Week 1 Following Mastectomy Surgery

Happy Monday!

I had my right skin-sparing total mastectomy a week ago today.  Let me backtrack a bit and I'll start with events from that morning.

We got to St. Luke's at 5:30am that day.  Because of the early time, we entered through the Emergency Room entrance and got checked in.  I got my insurance info all squared away and yet one more wristband to add to my collection and was ready to go.  A nice man came down and gave me a fun-filled ride up to the 2nd floor so that I could begin my journey.  Oddly, when we got in the elevator, he didn't spin me around, so I rode facing the back.  I don't recall the last time I actually rode "backwards".  Stupid observation, I realize...

Once we got upstairs, we were taken to a pseudo room (kinda like a holding cell) for pre-op stuff.  The nurse apologized for the early time and told me that I'd be able to hang out after the dye was injected since my surgery wasn't until noon.  When I told her that I'd likely just try to go back to sleep for a while, she said, "Oh, then I'll take you to a much more private area!"  Woo hoo!  My "room" had a sliding glass door and was on the end, where the others just had a curtain.  I'll take what I can get!

She had me put on the gown and get onto the bed so that they could get the dye started.  After she left, Matt and I debated whether I should leave my undies on or take them off.  The only other time that I have been hospitalized overnight was when I had the girls and clearly, the undies came off for that.  My hoo-hah was not going to be a factor this time, so I opted to just leave them on.  This will be worth noting later...

I also had a pair of standard, hospital-issue brown, non-skid socks (so pretty) and some white, knee-high compression socks (even prettier).  She told me that I didn't have to put them on quite yet, but once I got ready to head into surgery, they'd put compression cuffs on my legs to keep clots from forming.  Matt and I exchanged looks and had a special little dork moment.  Nearly two years ago when my mom had her first stroke, she was all doped up on morphine in the hospital and announced to my sister, two friends of hers (both male) and me that "these things make me feel like my legs are getting blow jobs."  What can you say to that? (Oh, and yes - I come by this shit honestly.)  I did share this little gem with the nurse, whose face was a combination of "oh my GOD - she did NOT just go there" and "I. Love. This."  Hey, it was early in the morning.  Blow job humor is perfect for that time of day, no?

Finally, a new nurse came in to administer the dye into my right boob.  She talked it up quite a bit and flat out told me that she wasn't going to sugar coat it; that it would be very uncomfortable.  She explained that she was going to inject me IN THE NIPPLE and that I'd feel a burning sensation once it went in.  Did I mention that it was going in my nipple!?!?  She asked if I wanted to have Matt come over and hold my hand.  Holy shit.  As he walked over to my left side, she began to prep my skin on and around my nipple with antiseptic.  As she moved the tool (heh, heh) around me, I realized that nothing was coming out.  It felt like she was maybe just performing some fluffer duties instead. (Look it up, folks.)  The antiseptic finally started to flow and she laughed saying, "I bet you wondered why I was just feeling your boob like that..."  Indeed, I did!

Next came the needle.  She told me not to look at it. (Uh - too late.)  It was a normal looking needle to me, but I really don't know anyone that likes to have a needle jammed into them - much less into their nipple.  Matt squeezed my hand and she asked if I was ready.  I couldn't watch her.  As we would joke about later - the thought of that made my vagina clench up.  She stuck it in and it was nothing. (Again - heh, heh.)  She said, "you probably didn't think that was bad, but it's not 'it' yet."  I sighed, then held my breath.  She told me that I'd feel the slight burning, which I did, and then she was done.  That was it.  It was nothing.  Having my blood drawn prior to chemo hurts more.  I just looked at her and said, "that was it??"  She called me her poster child for pain (or lack thereof) that day.  Splendid.

From that point, it was one big waiting game.  Keep in mind that I hadn't eaten since 10:30pm the night before.  Even thought it was early in the morning, I was doing my best to not talk about or even think about the "F" word - FOOD.  I tried to snooze for a little bit, but quite honestly, I was just too anxious. I think I slept for maybe 20-30 minutes.  I don't think Matt fared much better.  During this wait, I talked to both Dr. Gordley ("McBoobie") and Dr. Rourke.  The plan was still to get me going at noon so that they could coordinate her portion with his since he also had another surgery that morning.

My PIC, Jenny, got there around 10:30am and provided much-needed comic relief while I waited.  Another nurse came in to start my IV.  Because I hadn't had any food or beverages since the night before, I didn't have a lot of good, juicy veins - with the exception of the ones in my pit of my arm.  She said that anesthesiology doesn't really like lines there, but if they wanted to move it - they could after I was asleep.  It pinched and pulled for a bit but was okay after a while. Shortly thereafter, the anesthesiologist came in.  I don't think he appreciated our brand of humor and gave me an exasperated/annoyed look at one point.  Oops.  Don't piss off the guy giving the drugs!  I answered all of his questions and he left.  (By the way - Jenny dubbed him "McFeelGood".  He, too, is a hottie.)

