and hooking up to a heart monitor
• The blood draw of DOOM
• Visits from the PA, the Pharmacist, the Doctor, Nurses, Charge Nurses, etc.
• Breakfast (sort of)
• A lot of pain

You might be curious about the blood draw of DOOM. The nurse came in and decided she was going to draw blood from my arm that had gotten all the contrast injected into it. It was swollen. I don’t even know how she did it, but she did. It wasn’t too bad for me, but I remember looking down and she had about 8 tubes of my blood already. How she even found a vein over there, I’ll never know. All of the other nurses steered clear of that arm and took blood from my hand instead.

Finally, near lunch time, I was able to sneak in a wink or two of sleep. It was maybe an hour at most, but it felt really good. I spent most of the afternoon going in and out of sleep, mostly due to the Dilaudid. It was weird because it would make me fall asleep and then I would wake up 5 minutes later thinking I had slept for a far longer period of time. There was talk about transferring me upstairs to the medical/surgical ward (where they are better equipped for heart monitors), then they said they were keeping me there.

Then things changed again, and suddenly I was being transferred upstairs because a room had opened up. I didn’t really care. I was pretty doped up at this time. Still in a lot of pain, though, which would be the case for at least another 12 hours.

I got settled in my new room (which was NOT as swanky as the peds room) and spent most of the afternoon falling asleep every moment I could. The Dilaudid made me so tired I would fall asleep mid-thought/sentence/whatever, and I never knew if I was going to sleep for long, or if it would be 5 minutes later when I woke up.

I wasn’t up for visitors, but I really wanted to see the kids. John brought the kids over after daycare and also brought Noodles & Company for dinner. The kids ate all of their food, but mine tasted like horrible mush and I couldn’t eat it. I hadn’t eaten much at all except for a bit here or there. We kept trying different things, but nothing tasted or sounded good. I guess I know how my Dad felt when he was sick last year. They ate their food and I spent my time falling asleep quite often, which I felt bad about. I was ready for them to go much sooner than I would have liked them to be. We bid each other goodnight and they went home. Then I ordered a cup of broth from room service before they closed down and that was the first thing to taste good all day and would become all I ate for a while.

After they left, the nurses came in and I asked them about making sure we were on a schedule for the oxycontin (or codone?) and Dilaudid. If we fell behind at all, the pain was quite unbearable. It could go from a 3 to a 9 in a 5-minute span of time, and so I wanted to just keep taking the meds as often as I could. So, we wrote out the schedule on the board and always updated when a new dose was given. This kept things mostly under control for the evening and gave me a little more control over it. Mostly. Many times, getting up to go to the bathroom would bring on an episode that was really painful. And if I wasn’t ready for a dose yet, I had to wait it out. The pain would come on with breathing. It felt like with every breath that someone was stabbing a knife into my right lung all the way from my side to my shoulder. It was pretty damn awful.

At the next shift change, I had a little bit of an upset with my new nurses. I went from getting my meds close together to being told that I had to wait at least an hour between the two (I was told later that this was likely due to the fact that the RN was training someone in and being more conservative). I was in pain when I was told this, which ended up causing a pretty bad spike in pain that evening, one of the worst since the ER. Then I was able to have my Dilaudid again and things mostly calmed down. By 2 am, the nurses suggested that we switch to a PCA rather than doing the scheduled doses to see if that helped control it better.

Sometime between my bad spike and getting the PCA something had changed. I woke up and the pain was…different. It was still there, but it was….less sharp. It was odd, I didn’t want to minimize the pain because I was still in a lot of it. But things felt better and like they were going in the right direction. They hooked me up to the PCA early Tuesday morning, and I remember that it took a few doses, but all of a sudden, I slept. Then, because I had slept and not continued with the pain meds, I was in a world of hurt each time I woke up. I kept pressing that damn button. I’d wake up 5 minutes later and press the button (and of course, nothing would come out).

Sidenote: I didn’t really explain what a PCA was. PCA stands for Patient Controlled Analgesia. It only allows a specific dose over a specific period of time. So, I could get a dose every 15 minutes, but no sooner.

Those 15 minute periods around 6 am or so were the longest ever. I had started having more spasms at this time. Any time I burped, or moved too quickly, or accidentally breathed in too far, I would have a spasm of pain that spiked and then quickly dissipated. I was using it constantly, and as I began to wake up, I thought, maybe I should wait until I really need it and not just keep pressing the button. I think the last time I pressed the button was 8 am. Then, the pain started feeling better. It was more dull and achy than sharp. It was manageable. Around 9 or 10 am, my head started to clear and I could think again. It was wonderful. I was still really tired, though.

The doctor came in about 8:30 or so and we had a good chat. He was concerned about my history and asked me a lot of questions. At one point, I mentioned that my Mom had DVT, and he asked if I knew what the cause was. I said no and he was insistent I find out. Like, could I call her now, insistent. So, he left and said he’d come back in about 15 minutes and I called my Mom. She mentioned that they assume she has it because of the medication she takes, as it’s not a known genetic issue (at this time). She also reminded me of a few other family history things that I ought to mention to the doc.

As per usual, it took the doc a while to return, but I gave him what I had, and he explained that he was trying to decide which drug to put me on. There’s Coumadin, which is the oldest, safest, drug on the block. Or, there are newer ones with less history. The risks with them are greater, but I’m also a perfect candidate for them. He wanted to think on it some more and said he’d come back later that day to discuss. I really liked this Doctor and felt that he did a very good job.

