Okay...so...I realize all of my dear friends and family are concerned and ask out of concern "how things went" or "how are you feeling." It is wonderful to have such good friends! In an effort to not repeat the saga over and over again, I have thought to put it on my blog. That way it's from the so called "horses" mouth--It's like getting the low-down from me. When you see me just say, "Hey, I read your blog! It sounds like things are going well." That works for me and I hope you too. If not, then feel free to call or stop by.
Anyway, we arrived at the hospital at 7:15 AM. By 8:30 AM I was back in Women's Imaging. Before surgery a needle localization is done to mark all the tumor areas. With ultra sound the lumps are found and then a needle is inserted for surgery. Before the needles are deployed (once a needle is deployed a sort of fish hook expands out and holds the needle in place), the placement is checked for accuracy with a mammogram. Yes, you read that right. Three needles were inserted into the left breast and one into the right breast and then several mamm pics were taken of the right. That turned out okay. But, the left--about 10 pics were taken until placement was accurate and then the hooks were deployed from the needle casing. In this case, the hook marks the spot. The radiologist then draws an area on the x-rays around the tumor spots, which usually indicates about the amount that will be taken out. On the right breast was an area about a small super ball size (nickel). That's been a piece of cake!!! On the left, there was another area a nickle size plus an area a couple of golf balls put together in an oval shape to encompass the cancer and benign tumors. But, you know me...through it all, we were laughing and telling jokes. The radiologist said he hadn't had that much fun at work for along time. In fact, many of the staff came down to the mamm room to see what all the laughter was about. Hey..."it is what it is!"
Next I was wheeled back into the pre-op room. The surgeon came in and shot me with some blue nuclear stuff which would travel to my lymph nodes. I sat around reading and talking to Scott for the next 1-1/2 hours waiting for the dye to make it's journey. By the time I got into surgery it was 2 in the afternoon and I was feeling a little tired. The anethsiologist stopped by. His name was Smith...I made some joke about how "I knew a man with a wooden leg by the name of Smith." He stopped, laughed and said, "You're funny!" "What was the name of his other leg--" from Mary Poppins. The last thing I remembered was being wheeled down the hall telling the doctor he was very clever because I didn't even see him sneek anything into my IV--I was starting to get really loopy and then I was gone.
After surgery, the first thing I remember was seeing the military digital clock with it's blue numbers lighted up on the wall of the recovery room. It was 16:22. The worst part of the whole entire day was just beginning. I have always done really well with anethesia, but NOT this time. I awoke to my legs and jaw shaking terribly and feeling extremely thirsty--notice I didn't say pain. I don't think I was very nice in the recovery room. I was telling them to get me warm blankets, water, and to quickly get something to stop the shaking before it got out of control (flash back from 12 years ago). They kept asking me, "how is your pain on a scale of one to ten." "Hang the pain, I don't know, just get rid of the shakes!" Finally I got some warm blankets and then I answered an "8" on the pain scale. Who knows?...how does one guage pain? It certainly wasn't the worst pain I have ever felt--better than child birth and not all that bad. They must have given me a whole lot of demerol because any pain I had was gone in just a minute. The next time I answered the question, it was "zero." It had been difficult to breathe for a bit. The nurse, with her annoying soft, condescending--like voice kept saying "Breathe, take a breath. You're not breathing." My word, I was trying. Did they think I wanted to stop? I finally got water and then got nauseated so then I asked her to get me something for nausea--fast. That annoying nurse, just said, "Well, you wanted water and now you pay the consequences of nausea." Duh, I realized that and yes, well the water was worth it. The nausea lasted just a bit!
Thirty minutes later I was wheeled back into my pre-op room where Scott had been waiting for me. They moved me from the bed to a recliner, wrapped me in warm blankets and there I sat, hardly able to move, talk, or anything until 9 PM. Have you ever been in such a state that you couldn't move, but your brain was still intaking information? I almost felt paralyzed! For once Scott didn't have to listen to me expel my 60,000 words in the day. I am sure he was most grateful!
The anethesia and demerol really wasted me out. This was no drug induced vacation like my shoulder surgery---I remember hearing a young girl cry out for help from pain. I really felt for her. She had been in a car crash. Later in the day, I remember being back to my cheerful laughing self and saying, Hello, Doctor" to the surgeon each time he walked by from my drug induced coma. He always looked over and smiled as he passed by. I heard him tell the charge nurse several times (I went through several shifts of nurses) I could stay over night if I wanted. How great was that. But, by 9 PM I wanted out. So I was wrapped in blankets again, put in the wheel chair, given a couple of "barf bags," and taken to the elevator. It was there both "bar bags" were used, but NOW I really did feel so much better. I was informed by the nurse it was her experience that anyone coming in to have breast surgery who also had blue dye injected had the same nauseating experience. She felt it was the blue nuclear dye which caused it.
I was never so grateful to be home and back in my bed. I took some pain meds and was out for the night. My friends took turns sitting with me on Friday. Since then, I have been exercising (you are given breast exercises to do everyday to keep the muscles stretched) and have been walking. All my extended family have been camping in Idaho since Friday. I could tell I was starting a "pity party" so Scott drove me 3 hours on Saturday into Idaho to see the family for 30 minutes and eat lunch and then drove me back home. I know..he really does love me...extremely! When I hugged my boy good bye, I made some quip about hugging me gently as I was "now missing half a breast. Well, at least a quarter," I corrected myself as my nieces and nephews peeled laughter over that one. Hey...."it is what it is!"
So you can see the humor is back and life is almost back to normal. The hardest part it seems for recovery at this point is the 1-4 sentinel lymph nodes that are taken out. My arm is a little numb (expected--have you ever tried to shave and can't feel it? It's creepy!). The nodes came back negative during surgery. Good news! The removed tissue will be checked and we will wait two weeks for a test to come back from California which will tell us what my risk of "cancer return" will be in the next ten years. But as for now, the Doctor said the nodes were clean and the surgery went well. He feels he got good clean margins. I will be given time to heal up and then radiation will begin mid July.
My son gave me a wonderful blessing telling me I would still be able to do all that I wanted this summer. And guess what? I am. I will still get to take Meghan to USC in August, still get to visit my brother in Denver, still get to have a 4th of July party AND I still got to see my family camping in Idaho. So we are extremely blessed. Life is good and the Lord is wonderful!
