Infection: Hello, Dolly!

I was proud of how I bounced back from Thursdays' surgery, stopping the pain pills after just 24 hours, enjoying my sunny yard, cooking meals, attending a party at a friend's lovely beach house on Sunday. I felt like my regular self, and fully expected to be back at work on Tuesday and back to my normal life.

But then Sunday evening I started to feel not-so-well. That night was misery, as my right breast and underarm were incredibly sore, and left me gasping in pain whenever I moved (despite having resumed the pain pills). Usually I'm a night thrasher, but my body quickly figured out that the price to pay for thrashing would be mucho agony and I was able to lay still and sleep for two hours at a stretch, until inevitably I'd move and be awakened by pain. I felt like a ghoul in a horror movie as I staggered to the bathroom with my bloody tubes dangling and moans escaping my lips.

Stupidly, I didn't call my doctor until Tuesday morning. By then it was obvious that both surgical sites had a problem. My right breast had gone from C cup to Dolly Parton territory. It looked as if ole Dolly had liberally slathered it with rouge and was as tender as a black eye. My right underarm was similarly red and swollen.

I developed a new way of walking in which I hunched my body around the right side to protect it and moved with mincing, dainty steps to avoid the sudden movements that could trigger pain, like Quasimodo at a cotillion ball.

Dr. C had me come in and grimaced as soon as she saw Rudolf, the big red boobie, and the murky-looking fluid that was collecting in my drainage bulb.

"That looks nasty," she said. "Bacteria could have gotten in the drainage tube and traveled up into your body. We'll take the tube out and start you on antibiotics. You should feel better in a few days."

Actually I felt better right away just from the relief of knowing there was a simple solution. (Although I sure wished it were a quick one as well!)

Luckily, my body excels at sleeping off illness. My temperature spiked to 103.8 last night, but I was able to get eight hours of Z's (in two-hour increments) and by morning it was back to normal. I still have pain when I move, but I've learned to act as if my right arm is paralyzed, which keeps it in check.

This is just a temporary condition with no long-term significance; a month from now I'm sure I won't even remember it. But at this moment it dominates my consciousness as I move ever-so-gingerly, trying to placate the pain gods so they won't rain their punishment down on me.