and I want to recognize the people who give that to me.
Let me preface this by saying that I have been a mess these past few days. On Thursday I finally felt brave enough to show my face in the classroom. Things went well there (nothing happened with my drains) so I decided to attend a close friend’s birthday dinner. Well, my drains started acting up. They popped out at least five times. Embarrassing, but since I was sitting down it wasn’t that noticable.
The next morning I couldn’t go anywhere because the drain wouldn’t stop popping out. Every time I moved, it moved, too. POP. Fluid. Gross. I called Maria, one of the nurses working in Dr. Festekjian’s office. I basically just sobbed to her on the phone about how my drains were embarrassing me and making me miserable. I told her that they NEED to come out. She said she would consult with Dr. Festekjian and let me know.
Well, of course the answer was no. And I understand it, I really do. If the drains are taken out too early, fluid can build up into a hematoma (or something else but I can’t remember the name), and removing that fluid with a needle could cause infection. An infection, in turn, would jeopardize my tissue expanders and might mean I would have to start the entire process over again. That sounds awful. No way I want that.
She told me that I should stop doing so much upper body movement. Well, okay, really? I’m not lifting weights. I haven’t gone kayaking. I haven’t even tried spinning (even though I reallllly want to get back into it asap!) What was I supposed to do? Dr. Festekjian encouraged me to exercise, so I’ve been walking! With my legs. Not on my hands.
So Maria said I should consider just “hunkering down” for the weekend. Ugh. GREAT. That’s just what I want to do…stay inside and do nothing. But you know what, why not try it? If hanging out at home in bed being a lazy bum for an entire weekend means that my drains might come out sooner, I might as well try it.
It’s still making me pretty emotional, however. I hate being still and I hate being bored. Just a few minutes ago I was crying because my drain site hurt so much. It’s kind of swollen and the drain tube jabs at me every time I move. My dear boyfriend Bryce applied Neosporin onto my drain site, covered it with gauze and taped it up. After he did that I excused myself to the bathroom (where I’m typing this now!) because I needed to write this for him. What he did for me, as gross as it was, made me realize that there are people in my life who have made it all so much easier. I want to recognize the people who have helped me throughout this entire journey, and Bryce deserves to be recognized first.
My boyfriend Bryce has been incredible throughout our entire relationship. When we first started dating last January, my dad was going through some serious heart problems. He was in the hospital at UCSF for quite a long time, and we had a few serious scares. Bryce supported me through that, letting me talk if I wanted to talk, cry if I wanted to cry, and yell if I wanted to yell.
When my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer again in September, I didn’t want to talk about it with Bryce…at all. But he wouldn’t stand for that because he doesn’t like to be isolated–he wants to help me. So he made me talk to him about it, and slowly but surely, I did.
When I found out about my BRCA test results, he was there beside me. He didn’t know what to say–no one knows what to say when someone gets that kind of news–but he let me know he was there for me. Later that week, he went with me to a presentation by Lindsay Avner, the founder of Bright Pink. He was the only man there, but he did great, and he learned a lot about what the BRCA gene meant and what my options were.
In the weeks leading up to my mastectomy, I was very moody, and Bryce was so tolerant of it. Really, I was a bitch to him a lot of the time, but he never said anything to make me upset. After my surgery on March 13th he was waiting for me in the recovery room. He’d been waiting at the hospital since about 10 am, and when I woke up it was 2 pm. He hadn’t eaten lunch yet. Bryce, mind you, is 6’6 and eats everything in sight: the fact that he had skipped lunch just so I wouldn’t be alone when I woke up is a HUGE deal. Seriously.
Since then, he’s continued to be amazing. He drove out to Redondo Beach almost every night (which is an hour drive) to see me. He brought me movies so I wouldn’t be bored. When the flowers he brought me at the hospital died, he bought me another beautiful bouquet to replace them.
He lets me cry to him. He’s not afraid of my scars. He helped me take pictures of my questionable nipple to send to my plastic surgeon to review. Last night he changed the sheets on my bed so I wouldn’t have to sleep on dirty shirts.
When I tell him I just want to be alone and I don’t want to see anyone, he doesn’t listen. He’s persistent and he annoys me and continues to call me and then he eventually just shows up at my house…with more movies and snacks sometimes, too. And then he’s there and although I’m still sad and my drains still hurt and I look really ugly because I’m wearing a poncho and boxers and no makeup, I feel better.
April 10th is his 23rd birthday. Sometimes, when he’s playing dumb games on his phone or when he’s freaking out about a basketball game, I think he’s an eleven year old boy. But then there are times like these, when he’s just changed the icky dressing on my wound, that I realize he has a very mature side. He is a great caregiver and I’m so thankful to have him in my life. I don’t want to imagine how I’d feel now if I didn’t have him sitting on the futon (which he converted into a fluffy bed of awesomeness so we can watch movies on the big screen in the living room), about to put on Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.
I’m so lucky to have him!