Then there was one

Sometimes life just kicks you back down when you get better and start to climb that hill. 

It all started on Tuesday 24th March.

I woke up feeling okay. Not brilliant. But okay. Erin and I had breakfast and then we did some dancing around the front room like Zumba style. Nothing exciting, but embracing this lockdown. She then went up for her morning nap. I went for a lay down and was doing my puzzle. Woke up a few hours later, and felt like my head had been squashed in a vice. 

That night the chills started, I felt nauseous and sick and I felt cold, but my core was warm. Feet and hands like ice. No other symptoms. I started panicking that I had the Coronavirus, but was reassured that I didn’t. I went to bed at 7 and woke up at 9:30pm. Took some paracetamol and then went back to sleep. 

Wednesday 25th March 

Today I felt awful, my body hurt. I felt sick and kept trying to be sick but nothing was coming up. I had some plain toast, but that didn’t last long. I dozed all day, and felt sick all day. Nothing settled it. 

That night I went to bed, as normal. Shorts and T-shirt. Woke up at 1am and my whole bed was wet through. I thought I had wet the bed. I got out and got changed, had a few pints of water and laid lots of towels in my bed and tried to go back to sleep. 

Thursday 26th March 

Today I felt like hell. Now extremely paranoid I have the Coronavirus. I was having hot and cold flushes and felt incredibly sore, like I’d been hit by a bus. I had some shreddies and a banana, and then I thought I’d have a shower. 

Went upstairs to get undressed, my whole right ‘Foob’ was red, and by red I mean like shiny red and very swollen. Brilliant. More antibiotics. 

Phone the breast care team, they advise me to come down to hospital and get it checked over. 

Off I trot to the hospital. Face mask on, latex gloves. 

They take bloods to check my infection markers and send for someone to come and see me. 2 hours later, I am in hospital still and my surgeon comes round. 

Infection markers should be between 1-10. Mine were near on 200. So they admitted me that night. Then the struggle began. 

Cannulating me is never easy. 

They decided that they would then give me 4 different types of antibiotics to get my infection levels down and start treating me straight away. So from 1pm - I was being pumped with antibiotics. 

I had an infected seroma (build up of fluid) that had turned into blood poisoning. 

Friday 27th March 

Today they decided to draw some fluid from around my implant. That was an experience none like I’ve had before. As it was Friday, it was the last day my surgeon was in before being off over the weekend. So I thought I’d be going home today, but they said no, more antibiotics via IV. As my cannula had failed in the night and started tissuing, they decided to fit another line, like a picc line but this was called a mid line. It doesn’t go as far down as a picc, but in theory does the same thing, is there to administer the IV and take bloods. 
They drew some fluid and sent off for microbiology to have a look and see if they can grow a bug from it. Which I would get the results Monday. 

Saturday & Sunday 

Longest weekend in my life. Not only was I stuck in a room on my own in hospital. No Visitors are allowed due to the Coronavirus. The local hospital has lockdowned anybody going in. No visitors, no birthing partners! It’s insane! 

But I was bored, sick, tired. 

Sunday the sickness began, like everything I drank came back. Everything I attempted to eat, came back. It was rough. 

Monday 30th March 

They had briefly talked about removing my implant last week, but wanted to try and save it first because they didn’t really want me to spend too long in hospital with this Coronavirus pandemic going on. Today my surgeon came round and although seemed happier, on examination felt that there was ‘crackling’ sensation on touching my right boob. I felt it too. 

She said she wanted to get someone else to come have a look who specialises in plastics. 

When she came, the first thing she said was she wanted to remove it. 

Replace it? 

No remove it. 

Tuesday 31st March 

No sooner had I had my morning IV of antibiotics, they were getting me prepared for surgery. I had to sign my consent forms. Simple mastectomy right hand side. Anaesthesiologist DR came, the HCSW came, I barely had chance to message my other half and I was being gowned up ready to go. 

The last thing I saw was 9:30am. Then I woke up in recovery at 12. 

1 boob down and being very sick. My oxygen levels were shocking low and I kept dozing. But I was alive I guess. 

I have never felt so shit in all my life. 

Not only had I felt like I had failed everything, I felt unlike me. 

I’ve lost my boob. Okay it wasn’t my OG killer boob, but my foob that I had just started to get to like and live with. A foob that didn’t move but had no feeling. I just semi got my mobility back, and feeling easier around the house moving. 

Not even had the bastard thing for a month and this has already happened. 

Oh and another drain attached!!

The sickness today and tonight has been insane. Everything is coming back up, and nothing is staying put. I am exhausted and so hungry. The food has been absolutely rank in the hospital. I wouldn’t even feed it to the ground for compost. I was having jacket potato and beans for dinner. Can’t go wrong with that right? well the potato was as hard as it was coming out the ground. So I merely had beans. 

I couldn’t stop crying. 

Crying because I missed everyone at home. I wanted to see someone. Crying because I was hungry. Jim brought me snacks up, which have all gone. The cafe in the hospital closed, the shop closed. They don’t even have a toaster to make toast. How? No visitors allowed. The only person you occasionally see for 30 seconds is a nurse or doctor and even then, it’s not as if they have time to sit there with you for hours on end chatting! it’s lonely. So lonely. 
Then crying because of my appearance. I’ve lost a boob. Crying because of how I’m going to look or feel on my wedding day (if it’s not cancelled pending Coronavirus) how I’m going to feel going forward. 
Crying because of regret, I wish I had just had the lumpectomy and then waited for the full diep flap reconstruction at a later date. 
Crying because I felt angry that I thought of having two even looking boobs rather then the risks of getting infections and implants and big surgery and recovery with a nearly 3 year old. How much strain that it’s put on my other half and the house! 

But here I am. 
Alive.
I guess I have to be thankful for that more than anything in this weird world we are living in.