Coming Home - Mar, 2007

Coming home from cancer surgery, I felt two things. The first was an extreme thankfulness for drugs. The other, was a fear that if I moved too quickly, I might yank something loose that was supposed to be sewn together; so, I moved very, very carefully.

Shortly after my cancer treatment was over, my daughter and I (whom I homeschool), studied the Presidents, and we chose one - John Adams - to study in depth. We learned that his daughter, in the early 1800's, had a mastectomy without anaesthesia. She wore her Sunday best, was put in a spare room with her arms and legs tied to the chair she sat in, bit down on a stick (after a dose of laudanum) and had a doctor remove her breast and sew the wound closed with instruments that had not been sterilized. The poor girl survived the surgery, avoided infection, but then died of her cancer because they had waited too long.

As strange as it was to come home with body parts missing, and in spite of the pain I experienced, I really did try to keep my perspective. Would I choose this surgery? No, but at least I had anaesthesia and Percocet to relieve the physical pain of it. Thank God I live in the age of modern medicine, and for narcotic pain meds, which I really view as miracle drugs. And I might not have my breasts, but at least they caught my cancer in time. And I might be facing a brutal plan of treatment, but at least I am alive. These were the things going through my mind. I was alive, and my goal was to stay that way.

I came home from my cancer surgery to two young children, ages eight and two. My two-year-old was still in her crib, and I would not be able to lift her for six to eight weeks. I also had three drains sewn into my wounds, one in my right underarm area where lymph nodes had been removed, and one at each mastectomy site. The drains were tubes coming out of my body, with bulbs on the ends that could be squeezed and then closed, creating a vacuum that gently pulled blood and fluid from the wounds. As these bulbs filled up, they would periodically have to be emptied, and the contents measured, and those measurements recorded, to ensure that I was bleeding an appropriate amount. Although I could empty my drains by myself, it was easier to have someone help me. During this time, my husband was working overnight twice a week, and I couldn't be alone because I wouldn't be able to lift my baby from the crib if she needed me. So my neighbor and dear friend stayed on my couch for five different nights in those first weeks, 'just in case'. I am so thankful for her. And, she is an R.N., so she wasn't grossed out helping me with my drains, which was a bonus. The other nights, my husband was my helper, and in the daytime, my parents. Then, my sister came from Michigan for three weeks, and all the while bouquet after bouquet of flowers came, until my home resembled a florist's. I received cards, and care packages, and meals, some from people I had never even met.

I was surrounded by love, encouragement, caring and sympathy. People's prayers, kind words, and practical support bouyed me up, and helped me walk a very difficult path. Nothing anyone did lessened my physical pain, nor did anything lessen my struggle; but, somehow, the support of friends and strangers lessened my burden. It made my journey bearable. I truly don't know how anyone faces this disease alone, and I thank God that He surrounded me with those all important others who make life what it is - joyful, relational, rich and fulfilling.