Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): I am fast approaching the two week mark of post surgery this Thursday. I got my blood grenades removed today, which is earlier than expected and thank goodness because they were turning into a nightmare. I meet with the surgeon this Friday to go over pathology results and my healing progress. Checking off boxes!

TO THE LONG VERSION!

There were moments during chemo that I truly believed were as low as I could get. Chemo was the worst. I thought I had met my personal hell laying on the couch in agony, discomfort, and fatigue. But no. There is a step further down into hell that I can experience and it involves two drains attached to my sides. Like I imagine chemo as the rocky ground and it separating like two halves of a grilled cheese being pulled apart. Under the rocky terrain emerges a pool and you only have to dip your toe in to realize it is a pool of acid.

Drains suck that bad.

I know my writing style can be a flare for the dramatic at times, but I am serious. There were points over the course of the past couple of days that I had felt that chemo was easier than having two swinging blood grenades and a useless upper body. The first couple of days after surgery I felt okay because opioids, duh. I floated through those days thinking that this was a piece of cake. But the opioids ran out (well, almost since I chose not to consume the last one because I valued pooping more) and even then I felt like it was manageable discomfort. I could take Tylenol if I really needed help. Something changed though and my left drain decided it was angry around Monday of last week. My drain notes said that if I produced less than 30 cc of fluid in 24 hours I could contact the office to schedule to get the drain removed early, so the countdown began.

I began willing the drain to stop producing fluid. Seriously, I would sit there and milk the drain (clear the fluid lines into the blood grenade) and monitor them every couple of hours for new fluid. I wanted the left drain out so badly. That drain radiated pain at a constant 6 on a scale of 1 to 10 pain. Tylenol would take the edge off, but that pesky hole was big mad. My mom would put bandaids with antibiotics on the holes to help, but nothing soothed the spicy hole. I could do nothing to get comfortable. Sitting hurt. Laying on my back hurt. The only glimpse of relief was the brief moments in the shower. Even then showering was a bitch. I had to stuff my blood grenades into a lanyard cloth pocket that hung around my neck. It was useful, but annoying. My mom and sister had to shower me most days because I could barely lift my arms to rub soap all over myself. Things were… dark.

Last Thursday, I finally hit less than 30 cc of fluid output in my left drain in 24 hours, so I messaged the surgeon’s office to let them know. To my sad surprise, I was informed my surgeon liked patients to go three days with less than 30 cc, so I needed to take a chill pill. Fuck. I was mad. I wanted that angry drain gone. That same day, I began to worry that it was on a path of infection. I didn’t want to be a sucker like I once was with the infection on the back of my head and end up in the ER, so I told the nurse that the drain hole area was red and it was painful, but she told me it was normal. If you say so…

Friday rolled around and my left drain continued to be a pain and looked really sketchy, so I contacted the office once more and reported my symptoms. Again I was told it was normal but the nurse made an appointment for Monday morning at 9 am to get my drains out, which was today. Literally the whole weekend I just kept begging for time to sail by quickly. I wanted them out so badly. I took them to a wedding Saturday and they did okay, but I was on Tylenol and hanging with my friends so it was a perfect distraction to my pain. But Sunday I spent the day on the couch, ruminating in my pain. At that point, I knew both drains were ready to leave. The right drain was hardly producing anything. Sweet success.

This morning felt like Christmas day. I had a hard time sleeping last night and excitement danced in my bones. ADIOS DRAINOS! Now, something I did not consider was how these drains were going to be removed. There is only one way out and unfortunately that is through the hole. The nurse evaluated my tracking of fluid and approved for both drains to be removed. She turned and started prepping the spicy left hole and then as I felt her grip onto the drain line, she asked me to take a big deep breath in and out. As I inhaled, I could feel the drain line slowly leaving my body. I could FEEL THE DRAIN LINE INSIDE OF ME MOVING.

“FUCK,” I yelped and then instantly apologized for my poor language. The line kept coming out. I took eight breaths (according to my mother) before the drain was completely out. It was incredibly painful. I can’t remember who said I could look at the drain, but I just had no interest in that point. I felt like I was going to faint. A few seconds later, the pain was gone and just as I began to settle down emotionally, it was time for the other drain. Luckily, this one did not hurt nearly as bad as the first drain, but I could feel almost every inch of it release and pull out of my body. I mostly felt it in my empty breast area. It was the most unusual and disturbing internal sensation I have experienced to date. 0/10 do not recommend.

I am now happily drain-free and looking forward to healing in less pain. I feel more free and functional and less restricted. Being in a constant state of pain is depressing and a real damper on your mood. I mean, I feel like I have a pretty decent pain tolerance but that was just fucking torture. I do not look forward to having drains again when I have reconstruction. That is my new personal hell I am sad I will have to experience at least once more.

And that is the tale of two drains. The end.

Today’s song lyrics of the day are brought to you by Sam Cooke.

“Oh, there been times that I thought
I couldn’t last for long
But now I think I’m able, to carry on

It’s been a long
A long time coming
But I know a change gonna come
Oh, yes it will”

– A Change Is Gonna Come, Sam Cooke