We went to bed early that night. A restless sleep. We had to be up bright and early and I wanted to shower. My favorite prima stayed the night too, but drove separately to the hospital. My step mom arrived before us. I had a great support team with them, including my wonderful fiance. I was anxious when we arrived 10 minutes late to The Breast Center and it didn't take much to unravel when we discovered were at the wrong building. I was rude and childish and knew it. In the parking lot, I apologized to the others for ranting and it only took moments for us to get where we needed to be. After receiving a wonderful present from my sisters and step mom I was whisked away to another room. I had to leave Kevin behind when I tried to take him with. I wasn't anticipating that. I began to panic more as he offers comfort to me more than anyone else.
The staff was beyond friendly and soothing, but I really needed him. They all independently told me I was in excellent hands with my surgeon. Can't argue with 28 years of experience and most of that breast surgeries. After changing out of my top and into a hospital "shirt" that kind of choked me a tad, I was led to a room with one medical chair that had a high back. I was seated and prepped for a dye that would be inserted into the right breast with a <gulp> needle. Though I had been warned about the potential for stinging pain from the "medicine" they called it, I was assured that it wasn't as bad as a hornet's sting. Sadly, I've never been stung by a hornet. Reminiscent of the biopsy which was compared to dental needles and in that circumstance I also realized, I had no true experience with dental needles, so no basis of comparison. I only had one said injection and I never felt it because the dentist was a magician. However, based on my memory, I do know that he wiggled his hand around quite a bit, so I should have realized with the Radiologist meant by that comparison. And in this case, I have been stung by a ground bee once (and only once...some people might get that humor). And perhaps again, I should have realized when she gave me the comparison, that it's not the initial sting, but rather the burning that never quits for 8 hours. So in hindsight, not as bad as a hornet or ground bee.
When I'm scared (generally before a surgery) everything seems to hurt more. The needle went in (I thought) and it wasn't too bad, but then I felt the needle more or was it the stinging of the medicine or dye. I squeezed the sides of the chair and cried out quietly. I couldn't wait for that to be over as I knew I still had at least one more needle coming for the IV. The burning didn't last long, yet the tears were still flowing. Once more they oozed sweetness, but real sugar not fake.
I was then led over to the building next door while they showed my entourage where to move their cars to get closer to the new building. The newest nurse or front desk person took me through an underground hallway that undergoing some kind of construction, but I had my fancy hospital robe and my own pajama pants to made me feel a little more secure and I avoided walking under any ladders. I'm fairly superstitious.
I then sat in front of another reception desk while I waited for her to finish up with another patient and waited for the others to join me. More paperwork followed. We were then led to a much smaller and private waiting room (also seemingly under construction) and once more waited for a new nurse to lead me to the next part of the procedure. She arrived about a half an hour or so later and collected me while moving my family back out into the big waiting room. Another patient would soon be taking my place in the private one. That's fine the thing that looked like a fridge, wasn't. Just a tease. I grew more and more parched.
Se led me into a bathroom, which sat inside what felt like a utility room that contained lockers and couple of offices...(construction everywhere) and changed my clothes per her directions. And then the fun part, I saw a plastic cup with a lid (seriously? okay). It was a miracle considering I had nothing to eat or drink since midnight and it was roughly 900 AM at this point. Once I was dressed in new clothes -- no pants, no robe, but a longer gown that closed in the back? Huh? This confused me a little bit considering where the operation was taking place. Then they showed me how the front opened with snaps for the surgery. Okay, that makes sense. I was also gifted nifty socks that I wouldn't slip in. It brought me back to when I was in the hospital having Melina. Lots of those socks.
They took me back to another room where they finally put the IV in. Another painful adventure. The numbing solution was another one of those stinging solutions and hurt quite a bit. Normally needles don't bother me, but again the fear made the pain worse. After the IV was inserted and for the second time I was told the needle wasn't in there anymore, as if it would hurt less. It's a much bigger plastic tube in my vein...a thin needle sounded less painful. Anyway, I digress, she went back to get Kevin and I couldn't stop the tears. No sobbing, just tears rolling down my cheeks. I was so scared. I was looking forward to having the doctor come in and knock me out. I couldn't take thinking about it anymore.
Kevin stroked my hair and we just sat in silence for awhile. After watching blood boiling news, we switched and my step mom sat in for the rest of the time. We chatted and watched news and held hands. I tried to keep the tears at bay. Easier said than done.
Finally, it was time. The Anesthesiologist's nurse came in and put some concoction into the IV (Oh I did have to go to the bathroom at some point as I didn't go from 900 til this point around 1130 and I didn't want to wet the operating table). She attached the vile and then put my hair up in a cap, then wheeled me back after I said good bye to my step mom. I was brought into the operating room and I helped them as I scooted over onto another table. Something else was attached to the IV and the nurse told me for the second time that I would sleep and she would be there the whole time. Like one of my previous nights out on the town...it got hazy and I only remember waking up to someone calling my name. Wait...that last part of the sentence is not part of the drinking nights...I just realized what that sounded like. I simply meant that...
Ah forget it, let's move on. Once I was fully awake I was ready to high tail it out of there, but there were still things I needed to do and they wanted to make sure I wasn't dizzy. I was determined to leave as soon as possible and eat a ton of food. I was starving. It was almost 200 or thereabouts. I, like my grandmother after her mastectomy at the age of 80 was ready to go bowling that same Sunday and swung her arm around, but I was ready to sit out for lunch in my pjs. Both ideas were a no go. My Aunt quickly stopped my grandmother from risking ripping her stitches and my family put the kabosh on lunch and a cocktail. Party poopers. To bed I was to go. The lovely post op nurse gave me a hug before I left for my chariot with Kevin. Char headed home and Maria headed to her kiddos.
The news from the Doctor came to the entourage before I was awake. They took one lymph node for a biopsy and it looked a little bumpy and swollen but nothing terribly worrisome and they took the lump, but they really won't know until the pathology comes back to be sure if it spread or not. I guess I'm waiting to hear. Another node seemed spongy but not to the point where she felt the need to remove. At least not now. I believe radiation will be next, but again, pathology could change our course for the worse or for the better. I'll keep you posted.
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