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Hematoma Kiss my Ass!

August 28, 2017 by Monique Bryan

 

So, if any of you have seen my last post on social, the scar from my lumpectomy had sprung a leak and a doctor told me, not to worry, it will stop on its own, and to go live my life. Well that was a week ago and turned out to be some horse shit advice!

**WARNING, if you are squeamish at all DO NOT READ ON. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! And yes there is a pic.

Let me paint the picture for you . . .

It’s Thursday morning and I wake up to a soaked bra full of blood, but no pain. I’m nervous for sure, but think it’s ok. The doctor said as long as the blood is dark in color it’s old blood and it’s nothing to be concerned about. She said it was probably a Hematoma, and it would heal on its own in most cases . . . I had also done some googling on my own, just to put my mind at ease:

Hematoma (Blood Build-up): Like a bruise, a hematoma is a mark on your skin because blood is trapped under the surface. A hematoma usually refers to the mark created when blood builds up in a surgical wound where tissue has been removed and in some cases, the blood may need to be surgically drained, usually by reopening the incision made during breast cancer surgery.

YIKES!

So, prior to this blood bath sitting in my bra I wasn’t too worried. I nervously removed the soaked bandage and from there it wouldn’t stop. It just oozed slowly and consistently for hours. I started to panic. I was deep breathing, then pacing, then cursing. The gauze wasn’t doing shit so I was scrambling with bounty paper towels (they are supposed to be super absorbent, right?). I let out a scream and started to cry and thought, WTF?? I am not OK with this, what is happening? Why do they keep telling me it is ok when there is clearly something not right?! WHY IS THERE SO MUCH BLOOD??” I called my surgeon’s office (who was finally back from vacation, who goes on vacation after cutting people open anyway?) and let his assistant know what was happening and I wanted to come in. She called me back saying he was in surgery, but to meet his at the office in the hospital at 3pm. I called Corey and told him the situation and he came home to check it out right away. By the time he arrived I had already gone through half a roll of the bounty paper towels (which were working great by the way), and was standing at the top of the stairs topless holding the paper towel under my boob to catch the blood. Luckily, he is not squeamish at all, he just looked at it and said, “It’s ok, we will see what the doctor says.”

 

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We wrapped up the oozing boob and hit the road. When we arrived, I changed into my oh too familiar surgery gown, and waiting in one of the rooms for the doctor to arrive. When he does I explained the situation. Since his face never changes I didn’t know what he was going to say next.

Doctor: “OK, Monique we have two options; option one, let the hematoma drain on its own, but it could take up to two months, or option two, I can open it up and drain it right now. But the scar will not end up as pretty.” 

I looked at Corey wide eyed, my head was spinning. I thought, open me up, again? No anesthetic? The scar was healing so well, what did you mean by not so pretty? This wasn’t an operating room; do you even have the tools to do this right here and now? Is this woman next to you even a nurse, she wasn’t wearing nurse like attire? Me: “Doc.  what caused this, is it something I did?” 

Doctor: “No, it was nothing you did, unless you were doing jumping jacks, which I highly doubt, this happens in 1 out of 6 patients. It could be from the chemo and the medications you have been on, really, it’s hard to say. I would prefer not to have to wait two months though, because that would delay your radiation.”

Me: “I don’t care about the scar, I just want this to end, so drain it.” 

He started right away, the nurse (she was in fact a nurse so I take back what I said before), pulled out all the tools, and set him up. I could have sworn this was an examination room, but they had kit ready to go! He used local anesthetic so it didn’t hurt, however I could feel it all. I could feel him squeezing, and although he had put some cloths around the wound to catch all the blood that was being spilt, I could still see the gauze was being changed every few seconds. Worst of all I could smell the blood, it smelled like raw meat, and it made me sick. If I didn’t think I was going to eat meat before I definitely couldn’t eat it now. I kept my eyes closed for the most part, and tried to go to a happy place and block out what was happening. Why oh, why did I decide to sneak a peek, right at the moment he was using tweezers to pull out a blood clot and slap it on the towel beside my face? Ugh! I didn’t open my eyes again until it was over.

