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In the Thickening of Fear/Well the Dream Burned Up

Monday, March 01, 2010


This blog entry is going to be kind of all over the place because of a number of things that have been happening lately. Hence the two songs (the other link will be near the end of the entry).

The week started off with me black and blue and with a hugely distorted right breast. It hurt. It felt like an egg or half of a tennis ball was hiding under there. On Monday I saw the doctor, he aspirated some blood out with a needle and we talked about next steps. The blood was, not to be too gross about it, a dark purple. A plum, a puce, blue-violet and crepuscular.

And it was just going to hang around unless we did something about it. So he proposed, essentially, vacuuming out the hematoma. OOookay. He gave me a prescription for Valium and told me to take that and Oxycodone, then come over in the morning. Fortunately, this was done at the Brighton office so I just walked over. And, well, that was quite an experience. I was awake during the entire time, but, after he gave me some Novocaine, I didn't feel a blessed thing, except I was a tad loopy. We (he, the physician's assistant and I) had a lovely conversation about, er, something. I have no idea what, possibly it was about Cape Cod now that I think about it.

He took out about 100 cc of stuff (hard to say exactly how much as he was also hydrating at the same time). He put in a straightforward little drain and sewed it in place. Watching and listening to such things, particularly when you are doped up, is, like I said, an experience. He told me, just keep expressing out the fluid, change the dressing whenever you think you need to, see you in a few days. The assistant kindly drove me home.

Well. I've been through all kinds of wacky things now but the drain seems to have freaked me out more than anything else. I guess it's because I can see it and feel it. That night, I had a meltdown (hence the first song for today's selection).

I felt awful. I was scared. Things still felt huge and hard and painful. Still bruised. Still angry. Plus I had a drain sticking out of me. Nothing felt right. All I could think was, what the f*** have I done to myself? How stupid I've been. What vanity! I'm being punished for being vain and foolish and overly grasping. How wrong. How painful. How deserving I am of such horrible things.

My husband stood back and kind of let me go at it. His main comment was, I'm kind of surprised you haven't melted down before. And he was right. I've tolerated a lot. And perhaps this was a small thing, but it was that final straw.

The next day, I saw the doctor again. His first move was to write me a prescription for a painkiller called Ultram (Tramadol). This was/is more heavy duty than the Tylenol I'd been taking, but wouldn't constipate (er, sorry for the TMI) me like the Oxycodone does. Hallelujah. He also explained that I really have to express the stuff out, and it won't happen overnight. But it will.

Okay. I was better. I could handle it.

So I went home and did as told. Every time I worked out with weights, I'd stick my arm over my right breast. Extra 20 lbs. on top. Push down. Lather, rinse, repeat.

This morning, I saw him again, and we agreed that things have improved considerably. The purple is gone, replaced with (more TMI) yellow, not only in terms of what is, er, coming out, but also in terms of the look of the overall bruise. My right breast is no longer an inch and a half bigger than my left -- it's about the same.

Tomorrow, the drain comes out. The surgical binder is off. My navel is healed, plus I can start ab exercises next week. This is all in time for Wednesday. I'll elaborate on that in a moment.

Because now it's time to talk about the other piece, the other song.


I interviewed for what was essentially my dream job on January 28th. Yes, I was bandaged up when that happened. The interviewers pronounced my story "inspiring". Uh, okay.

And then I waited. And waited. And waited some more.

And today I finally received word that, yes, my story is still inspiring. But they gave the job to someone else.

I wrote back and asked about where the disconnect was. After all, I want to learn from the experience. If they tell me, great. If not, shrug, that's okay.

If it had been early February, I suppose I'd be a lot more upset about the whole thing. I'd be angry and saddened and depressed. But I'm not. It just dragged on for so long that I realized, independently, that they were doing whatever they could to find someone else. And so they did. And that's that.

One of the reasons I had wanted this one so badly was because it was Community Management (which I've been doing as a volunteer for 7 1/2 years) for a healthcare company. The whole wellness vibe fit in so nicely with my health and weight loss journey. Plus -- and here it's going to look odd, but I'll explain it in a moment -- I didn't have to say I liked Michael Bolton's music.

