Between my nose itching and my phone buzzing all day yesterday, I know how many of you were thinking and praying for me yesterday. Many thanks! I felt upheld in so many ways.
Everything went really well yesterday! Michael and I showed up at the hospital at 8:25am for my "wire loc." I was in a perky mood, making jokes and whatnot. Michael and I noticed that, while we are both extroverts, on this particular morning, I was externalizing everything and he was internalizing. Of course, that had something to do with our respective positions in this ordeal - I am the one who has something to do, and has some control over my body, and he is the one who has to sit by and feel helpless and watch me be in pain. My take on yesterday's part of the journey was this: up until now, every procedure has had an unknown and possibly devastating outcome. This time, though the procedure was a much bigger deal, I knew what the outcome was, and that it was good. By the end of the day, I would be cancer free! That made everything along the way totally worth it.
That said, the wire loc was not my favorite thing, and as it proceeded, my initial perkiness faded somewhat. My breast was not fully healed from the procedure last week, but now they were squeezing, and moving, and squashing the poor thing in the mammogram machine, then finally numbing it (painful in itself), then coming in from underneath to put a big needle in, only to find that it was in the wrong place and we had to do it all again. Once they were successful, they stuck the wire through the needle, took out the needle, and taped the wire up against my skin. Then they put me in a wheelchair and went to get Michael, and I heard an unknown guy say, "That's not my fiance." Then a nurse, "Oops, wrong fiance!" Then they fetched the correct guy, and off we went. (Phew!)
My time in the pre-op area was long, though I did actually get into surgery earlier than expected. While in pre-op, Dr. Skinner came in to say hello and check in. I like her more every time I see her. She said they would be taking about a walnut sized amount of tissue out, and was generally very calming. Then off she went. One sort of traumatic thing about pre-op was trying to get the IV in. They were working on my hand/wrist, and could sort of get the veins to come out (despite my being cold, hungry, and dehydrated from fasting), but the veins were "wiggly." They finally gave up after a couple attempts, leaving a big bruise. Later, the anesthesiologist was successful, after quite a bit of flicking the already bruised back of my hand. OUCH. Honestly, that was the most painful part of this ordeal.
The nurses and care and conversation in the two different pre-op areas were all wonderful and friendly and funny, and, all things considered, it was a pretty okay experience. But honestly, the parts of that experience that are the most vivid memories are with Michael - stroking my hair, holding my hand (tenderly, and also letting me squeeze the heck out of it during the whole IV failure episode)... We talked about our lives together, past, present and future. We said loving words to each other, and gazed at each other with a depth of love that is different than we'd experienced ever before. I do love that man. I can't think of a better partner to be going through this with.
Finally, the second anesthesiologist came in. After chatting for a while, she said to Michael, "All right get your hugs and kisses in now, cuz she won't remember later!" Then she gave me the happy relaxing medicine, and wheeled me toward the OR. For some reason, I told her jokes all the way there. "Charles Dickens walks into a bar and orders a martini, and the bartender says, 'Olive, or twist?'" (you have to say it aloud to get it) "A man gets a knock on the door, and he answers it and there's a snail on the stoop. The man takes the snail and throws it in the garden. Three years later, there's another knock at the door, and the the man answers and there's the snail, who says, 'Dude! What was THAT all about?!'" She liked that one. She made me tell the OR folks the jokes, which I did, and they laughed. Then someone else told the joke about the string where the punchline is, "I'm a frayed knot," but her delivery wasn't great, and Dr. Skinner told her so. I said, "Maybe if you'd said it this way..." and everyone agreed that was better. (I'm such a snot! Who do I think I am, correcting people's joke delivery, especially people about to save my life?) Then they put the magic sleepy mask on and then I was suddenly in the post-op area. (So weird.)
After she finished, Dr. Skinner came out and talked to Michael, said everything went well, and that all of the tissue around what they took out looked very healthy, so they were confident. Hooray, relief! She said he could come see me in an hour. He waited an hour... then an hour and a half... then two hours... Meanwhile, the nurse told me that they hadn't been able to find him! She referred to me as Kathryn, which I thought was strange (my middle name), but as she left to find him again, I realized, "They're asking for Kathryn's family!" Sure enough, it took another 20 min for a flustered but relieved Michael to come back to me. I asked if they had called for a Kathryn, and he said yes! "The Kathryn family!" And no one ever responded! Frustrating.
I ended up staying in post-op quite a while because I was pretty nauseous. After I successfully took a walk down the hall and kept down some gingerale and crackers, and Michael had retrieved my Vicodin from the pharmacy, we left - around 6pm! The rest of the night was a lot of calling loved ones, lying still, and watching NBC Thursday night television. I was SO grateful to have Michael there. And now, as I write this, my dad is in a rented car on his way from the Buffalo airport. He changed his flight home from Chicago at the last minute so he could be with me today (leaves tomorrow morning). What a lucky daughter. Maybe I'll even help him with his sermon for Sunday. ;)
Hopefully the pathology will be done in time for my post-op, Wednesday of next week. The following week I will have an appointment with Dr. Skinner (who is out of town next week). At some point, I will meet with a general oncologist and the radiation oncologist. Fun times ahead!
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