B is for Breast Cancer

Slowly I became aware of an insistent voice penetrating the warm cocoon of my anesthetic induced sleep.  Deep in dream land, I had absolutely no interest in rejoining the land of the living.  The nurses took no pity on me, peeling back the warm blankets and urging me awake.

Bright overhead florescent lighting bombarded my now cold body while the RN's bustled around checking monitors, tubing, and my vitals.  "So how are you feeling Vicki, how is your pain level?"  I mumbled something even I couldn't understand.  All I wanted was to pull up the blanket, close my eyes and fall back into deep heavenly sleep.

Slowly it dawned on me that I was far from feeling o.k.  Swathed in bandages, IV bags surrounding my bed, tubes protruding from my arms, I was afraid to move for fear of ripping something.  "Vicki, we need you to get up and walk, do you think you can do that?  Just slide your legs over and slowly stand up."  Say what?  I've just had my breasts cut off, implants jammed under my chest wall and there are two very large, very heavy drain tubes protruding from my rib cage.  And you want me to get out of bed?  Really?

A few shaky steps later and I was allowed to toddle back to bed, shocked by what an effort it was to stand up let alone walk. Seeing the actual results of the surgery for the first time was emotional but not for the reasons you might expect.  When I looked at the angry red incisions where my breasts use to be all I could feel was thankful..  Thankful for the wonderful doctors and nurses who were taking care of me, thankful for an encouraging prognosis, thankful for my wonderful family and friends who gave me so much love and support and thankful that I truly realized, maybe for the first time, what a gift every single day is.