News from the Front

Alright. So, a few notes:

1) Last night was absolutely, beyond the shadow of a doubt, the worst fucking night of my life. I hate to start this off on such a note, but I'm going for authenticity. I was a few minutes overdue for my painkiller and just all of the sudden, it was as though hot knives were being driven into my incision and at all points surrounding it. Also, I don't know if I mentioned this, but the tumor extraction did involve severing and/or straining the nerves that go to my right hand. My last three fingers are more-or-less useless, but my thumb, and the tendon that goes from the thumb up the wrist, are extra sensitive. This sensitivity turned to pain last night-- since my right is my dominant side, this is extra uncool. (That's my high-fiving hand, for cryin' out loud!) This nerve damage should eventually right itself, but I have to be patient. Important note: if you sent me something that would normally be met with a thank-you card, you can look forward to the most ridiculous chicken scratch handwriting. It is hilarious.

2) One of the surgical residents dropped off the video of my surgery--it's pretty incredible. I couldn't help but feel a little bad-ass watching the surgeons go at it in my spinal cord. Like, "Look what I withstood! Look what my body could handle!" Granted, I just laid there under thick anesthesia while Drs. T, S, L, and company did their thing-- for which I am very grateful-- but I earned that sweet war wound that's slowly healing behind my neck right now.

3) Today was a hard day. I didn't sleep well last night (yes, due to the searing, ridiculous, almost vomit-inducing pain that I wouldn't even wish on Ann Coulter, and that is saying something), but today was also the first day that I had to myself. My dad had to get back to the Hills, Katie had to go back to school, Jan had to go back to my grandma's to shower, nap, and regroup (I guess having a daughter in intense pain can cause insomnia for mothers...weird phenomenon), etc. I certainly didn't mind the time to myself, but it really opened the floodgates for me to synthesize everything that's gone on over the past few days/weeks. I physically couldn't stop crying for about an hour and a half-- just waves of relief, pain, confusion, ambition, love, clarity, happiness, fear, and a most fervent gratitude. I guess I didn't realize how much I needed to just unload a little. A particularly fantastic and irreverant nurse, Rosie, walked in while this chick-flick moment was happening and she was like, "Damn, girl, it's about time you got those waterworks going! How long were you planning on keeping up that tough-girl crap?" I didn't realize I was putting on an act, but she made a lot of sense...this has been hard.
Now, let's add the requisite WTF element to this story and I'll get all of you on board. Earlier in the day, the nursing student who was shadowing my nurse was charged with bathing me...I was on board with this idea. Soft, warm washcloth, this yummy citrus soap, clean undergarments (I could write an entire soliloquy about clean underpants, and no, I'm not kidding...that commando thing is entirely overrated), I could put on my own pajamas (not those uberchic hospital frocks)...I put on a bit of my own perfume, and I even let my wonky right hand apply a little make-up. I mean, what was I just complaining about? Not feeling pulled together? Not feeling like myself? So, I thought this was a great idea. Clean, fresh Dana, ready to take on another day of recovery. Yeah, that was tossed out right on its can because anything requiring stretching or straining my diaphragm is pretty uncomfortable, so sobbing from emotion hurts physically, and that causes a sort of gasping because it was hurting my incision. So, I ended up sweating my ass off from the painful crying, and any of the make-up that was correctly placed ended up in streaks on my palms. So, obviously it was after all this that the afternoon's surprise visitor shows up. I mean, obviously. I've come to a solid conclusion, due entirely to my new friend Tony: the best antidote to a messy, personal, raw, post-operative emotional breakdown is an ice-cream-chip-wheel-thingamajig from Graeter's, delivered by someone who a) doesn't forget the napkins and b) can properly use the term "sangfroid". You heard it here first. Take that gem to the bank.

4) I had a post-op MRI done last night-- Dr. S. indicated that it looked very promising. I imagine I'll get more details tomorrow, along with more information about a possible Thursday afternoon discharge (!). The pathology report is still a few days away (I guess path people like to do things in their own sweet time...not unlike neurological tissue, ahem), but again, Dr. A. (the neuro-oncologist/tumor specialist) seemed encouraged by what he found. If we're going to be dealing with malignancy, it's been made very clear that Team Dana can handle it.

5) My occupational therapy and physical therapy sessions went beautifully. I made another solo walk today, with a much easier gait, and I was able to ascend and descend a full flight of stairs unaccompanied. I'm telling you: independent flight is just around the corner.


Anyway, net-net, today has been a step in the right direction. I worked through some hard physical stuff, I relished the exquisite sensation of clean undersquares (that's a Monfortongirlism), I emptied every single tear duct, I had my first taste of a Cincinnati delicacy, I saw my lovely housemate, and I am a few steps closer to being my best self.

Thanks again for reading!