Both doctors said it went well - to the naked eye it didn't look like there was any cancer in there, and plastic surgery said they had filled up the implant as much as they could, though not quite as much as the first one, so I will need to endure some stretching. But otherwise, he said, it went well and looks just like it is supposed to.
As I said in my last post, there were some things that went more smoothly this time around and some things a little less smoothly. The pre-surgery stuff was pretty straightforward. I even ended up with one of the same nurses I had last time, who also, as it turns out, lives in our neighborhood. When I had my IV and was all set up for surgery, my whole family was allowed to come in - mom, dad, and Michael. As we were given instructions about pre-anesthesia, the nurse said only one or two could go in. My mom said, "How about two and a pastor?" (The one time my dad was not quick to respond, "I'm retired!") The nurse looked unsure, and my mom said, "Well last time, we all went." That's not true - only she went with me last time. But she convinced the nurse, and all three of them were able to come with me to pre-anesthesia! And my friend Abby also came, in the role of my pastor, and she said a prayer with us before I was wheeled off to surgery. Quite a crowd!
We met lots of nice people in pre-anesthesia. We really have been consistently impressed with the medical staff at Strong hospital. We saw both Dr. Skinner and Dr. Langstein, as well as an assortment of residents and nurses who would also be present in the OR. I really like that they introduce themselves to me, so at least I have had some connection to the people who will cut me open and take off a body part. It's a pretty intimate time. Good to know some names.
Dr. Skinner asked, "Are you ready?" and I said, "I guess," and she said, "As ready as you'll ever be?" and I said, "Yup." She said, "Just think, soon this will all be behind you," and I said, gesturing to my chest, "Well, it certainly won't be in front of me anymore!" She liked that one.
About 7:40, I gave everyone hugs and was wheeled into the OR. I continued to feel fairly calm - after my breakdown the night before, I sort of worried I might freak out and say, "Never mind! I'm not going to do it!" In the other surgeries I remember falling asleep - I don't this time. I was gazing around the OR, trying to figure out who everyone was when I could only see their eyes...
And then I was waking up. That part I unfortunately remember very well, because I was in quite a lot of pain. I had also feared that I might wake up from surgery and start crying at the realization of what I had just done. Well, I did cry, whimpering and tearful, but they were tears of pain and discomfort. I might have said something to someone about it, or I may have dreamt that, but soon I was asleep again, and somehow ended up in a hospital room.
Yes, a real room this time, with a bathroom I only hared with one other person instead of the whole unit! What luxury. I felt like I had to wait forever in there until my family came - I called them all on the hospital phone trying to get them in faster. But at long last, they were there, all smiles. We were all together for a while, then Michael went home to care for Klaus, and then he came back my parents went out for dinner. Tag teaming it.
I remembered last time everything that was going at this point. Michael had just found out Daisy was in the dog hospital, having had some seizures (and he had to put her down the next morning). I had just found out that I was no longer able to be approved for the loan to buy our house (this got straightened out a few days later, obviously). I had asked for some Xanax so I could sleep - too much anxiety! This time everything was much lower key. Everyone was calm. Even when I got up for the bathroom for the first time - the experience that had been so excruciating last time - was fairly easy! Less nausea and dizziness. If hadn't been connected to an IV, I could have made it to and from the bathroom all alone by the second time. I was feeling pretty darn good, considering!
That is, except the pain. I don't know if it was more this time or not, but I feel like I took a lot more drugs. I had patch behind my ear for nausea, and this was the first time I didn't throw up (though I thought I might a couple times). I was taking three different kinds of pain medication, including morphine, the prospect of which terrified me at first, but I was assured it was not enough to get addicted or put me in any danger. I got a muscle relaxer, which really helped my back pain (I had a major knot because I am unable to stretch on that side). Because of all the fluids I was getting, I had to pee every hour, which kept me moving all night long - in retrospect this probably helped me feel good sooner because I wasn't lying around getting stiff. Despite all this help, I kept naming my pain as 2-3 when I was stationary, but 7 or 8 when I was trying to move. So they were a little reluctant to let me go until that was under control. But I was determined!
When my family came back Wednesday morning, they all agreed I was looking very chipper (despite having woken at every hour the night before!), so we put some plans in motion to get me discharged. After all the paperwork was done, they gave me a flu shot, too, and then wheeled me out to the car. We got home about 3:00. Felt good to be home!
Until it didn't feel good. We had ordered pizza, and made a big salad, and my mom baked chocolate chip cookies, and my uncle came over, and we were going to have a real dinner at the table and everything. But then my stomach started hurting so badly. Was it the pain meds I had taken? I had eaten some crackers with, but was it enough? Was it gas? What was it? It felt like an angry animal in my gut, and I wanted so badly to throw it up and get out of there whatever was hurting so badly. Again, I was nearly in tears for the pain, and my poor family didn't know what to do! I carried my vomit bucket around with me, in hopes of being inspired, and as I looked down into it, I saw there were two little dimples in the bottom that looked just like nipples. Talk about insult to injury!
I never did throw up last night, but I did finally start to feel better enough to have a couple bites of pizza. But getting ready for bed, I was a major Grumpy-pus. I was in pain, but afraid to take any more meds lest they do my stomach in. I wanted to lie down, but the bed was a mess, and I couldn't fix it with my left hand alone. I didn't even have the strength to plug in my phone. Crab Apple.
But Michael was a very good nurse and got me everything I needed. Once I was situated in bed, he rolled over facing me and held my arm, which was as much contact as my pain could handle. And I loved him so much for that. I said, "I'm so sorry. This is not what you signed up for." And he said, "Yes it is - it's exactly what I signed up for! For better, for worse, in sickness and in health. I'm here for you for all of it, my love!" I do love that man. Then he added, "Plus, we'll get to get tattoos together!" Indeed we will!
I slept all right last night - I even woke a couple times and because I was actually comfortable, I forgot for just a moment that I had had surgery. Of course, as soon as I moved, I remembered, but having those couple of moments really helped.
Now I'm just hanging out in the quiet house with my parents and Klaus. Mom made my breakfast in bed, dad brought me flowers, Klaus is being his adorable, snuggly self but keeping his distance from my wound, and Michael is taking a half day from work, so he'll be here this afternoon. And I still feel fairly calm about all this. It's done, and I will heal, and we will move forward. We'll see if I can maintain this calm even after I shower and see my new boob for the first time in all its glory. Stay tuned!
No comments:
Post a Comment