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The Saga Continues . . .

September 14, 2017 by Monique Bryan

The backstory of the vacuum attached to my boob, it sounds worse than it is, I promise.

1 week post abscess . . .

Since the eruption of the abscess it was a week full of anxiety and anxiousness I couldn’t pull myself out of. I was just so worried and kept checking the wound (like every 5 minutes) to see how it was doing. I felt like I had to constantly keep my mind occupied or I would continue to obsess about what was happening under my shirt. It made me sad, angry and frustrated and I was sure I was making myself crazy.

It’s been a while since I posted as I have been dealing with this abscess. It has been a roller coaster AGAIN!

This is what went down . . .

After the hematoma, I felt better for all of two days then my boob started to swell up again. Little by little it was getting bigger and more painful. I was like, “Has the hematoma returned?” I called my doctor and asked if that was normal, they said yes, but still deep down I felt like something was off. Man were my instincts right! The next day I noticed a small clear liquid escaping from the recently sewn (for the second time I may add) wound. I blotted it leaving a light red smear on the gauze. Oh F, here we go again! But this time I knew it was infected, it was a little yellow and a little red, not like the dark red color like before. I just hoped and prayed the antibiotics I was on would do the trick and it would go away. No such luck! That night, 3 a.m. to me exact, I woke up to a small puddle of liquid on my sheets. It was official the wound it fucked/infected. Not knowing what else to do I slapped some gauze on it, taped it in place and hoped for the best until morning. I called the doctor first thing and they told me to come in that afternoon. By now my boob was super swollen and so sore I felt like it was jumping off my chest. But luckily it wasn’t oozing like with the hematoma so I thought, it can’t be that bad . . . Boy was I wrong again!

That afternoon Corey and I went to see my surgeon and he was prepared this time in case he had to do any impromptu procedures. I started disrobing and explaining what had been going the past few days. He just nodded and said, “Monique a picture is worth a thousand words, so let’s just take a look.” I proceeded to remove the bandage slowly, and before I could even get it off fully a yellowy red liquid started oozing out from all sides. My mind was racing, “What the F was going on???” The bandage had created a suction like effect and as soon as I pulled that bandage off it exploded all over the exam room. It was disgusting and more importantly I couldn’t stop it! By now this yellowy reddish liquid was oozing all over my chest, neck, down my side and on to my pants. Corey was rushing around grabbing paper towels, as was the doctor - I was just trying not to barf.

Doctor: “I need to open it up.”

Me: “What the hell is this?”

Him: “I don’t know until I get in there.”

Then he had to throw a gown around me and rush to a room down the hallway because there wasn’t a suction machine in that room. Argh! Get it together doc! There he cut open the wound he had just stitched less then 5 days prior and the suction machine went to work. I could feel it sucking out the liquid like I was at the dentist, and it sounded horrible, so I squeezed my eyes shut and told myself to go to a happy place in my mind. I kept picturing Corey and I on a beach somewhere in Spain, me in some hot new shades and him in a stylish fedora. The doctor had decided he didn’t want an audience and had pulled the curtain so I couldn’t see Corey’s reassuring face.

I don’t know how long it took, I just squeezed my eyes shut and stayed in Spain until I heard the suction machine come to a halt.  For a minute, the room was just still. I opened one eye and peeked down at the hole in my breast (Agh!) then over at the doctor who had his eyes closed. WHAT THE F is he doing?!

Me: “Doc. what are you doing?”

Him: “Thinking.”

Me: “About what??” I mean I know he is a good doctor but right now he is making me question his capabilities!

Him: “How to tell you I cannot close it back up.”

Me: “What are you talking about?”

Him: “If I close it back up it will just do this again, it’s infected and it needs to drain on its own.” Me: “What about the antibiotics?”

Him: “That won’t help, it’s an abscess, it needs to stay open.”

Me: I hate you – No I didn’t say that.

Now Corey had come around from the curtain and I looked at him in horror.
Me: “So it’s just going to stay open, I will have this hole in my chest? That don’t make any piece of sense.”

