I think it's been two months since I've blogged. I guess I haven't had much to say. I have wanted to blog...mostly to record my journey through the surgery. I was going to just keep it as a draft in diary form i.e.: Day 1, Day 2, etc. I had no idea what was in store for me...that just wasn't realistic.
January 11th was my date I was scheduled for surgery. I didn't like the date because it was the date that my niece passed away. I didn't want to take that date from my sister, but it was the dates that the doctors chose. My sister didn't mention anything about the date or that she was uncomfortable with it. January 11th was a Monday. The week prior, we had been playing "what if" game. What if Darla wasn't at work. That didn't go over well at all. My assistant ended up getting sick Wednesday. He threw up and was running fever. I had to send him home. I could not risk getting sick a few days before surgery. So, my office went into over load with him being out. No biggie, I've done it before many times. He was out Thursday and again Friday. Thursday I had a scratchy throat, nothing major. I just felt that I needed a drink. Friday my assistant called to let me know he went to the doctor because he felt he was close to death (he actually said that), and he was diagnosed with strep. Lovely. It was around 3pm, and my doctor's office was about to close. I called and spoke to the nurse. She said that I needed to go to the closest Scott & White clinic and be tested immediately. I left work right then to be tested. She kind of frightened me. They did a swab, and while waiting on the results, the doctor said my throat looked fine, not pink and no pus. Good news. The nurse came in to tell us that I tested positive for strep. What?!?! I felt fine. Even the doctor said, "Really?" and proceeded to check my throat again. I called the surgeon's nurse back to let her know. She said that surgery would have to be cancelled, and she would let the surgeons know and get back with me on Monday. Monday morning I get a call from one of the surgeons that they were all waiting for me in surgery. I told her what happened...she was very mad at that nurse. The nurse never informed anyone. I also never got sick from strep. I only had a scratchy throat for 2 days. No, fever, no cough, nothing. I rarely get sick anyway. Maybe a cold once every year or two. I've never had pneumonia, bronchitis, strep, the flu, nothing. I rarely get sick. I've only had food poisoning once...ick...I wont be blogging about that. Anyway, so...cancelled. The surgeon said she call me in a few days to let me know when we would reschedule. It was two surgeons, two physicians assistance, an anesthesiologist, and an operating room that had to be rescheduled.
Rescheduled for February 11th. The day after the anniversary of my mother's death. This was going to be hard...I already missed my mom and wished she could be there. I was having a hard time with that prior to surgery. So, there the wait and the countdown began again.
The week before (at work) went flawlessly. I had my list of caretakers on my fridge, phone numbers, emergency contacts, emergency medical contacts in Taylor, food was stocked and meals were premade. Two weeks of 24 hour care, and I felt as prepared as I could be. I am a member of a FB page for people that are BRCA+. I had my essentials for the hospital, bath char for the shower, new removable shower head, all laundry done, and I bought a recliner (and do NOT picture some nasty Laz-Y Boy recliner in my house). I had every thing on the prep list. My surgery was scheduled for a Thursday so I was able to work the day before and keep my mind busy. I wasn't scared. I was nervous. I've never had surgery, never been under anesthesia before. I mean, come on...I had my wisdom teeth pulled on my lunch break, and gave birth to Chelsea with no medication. I really had no idea what to expect. I have a high tolerance to pain and I have a great immune system. Surely, I would be like some of the girls on the BRCA page that were back to work in 2 weeks. No problem. Well....that's not exactly how that went.
