Running With Scissors

Back In The Saddle

Back in the saddle.  That's what Charlie said when he saw me back at the computer.  Yep.  Back in my happy place, surrounded by my computer, books, magazines, and general craftiness. 

As Susie said, the surgery was remarkably uneventful.  My recovery has been fairly boring as well.  Except for the first night when I forgot I had a drain attached to me and almost yanked it out while bleeding all over my sister's pristine white guest room.  Since she handled that pretty well, I took a pain pill and ralphed all over her white duvet.  Aren't I a lovely guest?  Luckily, she's a nurse and is not easily grossed out, even by me.  Seriously, she's a saint.  Thanks again Sis.

I flew home on Friday and have spent the last few days complaining.  I don't really have any pain, never did.  I only took the aforementioned pain pill because I was afraid I might have pain.  Nope.  The reconstructed breast looks good and feels fine (I'd post photos, but we don't want the old blog to go there).

I do, however, have extreme irritation because I have to wear a freaking girdle (Charlie tried to be politically correct and call it a "binder" but we all know what it really is).  I always thought that if I won the lottery I might indulge in some liposuction on my "problem" areas.  Okay, I really wanted my fat sucked out from head to toe.  I've changed my mind.  Liposuction is horrible.  I cannot imagine how much better I would have to look to justify this heinous girdle.  How did our foremothers stand it?  It's like a giant ace bandage that I have to wrap around my middle, snugly.  The kicker is that when I perspire and I'm wearing something elasticated, I get a rash.  So I've been wearing one of those stretchy undershirts with the girdle over it.  Besides being strikingly unattractive (in a bad 80's, Madonnaish way), it makes my skin look corrugated.  And it's hot.  And it itches. 

Vent over.  I feel better and I bet you don't want lipo either, do you?

She’s back in San Francisco….the infamous Left breast!

The famed “most important breast in San Francisco” is back for an encore.  Colleen and Charlie arrived in San Francisco (NOT FRISCO) yesterday. Charlie treated us both to a nice dinner in North Beach followed by a bit too much wine at my house. Fortunately, we were cognizant of the hour and Colleen downed a few glasses of water just before the bewitching hour where no food or drink is allowed. I’m happy to say I have nothing interesting to report! Everything went well. Colleen is resting comfortably (and symmetrically) as we speak.  Dr Kind did leave in a drain for a few days and has entrusted yours truly with its removal (if she’s nice to me) who knew I’d have such control. hee hee. 

Mom told Colleen she hoped she would come back with twins instead of the distant cousins described by Dr. Kind after the first surgery (I guess we should be happy they were at least related)  Although not identical they are definitely fraternal.

Colleen and I did have a nice time when she was here the last time. We realized then that we both are leaving our breasts (as apposed to our hearts) in San Francisco. She however, is not going to be allowed back to visit if she isn’t nice to my beloved city by the bay ….typos and all.

I better run the spell check!

Frisco and Me, A Love Story

It is a sad fact that Southern Californians as a whole love Northern California, particularly San Francisco.  Sad, because the love is not returned.  They look down on us as their water-swilling, ozone-depleting, silicone-enhanced relatives-you'd-like-to-lock-in-the-attic-to-the-south.  And what do we retort with?  Your weather sucks.  That's all we've got.

Except for THE TYPO.  Yes, my very favorite thing in all of San Francisco.  I admit it, I come to this fabulous city, full of gorgeous views, delightful food, and wondrous shopping, and I look forward to one thing, THE TYPO.  As you head west on California Avenue toward the Pacific, you pass Park Presidio, the broad avenue that passes through the storied Presidio and onto the Golden Gate Bridge.   And as you look up, the street sign reads PARK PRESIDO.  Yep, they spelled the name of one of the most famous streets in the city wrong.  In big, bold green and white letters.  I cannot tell you how happy this makes me.  Each and every time I see it I am filled with joy.  I am living for the moment that some smart-ass, granola-eating, birk-wearing Northern Californian disses So. Cal. Hey, at least we can spell.

I am here in the city by the bay for yet another surgery.  Hopefully, Dr. K. will just add a little something to make me more symmetrical up top and spiff up my scar.  He also plans to

------- do not read if easily grossed out ---------------------------

take out the piece of bone he sawed off my ribs and tucked into my abdomen in case he needed to rebuild my nipples.  Luckily, this little piece of bone is not needed and can be discarded.  The nips are fine. The doc will also be doing a little liposuction to make the ends of my abdominal scar lay down.  He has my permission to liposuction as much as he possibly can.  Seriously.  If he wants to suck fat from my chin to my ankles he has my permission.  Of course, knowing  my luck, the fat would just come back as a ginormous hump in my back, or really huge hands like those Mickey Mouse gloves, or something equally attractive.

So, if you're the praying sort, please send some up for me (or if you're from Northern California [and you have a sense of humor] send me some good vibes if you're so inclined )  that my surgery is short, successful and does not induce constipation.

Sister Sue (not to be confused with the equally adorable Susie S.) will be making a guest appearance updating the old blog tomorrow -- don't miss it!

Chillin' in Frisco

I just wrote that title because it gets all the Northern Californians' panties in a bunch.  Heh, heh.  But it is true, I am once again in the city the sun forgot.  Although San Francisco is picturesque (when the weather isn't heinous), the best thing about this place is the food -- awesome chow.  We had lunch today at Betelnut on Union Street.  Asian fusion small plate place -- I give it two thumbs up.

