I took my bandages off today - I'm going up to the field hospital on base (which we're normally not allowed to use - but with the quarantine and all, I figured I needed SOMEBODY to look at these wounds.)
Gotta be honest - I didn't realize how much breast they cut out and how much padding they had inside the bandages - when I unwrapped it, I found basically the bottom inside quadrant of my right boob is gone. So it hangs funny and tips downward like that Hallmark old lady, Maxine. And the scars are HUGE.
It doesn't really bother me - it's not like I plan to start being an underwear model post-cancer. But I guess, in addition to the pain which will subside in a few weeks, and the complete loss of feeling in my inner arm (completely normal when they remove lymph nodes) - THIS is what hit home as making it real.
And here's the worst part - I am SOOOO intrigued by how monstrous my wounds look right now that I'm having a hard time not posting them in this blog. (Yeah, I know - you're welcome) Because it REALLY does look like someone patched me together like a rag doll. Poorly. In fact, someone FIRE that guy! They're totally wonky.
Maybe I should name my normal breast. If I've got Frankenboob on the right, then what do I call my left breast? Norma? Hmmm. I like that.
Still no sign of my lost tissue samples - still no word on chemo/radiation/hormone therapy - but the way 2020 is going, the world is ending anyway.
What a nightmare!
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