Saturday, January 28, 2012


The last week has been one big blur. I left the hospital last Sunday with four tubes coming out of my armpits, grenade-shaped bulbs at the end of the tubes, the purpose of which is to collect lymphatic and other fluid your body creates after invasive surgery. Don't ask me; biology is weird. Two of the drains were removed sometime this week (again, it's been kind of a blur); the other two should come out next Friday. To keep Quinn (and our cats) from playing with the drains, I have a special mastectomy camisole with pockets on the inside. Between the tubes and bandages and grenade-shaped bulbs, I've spent the last week looking like a suicide bomber.

To shower, I strung a shoelace through loops on the grenade-drains and tied it around my neck. Since I am sore and on strict orders not to lift my arms over my head and on a steady vicodin/valium diet, Chris was there to help me out keep me from cracking my head on the bathroom tile. He started to wash my back. And then I leaned my head on his shoulder and cried - for the blur that all of the last five months have been, for the loss of my breasts and hair, for the pure relief I feel that the disease is gone, for how lucky I am to have the support system I do. It all washed down the drain in a sudsy, salty mess that felt so good after being wrapped in bandages for nearly a week.

I am trying so hard not to have survivor's guilt. The last five months have been no walk in the park, but all things considered, I beat cancer fairly easily. I got mad - no, furious - at this disease, told it repeatedly to get the hell out of my body my LIFE, and had at least one remarkable reason to stick around.

It kind of floors me that a 20-pound little boy - who has no concept of sickness or danger or the intensity with which my heart beats when he's around - could be such a huge part of what got me through cancer. And I hope I'm not putting too much of a burden on him by deeming him my little savior.


  1. I have a friend who also beat breast cancer and her 5 year old is her savior - they were wrestling and he accidentally elbowed her in the boob. It stayed sore for days and when she felt it, it had left a lump... No it didn't, he just happened to find the tumor.. =) children are amazing inspiration and worth fighting for!.
    I am so so so so happy to read your wonderful updates!

  2. I love you and the photos of your savior, you are my strongest warrior and daughter. Love, Mom