LUMPECTOMY FOR BEGINNERS - Post Op, take a breath

The steri strips are off.  I wish I'd asked the doctor to take them off - it had been two weeks.  I liked the surgery area better with the strips on.  But I'll see him next month and we can talk about how it looks and feels.  I didn't have any infection; no serious bruises.  Sometimes it hurts for a bit, then doesn't.   I do wear my soft bra, but usually not to sleep.

My friend, who has been through some of this already, advised me not to judge myself--that some of the fatigue can be due to the diagnosis that led to the lumpectomy.  She reminded me that nobody is really prepared to hear she has cancer (despite what some now call DCIS. . . "baby cancer" or "doorway to cancer" or "not cancer."  Hearing it is a shock at some level.

 Life does change.  New doctors (a fear of mine in a new state), appointments, reading the Mayo clinic site like the daily newspaper.  And reading my pathology report . . . which was more disappointing than I admitted to myself.

I'm older than my friend and in this new state and  my new environment.  I need to be realistic instead of apologetic, and take the breaks I need.  Breaks to be sure how I really feel and then to put it in perspective.

And a wise, kind person left a Starbucks gift card on my steering wheel!  Treats are good.

LUMPECTOMY FOR BEGINNERS and Don't leave the locker room without this

There are legions of women my age who know more about sports than I do.  This does not stop me from writing about hoops and pigskin and jocks.   

In the movie Hoosiers, and a million other films and books, the players don't leave the locker room between halves (or whatever) even after an avalanche of abuse, without some bit of encouragement like:
Plow 'em under! (Yes, I"m in Texas) Or Make me Proud!  Get out there and make  HISTORY!   Or Show 'em whatchu got!

The advice I get in hospital locker rooms is usually:  Put the gown on open to the front and go thru the brown door.   This is somewhat inadequate to prepare me for what's behind the brown door,  and leaves WAY too much to my imagination.   

Before I go out the brown door next time, I should have locker room wisdom in my pocket, or hidden in my underpants if necessary.   For instance:  I'm a Healer!   Some of the best moments in life are in the future!  I've got plans!  Or, to be more locker-roomish,  “You gotta play till the ninth inning, man.” * And even  Show 'em whatchu got!

What I got is a surgeon I trust.  What I got is a successful lumpectomy.  What I got is a history including  successful recovery from spine fusion despite postponing too long. (Note to self:  If I agree to more cancer treatment, don't wait too long.)  What I got is the prayer and meditation.

What I got is good-looking, active CHEERLEADERS who lived through what's in this next quarter.  I got them by daring to speak up about DCIS.   And I spoke to these men and women because they didn't keep their own cancer a secret.


I hope what you got is PLANS for your own particular future.  GOALS.  Show "em whatchu got!  


*John Croslin in Austin Kleon,