A broken spirit

 

It has been five days since my bilateral skin-saving mastectomy and direct to implant breast reconstruction. I want to share my story of how post-operative complications broke my spirit, and about the knight in shining armour that came to my rescue.

I am 45-years old and this is my second surgical procedure ever in my life, both in the same month. Eight weeks ago I was healthier than 95% of women my age, and today I suffer from water retention, fatigue, digestive problems, a dry mouth, and blurry vision. I cannot bathe myself or wash my hair. I can't get in and out of bed without someone physically helping me. And the worst of all, I cannot feed or hold my furry children.

Those who know me understand that I am independent and ambitious. But now I find myself helpless... and with a broken spirit. 

It all started yesterday morning with a call from the surgeon's office: "Mrs Louw, the labs found a bacteria in the tissue that doctor removed that must have come from the previous surgery and you need to start a second course of antibiotic immediately if you want to protect your new implants. I emailed you the prescription. Please, get the medication and start it immediately. You must complete the other course of antibiotics as well." 

I was angry because I told hubby that the site of my wound is getting more painful and we both thought it must just be the nerve endings that are coming back to life. And that it didn't matter because it is all going to be removed and I'm going to be cut again, anyway. But, had I mentioned it the plastic surgeon might have delayed my surgery which would have delayed the onset of my cancer treatment.

Then, water retention is something I know of but hardly ever experienced myself. Since my discharge from the hospital, my hands and feet looked like little puffer-fish. Hubby said that even my face looked swollen. So I decided to call the surgeon's office yesterday to ask what I can do to relieve the swelling in my legs and feet. 

Instead, I get a call from the surgeon saying that I must get to the emergency room in Rosebank immediately as he fears for a deep vein thrombosis (DVT). What the fuck? It is at 4 pm in the afternoon. I just arrived home from Johannesburg after spending 2 hours in the car. Now I have to drive back to Johannesburg in peak hour? No ways! 

So off hubby and I go to my family doctor's rooms. Shit! On Wednesdays, he only consults until 1 pm. I call his mobile and he is not available. I Google for doctors in Parys and off we go to another doctor's rooms. Neither of the two doctors is in today. There is one doctor left in Parys and we pray that he is still open. Thankfully he is. All I want is for the doctor to examine me and look for the signs and symptoms of DVT, and based on his expressions while examining me, I am not at risk of DVT. Yet the surgeon in Rosebank insists that I am admitted to hospital to have tests done.

Feeling defeated, hubby and I drove back home in silence. When we arrived home we sat down and had a serious chat and decided that I am not going to the hospital. We did research about my medication and found that the anti-inflammatory that has been prescribed to me, causes severe water retention as a side effect. I also did some research on DVT and decided for myself that my risk is too low because I have been up and about, moving around, and I don't show any of the other signs of DVT.

I immediately stopped taking the anti-inflammatory, we changed my resting position to make sure my feet are higher than my head, I started to increase my water intake and drinking cranberry juice to flush the toxins from my system, and hubby started massaging my legs with arnica oil to improve circulation.

But the damage was done and my spirit had been broken. How much more can a person take? How much more money will doctors suck out of us? What if I ignore the doctor's treatment advice and keel over dead when I want to go to the toilet? And so started the 'what ifs' that I promised myself I will no longer do. A broken spirit does that...

I stopped taking the anti-inflammatory and I also stopped taking my pain medication. My body simply cannot cope with all the toxic chemicals flowing through my veins. I will continue and complete my two courses of antibiotics because I understand the importance of fighting off infection.

Last night was the most difficult night since I have been diagnosed with breast cancer. A broken spirit spills over and causes a broken body. I could not lift myself up to get out of bed to go to the toilet. As hubby gently lifted me in and out of bed each time I cried uncontrollably, feeling fragile and helpless. I had no pain, and I still have no pain except for the uncomfortable pinching of the skin caused by the drainage pipes sticking out from either side of my chest. 

What breaks my heart is to think about how difficult it must be for hubby to see me so frail and feeble. Yet, his words of encouragement kept me going through the night and today I am once again in good spirit. 

My husband is the knight in shining armour who rescued me from the dark, deep well of a broken spirit. His love is unconditional. His love is pure. His love is perfect. His love is for me. Give this man a Bells, for he deserves it!