I met with the radiation oncologist this week to discuss my upcoming treatment. We discussed my pathology report and what that meant in terms of my treatment. The Doc said that treatment is set at the outlay of diagnosis. While my body responded really well to both the chemo and the surgery, he said that doesn’t mean the treatments didn’t miss some microscopic parts of the cancer. We just simply can’t know.
He recommended that we proceed with radiation treatment of the left breast area as well as the lymph nodes in the area. I was concerned about treating the lymph nodes as I had read that it might increase the chances of getting lymphedema. The Doc said that the percentage of risk of lymphedema with radiation only increases by about 4%.
I really was hoping he would say something else in that appointment, but I really wasn’t expecting him too. Despite knowing that he would likely tell me to proceed, I still felt really emotional and upset. I cried in the appointment, and maybe it was because I was hoping that the treatment side of things would be over. But not just yet.
I then had to go into another room to get a CT scan for each radiation treatment. I was placed on a board that had a variety of molds for my body to rest on to try and make me comfortable. The more comfortable I am, the more likely I will be able to sit still during treatment.
The staff helped me get placed on the board and then I went through the CT scan. Then they got me ready for my first tattoo. Small dot tattoos are needed to ensure they get me in the correct position every time I go in for treatment. I need to have 4 in different parts of my chest.
I’m not happy about having these marks on my body. I choose not to have tattoos on my body up to this point. I have nothing against them, they just were not for me. But now I need to have 4. And these 4 symbolize this stupid disease and what I have had to endure. Definitely not something I would have chosen to permanently symbolize on my body.
But this will make the treatment the most effective so on we proceeded. I only received 2 tattoos this week and will get the other 2 for my first radiation treatment. The first tattoo is on my left side, near my armpit. That one felt like a pin prick and not too terrible. The second one is right near my sternum and that hurt! Not a lot of tissue there to take the brunt of the pain. But it was over quickly and now I have two small blue dots on my chest.
My treatments are scheduled to start on January 10th. I’ll have 5.5 weeks of going in every day, Monday –Friday. I will check in with the Radiation Oncologist every week to see how I am handling the treatment. Fingers are crossed that my body handles it fairly well. I am going to try to be active throughout the treatment and I hope my body cooperates.
Until my treatment starts, I likely won’t have much to write about so let me take this time to wish everyone a happy start to 2012. I hope 2011 brought you a lot of fun, love and happiness. Even though my 2011 was not my most fun year, I definitely am appreciative of all the love and support I was shown throughout the year and I feel very lucky and grateful. Happy New Year’s Eve!
Saturday, 31 December 2011
Fill ups (1 of 2)
It was arranged so that I could get my tissue expanders filled up in Kelowna so that I didn’t have to travel to Vancouver so much. The plastic surgeon’s office in Kelowna was where the reconstruction group meetings are held so I was familiar with the head nurse who runs the group. She is so wonderful - really nice and caring and so helpful.
I met with both the nurse and the Plastic Surgeon in Kelowna and we set out a fill up schedule of 100cc once each week until my radiation appointment on Dec 29th. That meant 2 fill ups in two weeks. It was a pretty aggressive schedule and not how they normally like to expand the tissue expander. The aggressive schedule wouldn’t hurt the expansion process, it just might hurt more. The nurse was concerned that it would be really uncomfortable for me, but I wanted to ensure I was ‘filled-up’ before my radiation appointment so I said we should proceed.
The first fill up went fairly well. My body definitely has looked different after every fill up. For this fill up, I noticed a curve on my chest as a ‘normal’ breast would have. I was a bit uncomfortable during the week and had to take ibuprofen to manage the pain. The pain was mostly pressure on my chest, aching in my shoulder, and then some muscle pain in my back.
My last fill up was a bit more uncomfortable – the last 5cc put a lot of pressure on my chest and I had to focus on breathing. But we got it all in there! I have been on ibuprofen since then, but every day seems to get a little easier.
My chest looks….well, different. The tissue expander is round and does look like a normal breast – well normal and very perky! The big difference between the two sides of my chest is the location of each breast. The right side is where a breast would normally sit. The left side (with the tissue expander) sits really high on my chest – almost where the top of your breast bone meets your shoulder.
So while I might be even, I’m definitely lopsided. But for now that’s alright – the fill up process is now complete!
I met with both the nurse and the Plastic Surgeon in Kelowna and we set out a fill up schedule of 100cc once each week until my radiation appointment on Dec 29th. That meant 2 fill ups in two weeks. It was a pretty aggressive schedule and not how they normally like to expand the tissue expander. The aggressive schedule wouldn’t hurt the expansion process, it just might hurt more. The nurse was concerned that it would be really uncomfortable for me, but I wanted to ensure I was ‘filled-up’ before my radiation appointment so I said we should proceed.