Huh? You say. Well, I'll explain. The Michael Bolton reference is to a film called "Office Space". In it, there is a character named Michael Bolton (not the singer). The guy's a pasty white software engineer who loves gangsta rap music. But they're having layoffs at the company. And so, in order to try to keep his job, he not only compromises, he completely and thoroughly subsumes himself in order to, he thinks, get on the good side of the outside consulting firm hired to perform the layoffs. He says he likes the music. He is laid off anyway.

And, for me, a lot of my job interviews -- hell, MOST of them -- have involved my having to say I liked the music. This one was one where I didn't have to. I didn't have to give up myself. I didn't have to pretend I was someone who I'm not. But I know that there are other places where I don't have to say I like the music. It does not have to be that way.

And the dream which burns up is something of a false one, I feel. Dreams shouldn't be quite so flammable. And so, Phoenix-like, a new one rises from the ashes.

I have a lunch meeting on Wednesday, for a possible job. And so the new dream will begin. And I'll be damned if I tell him I like the music -- but I don't think I'll have to.
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Member Comments About This Blog Post
    I bet a better job is around the corner. The surgery stuff doesn't sound like much fun. Hopefully you are done with all that soon. Hope you feel better this month.

    3922 days ago
    I'm sorry you didn't get the dream job. But, as you say, a new dream will take its place. And, damn, you're going through a lot related to your surgery. I can definitely understand you reaching your breaking point. But you know, like QUEENOTHEFOREST said, you've done this for your health - both physical and mental. You've worked so hard, and you deserve to get everything you want out of this journey. I hope you've really turned a corner with the complications and have smooth sailing ahead.
    3926 days ago

    Comment edited on: 3/2/2010 2:13:35 PM
    Oh My Dear! What a time you are having. First of all I think you were brave and smart to deal with the surgery. And by coincidence my massage therapist told me that the type of surgery you had (a mutual friend also had it) is absolutely necessary because yeast infections can get into the folds of the skin that are created by significant weight loss. So don't go calling that vanity. It was healthy. And you are getting healthier every day and this was part of your journey. And don't forget that drugs, constipation and infection all contribute to the blues. You are brave and spunky and totally entitled to a melt down. I love your husband by the way.

    And the job. What a smart attitude. It is so danged hard to be authentic when you also have to sell yourself. But you are so right. Ultimately you will be happier if you are really comfortable in your role. At least 90% of the time anyhow. Sending loving kindness to you. And kisses on your head since I don't want to squeeze your sore spots in a hug.
    3926 days ago
    So sorry about the dream job, hunny. But you are right...let the new dream begin.

    Glad to know the medical mess will soon be behind you. No need to beat yourself up about choosing to have plastic surgery. Complications happen with all types of surgeries. You aren't being punished.
    3927 days ago
    Oh Janet, so sorry! Both on the job issue and that your healing takes longer with more complications than anticipated. I think I would have had a melt-down a lot sooner.
    It sounds like you're on the mend though - glad you have a caring husband too.
    I think you deserve a job where the music YOU come up with is appreciated. I know it's out there! I for one really really like your music. Keep being you!
    3927 days ago
    Wow, I'm glad you are on the mend. Too bad about the job. Hope they tell you why they didn't give it to you.
    3927 days ago
  • no profile photo CD4749243
    March to your own drummer, sweetie, and if you don't like their music drown 'em out! The best is coming. Gotta be, 'cause you deserve it.

    3927 days ago
  • no profile photo CD3248497
    Everything will work out. I say the same as I continue on my job search. And even though I have some promising things, I try not to think about it b/c nothing has materialized yet. Sorry to hear about all the medical drama you have been going through. I would of been a hot mess too! I get scared when I see a new mole, so you can imagine.

    Take Care
    3927 days ago
    It sure does seem like you are having a harder time than you should.But it does sounds like it is getting better.Just hang in there.This will soon just be a bad memory.
    As for the job.It wasn't meant to be. A better job is awaiting you.
    3927 days ago
  • KARBIE18
    So sorry to hear you didn't get the job, but very glad to hear you're finally starting to heal. That would have scared the crap out of me. I DEFINITELY would have melted down sooner!
    3927 days ago
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