Chapter 13: Answers

Much like the end of 2018, the beginning of 2019 was painful and confusing. Different Doctors were rounding, I would now have two wound vacs, and relationships were being tested. On January 3rd, I was in pre-op for my 19th surgery, answering routine questions and signing consent forms, when the surgeon who was going to be working on my left hand came over. She explained that she would need to cut away some scar tissue and then try to close it up as much as possible before covering the rest with integral shark skin. 

Later that day I woke up in the PACU with two wound vacs; one on my left hand and one on my ribs. Four days later, I would go back to the OR for both vacs to be changed, which would be my 20th time going under. For the rest of January I would be going to the OR twice a week for wound vac changes.

Friends and family were visiting a lot and it was a great distraction from what I was dealing with. I barely had time to be alone with my thoughts, which was probably for the best. The first time I had a panic attack was at about 4:30AM on January 21st. What started out as a bad dream turned into a full-blown meltdown. I remember 4 nurses rushing into my room to make sure I was okay. Since I was hooked up to monitors and there was a camera in my room, it wasn’t long before they realized something was wrong. At the time I was so embarrassed, but now when I look back, I can’t believe it took me that long to start noticing the effects the trauma was having on my mental health.

On January 22nd, I was in pre op when the surgeon who oversaw my hand came to talk to me again. She explained that the hope behind the integral shark skin and wound vac was that my own tissue would eventually heal, but if it didn’t, I would need a skin graft. The surgeon explained that the grafts would most likely come from my thigh, since that’s what the other surgeon would do for my upcoming surgery to cover the wound from the lobectomy.

No one had had this conversation with me yet and I was totally shocked. I had no idea they would need to use skin grafts to finish the job. I guess I never thought about it since I hadn’t seen the wound myself. I was devastated and confused. The surgeon apologized because she thought I was aware of the plan. I went in for surgery and they were able to change both wound vacs and take out my chest tube.

Even though all of this was going on, I still was able to work with PT almost every day. Cate and Grant would take me up to the rehab gym and we would try new exercises. It was nice to escape from my unit for a little bit. We would go up in the wheelchair and I would try to walk as far as I could before throwing up. Cate and Grant were used to me getting sick so we would always bring a pan up to the gym just in case. Britney Spears, Ke$ha, and Lady Gaga really helped me through those workouts (poor Grant and Dad).

On January 23rd, some med students had planned to come in and interview me about what happened. They were really nice, and I didn’t mind at all. I was so used to talking about it when new teams rounded that it was second nature by that point. On the same day, the plastic surgeon who oversaw my wound came in to talk to me about his plan. At this point, I didn’t know when the “flap” surgery was going to happen. He talked to me about why it was difficult to time it because it would take at least 6 hours and he wanted the wound to heal as much as possible before he took the vac off. When he told me it was scheduled for February 14th, it seemed like a lifetime away. I was upset because I realized I was going to be in the hospital well into the Spring, and I hadn’t mentally prepared for that.

I will always be grateful for this surgeon because of how honest and straightforward he was with me. The plan was to take my right latissimus muscle from my back and cover my left side wound with it (“flap” surgery). He then planned to connect the vessels under my left armpit and if that didn’t work, he would use the mammary arteries. He would then need skin grafts to cover the flap.

To everyone else it was the obvious solution, but to me everything was confusing because I hadn’t seen it. He didn’t think I was ready to see the photo and I didn’t argue with him. He explained that he would not take skin grafts until he was positive the flap was successful, so he had time to brainstorm about different options. Skin regeneration was and is up and coming, and he and my mom were going to research it. I felt a little better even though it was a hard conversation. My surgeon did tell me that if I were to gain weight, it would help with the healing process and hopefully result in less grafting. That advice was frustrating, because as much as I wanted to gain weight, I was constantly throwing up.

During this time, not only was I dealing with going to the OR twice a week, nausea, and hard conversations/realizations, I was trying to maintain a relationship that was crumbling. I felt guilty that I couldn’t be totally present because my room was basically a revolving door, and during the times we were able to be alone, I was tired. I realize now that it wasn’t my job to take care of someone else during that point in my life. I am appreciative of everyone who supported me, but certain arguments and conversations have a time and a place, and at my bedside in the hospital wasn’t it. Additional stress was the last thing I needed, and unfortunately, I couldn’t seem to get away from it.