The scars of surgery

I thought I'd literally be jumping for joy when I heard the news that my lymph nodes were clear and that no further treatment would be needed. I was most worried about chemotherapy. I underwent three years of it for my Leukemia treatment. Chemotherapy meant getting sick (again), losing my hair (again), wearing a wig to work, and worst of all, the possibility that I would still be on it, or just over it, at the wedding, which means I could be feeling ill or having to wear a wig on my wedding day - the day I am supposed to feel most beautiful. But that wasn't the case. I said to myself: If I don't need chemo, I can do anything. Surgery is just surgery. My hair will still be there.

What I didn't expect about the surgery is the constant pain. Because three of my lymph nodes were removed, I had limited mobility in that arm for a few weeks following the surgery, and now am doing physical therapy exercises to get it back to normal again. It hurts all the time though, even two months after the surgery. It hurts to raise it and bend it certain ways, but if I don't force myself I won't get that mobility back.

Having the tissue expander literally is excruitiating. About 90 percent of the time I feel it and it hurts. It hurts most, as expected, after a saline fill, because the purpose is literally to stretch out the skin and muscle in preparation for a permanent implant later down the road. On bad days, or right after a saline fill, it feels like shooting pains that are worse when laying down or driving, or breathing, or sneezing. On days that are less painful, after the saline has settled in for a few days, it feels like I'm wearing a corset there; it's tight and uncomfortable and if I sit or move a certain way it hurts. Finding out that I'll be having it in even longer because more skin needs to be removed was devestating. I thought I'd be getting it out early fall, and getting my silicone implants. But because I'll be having another surgery to remove more skin, my skin has to re-grow again, so I have to re-expand, by once again getting my expander filled with saline.

Maybe it's the fact that the constant pain is a constant reminder of what I'm going through, or that I have to look at my scars (of which I'll be getting more) every day that also remind me. These scars and this pain doesn't make me as mad as it does sad. It's sad that at such a young age, I am losing a part of what makes me a woman. It happens to so many women with breast cancer, and surgery is so effective in treating it. I know, deep down, I want them to do whatever they need to to make sure the cancer is out and it never comes back. And if that means multiple surgeries, fine. But the outcome is something I will have to live with forever.