What A Difference A Day Makes

Yesterday, I was discharged from Washington Hospital Center after having a fairly fitful sleep.

Today, I slept peacefully for nearly 11 hours, waking up throughout the night only to do Number One.

Yesterday, I wore a hospital robe.

Today, I wore one of my favorite Rocky T-Shirts, my LiveStrong jacket, and my Duke Basketball sweatshirt.

Yesterday, I was all gauzed up and didn’t take a shower.

Today, I took my first real shower, with real shampoo (not the no-rinse stuff that WHC provided, although it was pretty great when I needed it), real conditioner, and real shower gel.

Yesterday, I spent time with my wonderful nurses, doctors, residents, and PAs.

Today, I spent time with my wonderful friends Morgan, Andrea, and Tracy.

Yesterday, I watched random TV shows from limited channels on a small, non-flat screen TV.

Today, I caught up on my favorite TV shows on my cousin’s new 46-inch HDTV.

Yesterday, I was a hospital patient.

Today, I was a 29-year old woman, out on a Friday night until midnight, watching a scary movie (The Rite -- can’t resist exorcism movies or movies with Anthony Hopkins) with my friends and family, and capping off the night with an arcade game or two.

Things are getting back to normal, and it feels great.

Oh Happy Day

Today, 14 days after my 11 hour, life-saving, physically challenging (to say the least), cancer-destroying surgery, I walked out of Washington Hospital Center. No wheelchair, no assistance, no nothing. I walked out with shoulders back and posture perfect, with a quick and steady pace, and with a big smile on my face.

I knew that today would be the day -- Dr. Sugarbaker's team had mentioned that I'd be discharged today, with or without a bowel movement -- but I wasn't truly prepared for the feeling. Today, I officially closed the book on the most difficult, critically important part of my cancer-killing journey: I endured the surgery and its post-op challenges, I got exactly the result I was hoping for, and my time at the hospital was over. It was a big day, and on top of it, my bowels came back today and reported for duty. I couldn't help but tear up as I realized how much my body has been through, but how it loyally came back to work for me. Gratitude for my lightning speed recovery rushed over me like a wave, and I knew that I'd never take one moment of my life for granted. I fought, I bled, I gritted my teeth through pain, I meditated, I channeled all the love I feel from all my loved ones, and I got my life back in the process. These were the toughest two weeks of my life, but they were also the best.

I'm now resting at my cousin's house in Maryland, looking forward to another week of recuperation. Next Thursday, we fly back home, and how sweet it will be.

Thank you to my doctors, nurses, three nurses, family, friends, colleagues, blog readers, and well wishers. Many of you have said that I'm amazing, but your kindness, friendship, and support are the amazing things. You can give yourself the assist for my record-breaking recovery time. The human body can do quite a bit when the human heart is filled with love.

Making Time for Fun

Over the last two weeks, you've heard about my adventures at the Washington Hospital Center. You've learned about the oftentimes harrowing physical challenges that I've had to undergo: the 11 hour surgery, the HIPEC chemotherapy, the four days of intraperitoneal chemotherapy, the pulling out of the Jackson-Pratt drains, chest tubes, and other lovely appendages. You've heard about my problems with sleep because of back spasms. You've also heard about my wonderful nurses: my normal three nurses Mom, Dad, and Will, as well as those here at WHC.

But what I want to share with you guys tonight is the fact that during this time that I've been healing, recovering and bouncing back, I've also been having quite a bit of fun.

There are three fish in a fish tank at the end of a hallway here in the northwest wing of the second floor where Dr. Sugarbaker's patients reside. Each day I go over to these three fish, and I wag my finger at them, as if they were Winston or some other animal that could actually react to that behavior. More oftentimes than not, the three fish come to me, crowding around, knocking their little mouths on the glass that separates me and them. Pretty cool and unexpectedly heartwarming and spirit-lifting.

The real fun actually happens between 11pm and midnight, when on two occasions we have made some pretty fun films. The first film is me dancing around with my IV pole, which is featured below. The second is an action scene in which Will and my Mom, two of the last people you'd think would want to attack WunderGlo, suddenly have the urge to physically assault me. You'll see how it ends.

What I mean to convey by mentioning all this fun activity is that any endeavor can be made more bearable and joyful if you always try to keep things light-hearted, keep a good sense of humor, and have a good time. And that's exactly what we've done over the last two weeks. So for your viewing pleasure, here are those two videos.

