It’s now two weeks since my surgery, and I’m pleased to report that things are healing nicely, although recovery has had one or two unexpected moments!
I finally removed the dressings last Sunday. With the benefit of hindsight, I really should have enlisted a ‘second’ to stand outside the shower for moral support. I won’t go into too much detail, but I hadn’t quite appreciated just how many layers of dressings and tape there would be. By the time I was nearing the end of the process, I was beginning to feel a little light-headed and dizzy so had to make a fairly rapid exit from the shower. Fortunately – at that point – I hadn’t actually seen the extent of the damage as I hadn’t put the main light on (as it’s too bright in the bathroom) nor worn my glasses.
Once I was ready to have a proper look, the good news was that everything seemed to be healing nicely. Everything was still very sore and rather sensitive, having been covered up for nine days, so I did have to put another dressing over it for a couple more days.
I think it’s fair to say that any ambitions of a modelling career have now been firmly extinguished. I’m affectionately referring to the affected part of my anatomy as ‘Frankenboob’, thanks to a rather impressive 10cm scar and some weird swelling and bruising. Thankfully, my surgeon was very neat and tidy, and I’m particularly grateful that she had such tiny hands! I’m sure things will gradually settle down. However, the important thing is that the offending evil invader should now be gone. Frustratingly, I still must wait another couple of weeks to find out whether they’ve managed to get it all, although there’s apparently around a 1 in 5 chance that I might need further surgery. The odds are in my favour, so my fingers are firmly crossed.
Meanwhile, earlier this week I resumed my targeted treatment with an injection in my thigh of a cocktail of drugs known as Phesgo. This will be administered every three weeks for approximately a year, with the aim of dealing with any cancer cells that might be lurking elsewhere and preventing them from causing trouble further down the line. Thankfully, it’s not nearly as brutal as chemotherapy, although it does have its own side effects.
After everything my body has endured in recent months, I’m hoping this will be a rather more manageable chapter. There is still a risk of serious infection, so I will have ‘low immunity’ weeks where I should avoid too much socialising. Fortunately, Christmas should be on a ‘good’ week so we should be OK to see family during the holiday.
One small disappointment though, despite being nearly eight weeks on from my last chemotherapy session, my hair doesn’t seem to have got the message about growing back yet. I’d been rather hoping for at least a little five o’clock shadow by now, but there’s still nothing to report yet. Perhaps I’m being impatient, but I’d quite like to see some evidence that things are returning to normal.
Talking of normal, I haven’t been allowed to do any proper housework yet and it seems a little ironic that the only time you think about housework is when you don’t do it…
Nonetheless, another milestone has been reached, another stage of treatment is underway, and a few more hurdles still to negotiate. There are still some unknowns, and I’m certainly not claiming to be fighting fit just yet, but I’m feeling positive and very grateful that the surgery is behind me.
One step at a time.
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