DRAIN OUT: a less important yet significant for quality of life update

So the pathology report on Tuesday was obviously the big news around here for the grand scheme of disease and life and overall stress and anxiety. But another thing also happened that, in truth, is maybe an even bigger improvement for my moment to moment existence right now...

...and if you've had surgery, maybe especially breast surgery, or know someone who has, you don't need to the read the title because you can fill in the blank...

I Got My Drain Out!

To the uninitiated (skip this part if medical details gross you out), post op they put a tube about a foot long that looped around under the skin of the left side of my chest and poked out under my arm and was attached to a plastic bulb. And I'm sure they did this for very good reasons so that post operative fluid doesn't build up, fluid that is "better out than in" my body, and I am deeply thankful, I am guessing, for that intervention. But dear lord drains are miserable. They are awkward and move around just a little (yes under your skin) and the suture that attaches them pulls (hopefully only!) just a little and are more than just a little uncomfortable. And they have to managed and babied. And they are kind of gross. And dear lord it means there is a tube sticking out of my chest. 

Since it is out, in the last 48 hours I have become more mobile, less cranky, can shower much less awkwardly, and even slept briefly not-on-my-back for a spell overnight. Sure I still have a gnarly looking wound (when multiple medical professionals tell you, "oh wow that looks kind of angry," is the appropriate response fear? pride?), but I have been told it should heal up well. (This is a helpful since I do work in hospice with a bunch of RNs who are always (gleefully!) talking about gnarly looking wounds. I have been reassured that I do not have one of those kind of wounds).

Maybe I should have taken a picture of the drain. Michael lamented that we didn't name it. Whatever. Some things I'm just glad to be done with.

To all past, present, and future wearers of post operative drains you have my undying empathy and solidarity. Please if you get one, call me up and I will listen to your every complaint with affirmation and unyielding patience. And when you are done, if you are in the mood, together we will raise a glass of hydrating beverage to all the swelling we did not experience, all the infections we did not get, all the avoided hematomas and seromas, all the expedited healing of the surgical site that was enabled by the nifty medical intervention using simple mechanics and air pressure. 

Thank God for the medical device engineers. Now let's raise up a generation of them who will make devices just a little less annoying.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Prayers

One of the gifts of my job is that I work with amazing people who are really good at walking with others through hard things. Some of them are good at that not only because they are talented and skilled and plain old gifted, but because they have done hard things themselves too. And then they tell me about what helped them get through those hard things. I have the privilege of learning from them, and "learning" sometimes includes straight up stealing and riffing on their very good ideas. This one I guess isn't really stealing because she told me about it in a graciously open-ended "if this makes sense to you go for it" kind of way. So with idea credit to an anonymous source of wisdom, creativity, and mirth: Lots of you have told me you are thinking of me and praying for me in and through all the cancer things, and that you would love to know if there are particular ways you can think and pray and help. If you are one of those people, here is a thing that I think...
Read more

Welcome

Welcome to the little blog that none of us ever really wanted anyone to create. But here we are. If you are reading this you probably already know that I was diagnosed in early July with breast cancer. As I have written in countless texts and emails, and said so many times already, the cancer is very small and was detected very early, so the prognosis is so far “very good.” And still, it is cancer. Which is scary, no matter the size and kind. Cancer sucks. So here we are. I have been thinking about how to communicate with all the people in my life, my community locally and in far flung places, my church people, my work people, my friends and family. So far that has looked like sporadic messages and updates and conversations where and when possible. Two things that have been consistent for me so far in this journey are 1) a sense of relief when I tell people and know that people know what is going on and 2) the comfort of words, and offers of support, and hugs, and angry emoji fac...
Read more