From my last post, you remember that my much-anticipated surgery was canceled. Writing about my feelings was therapeutic, and thanks to family and friends, it didn't take long for me to come to terms with it all. Within a day, I put myself back on the work schedule and threw myself into work and making each day I had off enjoyable. I made new plans for the coming 2022, trusting that the reconstruction phase would eventually happen when the time was right.
Well, last Wednesday evening, my surgeon contacted me and said she got me back on the schedule to perform my surgery for Friday. The Covid-19 numbers were not an issue, and she had the right team together to make it happen. I had less than 48 hours to prep my mind, body, and home for the extensive surgery. My hospital bag was repacked, the family schedule and childcare calendars were updated, and the fridge and pantry were filled to sustain my household of teenagers. I was ready, again!
Sorry, I chose not to share the news with you all sooner. With all the ups and downs, I really didn't know until I was sitting in the operating room that it was actually going to happen. I wanted to spare you the drama in case it was canceled again.
As they prepped me for surgery early Friday morning, I felt relief and hope, believing the last part of my almost two-year cancer journey was finally in reach. The last thing I remember was lying on the table with my arms stretched, looking up at the bright operating room lights above me. With all my surgeries in the last year and a half, it was a familiar view yet I was fearless and believed that everything was going to be okay. Anesthesia administered their magic sleep concoction, and in 3..2..1, I was out.
Twelve hours later, I woke up in the Intensive care unit (ICU.) Of course, the first thing I did was reach across my chest and abdomen to feel if things were "different," only to find that both sites were heavily bandaged. I was in and out of sleep for several hours, but through the few words I picked up from the conversation between my Dr. and my husband, I found out that not only had my diep flap procedure failed but that I had serious complications during surgery. My body was spent. I couldn't even cry.
My post-op days have been a range of emotions and physical pain. I have felt both grief and gratitude. Sad that after twelve hours of surgery, I had nothing to show for it (other than scars) and yet thankful that I am here to write about it. In the big scheme of things, my first-world problems are minor compared to the suffering in the rest of the world. Despite this, I have allowed myself to grieve and to cry but also remind myself to "get it together." I still have more to do, and I refuse to let the negative thoughts dominate my thought process and my emotions.
My Doctor has been wonderfully transparent and compassionate. Each day, she shared a little more about the events of my surgery, knowing it was probably best to give it to me in small chunks. Yes, I had life-threatening complications, and thus my reconstruction could not be completed. What was supposed to be a 6 hours surgery ended up being 10+ hours. During the surgery, my lung collapsed (pneumothorax) after the removal of my left tissue expander and allograft. Also, the muscles and tissue removed during my mastectomy and the radiation effects on my right ribs/sternum made my chest area so thin that the vessels wouldn't "hold up" when the donor flap site was attached. All these things are known risks for my type of surgery post-cancer treatment. Any good surgeon will discuss all the risks when you give them your consent to proceed. The majority of the time, things are eventful and go smoothly. The risk of total diep flap loss such as mine is <1%. I just happen to be part of the small fraction of women that had complications. It sucks to be the <1%.
After 24 hours in the ICU, I was stable enough to be transferred to the surgical floor. Both post-operative chest X-rays showed that my lungs were fine. Aside from the disappointment of a failed surgery, I'm recovering well. It has been five days, and my pain is under control with oral meds. My Doctor says that my wounds are healing as expected. I have two incisions across my chest, another from hip to hip across my lower abdomen, and four small incisions where my each of my four drain tubes exit. The expander is out and, "halleluiah!" it feels wonderful to be free from it!
My plastic surgeon has gone through all my remaining options for reconstruction. Due to the radiated (cancer side) and infection in the tissue this past summer, I was under the impression the diep flap was my only option for autologous tissue (my own tissue) use for reconstruction. It was the only thing my surgeon, and I discussed (other than implants) for the last year and a half. Thankfully, all hope is not lost. There are more autologous tissue options than I thought.
In about 8 hours, I will be heading back to surgery. Yes, I know, another surgery. Before adhesions develop in the expanded left chest tissue, my surgeon and I want to move forward to the next phase. Would you please send your positive thoughts and prayers my way? My Doctor will be using a donor site from my latissimus dorsi (back muscle) to reconstruct the right breast and place an implant in the expanded left tissue. It's not my first choice, but I'm thankful to know that some sort of reconstruction can be done to help me feel somewhat physically whole again. There will likely be more surgeries suggested in the future for revisions and refinement, but I won't think that far ahead. My mind cannot go there because, at this point, I feel DONE.
For family and friends, thank you for your messages and calls. They have meant so much to me during my struggles this past week. I will try to keep you up to date with brief posts on my Instagram at Deigratia_19.
Take care, my friends! I look forward to seeing you on the other side of this. With Love and gratitude-J.
