I has enjoyed a couple of days off work before the Surgery. it was bliss. I walked the dog, I cooked, I read, I slept. Although, I have to admit, by the time I got to Tuesday evening, nerves were beginning to kick in; overtime I thought about the surgery , I felt a bit sick. Neither of us slept well on Tuesday night. Van woke me at about 5am to show me the images of the Grenfell Tower fire. My first, very selfish thought, was that my surgery may be cancelled, as we don't live too far from the site of the fire and I was concerned that the hospital would be used for casualties. However, common sense told me that this was not likely, so I got up, showered, did my hair and prepared to leave for the hospital; if today is my last day on earth, I'm looking my bloody best!
Now, anyone who knows me, knows that I am always early. Always. I had been asked to get to the hospital for 7:30am, having being nil by mouth since midnight Tuesday. (My god, did I need coffee!) We were there, ready and waiting at five past seven. So, we sat and waited outside the female Daycare Unit. Oh my word, it was heaving. Turns out that a lot of ladies were having eye surgery under local anesthetic, so the numbers were soon whittled down. It turned out I was the only one of the Breast Surgery List!
Once I was admitted, I was whisked upstairs to the Outpatients Breast Clinic, in my lovely hospital gown; Van kindly ensured that my arse was not hanging out the back. This trip was so that the lovely Radiology Consultant could run the ultrasound over my breast again, locate the lump and mark it with a big black cross, in permanent marker. Lump located, it was down to nuclear medicine, the bit I had been dreading. A radioactive dye was to be injected into the breast, with no local/general/any kind of anesthetic! Van held my hand, as a very fine needle, deposited it's poison just above my nipple. As pain goes, it was okay. I felt very brave, for me the worst was over!!
So, back to the Daycare Unit (my god, did I need coffee!). Apparently, I was first on the list for the Surgery, the bad news was that they meant the afternoon list! So, I now had three hours to wait; this would not have been so bad, but I still didn't have a bed, as the "eye ladies" were still being done! Meanwhile, as luck would have it, Van was due to have a tooth removed in the same Hospital's Dental Department, which is just outside the door of the Female Daycare Unit, so off she went. I read by book, checked Facebook, Twitter, completed by Solitaire Daily Challenge, checked my emails and kept an eye on the ongoing news relating to the terrible Grenfell Tower fire. Van, returned bearing a very strong resemblance to an lop-sided hamster! She was in a lot of pain and discomfort, and in the only way Van knows how to deal with anything, she went to sleep!
Finally, I got my bed - Bed 10. I was consented for surgery, I met the anaesthetist (my new best friend), I was tagged with a wristband and I was bloody starving. I swear I spent a whole hour fantasising about what I would eat after the op! Then finally, just after 1:30pm, a lovely chap turned up to take me to theatre. Contact lenses removed, ear piercings taped up, GF kissed goodbye.
As I entered the anesthetic room, I felt the tears prickling in my eyes. I tried to think happy thoughts, that were based around the fact that I would not die in surgery. My new best friend was great, very reassuring. Cannula inserted into my hand as easy as pie. Consultant arrived to ask me if I had any questions, bloody hell, I could not even remember my name, never mind think of a question! As my new best friend administered a painkiller to make me more relaxed, obviously morphine, at that moment I realised why my patients are addicted to opiods! It was wonderful, chop me up there and then I really didn't care. As the general anesthetic was administered I felt myself drift away, all the worries and concerns over the last few weeks, floated away on a big fluffy cloud.
However, this was to come to an abrupt end when I was woken up, still in the theatre. The clock showed 4:15, two and a half hours gone. Oh my god! The pain in my nipple was incredible, it felt that it was in a vice. I was wheeled into recovery, where some more morphine was immediately administered, for about an hour I drifted, in and out of sleep, in and out of pain, nauseous, thirsty and feeling absolutely rotten. This did though, turn out to be the worst, once that pain was under control, the feeling of elation that today was over; all the feelings of fear, trepidation had gone.
I was duly returned to the Daycare Unit, an anxious GF waiting for me. Apparently, about an hour before I returned, an empty bed was brought into the Ward from the Operating Theatre, at this point Van thought I was dead! I couldn't stop smiling and after about ten minutes I was tucking into the muffin that I knew Van had stashed in her bag. This was followed by the best cup of coffee in the entire universe and my own body weight in biscuits; although I have to admit I did feel a bit sick afterwards. Discharge papers prepared, cannula removed, painkillers given - we were free to leave. Everything may have gone tits up, but today was over, my life could go on.