Then came the stitching, I could feel him tugging on my skin, it was horrible! Then the doctor said something that disturbed me, “I wish we had used a contrast color thread, the lighting in here is not great.” WTF does that mean? Nurse replies with, “I’ll go get a flash light.”  What kind of make shift operation is this? I am trying to remain calm, especially when she came back unable to find a flashlight. Me: “I have a flashlight on my iPhone, would that work?”  Corey pulls out my phone and the nurse tries to shine the light for the doctor to see . . . it doesn’t do shit. Doctor: “It’s ok, I’m about done.”  Now I am panicking that he can’t see what the hell he is doing and that not so pretty scar he had warned about, may be even worse! Now I know why they put you to sleep during surgery, it’s not just for the pain, it’s to protect you from the possible mental anguish. I am clear blood and gore isn’t for everybody. I haven’t had any major surgeries in my life, so for some people this may have been a cake walk, but for me it was traumatizing and I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there.

When it was finally over my boob was half the size it was before, all the swelling was gone, but the scar was gross to look at, thank-fully they covered it with gauze so I wouldn’t have to. Corey came over kissed my head and said, “I’m proud of you.” I replied with, “That was horrible, let’s get the hell out of here please.”  We went home still reeling from what had just happened. At least it was over . . . or so I thought.  4 days post open boob surgery and I am still in pain and feels like I had surgery all over again. Maybe everything is fine, maybe a new hematoma is taking shape, who the hell knows?! There is no way to really prevent it after all. How frustrating is that? I am super angry, frustrated and sad. All this laying around (although necessary), is making the rest of my body stiff like a grandma; my radiation will have to be pushed until I am healed (date is TBD), and I am so scared the hematoma will return because my boob is swollen again!  I am really in my feelings these last few days, which I hate! All I want to do is eat ice cream, chips and pizza (when I know my body needs greens juice, salads and healthy shit!)

Yes, I know it could be worse, it always could be worse, but not addressing how I am feeling would make me even crazier then I feel right now, and who needs crazier, I sure as hell don’t! I am sure Corey would agree.

I meet again with the doctor on Thursday, we will see what the next steps are. The journey continues. 

 

August 28, 2017 /Monique Bryan
hematoma, cancer, surpriseitscancer, doctor, surgeon, nurse, surgery, greens juice, angry, frustrated, sad, operating room, operating, boob, blood, stiff, body, post surgery, gauze, gross, blood oozing, local anesthetic, blood clot, tweezers, radiation, scar, squeezing, sick, sewing, bruised, blood under skin, trapped, blood trapped, mark, tissue, surgically drained, reopening, incision, pain, drain, breast, breast cancer, breast cancer surgery, squeamish, bounty paper towels, healed
Thank-you Tanya and Terence, this card was perfect.

Thank-you Tanya and Terence, this card was perfect.

I lied about the Cake . . .

May 25, 2017 by Monique Bryan

So, I lied . . . We'll sort of, I posted a celebratory cake on social a couple weeks ago, claiming I bought it to celebrate the doctor telling me my tumor had shrunk. The tumor shrinking was not the lie. It has shrunk almost by half since the last time she measured it. (Yes, this is a reason to celebrate!) So, after my appointment my good friend drove me to Pusatari's and followed me around as I drooled over every gourmet treat I could lay my eyes on. Then I saw that cake, you remember it? 6 layers of perfection with buttercream frosting, (with no artificial colors or preservatives of course). It looked like the kind of cake that when you bite into it your eyes will close out of sheer pleasure. I knew I wanted to dive into it face first. Could I justify buying a whole cake for no reason, especially one that was clearly marked “Birthday Cake?” My friend was like, "Why not? You deserve it, you and your hubby should be celebrating tonight, tumor shrinkage!" Me: "Yes you are right! I don't need a reason to buy a whole damn cake, I have cancer!” And yes, (in case you were all wondering), having cancer is literally the get out of jail free, do whatever you want without apologies card, so get over it.

