i’ve always loved those rain shower heads. you know, those ones that are designed to simulate the feeling of showering in the rain? usually they hang from above, in luxurious hotels, and the water flows evenly, at various speeds, trickling down over you. i find them absolutely divine. they make me feel rich, fancy, and so calm. it is my dream to have one in my bathroom one day.
yesterday, i went for a walk in the actual rain. i imagined it romantic, like taking a rain shower. in fact, it was more along the lines of cold and buggy.
when i got home, i was able to take my first real shower. i am 2.5 weeks post op. i haven’t been allowed to take showers because i’ve had a drain in; and after i got my drain removed they still recommended that i wait two days. over the past weeks, i’ve been taking ‘face cloth showers’, awkward half baths, using dry shampoo, and going to the salon to get my hair washed. there is nothing like being so vulnerable that someone needs to help you wash your hair.
side note: i was very nervous about getting the drain removed as i had heard from multiple people that it was incredibly painful. it was not nearly as bad as i thought! it burned a bit, and was slightly uncomfortable… but compared to what i thought it was completely fine. phew.
when i stepped into the shower yesterday for the first time in weeks, the feeling was indescribable. even though it was our cottage shower (which has a vintage hunter green double shower curtain with valance and ruffled ties, making the shower so dark that you feel like you are in a closet), i savored the moment. letting the hot water run down my body, i felt enveloped in a hot cloud of relief, completely cancer-free, almost primal. i was able to move both my arms high enough that i could lather up shampoo in my own hair. for a few brief moment, the hot water distracted me and took away any pain. it was my first truly present, mindful moment. i could feel every drop.
our bodies are pretty magical. 2.5 weeks ago i could not move my left arm at all. you don’t really appreciate the simple movements/activities until you can’t do them anymore. putting on a shirt became a 15 minute ordeal. everyone around me was desperate to help, wanting to pull and coax my clothes off my body. but i was determined to regain my strength and do it (mostly) myself. last week it would take me minutes to gently pull myself out of a sweatshirt (you know the cool way that kids put on their winter jackets by approaching them upside down? those were the types of methods i was experimenting with). now i can do it in a few moments. sitting on the sofa was impossible without a pillow to prop up my arm, now i can use my elbow. both wearing a bra and not wearing a bra was incredibly uncomfortable due to the pressure of pushing in or pulling down, now i am back to being able to put my hand behind my back and unclip it myself. putting my hair into a ponytail was impossible, now i can stretch my left arm up and back far enough (with a small amount of discomfort) and hold my hair in place so that my other hand can wrap the elastic around three times.
i’m far from being fully recovered. i was fighting a low grade fever earlier this week, and can’t sleep comfortably. i feel pressure getting up and down from low chairs, and my arm aches as the day progresses. my arms don’t swing naturally when i walk, and my left shoulder doesn’t feel like it can sit back in its socket to stand up tall. i’m still at risk for lymphadema and i’ll be seeing a physiotherapist this week to start working on strengthening my arm.
i think i’ll remember that cottage shower for the rest of my life. even if i never get my rain shower head, i hope that i appreciate every shower as the most glorious, life-affirming, rejuvenating, event that they are.
*photo taken in the polulu valley on the big island of hawaii, october 2014.