After a short while, it was showtime.  They put a fancy little blue operating cap on me and McFeelGood told me that he was giving me a little "margarita" to make me comfortable beforehand.  Bring on the happy juice, man!  With all of the flurry of activity, I didn't actually get to say goodbye to Matt or Jenny.  They whisked me off and into the operating room.  I recall scooting onto the table and chatting with Dr. Rourke very briefly and that was it.  I don't remember anything else.

I was in the recovery room for about an hour or so and don't remember any of it.  From what Hannah has told me, I repeatedly told her, "I am SO stoned right now...", but I didn't say anything else incriminating.  My memory picks up as we were getting to my room early that evening. One of the first things that I recall (and this may have happened in recovery now that I type this...) was the nurse handing me a bag and telling me "here's your scarf".  Scarf?  I came in bald.  As I looked at the bag, I realized that my undies were in there.  At some point, someone pulled them off.  Hmm.  The fact that they nearly ended up on my head was made even funnier by the fact that I was drugged up.  I gave them to Matt and went commando.

I would also like to point out that the "blow job cuffs" are kind of annoying, really.  They're noisy.  If that's what a blow job feels like, I'd have to ask for a refund.  I had to keep that contraption going until shortly before I was released.  As soon as I could take those socks off, I scratched and scratched.  I don't remember the last time I wore knee-socks all the way up, either.

Normally, after surgery, you have to go from a liquid to a solid diet because the anesthesia can cause nausea.  There was none of that for me.  I was hungry and wanted real food. I got a turkey sandwich and some cheese.  My throat was still all scratchy from having a tube down it and it was a little rough to swallow, but dammit, that turkey sandwich hit the spot!

The following morning, I was able to go for a couple of laps around the floor with Matt.  The nursery was just down the hall, but there weren't any babies, unfortunately.  It felt good to walk.  I tucked my drains in my robe pockets (which I lovingly refer to as my "testicles") and shuffled down the hall.  Since I still had dilaudid AND norco (like vicodin) in me, I wasn't in a lot of pain, but was pretty uncomfortable.

After all was said and done, we got home around 3pm or so on Tuesday afternoon.  I took a good, long snooze, which was wonderful. I've been pretty sore and tired and get worn out quickly.  I can't lift anything with my right arm (well, that's heavier than a gallon of milk) and have to try to deal with trying to conceal the nasty drains when I'm out and about.  Sundresses have proven to be a groovy option when worn with a sweater.  My boobs are very much lopsided, but once I get more saline in Frankenboob, they'll be closer in size.  The sites where the tubing from the drains exits my body are tender and to have them bumped or tugged on just feels nasty.

Matt has been the most amazing nurse ever.  He empties my drains several times a day and logs the output each time.  He strips the lines when they appear to be a little backed up, which doesn't hurt, but has a major gross factor.  Sometimes, I can feel the fluid snake within the Frankenboob, too.  Ewwwwww.

I take a dump truck load of medications every day. Among them:

• Antibiotic (2x day)
• Stool softener (2x day) - Pain killers tend to plug a person up
• Norco (Every 4 hours as needed for pain)

Matt has a chart for all of my meds, too.  It's all in military time, which I originally found amusing, since neither Matt nor I were in the military and really don't use that time ordinarily BUT he said that it's so he can easily tell if it was AM or PM.  Good call, man.  Good call.

I was a little concerned over the weekend because Frankenboob appeared to be red and warm - almost like it had a fever.  I know that can be a sign of infection.  Since I already had my appointment scheduled with McBoobie today at 8am, I waited until then so I could ask.  My appointment went very well.  He said that I was not infected; that it looked good and that I was healing at the right rate.  I can expect to have my drains removed next week. RIGHT ON.  These dangly testicles are a pain in the ass.  He also told me that we'd shoot for me to get expanded as well.  During surgery, he gave me a total of 450cc of saline.  That's less than half the size of my "good" boob, but at least I'm not totally flat-chested.  

I see Dr. Rourke on Thursday.  At that point, I should get my complete lab results.  Based on those, there's a slim chance that I may not have to have radiation, but I've been told all along to still plan on it. If I don't have to have it - it means that my reconstruction can happen sooner, which is great.  I'm very excited about getting these results.  Well, and anxious.  She already told me that my lymph nodes were clear and that it's about 80-85% accurate prior to the lab testing.  I'm cautiously optimistic.  

Sorry this is such a long update!  I can't believe that I'm done with both chemo AND my first surgery.  I  don't look like my old self and don't feel like her, either.  I don't feel attractive at all and I do have my down days, but dammit - I'm ALIVE and for that, I'm so very thankful!

I'll post again on Thursday after I see Dr. Rourke. 

I love all of you.  I really do.  

                                                                 Pre-op with my rockstar

Pretty "hat"

Without getting TOO graphic, you can see the drains sewn into me.  That lovely bruised area is where they took my lymph nodes.  It's already only half as colorful now.  

This is one of my drains/testicles.  Right now, it's pinned to my waistband so it doesn't dangle down around my leg.