I got my hair cut last week, and promptly forgot how it should look/couldn't replicate it, so it looks more or less the same as before, only shorter (just grazing my shoulders). I know I should use the straightener on it, but by the time I do wound care I just want to run screaming out of the bathroom these days.
And that's the other thing. Wound care continues, even though, since I am not a smoker (which would mean I'd have lousy circulation -- apparently I have lousy circulation without the nicotine high), it should be more or less done. It's not. My circulation issues may have to do with me having extremely low blood pressure, plus I'm always cold. I figure it's all of a piece although the doc isn't really sure, either.
And the hematoma continues. It keeps on keepin' on, like some demented heavy puce-colored egg sitting there on my right breast. Fortunately it is breast-centric and not over my sternum, where it would, I suppose, appear to be either a third breast (how attractive) or the prelude to that scene in "Alien" where .... well, you know the details.
The hematoma was also supposed to be gone by now. It's not.
Hence I've done what I've been doing for about a month. Bandages. Silver sulfadiazine. Tape. Stuff the left side to more or less stay even with the right. Guzzle water like it was going out of style, to try to compensate for the fact that I am one big bloat factory. Attempt to tolerate some sort of spice (because food's gotten boring) without tipping myself into reflux, despite the use of Prilosec, occasionally spiked with doses of Maalox (mint-flavored, if you please). Mederma smeared all over any wounds that have somehow closed, in order to try to deal with the scarring.
And then I get to do it all again before going to bed, too. Ain't that attractive? Isn't plastic surgery supposed to make you pretty or somethin'?
All of this is happening while, as you know, I am attempting to find a job. My severance from my old company has run out. I still get Unemployment and have been getting it for a while. There was a while there where, paradoxically, I was actually hauling in more than I had when I was working. I've banked that. Now it's time to withdraw some of it. And now is the time for more serious budgeting, and not just the minor budgeting of the past three months or so. Now is the time to get into comparing the costs of running the space heaters versus the overall heat (usually the space heaters are better -- this house is huge and not well insulated). Now is the time to go to cheaper restaurants when we go, and tip less. Now is the time to walk even more for minor errands, to save on gas. Coupons. Generics. Buying staples in bulk. Gifts for people? Uh, how about a nice card?
We are fortunate, really. My husband has a good job and it is stable (he works as an engineering designer/draftsman). He has good benefits. We have savings. My parents have been good about helping us with surgery costs, and insurance and flex spending covered some as well. The house is close to being completely paid for, and the monthly mortgage payment isn't horrible when you consider what it could be.
But these things loom large (and I know that stress is no good for healing, but what can ya do?) when you spend time dealing with so many other things that should've been over and done. And now, well, tomorrow there will be another procedure (in-office) to deal with the hematoma. 'Cause it ain't miraculously going away on its own.
It's funny, as that's the side where the original surgical wound has actually healed. Ha! Well, that makes total sense. Can't have me only having two big gaping wounds now, can we? No. I have to haul out the tape and the silver sulfadiazine and the bandages for as many places as freakin' possible, for as long as possible.
Oh, and don't get me started on TOM. You want bloat and cramps? Oh, they're a delight when you're already experiencing them, and already have a hugely distorted breast. Since I am perimenopausal, I get to have TOM every three weeks. Oh the joy.
People have asked me -- when, jes, when are you going to be settling into feeling happy about the surgery?
I know I will at some point. But I'm just not there yet. Perhaps I will be a few days from now, when tomorrow's procedure is firmly ensconced in my rear-view mirror and the swelling is going down and the bruising finally starts to clear up and and and and and .... Sorry this is such a complaintfest. I was hoping that those would be done. Not so fast.
Dammit, I want a refund on this body, or at least on the circulatory system.