The first fill up went fairly well. My body definitely has looked different after every fill up. For this fill up, I noticed a curve on my chest as a ‘normal’ breast would have. I was a bit uncomfortable during the week and had to take ibuprofen to manage the pain. The pain was mostly pressure on my chest, aching in my shoulder, and then some muscle pain in my back.
My last fill up was a bit more uncomfortable – the last 5cc put a lot of pressure on my chest and I had to focus on breathing. But we got it all in there! I have been on ibuprofen since then, but every day seems to get a little easier.
My chest looks….well, different. The tissue expander is round and does look like a normal breast – well normal and very perky! The big difference between the two sides of my chest is the location of each breast. The right side is where a breast would normally sit. The left side (with the tissue expander) sits really high on my chest – almost where the top of your breast bone meets your shoulder.
So while I might be even, I’m definitely lopsided. But for now that’s alright – the fill up process is now complete!
Monday, 19 December 2011
The Results are in
I headed to Vancouver last week to see my PSurg. I needed to get my stitches out and also get my first “fill-up”. I was eligible to fly there through this non-profit organization called Hope Air. They fly people to and from medical appointments as needed. It’s a great organization so if you hear of a fundraiser for them or simply feel like donating to a worthy cause, please consider this group.
My PSurg was really happy with how I was healing. She said that everything looked great. She removed my bandages and then started to take out my stitches. I had a dissolvable stitch running underneath each breast and then a set of stitches surrounding my right areola and up my left chest. Not the most pleasant thing to remove, but again, my pain scale just remembers to when I woke up from surgery and nothing really seems that bad anymore.
My PSurg then went and got some saline to fill up my expander. The syringe was nearly a foot long and the needle was about 2 inches long…yikes! All I kept thinking of was that scene from Pulp Fiction where Uma gets stabbed in the heart with a shot of adrenaline. I decided to look the other way.
The first 100cc went in really easily, so the PSurg got another 50cc. She wanted to be aggressive on my fill-ups to ensure I have a decent size before my radiation. After looking at the new size with the 150cc, she figured I could get filled-up once per week in Kelowna, and maybe be done before the new year!
She then put paper tape on my incisions to minimize scarring. Vitamin E is thought to widen scars so she said wearing this tape is the best thing for helping with healing.
Turns out, my pathology report had come in as well so my PSurg called over to my Surgeon to see if there was any time she could see me before I left for home. Luckily she could squeeze me in before her first surgery of the next morning! My PSurg handed me a copy of the report and told me to bring it with me. While I could understand most of the words on the report, making sense of what it meant was a whole new ball game. Good thing the Surgeon could see me to explain!
My Aunt and I then headed over to meet my uncles and my cousin for dinner. It was really awesome to see everyone and have what felt like a normal dinner conversation. We caught up with what was going on and only minimally talked about my health – sometimes it’s really nice to not talk about what is happening with me and instead focus on what is happening with other people.
The next morning we were up super early to head in to see my Surgeon. My Aunt was a trooper and kindly took me to the hospital during early morning Vancouver rush-hour. We arrived early and it was lucky we did – my Surgeon’s first operation of the day was moved up!
My Surgeon came around the corner with a big smile and told me I was looking really great – I guess compared to the last time I saw her (630am the day after my surgery) anything would have been a little better ! She took me into a room to examine me and said that things looked really great. She was happy with how everything turned out and told me I’d be a “work of art” when everything was finished.
She then went over the pathology report with me. The tissue they removed had two remaining tumors. This is not surprising as sometimes masses start ‘in-situ’ (in the ducts) and the ducts protect the tumor from a lot of the chemo.
When they remove tumors, they look to get a ring of healthy tissue surrounding the mass, to ensure they got it all. Protocol calls for .2cm. They were able to get 1.1cm with my mastectomy! This is great news as it means the tumors likely had no chance to spread into the surrounding tissue in my chest wall.
The report also highlighted that there was no cancer involvement in the skin or the nipple. Again, great news! My tumors were analyzed and downgraded to a grade 1. Again, great news! (In the cancer-world, the lower the numbers, the better).
Finally the report highlighted the lymph nodes that were removed during my surgery. Out of the 4 that the Surgeon took out, zero showed cancerous infection. That’s right, ZERO. My cancer did not get a chance to spread!
My Surgeon told me to talk to my Radiation Oncologist and see how he wanted to proceed with treatment, given my pathology report. She suggested that radiation is still likely in the cards for me, but to ask to be sure.
She also talked to me about potentially going back to school in May. She said that she thought it was definitely possible – I could always wait to have the final implant surgery. Some people have tissue expanders in for quite some time, so I don’t need to worry about that. I need to wait and see a little bit, but things are looking okay on the school front!
I went out to see my Aunt in the waiting room and I couldn’t even talk. She looked at me with a sort of excited curiosity and all I could do was nod my head. She had this huge smile on her face and gave me a big hug and I started crying (of course….seriously, can I go one blog post without shedding some tears??? Haha). I told her the news and we both were so smiley after that.
