The day of surgery

Wednesday 13th Dec was the day of surgery.  

I was up early to give Sydney a short walk, knowing that Antony would be around later to give him a better one (Greg tore a muscle in his leg not long ago, and is still mending).  The snow from the previous days was rapidly melting, although still crunchy underfoot due to the low overnight temperatures.

We arrived at the hospital at 7.30am, and sat in the waiting room until my bed was ready.   Throughout the morning I was called in to sign and complete various forms: consent, with Mr Gomez (and an arrow drawn on me to make sure the correct side was targeted), another form with the ward Sister, another with a Junior doctor, another with the anaesthetist.  

I went down to ultrasound to get the wire inserted. It stung a bit when they put it in, despite the local they gave me.   They nearly gave me a second local, but by the time they'd faffed a bit, the sting had gone away.  They drew on me to show where the incision needed to be made - just above my nipple.  They took mammogram pictures - not quite as tight as normal - to guide the surgeon.

Then off to nuclear medicine to have the injection for the sentinel node identification. They make you radioactive and use a small Geiger counter to identify the main lymph node, then take one or two out to test for cancer cells.

After all of this was done, Greg went home to keep himself busy. He worries about any general anaesthetic, so didn't want to be hanging about while it was done. 

I slipped into my surgical stockings, gown and NHS pyjama bottoms at about 1pm, and was taken down to the surgery floor at about 1.30pm.    The anaesthetist managed to get a cannula into my left hand without too much trouble.   They had wanted to use my right, but we're not supposed to due to me having no lymph nodes on that side (I had 23 lymph nodes removed when I had my mastectomy) - any trauma to that arm can risk lymphodema, so is to be avoided if possible.  He shot a vial of something into it... and told me that was my first glass of wine. Then a second.   I started to feel dizzy and then I was gone. 

The next I knew, I was waking up and glanced up at the clock to see it was 4pm.   I was in the recovery room.   They wheeled me back to the ward - not that I particularly remember that - and I spent the next few hours in a daze. In and out of sleep, and when I tried to sip water I was sick.   I had asked anyone who'd listen - and especially the anaesthetist to try to sort it so I wouldn't be sick, but that clearly hadn't worked. At least it was only water coming up.    I listened to my ward-mates talking.  Augusta (not the name she actually uses, but her real name all the same) was a non-stop chatter. She'd had keyhole surgery to remove a 5cm ovary cyst.   She'd been told it would keep growing and would make keyhole surgery impossible, and more at risk of turning cancerous.   I also know all there is to know about her life - every conversation turned back to her.  I was rather glad to be out of it! 

Greg came to visit later on, and bravely brought me a cheeseburger - but I still couldn't eat.   He helped me put my own pyjamas on, and the movement made me throw up again.  

By about 9.30pm, I was settling to sleep properly, but the tea lady came around. I decided to risk it, and kept a cup of tea down.   So then I asked for a sandwich, and managed to eat half of it.     This was a breakthrough! 

Lights out, and we felt lucky to be at the quiet end of the ward. I had brought a sleep mask - a god send in a hospital where there are always lights - and slept reasonably well.

Woken a couple of times for observations (some higher than normal BPs, but coming down gradually), and finally awake fully before 6am, along with my ward mates. The other was Jean, who I think is in her early 80's, but still very much with it.  She;s a former Deputy Head Teacher, and now runs an equine therapy unit with her husband and daughters, giving rides to children who have been permanently excluded from school.   She was a lovely lady, and very patient with the non-stop chatter of Augusta. We had a hug when she left.

I had various visits on discharge day:  Mr Gomez first, telling me he would see me again on 8th January, after his Christmas break.  The ward Sister, checking I had any medications I needed at home (paracetamol and my normal meds). A junior doctor - I'm not sure what the point of him was, or what he said! And finally Michelle, the breast cancer nurse, who told me I wasn't allowed to drive for 4 weeks, and that the physio would be along soon to remind me of the exercises I would need to do. 

What??? No driving?   I knew this would be the case after the mastectomy, and after the full lymph node clearance, but it simply hadn't crossed my mind that I wouldn't be able to drive after this one.   Grrr. I have things to do next week!      As for exercises, I had already got my bra and top on and off a few times, so I had tested my ability to move and was doing OK.  I will do my exercises, for sure, but I'm not worried about that.  But I do need to build my strength up so I can drive within a couple of weeks.   

Michelle also told me that Mr Gomez had done layers of surgery to reduce the appearance of any dent in my breast, so I should try and wear a bra day and night for as long as possible, ideally until 8th Jan.    My dressings are just a cluster of small plasters - some just above my nipple, and another cluster under my armpit where they have taken 2 nodes out.  I can shower and let the water run over them, but they'll remove them with some special gel when I come in to clinic.

The anaesthetic has made me feel woozy and tired since Wednesday, so it has taken me this long to write this post, but my head is becoming clearer now.  Apologies to anyone waiting for an update.