We've Got A Situation

I'm not gonna lie - I love the MTV show Jersey Shore. I've got my favorites (JWoww, Pauly D, Vinny) and my not so favorites (Angelina, of course). But today, I channeled Mike "The Situation" Sorrentino, the Jersey Shore cast member who notoriously lifts up his shirt to flash his "Situation" (his killer abs), to show you what I'm workin' with these days.

The most prominent of my new abdominal attributes is my incision, which is probably the first thing you noticed when you saw this picture. It's such a striking piece of work that you almost didn't notice that I don't actually have a belly button. I, for one, am very impressed by the craftsmanship of the incision. Instead of just stapling my wound shut, which is what most surgeons would do, Dr. Sugarbaker carefully and elegantly sewed me back together, using only two long threads for the entirety of the stitching. Because of his careful work, this incision is going to look pretty awesome and more streamlined when it becomes a scar.

On my side abs, you can see a couple of small circular wounds. On my left side, you'll note three visible wounds and one that is still gauzed up. The three visible wounds include two of my five Jackson-Pratt drain sites along with the former location of the Tenckhoff catheter, which supplied my gut with intra-peritoneal chemo during those first four days after surgery. The gauzed up wound is where one of my chest tubes used to be.

More of the same on the right abs -- two Jackson-Pratt drain sites along with the gauzed up right chest tube.

And right up the middle, above my incision, one final Jackson-Pratt drain site.

All of these wounds are healing beautifully, none of them bother me at all, and they will serve as a constant reminder to me to stay tough, have courage, take good care of myself, and never forget the triumphant beat down I've given "the cancer." My "Situation" reminds me that we all can do anything, even conquer Stage IV cancer, as long as we want it bad enough. Much better than a six-pack or sweet pecs, if you ask me.

Each Day Better Than the Last

As I settled back into bed after a quick trip to the bathroom (not having a Foley catheter means many middle of the night trips to the bathroom for numero uno), a tech entered my room asking to take me down to vascular imaging. Even though all I wanted was to snuggle with the Teddy bear my grandma and uncle got me (it wears a shirt that says "Cancer Sucks!"), I knew I had to haul my bones out of bed to confirm one all-important fact: that there wasn't a single blood clot in my legs. After about an hour, it was confirmed. Great news!

Once I got back to my room, I wanted nothing more than to catch a bit more sleep, but the reiki specialist at the hospital walked in and gave me a wonderful session. Definitely made putting off my nap worth it.

After the specialist left the room, all I wanted was to luxuriate in the relaxed feeling from my reiki session by catching some shut-eye, but my mom entered the room with exciting news. There would be no jello and broth for me today -- I was being upgraded to full liquids, just one step shy from soft foods. Great news!! But I was still yearning for a little nap.

As I turned and prepared to finally recline, I felt something down below. A feeling that I remember quite well but haven't experienced in 11 days. I was, ladies and gents, about to pass gas. Could it be? I waited, with a smile. And there it came, a loud and proud signal that my GI tract was open and ready for business. Then another signal, then another, and finally one more. Elated by this, the best news of all, I decided that it was time to officially get up and greet the day.

Before I knew it, I was greeting Dr. Sugarbaker. He popped in with his associate, Dr. Zappa, we discussed my progress so far and his thoughts on my next three months of chemo. During this chat, my mom asked him when exactly he thought I'd be discharged from the hospital.

"I'd guess...Thursday."

Thursday?!?!? 13 days after surgery! I'd been told by everyone that the minimum stay at the hospital was 3 weeks, especially with an 11 hour "pick it out/pour it in" procedure, but evidently I was/am really crushing this whole recovery thing. Dr. Sugarbaker continued, "Her progress has been...much better than we'd expected."

I couldn't conceal my joy. I'd prepared for this surgery and the post-op recovery for months, and now I can really see that hard work and discipline paying off. Mind, body, and soul are in alignment, and that's how mini-miracles like my recovery time happen. Extremely gratifying.

As if my day couldn't have gotten any better, we learned that the VIP suite in our wing had opened up. The suite -- truly excellent digs, with a much larger lounging area and bathroom, and a balcony to boot -- caught my eye right away.

And now I'm writing this blog post from that suite. You know WunderGlo likes to do it up right. Big props to my nurses for moving our room in record time. Props also go to my good buddy Meghan for not only helping with the moving process, but for making a heroic Whole Foods run for me so that my full liquid diet could be as healthy and delicious as possible. Creamy tomato soup and chocolate pudding (all vegan, of course) have never tasted so good.

My day was filled with great progress and great news. Life is pretty sweet, my friends. Happy Valentine's Day, indeed!