Surgery day: I was scheduled for 10am I believe. I had to get there an hour early to check in, do blood work and pregnancy test. Ummm...ok. My granny drove me there. My boyfriend was there, my daughter, and three of my close friends. I went back to the pre-op room to get naked. One of my surgeons came in, and drew lines and measurements for the surgeon that was going to actually cut me open. I was nervous and cold. That was it. Everyone came in a got to see me before I went back. The only thing I remember was a lady that was wheeling the bed to the operating room. I jokingly said, "You know this is my last time with boobs, so I'm going to flash everyone we see." She quickly responded, "Oh, please don't do that!". She left her sense of humor at home that day, I guess. Meh. Anyway, the surgery took 6 hours. All breast tissue was removed, my muscle was lifted from my chest and expanders were placed underneath. OH MY GOSH!!! I almost forgot this part: back in January the Reconstructive surgeon told me that she was going to do a different kind of incision and I would get to keep my nipples! I remember I wrote a blog last year or year before that was title "Will I have nipples". So I was excited that they were going to look like I've always looked...well, not at first, but eventually, and I'd have my own nipples! Okay, Okay, back on track. I told the anesthesiologist that I didn't need a lot. I told him that I don't take meds so I'm super susceptible to ANY medication. Uh huh. He didn't listen. It took me 2 1/2 hours to wake up after surgery. I don't remember the recovery room or anything about it really. When I woke up Chelsea, Brian and Greg were standing there looking at me. Awkward. They had actually just walked in at the right time. Greg couldn't stay long. He had his kids and they weren't allowed in there. Brian and Chelsea stayed the night with me. Throughout the night I was given Norco (never had it before). It made me sick. I would dry heave every time I stood up. The next morning the doctor (Her name is Staci) came in and changed the meds. No one had notified her that I was dry heaving which hurt my chest muscles tremendously. She changed me over to Tramadol for pain.
Lets change gears for a second. Lets talk about the nurse who must hate her job. I can't remember her name, so we shall call her Shirley. She was the nurse when I first woke up. She asked me if I wanted a drink. Yes. The cup was full of ice water and the lid is not leak proof. I was sitting up but not in an upright position. She leaned the cup towards me and poured water on my chest. I tried to take a deep breath, but hadn't learned to do that yet without the chest muscles. She calmly looked around and said "hmmm. No towels. I'll be back." I am still trying to breath and I'm there alone during this time. Shirley casually comes back in with a towel and PATS my CHEST!! Holy Mary Mother of God!!! Later that evening my chest was hurting on the left side pretty bad, so Shirley gets an ice pack. Sounds good to me. Well...she fumbled it and accidently dropped it...on my chest. When I went to the bathroom (to pee) Shirley didn't wipe me and I couldn't reach. Uhhhh...ok. I mean, hey I'm not wearing panties, so maybe air dry would work. Ick. My daughter complained on Shirley. We didn't see her again. Praise Jesus!
Back to the story: So the next morning the doctor had changed me over to Tramadol for pain. Apparently the nursing staff thought this was at my request. I thought one of the IV bags was pain meds, so I never said a word. I was just in a lot of pain. My chest felt tight. There was a lot of pressure like someone sitting on me. It was difficult to take deep breaths. The pain in my chest especially while trying to sit up was excruciating. You have to learn how to use other muscles to assist you. I also had four drains. the drains are suctioned bulbs on the end of a tube to pull fluid from my chest. I had two on each side. They were wired into my skin about 4 inches below the bend of my armpit. They hurt, but it wasn't too terrible. I just couldn't reach or twist in any way. When the doctor cam in at 4pm, she looked in the computer and realized they hadn't given my pain meds all day. Nice!! So, she put me on the lowest dose of Tramadol and 1/2 of the lowest dose of Valium (for muscle spasms). She told me that everyone says the 3rd day after surgery is the worst, but for me it was that day. 12 hours out of surgery and no meds. I was thinking that was awesome because now a low dose of meds would be great. I hate medication. I do NOT like putting that junk in my body. I wanted to get off of those ASAP which would be easy with a low dosage. Once on the meds, I was extremely uncomfortable, but I could wipe myself and slowly get out of bed. I am short, so the bed was an issue from the get go. God didn't give me very long legs. The next day at the hospital was just baby steps, getting up, getting a drink, reaching, breathing exercises, and just general movements. Chelsea and Brian were there the whole time. They hospital even brought in a roll out bed for Chelsea. Brian slept on the couch. I had to stay an extra night to make sure the meds were sufficient. I went home Saturday afternoon.
to be continued....
I am writing this blog at 39 days post op from Double Mastectomy. I am only 11 days post op from emergency surgery which I will explain in the next blog.
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