I was prepared not to be able to lift my arms above my head. I was prepared to be tired. Deep down, I knew there would be some pain. But I was unprepared for the exact pain I would ultimately experience. Wait, I thought I was young and healthy. I thought that would make me immune to the pain. It definitely was not a constant or nagging pain. If I stayed still, which is what I was ordered to do anyway, I felt fine. Sitting up, that’s where things got uncomfortable. During the day, I rested in the recliner, trying to get up as infrequently as possible. I was determined to sleep in bed instead of the chair so I set up shop in the spare bedroom with plenty of pillows and everything I thought I would need at my fingertips. Mars stayed home with me for the week to help me. I’m not convinced that’s how I felt. If he wasn’t here, getting around would be difficult, if not impossible. I think, however, I would have preferred to be alone.

I spent the first few days sending a lot of text messages. Of course everyone wanted to know how I was doing. Both my DVR and Kindle were full of what I thought I might be interested in watching and reading. It didn’t take me very long to get adjusted to taking care of my drains. I had four of them. Twice a day, I had to strip the lines and measure and record how much fluid was in each. They would be in for at least two weeks, possibly more. They didn’t hurt, they were just hard to handle. Eventually, I would figure out a system to keep them pinned to my shirt so they couldn’t be seen.

After four days on the recliner in a percocet haze, I finally started to feel normal. I called my friend to come over my house. I took a shower and let her dry my hair. After she left, I felt well enough to take the straight iron to it. My first follow up appointment was on Monday, six days after the surgery. I went to see my PCP and I felt pretty OK getting into and out of the car. He was happy with my progress and deemed me well on the road to recovery.

I started working from home on Wednesday, eight days after the surgery.  I got up at 7 and got myself dressed and ready to go for the day. Equipped with my laptop, a thermos of hot water, sugar packets, and a box of peach tea, I was ready to get things done. I came to discover that working from home shouldn’t include getting dressed. I spent the rest of my work from home days in my pajamas. By 4:30 every day, I was exhausted, even thought I did most of my work from my bed or the recliner. But, I was definitely feeling better every day.

The day I went back to work was also the day I got the phone call. Dr. Impossible to See. My pathology was back. Everything was clear. And to think, I almost didn’t answer the phone because I thought it was the Mercedes Benz dealership calling to see if my last service appointment met my expectations. Finally, a victory for me. I called Mars and texted everyone I could think of.

My next follow up appointment was on Thursday with Dr. Impossible to See. This is where he really became impossible to see. My appointment with him was made before the surgery even happened. A few days before, I got an email that the appointment was changed and I was now scheduled to see his PA. His PA who doesn’t speak a word of English. I called Nurse Amazing and she fixed it for me. Dr. Impossible to See also pronounced me on the road to recovery. I didn’t need to see him for three months. Peace out, Doc.

Friday, I had an appointment with Dr. Handsome and Perfect and a dinner date with my husband. Wonder if Handsome and Perfect would like to join…..When his nurse called me back, she did the routine. Weight, temperature, blood pressure. We sat and discussed my medication. I was taking an antibiotic but I stopped taking the pain medication. She was truly amazed how normal I looked. I was 10 days post-op and I still had four drains which I was very proficient at disguising. I spent the last 10 day measuring the amount of fluid that came out of each twice a day. I gave her the measurements to give to the doctor. She set the expectations with me. I should be prepared to come back once a week for a few months. So, let me see if I get this straight, I get to take my shirt off for a handsome man once a week and my husband doesn’t mind. Ok, no problems here.

I change into my gown and a few minutes later Handsome and Perfect sweeps in looking all, well, Handsome and Perfect. He asks me about the pathology and I’m happy to tell him that everything is clear. He looks happy for me. The incisions are still covered by Dermabond but he seems to think everything is healing well. He asks if the antibiotics are bothering my stomach at all and if my appetite is ok. They’re not and it is. During the exam, he takes a moment to massage my calves. Strange since I’m wearing riding boots. Anyhow, he’s happy with what he sees so far. He sets the expectations for my next appointments. In two weeks, we’ll start filling the tissue expanders with saline little by little, week by week. In the beginning, I shouldn’t feel much, but toward the end I might. I’m not worried, this should be easy in comparison to everything else. I thank him before he leaves the room. He wants to see me back in two weeks. I have a sense of peace.