It's been 3 weeks since I had my double mastectomy and lymph node clear out. It still looks like I got to 2nd base with Edward Scissorhands but my consultant, breast care nurses and the district nurses all tell me it's looking good. I'd hate to think what I would resemble if it wasn't 'looking good'!
I felt pretty calm on the run up to the surgery with only a couple of wobbles. I've watched far too many Greys Anatomy style shows so I did worry that there would be a big drama where they'd wheel me into the wrong theatre and I'd end up with my appendix out or my leg chopped off instead. I also worried that I wouldn't wake up from the anesthetic and contemplated writing letters to my husband and boys. I can joke and make light of most things, but the truth was I was petrified of leaving them. However, I decided not to give energy to those negative thoughts and spent the last few days before surgery ramping up the hugs and kisses. I needed to bank lots of smooches seeing as hugs were off the menu whilst I healed.
I was having surgery in a hospital about an hour drive away. Good old Covid had put a temporary stop on cancer operations at my local hospital, but as there was a strict no visitor policy, it didn't really matter I wasn't close to home. It was an early start as I had to be there at 7.30am. I was told I was first on the list - yippee! No waiting! However, the latest blood results they had for me were from just before my last chemo session and my hb levels were really low (as they've been all through chemo). I don't know why they didn't have the ones from my pre-assessment but never mind. They took some more blood and said they'll get it checked ASAP and I was still due to be the first one in theatre. I put on my hospital gown and wrestled myself into the surgical stockings. Then a nurse came back in and said they needed to take more blood. The path lab rejected the first lot as she used the wrong pen to write on the form. So I was bumped to 2nd on the list and more bloods were taken. Half an hour later the nurse came back in and saying the path lab had again rejected the bloods so they needed to take some again. Another half hour after that, yet another nurse came in apologising that they needed to take my bloods again! 4th time lucky! I'm not sure what was happening and I really didn't want to know. By this point I was watching Encanto on my tablet and I was in the nice warm embrace of Walt Disney and it was all safe and cosy there. At 1pm a porter arrived with a bed and I was being wheeled down to theatre. I was all smiles and chatted away to the porter and nurse, pretending that I wasn’t really petrified, but as we got closer to the theatre I couldn't control my shakes. A cannula was put in and I started counting down from 10. The next thing I remember is a lot of talking going on around me and telling someone I felt sick. A cardboard bowl was put under my chin and I threw up - exorcist style!
I was pretty much out of it until the following morning. I had a couple of undignified bedpan wee's and then tried to work out how to sit up. I had 2 chest drains, a cannula in each hand both hooked up to various bags of fluids and meds and the oxygen tubes up my nose. I was not only worried about being in pain by moving but also that I'd get myself in a knot. I was like a puppet with half a dozen strings. One of the amazing nurses on the ward unhooked one of my drips and helped me sit up and get some of my own pj's on. I think it was because I still had so many drugs coursing through me, but I felt pretty good considering what I'd just been through.
I ended up staying in hospital for a whole week due to a few little issues. One of my chest drains got blocked, I had a hematoma that needed draining and I got an infection so I was started on the early sepsis protocol. I like to get the full hospital experience!
As well as the physical side of the operation, on day 3 it hit me emotionally. I would lock myself in the bathroom and just sob. I think it was the realisation of everything and also a little bit of trauma. Even though I knew exactly what was going to happen, it’s still traumatic actually going through it all. Especially with all the added extra issues during my week in hospital.
It was amazing to get home. I cried when I was wheeled out of the hospital and saw my hubby waiting for me. I cried when I got home and the boys came in from school. But happy tears this time. It was so nice to sleep in my own bed, and I had it all to myself too! Hubby was so worried about rolling over onto one of my drains bag or hurting me that he slept on a camp bed in our youngest's room for nearly 2 weeks!
In the 2 weeks that I've been home, I've finally had both drains out and all my staples. I just have a couple of stitches in but they're dissolvable. I'm doing my physio exercises 3 times a day and whilst my movement is improving, I still can’t reach the top shelf of the cupboard where the goodies are kept! Even though hugs are still off the cards, we have worked out a half hug that will do until I can bear hug my boys again!