Based on the questions everyone was asking, I get the feeling that none of them would have expected me to be susceptible to clotting unless there was an underlying issue. My surgeon had said that I was not considered in a high-risk group, and this doctor said the same. Some of the nurses and the first PA I saw thought it could have been my Mirena, but the doctors and my surgeon refuted that. Blood clots are at higher risk with estrogen based birth control. Mirena has no estrogen and doesn’t carry the same risk. So, although that was initially thought to be a probable cause, it was not. Thank goodness, because it’s been amazing to me and I’d hate to get rid of it.

I never heard back the results of my genetic testing (maybe it’s not done yet), but there will probably be more in the future. It definitely could be that I was too lazy during my week of recovery and that my activity level wasn’t high enough to offset the risk from surgery alone. But even then, the surgery I had wasn’t deep (like abdominal surgery or something), and the doctor felt insignificant enough to question why I was having these clots. Long story short, I’m opting into any further testing they want to do. With my family history of nearly everything, it would probably be a good idea regardless.

I’m going to stop this here as it’s become a rather long blog. I’ll put together part three later today. That should get me through release and then we can start talking about boobies again!

The surgery was a week ago today and I found out that there’s nothing like a life threatening emergency to pass the time.

Recovery had been going well, despite some general discomfort on Saturday after discontinuing my pain meds. Then, on Saturday night, my heartburn hit. I believe I mentioned that already though. The heartburn kept coming and going into Sunday, which was really rough. I spent most of the day pacing the house. Then, Sunday afternoon I got up off the couch with a terrible feeling on one side of my back. It felt really tight, like I had pulled something or needed a serious adjustment from the chiropractor. I remember wondering to myself whether or not I could actually get an adjustment after surgery.

That night, I tried to go to bed and couldn’t lie down without extreme pain. My entire back radiated with pain when I breathed in, or laid back too far. So, I went downstairs, planted myself in a chair and tried to go to sleep. Around 11pm, the heartburn started coming back, which made it hard to sleep or even sit down. I paced the house and complained on Facebook. Then the back pain started getting worse. At this point, I started thinking about how I was going to sleep at all and whether or not I should be going to urgent care. I posted that to Facebook too. Then my friend Tara told me to call her. She asked me questions about the pain and told me that she would come get me if I needed to go in, rather than drive myself. We both agreed that I should call the surgeon, and I hung up to do so. My surgeon happened to be on call that night and I told him about the pain. He thought it was likely a musculoskeletor problem, and this far out, unlikely anything surgery related. He did, however, think it was a good idea to go to urgent care, just to cover my bases and get checked out.

I called Tara back  just before 1am, and she headed my way. I woke John up (he had been sleeping in the boys room after Magnus fell off the bed), and he helped me get ready to go. He was concerned, but I told him to get some sleep.

We got to urgent care and got in almost right away. At this point, I was thinking that we might get some answers on my heartburn, and that I had probably just pulled a muscle in my back and would get some relaxers. Once I got into the room, however, the nurse started asking a lot of questions about my gallbladder. I’ve never known of any gall bladder issues in my family, nor was I familiar. They took urine and blood. The doctor also recommended checking for blood clots and pancreatitis. My labs came back mostly normal. One came back concerning low sodium, and another hadn’t come back yet. That was the test for blood clots. In the meantime they sent me to have a chest X-ray to see if they could see anything.

The chest X-ray was inconclusive. At this point, the pain was getting worse and all I could do was pace my room. The doctor came back and said that the last test had shown that there was a possibility of a clot and that I would have to go to the er. Lucky for me, Tara was still there waiting for me and she transported me to the closest ER. By this time, it was 4am,so I told her to go home and rest. The ER would likely take a few hours so I could have John pick me up after dropping the kids off. I felt bad making her stay up all night.

Walking into the ER, I knew everything was getting worse. I could barely breathe in without major pain. The triage nurse got an IV in me right away and they took me back. The time in the ER is a little blurry, mostly, I remember waiting. Then crying because the pain had gotten so excruciating that I didn’t want to breathe anymore. Every breath was a challenge. I was breathing shallow, and if I took a sudden breath of made any sudden movements, the pain would make me want to pass out. Finally, the ER doc gave me some painkillers. At this point I was sobbing with the pain and so grateful for some sort of relief. It started kicking in within about 10-15 minutes. Then it was time for a CT scan.

I was still in pain when they wheeled me back, but it was starting to subside. They laid me down, flushed my line, and started the process. Then I felt something burning my arm. Then it got painful and felt like my arm was blowing up. Lucky for me I said something out loud and the lady running the scan came over. Turns out my vein collapsed and the contrast went into my muscle around the IV site. They stopped the fluid, put an IV in my other arm and restarted the CT. What an odd feeling the contrast gives you. When she said that I’d feel like I was peeing myself and to be assured that I was not, I had no clue what to expect. Then the feeling started and I couldn’t help but think that the warning was spot on.

Back in the ER with a now very swollen arm (thanks vein!), I was in less pain and the doctor came in to tell me that I did, indeed, have a clot in my lung. I either didn’t hear correctly, or was too doped to understand, but I had two clots, one on each lung, as well as pulmonary infarction suspected on the right side. What does that mean? Well, it means some of the tissue in my right lung died because it was deprived of the oxygen that my clot was blocking. Fun.

This blog is now ridiculously long, so I’ll write more tomorrow and leave you hanging on how Monday and Tuesday went. Holy crap…it’s Tuesday!? Damn narcotics messing with my sense of time!