Time is flying by, and I’m healing really well! For Halloween, I was going to go as Frankenstein’s Bride, it honestly felt like the perfect costume given how stitched up I’ve been lately. But nope! Lexi is obsessed with black cats, and the plan has been in motion forever, so a cat I shall be. Meow.

It took a little while, but all my drains are finally out, and that alone feels amazing, especially since I kept snagging them on absolutely everything. Nothing says “ouch” like getting your medical tubing caught on a doorknob. G played the role of nurse-extraordinaire and learned how to “milk” them, which was every bit as disgusting as it sounds. He said it reminded him of how he bleeds fuel lines  and I honestly can’t decide if that made it better or worse. Either way, he really stepped up, and I’m so thankful.

These weeks have been pretty uneventful on my end… well, except for the last few days, which I’ll get to. I’ve mostly been getting used to my new stomach and chest… My stomach is tighter than skinny jeans after Thanksgiving, and my breast and arm (where they nabbed my lymph nodes) alternate between feeling like a hot orange and a distant cousin to actual body parts. Eating can be uncomfortable, and my breast and arm still ache a lot, but I keep reminding myself that healing takes time.

When I saw my plastic surgeon for a follow-up, she came in announcing that all her patients were bleeding, and I happily reassured her that I wasn’t among them. She looked me over, declared I was healing beautifully, and began removing all my bandages. She told me my nipple was still “at risk” but looked promising. That’s been one of my biggest fears: how do you even know if it “takes”? Would it just… fall off one day? Would I wake up to find it on the bed sheets? G joked that he was worried the dogs might grab it—definitely not the kind of pet treat anyone wants to imagine.

The surgeon didn’t seem concerned though and said we’d know more at my next appointment. Before I left, I asked about caffeine and chocolate, and she told me she doesn’t believe in restricting them anymore. I nearly cried. You mean to tell me I could have had coffee this whole time?! I celebrated that night with a rich chocolate lava cake and a caffeinated coffee. Pure bliss and possibly my new definition of medicine.

Then came the harder part. I got my pathology report back from my oncology surgeon, and unfortunately there’s DCIS under my nipple, meaning it will have to be removed. The day before, we’d just celebrated it “taking” perfectly, so the disappointment hit hard. I’m sad about another surgery and wish I’d made different choices, but as they say, hindsight is (almost annoyingly) 20/20.

The bright side? I get to plan an amazing tattoo! G asked the surgeon where people even go for nipple tattoo…like, do they just walk into the same place as the guy getting a flaming skull on his arm? She explained that there are special medical tattooists for that. Still, part of me wouldn’t mind a big biker guy with a gentle touch and artistic flair.

I’ve honestly never talked as much about nipples as I have this month. It’s been both awkward and strangely liberating. The other day, while on the phone explaining everything to my brother, he casually mentioned, “Oh, by the way, you’re on speaker.” Cue my nephew’s voice saying, “I’m sorry to hear about your breast.” Poor guy, I felt bad but also glad that it normalized the conversation a bit. So yes, nipple, nipple, nipple. Let’s just keep it real.

Through everything, I’m beyond thankful for all the love, encouragement  and support that’s surrounded me.  I really am so lucky – and if you see a chocolate-fueled black cat limping down the street this Halloween, that’s just me, living my best stitched-up life.