Healing Hurts, But It’s Beautiful

It’s been a year since I woke up in the hospital after a bilateral mastectomy, cancer-free, with my husband by my bedside. The journey to get to this point was quick, with many blessings wrapped in it. I had no idea how the next five months were going to unfold. 

Three hundred sixty-five days ago, all I knew was I had to drink plenty of water, relieve myself in the bathroom, and walk a whole bunch before I was allowed to heal at home. I knew I was going to miss my care team, who had been patient, gentle, funny, and uplifting. I also knew I had an even better care team at home, consisting of my husband, son, German daughter, and a plethora of critters. 

The movements were challenging, and they hurt at times. I was grateful for pain meds. As I was gingerly assisted into the car, I could hardly wait to get home. It’s amazing to me how quickly we get discharged from a major surgery. But, it’s good to see the medical world realize it’s usually best for people to heal at home.

At home, I learned how to climb in and out of bed and sleep sitting up. These processes were hard. The tubes hanging out of me and the expanders sewn into my chest muscles made any kind of movement uncomfortable at best and painful at worst. The bandages around my chest felt funky. Thankfully, the meds helped. 

I learned how to make a nest around me in bed and on the couch. I gathered pillows and my healing blanket, gifted by a dear friend, and sat in my nest. (After a bilateral mastectomy, it is recommended to sleep sitting up for optimal healing.) I never really got a good night’s rest. It was exhausting. 

After a few days, I showered. With the first shower, I needed help, as would most people. But I was determined to get back to a new normal and do things on my own as quickly as possible. The second shower was a bit easier, and I accomplished it all on my own. Afterwards, I slept for three hours. 

Walking, drinking water, and forcing myself to eat (my appetite left with the removal of my breasts) were all critical to effective healing. I walked around the house as much as possible. I drank an ocean’s worth of water. And I ate every once in a while. 

Those first few weeks were eye-opening. I learned about myself and my at-home care team. They were troopers. The humans were caring, gentle, and kind. The dogs and cats avoided me because my tubes smelled funny. (After the tubes were removed, they behaved normally again.) The snakes and lizards continued to not care about my existence. (They’re snakes and lizards after all.) And my chickens were my motivation to walk to the back of the property regularly. They greeted me with their sweet clucks, let me sit with them and chat, and had the most interesting stories to share. 

As the days turned into weeks, which turned into months, I learned more and more about the myself and the world around me. I learned to be kinder. I learned to appreciate people on a deeper level. I learned to ask for help at the grocery store. I learned my limits and how to work with those limits. I learned how to feel more deeply and to allow myself to cry out of frustration. I learned the love of people I barely knew. I learned the goodness of humanity.

Over the past year, life has certainly changed. It’s changed for the better. The greatest lesson I learned was what a true miracle each day is – when we allow it to be. I find peace in my boundaries. I find wisdom in the stillness of the day. I find happiness in the discomfort. I find myself telling people, “I’m pretty okay” when they ask how I’m doing. I used to be “phenomenal” or “exceptionally wonderful.” I even dabbled in being “fantastic.” But the truth of it all is, being pretty okay overall includes those descriptors, and so much more. Being pretty okay is deeply truthful, honest, and vulnerable. I was completely honest when I was more than pretty okay. But now, it’s deeper somehow. It’s more pure. Being pretty okay is more.

When you ask someone how they’re doing, it’s important to hear the answer with your heart. I would challenge each of you to shy away from asking if you’re heart isn’t genuinely willing to hear the answer. As a culture in the U.S., we tend to greet one another with, “Hey, how are you doing?” (or some form of this). It’s okay to just say hello or hi. But when you take the time to ask, “How are you doing?”, maybe take the extra moment to truly listen. It could honestly be the highlight of someone’s day. And if they are brave and respond with a simple, “I’m okay.”, then support them in that okay-ness. 

When you’re out in public and someone is moving slower than you think they should, show them kindness. You never know if this is their first outing on their own after a major surgery. You don’t know if they’re battling mental health challenges, and this outing is taking all they have to accomplish. We just don’t know what’s going on inside. Maybe, just maybe, they’re working on being pretty okay.

Most humbly,
Orsika Julia