16. The One with the Giving of Thanks

 Last time we left off with me in a regular room waiting to be sprung.

As anyone who has had surgery and had the pleasure of spending time post-surg knows they will not let you go anywhere until you have peed.

And this trip was no exception. The one challenge was that those leg massagers were still in place and I couldn't move with them.

I was still pretty numb all over so no pain to contend with but I did start to have a mini panic attack when I realized I wouldn't be able to move if needed. As you may recall from the 'that radiologist left me half stuck in a tube' story, I need to know how I can evacuate a situation post haste if needed.

I pinged the nurse and she came in a few minutes later. Apparently they didn't realize that the VERY LOUD WHIRRING NOISE EMINATING FROM MY BED WAS THE LEG MASSAGERS.

and they were promptly removed.

I sat up with the nurse still there. Because I did not keel over, I was allowed to stand up and made my way very gingerly to the bathroom.

I released the bladder and was given the thumbs up that once someone with authority could sign some documents I would be out.

They called my mom and I patiently waited on my bed for a wheelchair out to freedom.

I believe there are spaces we find ourselves in that time doesn't exist: The MP likes to remind me that time is  a social construct.

And I believe this to be true. Two examples: Working a tradeshow booth - time seems to standstill or if it is the half last day of a certain fire show actually moves backwards.

 And waiting for someone to sign you out of a hospital.

It was roughly 8:30 a.m. when I got the verbal all clear. Which I assumed I would actually leave around noon.

Around 11:30 a cheerful young man with a wheelchair showed up to take me down to my mom waiting in the car.

He was chatty and we talked about the weather and covid and he asked how I was feeling. I said pretty good and what I had been in the hospital for. He shared that his aunt had breast cancer and he hoped I had a speedy recovery.

That has been one of the things that has become the norm when I share my experience with cancer. Everyone knows someone. The figure is 1 in 8 women and conceptually that registers but when you hear all the people who know someone or were survivors themselves it is staggering.

We make it out to the car and I carefully get in. Still not in pain but a soreness is starting to settle in.

My mom drives us back to my house and I promptly fall asleep. When I am sick or in recovery mode I sleep. 

And that is what I did, I slept. The MP was home for Thanksgiving break mid week and we had a low key thanksgiving dinner with my parents which was nice.

At some point around Day 3 the ramifications of what was a long involved surgery hit me and I felt like I had been run over by a high speed truck that then backed up and ran me over again.


The boob (RIP Lefty) had no pain but the rest of me.... WOOF
I have no idea what the hell they did to me but fairly certain I was pulled, pushed and squished every which way but loose.
And that is what I had to recover from. The soreness of having been manhandled for hours while unconscious was the source of my discomfort.
Good drugs were provided and I used those for the first few days before switching to Tylenol.

I don't consider myself a vain person (I mean other than the fact that I did an entire image overhaul shortly before this attempted death by body part drama started, and you are going to have to pry my coifed bottle blonde hair off my cold dead head....) but the fact I could not shower for an entire week had my crawling out of my skin.

I would do the best I could with a wash cloth and wipes but the hair of it all... YIKES
I see young women on the socials saying they wash their hair once a week and I am usually every other day but five days in, I couldn't stand it. No amount of brushing (one handed) or dry shampoo made it any better. 

Upon awakening on the seventh day I made a beeline for the shower and clumsily washed my hair with one hand.
I still had drains hanging out of my body so that had to be contended with. I had bought a little holder for them so I could shower with one free hand.

All in all I felt like a new person after the shower but the experience was clumsy and I was still sore from the hit and run job.

As I look back now, nearly two years later what I am struck by is how grateful I am that it was a very easy recovery. I didn't have any complications, the follow up appointments were straightforward.
And I had a ton of support from my family and friends.




I know that I am lucky to have gone through a very scary experience with scars and missing body parts but no emotional or financial damage inflicted.

Next Time on Kris vs. Cancer: The one with the tube removal and the return to work








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