Okay, I Know I Said We Would Speak No More about This

I am blogging about this because it's on my mind today and maybe it will help inform somebody, somebody who wants to be informed about something yucky. These were my words the other day:

"I am only going to say one gross thing. That thing is: surgical drains. Now let's not speak of that again."

I didn't think that I would need to speak of them again because I thought they wouldn't be hanging around long enough. I have two, and they are still with me. The nurse said, "You will probably keep these for 7 to 10 days." But when you hear something like that, don't you automatically think, "Oh, well I will be done in like five days because I am very advanced"? That's what I thought. Or certainly that I would be closer to the 7 days than the 10. Well.

If you don't know what a surgical drain is then I am glad for you. Maybe skip the rest of this post and go get a FroYo. If you want to know what a surgical drain is, it is a plastic grenade-sized bulb that is attached to your body with a thin little tube. The little tube disappears somewhere inside you. That plastic bulb is draining extra fluid from your surgical site, fluid that would otherwise build up somewhere or ooze somewhere or do something unpleasant. Something even more unpleasant than collecting in a grenade-sized bulb that is attached to your body.

I think I am a typical mastectomy patient in that I have two of these things: one drain is for my boob and one is for my armpit, where the surgeon took out some lymph nodes. They both come out under my arm and are sutured (and kind of taped) under there, and then there's a few feet of tubing and then the bulb. The trick is where to stash these babies while you go about your day. You cannot ever let them dangle from your body, obviously, so they have to be attached to your clothing somehow, but preferably somewhere out of sight.

Here's where I think I might be able to be of help to someone: I have heard that some women wear a fanny pack and put their drains in that. A fanny pack. Remember those? That is certainly a utilitarian solution, but can we do a little better? For one thing, I don't own a fanny pack. I asked my sister if she had one that maybe I could borrow, and she was like, um, what? I think I offended her. So no fanny packs.

Another solution is just to wear a big blouse and safety pin the drains inside. This didn't work for me--I could feel the bulbs against my skin and it just looks frumpy. Or feels frumpy. I don't know.

In the hospital, these awesome ladies from the auxiliary breast cancer support network visited me and gave me some gifts. One of them was a black jacket that has pockets on the inside for tucking the bulbs into. I was very grateful to them for all their kindness, and this jacket thing was on the right track. However, it was a big one-size-fits-all, kind of a hot fabric for the weather here, and just not a good look for me. That didn't work, but it got me thinking.

I have two down vests from Lands End. They look like this.

It's hard to tell in the pic, but they have slash pockets on the sides. It dawned on me that these vests (I have this pink one and another green one) look exactly the same inside out as they do right side out. I figured out that I could just wear a loose t-shirt, or really any shirt I want, put the vest on inside out, and tuck the drain bulbs into the pocket, which is now on the inside. Then I pin the bulbs to the pocket for security. Even when the vest is unsnapped you can't see the drains or any tubing, because the vest is just slightly longer than your shirt hem.

Then I look totally normal, and what's more, I feel like I look totally normal, because this is what I wear all the time, as you can attest if you know me. A tee, puffy vest, and jeans is my uniform. Though today I wore shorts. The puffy down has the added benefit of camouflaging any asymmetry you've got going on with the bosoms, and of making you feel a little more protected from the world. The last couple of days, when it got really warm here, I switched to a zip-front Gap vest I have, in a lighter cotton material. Same principle though--turn it inside out so the pockets are on the inside. If you find yourself or someone you know in this situation, remember the magic of the Inside-Out Puffy Vest.

So anyhoo, the drains and I am tired of them and I can get rid of them plz? Their output has not tapered off like I wanted it to, and my armpit is bugging me, so today I called the surgeon's nurse. She listened to me and said, "Have you increased your activity with that arm?" I said that I was walking around my house some but definitely not doing any housework. Plus, Matt keeps an eye on me. He won't even let me pick up my purse. I told her that I didn't think I was being too active with it but that I guessed I could be even less active. She said, "You know, no wiping your counters or sweeping." I was like, "Oh honey, BELIEVE me when I say that I'm not doing any of that." But we said we'd give it another 24 hours and I would check back in. So I dunno. The more active I am, the more these tissues will produce fluid, which at this point, apparently, is not good and is slowing their healing. And it is slowing me getting these tubes out of my body.

And who is dealing with these drains and emptying them and keeping track of their data? That would be Matt. Dude can do anything, carefully and well. Except complain, I handle all of that.