When my hubby came home that afternoon I was so happy to greet him with that cake. First because I know birthday cake is his favorite and second because, now that he was home early I wouldn't have to feel bad cutting a huge chunk out of it by the time he came home that night. I was happy to give him the good news; the tumor was shrinking hooray! (I mean, it damn well better be, why else was I putting myself and my body through this emotional and physical hell??) So, in my mind I was having the cake to celebrate.

***SIDE NOTE: Eating has become a cruel joke. Chemo fucks with your taste buds so bad I never know what food is going to taste like. Sometimes it starts off tasting fine, then by the end of the meal the taste turns to garbage. Eating has become such a fucking chore that I would have done anything for food to taste like I remember. I really wanted to eat something, ANYTHING that gave me a moments pleasure.

But no matter how much of it I stuffed in my face, the feelings of joy quickly dissipated. The cake tasted damn delicious don't get it twisted, but I didn't feel like celebrating. Not even the smile on Corey's face, (which usually always works), shifted things for me, so I posted it to social so all of my loved ones who follow my journey could celebrate a win. Yay, Monique is getting better! I wanted that for them, and for me. I usually love reading all the comments, but it didn't work . . . I was sad and emotional and I didn't know why.

Then as I ran though that appointment in my head I realized that I didn't want to celebrate because this journey was still far from over. Yes, chemo is almost done (THANK GOD!!!), but new things were to come, (the things that I try to block out of my mind so I can function, like, surgery, recovery, radiation, hormone therapy - LET'S ALL SAY IT TOGETHER FUUUUUCK!)

While sitting on the Doctor’s exam table in my gown she went over the 2nd half of the chemo plan and side effects:

  1. Still no hair (wishful thinking)
  2. Mouth sores continue
  3. Constipation
  4. Indigestion continue (a.k.a. can't digest like 90%of anything?)
  5. Fatigue will continue 
  6. Food taste like sawdust
  7. Blackening of the nails (Did I mention my fingernails are turning dark blue/black? Yes you can say it, WTF?)
  8. THANK GOD SAY GOOD-BYE TO NAUSEA 
  9. Aches and pains and soreness. . . I want to take a pause here- Can I just clarify aches/pains and soreness? What she should have said is you will feel like a 80 year old grandma, that was pushed down a flight of stairs and then rolled onto the street for some street kids to slap you with a stick.
  10. Oh and let me know if there is any numbness in your fingers and toes, that could be serious . . .

Sooooo, yes chemo continues to be fucked up.

But all I could think about was, if the tumor is shrinking will I have to have surgery? So, I asked her, "If the tumor disappears will I still need to have surgery?

Her: "Yes"

Me:" Why?"

Her: "Because there could still be some cancer cells left behind."

Me: "Oh"

Her:" Monique, Chemo is not a cure, if we don't do surgery the tumor will grow back . . . " And there it was, the reason I couldn’t celebrate. That scared the fuck out of me! After going through all of this, the cancer could come back . . . It makes me scared to celebrate, to feel like there is a finished line, because I can celebrate the small wins but this will be something I mange in one way or another forever…. AND THAT no yummy cake could fix.

The silver lining? Her: "Monique, the good news is that you are responding to chemo, some people do not, the surgery ensures we get it all." 

I know I "should" be happier, but one thing I have learned is there is now way I “should” be, feel or act.  “Should” is bullshit. #stillhappychemoisalmostdone

May 25, 2017 /Monique Bryan
chemo, women warriors, doctor, Monique, cake, Pusataris, friend, cure, surgery, tumor, constipation, numbness, serious, cancer, scared, hubby, fatigue, hair, hair loss, soreness, pain, aches, celebrate, should, hormone therapy, radiation, lie
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E: monique@surpriseitscancer.com