Surgery

We checked into the surgery wing at 9 am for a 10 am surgery. My friend’s mom (who had graciously and generously arranged an excellent -the best-anesthesiologist) greeted us at the reception desk. We exchanged pleasantries and she put me at ease tremendously. We had walked only a few feet then they called me back and Nurse Andrea stayed wizzing around taking care of things: explaining the cleaning procedure, handing me bags for my clothes, putting labels on everything. Pretty quickly I was hooked up with heart monitors, an IV and an oxygen monitor. My first surgeon came in to discuss the mastectomy procedure and sign my right boob. That one was part hers. 

Then the second surgeon came in to draw the plans on my skin. There was a lot of squishing and moving and sketching. We double and triple checked the plan and she signed both boobs. 

The anesthesiologist introduced himself and his nurse. He was quite pleasant and asked all the usual questions about whet or not I had ever had a bad reaction, how many surgeries I had had, etc. He monitored me the whole time and even met my husband know that I was doing well half way through. 

I was wheeled away to the the OR And from down the hall I could hear my surgical team laughing and chit chatting. When I go there I said, “sounds like you guys are having too much fun!” And they laughed and said they enjoyed working together and that meant that I would have great care. It definitely put me at ease. My first surgeon had her head lamp on and I mentioned that it reminded me of Gonzo from the Muppets because it had a long bendy “nose” so she could adjust her light. That stuck and her medical assistant was odd and running with that joke. As I was transferred to the surgical table, I said, “ooooohhh you aren’t going to have me do much longer....” And I was out. 

I was in surgery from 10:30 am to 4:30 pm. Apparently the surgery lasted longer than expected due to a random bleed that occurred in my left breast after the second surgeon had closed it. So she had to open it back up and find the bleeding. Of course, by then it had stopped. Otherwise both surgeons were extremely happy with how things went. 

I remember waking up in my hospital room, but I don’t remember how I got there. I remember my husband being there but I’m not sure how he got there, either. Those were some strong drugs. 

I gave the nurse my pain assessment, which wasn’t much. They gave me ice chips and I was left to snooze while then checked me every once in a while for vital signs. These puffy squeezie things were attached to my legs to make sure that I didn’t develop a blood clot. They inflated around one leg then the other- then the other- then the other. All night. They made my legs sweaty and annoyed the heck out of me once my drugs wore off. (Seriously someone turn these stupid things off).

I was encouraged to order something easy on my tummy. I chose applesauce and soup. Once it came in I needed the anti-nausea medicine! I was able to breathe and concentrate on not throwing up. It got so close that I broke out into a sweat. But I prevailed against the puke. 

I was able to keep all my pills and some Applesauce down. Then another round of meditation so I didn’t throw them up. My husband went home for a few hours to check on the grandparents and kids and to rest a bit. (Turns out he couldn’t sleep and actually drove back to the hospital to check on me at 4 am but couldn’t get in- this shocked the hell out of me.) I had a surprisingly restful night. I didn’t think I would be able to sleep but the nurse said she heard me snoring (haha) so I must have been asleep a few times. Of course it’s hard when the CODE GREY comes over the all hospital intercom (this is for a combative patient) and the constant checking of the vitals and making you “void” (why can’t they just call it pee?).

  By 7 am I was awake and visited by both surgeons who peeked at the dressings and were (almost) giddy with the outcome. My reconstruction surgeon said, “I think they came out really pretty” which almost made me laugh. I had been so scared to look at them, fearing they would be bloodied and bandaged. They aren’t and they are totally small and perky! 

Let’s talk about drains. Nope. Let’s not. So gross. Won’t get over that at all. Ever. So gross.   We had breakfast (eggs, sausage, hubby brought coffee earlier- thank god!!) It took a while to get dressed. I was discharged and a nice old man who volunteers at the hospital wheeled me out in a wheelchair to the car. 

I’m home. It’s going to be hard. This all totally sucks. Sucks. 

But I am ok.