Surgery Today

Didn't sleep well last night, though I'm not surprised! Anxious about the surgery, anxious about the kids, then, anxious about oversleeping since I'm not falling asleep! Typical!

Except for Gaby going to EK's early this morning, and me not eating, the morning is pretty typical. Nick leaves at his usual 6:40 a.m., Roxi's underfoot, anxious for attention, a bit less so after having been fed. Marc forgets we have to be out the door by 7:15, so has to skip two of his S's, and cut the third short. He'll have time later, while waiting to come back for me.

Gaby's happy to see that baby Caroline is up when we drop her off, so parting ain't such sweet sorrow. She's off to mother Carrie, since two of her siblings are still sleeping and the third is no where to be seen.

With Elizabeth's expert guidance and instruction, I have no trouble directing Marc to the parking lot and find our way to nuclear medicine. We get there with almost 15 minutes to spare. My appointment is 8:00. Check in, flashing that driver's license and insurance card, of course. And wait. I'm moved to a room. I change. I wait. Waiting some more, I'm told that the doctor who's supposed to form the procedure wasn't aware she had early morning patients and isn't there. I don't care about that -- I assume there should be someone else there qualified to do it. Nope. Not so far! So I put my comfy green hoody over my lovely blue hospital gown, under which I still wear my comfy faded yoga pants, and return to Marc in the waiting room. Better than sitting in that cold room alone. I'm assured the doctor should be there in about 15 minutes. Back to my book.

They seem surprised to have found a different doctor present, who can perform my needed procedure, and I'm back down the hall and in my room about 10 minutes later. I'm positioned on a surprisingly comfortable board, on my side to expose the required left boob, and poked. Several times. First, the lidacane to numb the area, so that I won't feel the subsequent four or so needles used to inject the dye into the lymph nodes. Now, I thought my lymph nodes were closer to my arm pit, not the centre of my breast. But that's where the injections went. Better not to watch!

A bit of bandage and I was ready to dress and head off to the breast centre, for the next step. I was required to be there at 9:30 for my 10:00 appointment. I didn't sit long in the waiting area once we arrived. Another lovely blue gown, and more prep. This time, needle localization. The insertion of a wire (turned out to be 2) into the tumor, for, as I understand it, location identification for the surgeon. More numbing for more needles.

I was glad to see the same doctor who performed the biopsy. A different nurse and ultrasound technician, but the same doctor. While the fact that I'm becoming familiar with the people and faces there is a bit unsettling, they have wondeful, supportive, professional, simply amazing people working there. Nice faces to become familiar with. Just as Anne, my nurse during my biopsy, held my hand throughout the procedure, instructing me to squeeze if discomfort was a problem, Kathleen, my nurse today, held my hand, rubbed my leg, offering conversation and comfort. I realized shortly into the procedure that I had a front row seat for it. The doctor has to see the ultrasound screen to know what she's doing. The screen is on my right, which I'm now laying on to provide access to the doctor. We're both looking in the same direction, and I suddenly realize that the straight line growing across the screen is the needle in my boob. Can't feel it. More just sense it's there. So I watch her position the first wire, which has a sort of looped hook at the end, to hold it in place. She places a second one, to be sure. She's gentle and apologetic, very calm throughout. And she's the same with the two assisting her.

More tape, which they call model tape, to hold the wires in place. After gathering up my worldly goods that I'm traveling with, Kathleen wheels me to the waiting area, where Marc joins us. We take the back way to the surgical centre. They're a different entrance, but there're secret hallways joining the two. And with a nurse escorting us, we've got an in. No waiting this time. Straight through to the back. Like getting the best table at a restaurant, passing through other waiting guests. Except I'd rather be dining today.

I'm given a third gown at this point. I have to change into this one, and return the second gown to Kathleen, who is waiting. I'm told that it's different laundry services, so they have to keep them separate. Seems like a bit of a waste to me. I'll have to check the itemized bill we're sure to receive and see if there's a 2 or 3 beside the hospital garb line.

I have to admit, this is the nicest gown of the three. A lovely blue pattern on white, heavier fabric, socky slippers and a blue cap that gives Marge Simpson hair. Once I'm dressed in my latest gown, I return the second one to Kathleen. Though we've only spent the last hour or so together, we've chatted almost constantly. Enough conversation to make us feel close enough for her to give me a sincere embrace along with her good wishes. This is what I mean about the awesome women that work here. Awesome!!

More waiting. Surgery is scheduled for 11:30. After getting my IV set up and checking my BP on my left arm for what should be the last time, we wait. Marc says he'll wait with me til it's time for me to go. I'm grateful, as I originally figured he could drop be at the breast centre and get a head start on his promised lasagna. But I'd much rather have him with me. And he gave me his lap for my footrest during the wait. What a guy!

It was nice to have that time to just talk. No blackberrys, no computers, just us. Nothing deep or earth shatttering. I think part of the reason the conversation kept flowing was just to keep our minds off things.

The nurse anesthetist popped in, introduced himself, went over his part. Another nice person. Just before surgery time, the doctor appeared. We spoke briefly and readied for the surgery.

What I found funny is the checks in place to ensure the surgery proceeds as required. Meaning. Right patient. Right part. Or in my case, left part. They ask your name, birthdate, why you're there, and which side. Now, my left breast is under layers of white tape. Removing those would reveal wires, and several puncture marks. Clearly, my left breast is the target. But they have to ask. The doctor also, as is protocol, wrote on it, further indication of the right place. Actually, I think she wrote above it, as it was covered in tape!

One of the things the nurse anesthetist had mentioned was that I might drift in and out throughout the surgery. Wouldn't feel anything he said, but I might be present.

It's probably like waking in the middle of the night, or sleepwalking. You might do it, but you don't remember. Shortly past 11:30, I was in the cool operating room, being draped with warm blankets, having something else fed into my IV. I woke in what I realized was recovery, at 2:00. Surgery done.