Him: “We are going to pack it and you will come back in a couple of days and see the wound specialist. But this is going to take some time to heal.”

Me: “How much time?”

Him: “Up to 2 months and the scare will not look nice, but you can see a plastic surgeon later to talk about that.”

Me: “2 months?! What about my radiation?”

Him: “That will need to wait.” 

Me: “Doctor(blank) I am not very happy right now.”

Him: “I know.”

Me: “What caused this?” Me secretly thinking he botched my surgery

Him: “No way to say, it’s bacteria.”

Me: Death stare. Later I would spend hours on the internet trying to find someone to blame, but would come up empty. It appears he is right, there is no explanation (that’s not infuriating or anything, is it?!) My system is weak from the chemo, end of story.

I left that office feeling totally defeated and angry. I had an hole in my chest and that I couldn’t comprehend. At least I wasn’t in pain anymore, after he suctioned out the liquid, my boob had gone down to its regular size which was reassuring. However, it wasn’t until I saw the wound specialist (I didn’t even know this profession existed), that I found some peace.

Me: “Do you see this sort of thing often with breast cancer patients?”

WCS (Wound care specialist): “Hmmm I wouldn’t day often, but I have seen it a lot with women who have surgery and then go through radiation and it’s the radiation that opens the wound up. So, I guess it’s a good thing you haven’t started radiation.”

Me: “I was supposed to start this week.”

WCS: Yeah, I would hold off if you can, consult your radiation oncologist. The body will heal on its own, but radiation will prevent that, although sometimes radiation trumps wound healing. Me: “So it just stays open like that?”

WCS: “Yes, the wound needs to stay open so while the infection drains out the cells can regenerate from the inside out.

Me: “It makes sense . . . I guess.”

To that end she proceeded to hook me up to a pico vac, which vacuums out the infection through a thin tube hooked up to a battery pack that runs 24 hours a day, (lucky me I get to carry it around until it heals). At first, I was really pissed, then I was like, at least this vacuum thing allows me to move around and I don’t have to be bed ridden. She really knew what she was doing and I am happy my surgeon referred me to her.

The pico vac vacuums the abscess onto a bandage taped to my boob and is changed every 3 days. It doesn’t hurt, it just vibrates and has to go where I go. So, no I won’t be wearing any tight dresses or sexy v necks any time soon, but I am getting more creative on how to hide the battery pack under my clothes.  

The pico vac vacuums the abscess onto a bandage taped to my boob and is changed every 3 days. It doesn’t hurt, it just vibrates and has to go where I go. So, no I won’t be wearing any tight dresses or sexy v necks any time soon, but I am getting mor…

The pico vac vacuums the abscess onto a bandage taped to my boob and is changed every 3 days. It doesn’t hurt, it just vibrates and has to go where I go. So, no I won’t be wearing any tight dresses or sexy v necks any time soon, but I am getting more creative on how to hide the battery pack under my clothes.  

Its two weeks post abscess explosion and the wound care specialist says it looks like it is healing. Hooray! I meet with the radiation oncologist next week, hopefully we can put it off so this dang thing can heal. Fingers crossed. 

 

September 14, 2017 /Monique Bryan
pico negative wound therapy, doctor, abscess, wound, wound specialist, hematoma, infected, gauze, bandage, dentist, exam room, impromptu, pack, radiation, radiation oncologist, surgery, breast, boob, surrpriseitscancer, plastic surgeon, tube, vacuum, vibrates, infection, blood, liquid, negative pressure wound therapy system, boobs
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DIDN'T THEY WARN YOU?

March 31, 2017 by Monique Bryan

First, I will apologize in advance if this post is not as coherent as the previous ones. The quickness I pride myself on, (and know myself to be), may be hidden under what they tell me is, “chemo brain,” a sort of fogginess that your mind endures while undergoing treatment. It has been 1 week since my first chemo treatment and today marks the day they tell me I will start feeling some what, “normal” again. Well those fuckers better be right because these last 6 days have been the worst days my body has ever experienced.

