Look, Ma, a new boob!

I'm back from the hospital, sporting a brand new boob. I wish I could say it has that “new boob smell”, but, it just kind of smells like the other one. I wonder if that would be different had they used tissue from my butt area. Just sayin!

I'm still having pain issues – big time. The first hurdle I had to get over was the bed in the hospital. When you've slept on a soft side waterbed for over 30 years, sleeping on a hospital bed is like sleeping on a rock. My back has yet to recover from it.

My actual breast area doesn't hurt all that bad; but then again, I have dilaudid. I probably shouldn't judge. My abdomen, however, is hurting. That's the area they took a great deal of skin, fat and muscle from to make my new boob. An awesome new boob.

I have four drain tubes – which are the antidote for sexy. There are two from under my arm for my new boob, and two from my abdomen. I have to “milk” them, which is basically making sure that the line is open. You run your fingers over the tube, down to the collection bulb. Then, I have to empty the bulb into a cup that has exacting measurements, record the volume and the colour. I wish I could use the word “gross” to describe the colour, but I don't think my doctor would find that helpful.

On the bright side – I'm home! AND, I have an awesome family. First and foremost, I have an awesome husband, who does everything in his power to be sure I'm comfortable.

I also have a daughter who has taken it upon herself to be my personal slave. She keeps track of all my medicines on a chalk board, and like clockwork, she appears with whatever it's time for. She also cooks my lunch, and insists that I eat it in bed on a nice tray. I wish I could say that I'm a really good mom who tries to make her stop. I did give it the appearance of trying to make her stop, so I should get brownie points for that.

My other two have taken care of laundry duties, and have been my little gophers – running for everything from medicine to ice cream. Seriously – I saw a commercial for ice cream bars, and thought I'd just die if I didn't have one within the next 24 hours. Those kids got in the car, and I've been sucking back Dove ice cream bars like a kid at a carnival. I should probably stop consider that I'm going to have to return to my workout regime at some point in the future. The eliptical machine we have only supports so much weight. Plus, I don't want to negate my awesome new tummy tuck.

I also have Gretchen, the world's best mom. She went out and got a pillow for under my legs. Plus, she's been praying on those God beads for me. I also have an excellent sister, Teresa. She went to Padre Pio's for me, bought a neat bracelet, and touched it to the healing statue for extra insurance. She's also the one who went nuts making the chemo countdown beads to give away. There's also Michele, the Ethel to my Lucy. She came down with Matt to visit me and of course, made fun of me. Only a best friend will point and laugh when you're lying in a hospital bed - & make you laugh right along with her!

I've also been blessed with a whole big bunch of other family and friends. I pretty much hit the jackpot when it comes to that. I promise you, if you have a support system, it's best to lean on them. They really, really want to be helpful and even though you don't want to be a burden, believe them when they say they want to do something. Please let them; I swear, they want to feel useful. You can tell them until you're blue in the face that their support means everything, but until you let them do stuff, they won't be happy.

Oh, another bonus of my surgery! They took down all the scar tissue on my stomach and under my arms! I'd had a ton of abdominal surgeries over the years – for endometriosis and three c-sections. I had scars running up and down and side to side. That's why when they asked if I'd be upset that I'd have a small horizontal scar that could be hidden by a bikini, I almost peed my pants laughing. I haven't had a thought about wearing a bikini since I was 12.

Also, when I had my original mastectomy, they took out 20 lymph nodes. My underarm was a mottled mess of skin and displaced fat; there were more hills and valleys under there than the Swiss Alps. It's now an actual underarm again. My hills are no longer alive. Yay!

Well that's it for now. I'm going to the doctor this Friday for my follow up. We'll discuss nipple reconstruction and “evening me out”. Old leftie is about a size smaller than my new, proud right boob. They'll sneak in an implant so it doesn't continue on its road to a full blown insecurity complex.

If you're in the mood for silliness, you can read my latest article. It's called, “Try My Product”; which is a Lucy vs. the Video Professor piece. Read it to see who wins – grin!