Two weeks post-mastectomy.

Sorry this is sideways. I’ll fix it later. 
For now, pretend you’re a cocker spaniel.

It’s been two weeks since my mastectomy. I am writing from bed. Today I have zero energy. As my 8-year-old explain in evolutionary terms, “Your body thinks it’s been attacked by a saber-toothed tiger, Mom.” He’s not wrong. Our fight or flight response cannot tell the difference between a surgeon’s scalpel and a bear attack, so I suppose it responds similarly: stress hormones and healing. 

I’m still healing.

My scars are both beautiful and ugly, depending on if you’re imagining Sally Nightmare or a plastic surgeon’s precise embroidery. Mine are a mix, I think. 

I’ll post some photos eventually. (I want to figure out a way to make them clickable, like ‘click to see the boobs landing page’, so I don’t stick my boobs or foobs in the face of someone who just wanted to relax with a cuppa and my blog.) It’s the first time I’ve ever taken nude pics of myself, excepting ONE photo of my boobs when Angus was 36-hours-old and my milk came in SUDDENLY while i was out on a gig and I had to throw down my accordion and run to the bathroom and my breasts were just comically large and leaky. That’s somewhere in The Cloud, if you’re the hacker type, who’s also a boob-person. For how I’m going to hold off on the mastectomy scar photos, just because I don’t want this blog to take my entire afternoon. 

I’m still healing.

I’ve started wearing cute pajamas and house coats. In my head I look like Zooey Deschanel on New Girl, but in reality I think I look like Cathy, of comic strip fame. The button-up pajama sets are nice because I’ve still got drains from surgery. Those are these plastic tubes that are sewn into my sides and which suck lymph fluid and extra blood out. It’s pretty gross, but also kinda cool if you are a biology-loving type. They are a pain in the side because sometimes I accidentally catch them on a doorknob or a four-year-old and then they tug sharply. I think I’ll have them removed on Monday, but they are still sucking out a lot of body goo. (That’s a very technical term.)

A few days ago I pretended like everything was normal. I went to a neighbor’s backyard, so my kids could bounce on their trampoline. Then I read books and discussed An Indigenous People’s History of America and walked around the backyard four times. I came home and then attended a virtual fundraiser for Habitat for Humanity while eating Italian food with my family.

I am still, days later, completely beat. I’m ready to actively homeschool again, but I want to do it from bed. I want to begin an exercise and rehab program, but I want to do it from bed. I want to write four hundred thank you notes, but my hands don’t work properly yet (the surgery hurts my arms) so I can’t do that [from bed]. I want to use this down time to catch up on every book I haven’t read yet.

For now I’m trying to Just Be. To give myself grace and to actually be still. 

I’m still healing.

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Pathology reports and other updates are here: https://tinyurl.com//brigidupdates 

All other links here: https://linktr.ee/brigidkaelin (click on this because Linktree charges me $6/month and I want to feel like my website is worth it!)

2 comments

  1. You are such a soldier, a fighter, lover of beautiful things and yourself. I think of you everyday and get my updates from Greggie. Please let me know if you are hungry for anything specially made for you and your family. I saw where you were eating Italian and thought of making a lasagna for you, but know you are probably inundated with food and treats galore. I a mean a refrigerator can only hold so much. So, I'll wait until I get your message, but please know you are in my prayers and in my heart! Hugs my friend.

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    1. Michele! Thank you so much for these beautiful and inspiring words :) We have a mealtrain going here https://www.mealtrain.com/trains/m8q29l but no pressure at all.

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