What I pictured I would be doing during this much-deserved time off:

  1. Well resting of course (I have fucking cancer)
  2. Reading books
  3. Possibly learning a new language
  4. Experimenting with new vegan recipes
  5. Writing New York Times bestseller (of course)
  6. Creating a new clothing line (I mean why not?)
  7. Making my own line of #Fcancer emojis
  8. Feng Shuing my bedroom (Note I mentioned this to Corey and his eye roll couldn’t have been more dramatic)
  9. Doing my Taxes (that’s a lie)
  10. Taking up yoga and start meditating (becoming all Zen and shit)
  11. Binging on Netflix (of course)
  12. Reflecting on the important things in life (you know like, #Fcancer emojis)   

The funny thing about chemo is it has a whole other plan that it never lets you in on. It sweeps in like a cloud and says something like, "You funny girl, this is not a vaca" . . . Fucker. 

The first day after chemo was fine, I mean I felt a bit tired but not too bad (you saw the last blog post I was ready to go!) By day two I thought maybe I would be, the one, who would beat all those adverse side effects chemo is so famous for:

Fatigue

Hair loss

Easy bruising and bleeding

Infection

Anemia (low red blood cell counts)

Nausea and vomiting

Appetite changes

Constipation

Fever (Just to name a few . . .)

I WAS WRONG! By day two in the afternoon shit went down. So yes I was warned, however it's like a mother telling a pregnant person that pushing a baby through your vagina, (sorry to be so graphic), is going to hurt like hell, are you ever really prepared for that? I'm just saying.

Let’s start with #1 FATIGUE. You know when I read that I was like, “OK I’ll be tired, no big deal, I know what that feels like, sort of like after a spin class, right?” HA! I KNOW NOTHING!!! I have tried to describe this feeling to people and the best comparison I could come up with is, it's sort of like being hit by a truck. How many people know what being hit by a truck really feels like? Not many. But one can imagine, right? WRONG!

It’s kinda like this . . .

  • Walk down the stairs? Walking back up felt like I did an hour of CrossFit.
  • Every conversation had a time limit, (one minute I’d be speaking the next I would feel like a hundred pound weight was sitting on my body).
  • One minute I am staring at my husband so grateful he is here, the next I am wondering why is he taking so fast and so loud, (he later informs me was not the case), regardless it exhausted me and I need a nap.
  • One minute I wish I was back in my old life, worrying about stupid shit like what to wear, the next I’m grateful that not combing my hair is a deal breaker because that would require lifting a brush.
  • One minute I want to cry woe is me! The next? Well I am asleep to be quite honest, it takes way too much energy to even feel sorry for myself. LOL!

In short, my limbs felt like Jell-O, and every little movement took effort.

Then there is the nausea . . . one minute I’m famished and the next the smell or site of food is repulsive. Each day melts into the next, which I suppose is irrelevant when the only thing you have planned that day is to "keep you spirits up.” That's something people say to me, "keep your spirits up!" Or, “Monique it’s mind over matter,” (that one REALLY makes me want to take baseball bat to a knee cap). It’s like if I could have my mind tell my body to get it’s act together I would not have cancer, (AND my mind could alleviate, the constipation from hell, the 24-hour indigestion, the fluctuations in body temperature, the dizzy spells, metallic taste that pops up out of no where! The joint and muscle pain, the bouts of fever, and the chapped lips that stop shed a new layer of skin daily), all with the power of my mind! Wow I would be so powerful! Soooo I recommend not saying that to people undergoing chemo, just a tip.

**(Mood swings may or may not be a side effect as well, I can neither confirm or deny that).

In short CHEMO SUCKS! Not like in a getting a Brazilian wax, tattooing your face, ripping your fingernails away with pliers kinda sucks. More like . . . well like I said, unless you have done it, there really is no comparison. But hey today is better then yesterday, hooray for day 7!!!

 

 

 

 

March 31, 2017 /Monique Bryan
fatigue, chemotherapy, chemo, dizzy, nausea, side effects, #fcancer, fever, blood, brusing, baby, infection, anemia, vomiting, hair loss, chemo brain, reading, cancer, New York Times Bestseller, emojis, Feng Shui, zen, yoga, meditaion

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