I also had my visit with the illustrious Dr. Kind.  It looks like I will have one more surgery, possibly next month.  I think I am going to have a small implant to even the girls out.  The difference is relatively small, but it is noticeable, and he can also make the scar look better.  There were a couple other options, including pulling the latissimus muscle from my back to the front, but since the simpler surgery should do the trick -- that's the route I'm going.

Casey is flying in tonight so that we can go visit one more college.  He has to make his decision by Monday -- hopefully he'll figure it out sooner rather than later.  I will be sure to post it here on the blog as soon as he lets me know.  I also have some photos and other stuff to post when I get home.

Forget My Heart . . .

I left my breasts in San Francisco. 

Hey, my sister Sue and I think that's hilarious. 

I had very good doctor visits this time.  They were quite impressed at my healing.  The bad news is that I will still need another surgery.  The good news is that it will probably be relatively minor. 

If there is such a thing as minor surgery. 

As the always eloquent Dr. Kind says, they're not twins, but at least they look related now. 

In even better news, my cousin Jean tested negative for the breast cancer gene.  I couldn't be happier.  Most excellent news.

In a touristy moment, Sue and I admired the cool hearts they had on display in Union Square.  A take-off of Chicago's cows and LA's angels, they were decorated by different artists and displayed around the city.  This one was painted by Tony Bennett (now that clever title makes sense, doesn't it?).

I also managed to squeeze in a nice lunch with my pal Nancy, who lives in Danville.  We met at Jack London Square in Oakland, a very scenic spot where I forgot to take photos.  I did buy a book though.  Jack would be proud.

Thanks

Thank-you seems really inadequate these days.  I have so much to be thankful for -- especially my family and friends who have been so kind and considerate these last few weeks.  I really appreciate the e-mails, calls, cards, flowers, gifts, and food -- it makes me feel very loved.  So, because I can't think of anything better, thank-you very, very much.

The Ugly Truth

I know I must be feeling better because I'm really cranky.  All I want to do is complain about how this hurts and that itches and that I can't do anything.  I'll spare you.  On the plus side, I have regained enough of an attention span to be able to read -- which is huge.  I can't believe I'm saying this, but there is such a thing as too much television.  I thought I could watch pay-per-view, BBCA, Bravo and HGTV for years without getting bored, but I was wrong.  I lasted about 2 1/2 weeks and I was on serious narcotics for at least a week of that.  So this weekend I picked up a book I started in December (Citizen Girl -- rating: marginal) and finished it and started a new one (Honeymoon With My Brother -- rating: really good).  I also resumed knitting the blanket from hell during the Super Bowl.  Okay, I knit two rows and then my arms got tired, but it's still knitting.

I also soloed in the car today.  I took my happy self to Target.  I didn't really need anything, but I'm sick to death of walking around the block (I told you I was cranky) and shopping is walking, right?  If you saw me there (and with my vast readership I'm sure someone did) I apologize for my surly demeanor.  For some reason I felt the need to open and then slam down the back hatch of my car.  Oh my God.  I felt like I ripped every stitch out of my body at once.  But heaven forbid I go home.  Nope, I trudged through Target, practically snarling at everyone who dared cross my path.  But after inspecting the new Smith and Hawken garden furniture (cute), the scrapbook supplies (yawn), and everything else that caught my eye, I left with a bag of Reese's hearts, a Better Homes & Gardens magazine, light bulbs (the wrong size, of course) and a pack of men's undershirts (for me). 

I have some pictures to share from last week too.  The day after I got home from San Francisco was Casey's Winter Ball.  Surprisingly (not really), many of the photos I took were off-center and out of focus.  Which was pretty much how the world looked to me then.  Here are a couple of the passable ones:

Good News/Bad News

Saw all of my six of my doctors in the last two days -- lots of fun, not.  The good news is I got all my drains out -- free at last.  The bad news is that my left breast (the troublesome one) may not make it.  They are not sure if the blood vessels are working properly and there really is no way to tell except to wait.  So I'll wait.  I won't like it and I promise to complain constantly, but I'll wait.

More good news is that I get to fly home tomorrow.  I can't wait to leave this godforsaken hellhole (and yes, I am completely aware that I just called one of the most beautiful, romantic cities in the world a hellhole, but I want to go home).  I want my family, my friends, my dog and even my miserable cat.  I want to be warm.  I want palm trees and the beach.  And Target.  So watch out Orange County, I'm on my way.

Ups and Downs

Yesterday was a bad, bad day.  Very bad.  Horrible even.  Let's just say that constipated is now the very worst adjective I can think of.  It should just have four letters, it's that bad.  But after 24 hours of intense discomfort, I have recovered and am back on the road to recovery.

My mom is feeding me very well and my dad is letting me control the remote (a first) so I am content.  We walked around the block this morning and tried to walk to Robin Williams' house this afternoon, but I crapped out (ironic choice of words, lol) early.  Hopefully, I'll make it all the way to Mork's house tomorrow.  I have strange goals, I know. 

My doctor appointments start tomorrow, so hopefully I'll have some or all of my four drains taken out.  They don't hurt, but they are a nuisance.  I caught one on a doorknob and almost ricocheted myself down the hall.

Must go lay down again.

I'm Back

Bloodied, bruised and more than a little bowed, but otherwise pretty good.  I tried to post on Thursday or Friday (they kind of blur together), but the excellent pain medication I'm on kept me from making much sense (less sense than usual, anyway).  I'm lounging on Susie's couch watching way too much trash television.  I'm hoping to work up the stamina to start reading some blogs and visiting 2 Peas.  It's good to have goals, I guess.

I am so grateful for all your kind words, prayers, and good wishes -- they have helped tremendously.  Sue reading her blog entries and all the comments were the highlights of my days in the hospital.

Wow, now I need a nap.