Nonetheless, on December 13, I flew to Colorado. With the wonderfully generous help and support of my (and Mom’s friend) Jean Gray, who left her home in Haxtun to come to Fort Morgan and help me sort and box belongings, we got through the sad activities of closing Mom’s life.
As I was getting ready for bed the evening after Jean had returned home, I took off my shirt and saw a hematoma the size of a lemon that had turned a mottled streaky red. I freaked. I got in the rental car and raced to the emergency room at the Ft. Morgan Medical Center. There, three lovely women (two nurses and the night shift doctor) calmed me down, wrapped my breasts and my hematoma in 12 feet of Ace bandages, and assured me I would live.
And I did.
As of this writing, the hematoma is the size of a marble.
Yesterday was the one month anniversary of my surgery and I had an appointment with my surgeon who had performed the partial mastectomy. He examined me for about 30 seconds, nodded positively and OK'd my moving on to the oncology doctors.
Soon will be decisions on radiation, drugs and possible chemotherapy. But that’s then -- for now, I am grateful for feeling as well as I do.
Thank you for your cards and messages and loving support and encouragement. The kindness of so many this past month has kept me afloat.
P.S. More good news: My eye is healing from the retinal tear repair. The white is still a rabbity tint and I get peripheral flashing lights in darkness, but I have lost only a modest amount of visual acuity.