My first week checkup with the surgeon after he whacked off my TaTa's was yesterday. I gave him kudos for getting all my underarm boobage out and for making a beautifully flat incision. He was slightly amused at my flattery.
Of course, I admonished him for passing up an opportunity to remove fat from my belly! He had a snarky comeback about plastic surgeons making big bucks . . . . .see? He's starting to get me!
Doc said we could remove two of my drain tubes (good) and left that up to his nurse. (Bad) I'm like: "Are you good at this?"
The first one felt like a snake crawled out of my chest; totally weird but not painful. The second one however . . . . . I almost throat punched her! (Bad) The look on my hubster's face was priceless. He refused to take pictures of this auspicious occasion so you'll have to use your imagination.
Once the color came back into my face and I began to breathe again, I was tightly wrapped in an ace bandage. (Bad) I'm told it will help with swelling and drainage but it's not comfortable. I hate it. It's a constant reminder of my crappy cancer.
The drive to Baylor and back totally wore me out. And I can't eat on my right side until I get this dang broken tooth fixed. That's something to look forward to: the dentist! (She says with a touch of sarcasm)
At least I was able to take a real shower and wash my hair. Lipstick . . . . .that's the trick to feel better!
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