I really didn’t realize how much the results were weighing on me, until I heard the news. It honestly felt like20lbs had been lifted from my shoulders and chest. I felt better than I had in months!
So there you have it - Great results from the great team of people who have been taking care of me. One more treatment type to go!
My PSurg was really happy with how I was healing. She said that everything looked great. She removed my bandages and then started to take out my stitches. I had a dissolvable stitch running underneath each breast and then a set of stitches surrounding my right areola and up my left chest. Not the most pleasant thing to remove, but again, my pain scale just remembers to when I woke up from surgery and nothing really seems that bad anymore.
My PSurg then went and got some saline to fill up my expander. The syringe was nearly a foot long and the needle was about 2 inches long…yikes! All I kept thinking of was that scene from Pulp Fiction where Uma gets stabbed in the heart with a shot of adrenaline. I decided to look the other way.
The first 100cc went in really easily, so the PSurg got another 50cc. She wanted to be aggressive on my fill-ups to ensure I have a decent size before my radiation. After looking at the new size with the 150cc, she figured I could get filled-up once per week in Kelowna, and maybe be done before the new year!
She then put paper tape on my incisions to minimize scarring. Vitamin E is thought to widen scars so she said wearing this tape is the best thing for helping with healing.
Turns out, my pathology report had come in as well so my PSurg called over to my Surgeon to see if there was any time she could see me before I left for home. Luckily she could squeeze me in before her first surgery of the next morning! My PSurg handed me a copy of the report and told me to bring it with me. While I could understand most of the words on the report, making sense of what it meant was a whole new ball game. Good thing the Surgeon could see me to explain!
My Aunt and I then headed over to meet my uncles and my cousin for dinner. It was really awesome to see everyone and have what felt like a normal dinner conversation. We caught up with what was going on and only minimally talked about my health – sometimes it’s really nice to not talk about what is happening with me and instead focus on what is happening with other people.
The next morning we were up super early to head in to see my Surgeon. My Aunt was a trooper and kindly took me to the hospital during early morning Vancouver rush-hour. We arrived early and it was lucky we did – my Surgeon’s first operation of the day was moved up!
My Surgeon came around the corner with a big smile and told me I was looking really great – I guess compared to the last time I saw her (630am the day after my surgery) anything would have been a little better ! She took me into a room to examine me and said that things looked really great. She was happy with how everything turned out and told me I’d be a “work of art” when everything was finished.
She then went over the pathology report with me. The tissue they removed had two remaining tumors. This is not surprising as sometimes masses start ‘in-situ’ (in the ducts) and the ducts protect the tumor from a lot of the chemo.
When they remove tumors, they look to get a ring of healthy tissue surrounding the mass, to ensure they got it all. Protocol calls for .2cm. They were able to get 1.1cm with my mastectomy! This is great news as it means the tumors likely had no chance to spread into the surrounding tissue in my chest wall.
The report also highlighted that there was no cancer involvement in the skin or the nipple. Again, great news! My tumors were analyzed and downgraded to a grade 1. Again, great news! (In the cancer-world, the lower the numbers, the better).
Finally the report highlighted the lymph nodes that were removed during my surgery. Out of the 4 that the Surgeon took out, zero showed cancerous infection. That’s right, ZERO. My cancer did not get a chance to spread!
My Surgeon told me to talk to my Radiation Oncologist and see how he wanted to proceed with treatment, given my pathology report. She suggested that radiation is still likely in the cards for me, but to ask to be sure.
She also talked to me about potentially going back to school in May. She said that she thought it was definitely possible – I could always wait to have the final implant surgery. Some people have tissue expanders in for quite some time, so I don’t need to worry about that. I need to wait and see a little bit, but things are looking okay on the school front!
I went out to see my Aunt in the waiting room and I couldn’t even talk. She looked at me with a sort of excited curiosity and all I could do was nod my head. She had this huge smile on her face and gave me a big hug and I started crying (of course….seriously, can I go one blog post without shedding some tears??? Haha). I told her the news and we both were so smiley after that.
I really didn’t realize how much the results were weighing on me, until I heard the news. It honestly felt like20lbs had been lifted from my shoulders and chest. I felt better than I had in months!
So there you have it - Great results from the great team of people who have been taking care of me. One more treatment type to go!
Friday, 9 December 2011
Dates
10 days into being home and I’m feeling a lot better. There are still times where I am in a lot of pain and really uncomfortable, but the pain isn’t nearly as bad as when I first woke up from surgery. Once you experience that type of pain it is hard to think that any other pain you experience is anything more than a little owie.
I attended this Breast Surgery Recovery group the day after I got home from Vancouver. A physiotherapist came and talked about the importance of exercise after surgery. She showed us some exercises and gave us her cards to come see her if we needed physio. I spoke with her and explained that I had been in the hospital in Vancouver, so was I still able to use her services at the Kelowna hospital – no problem!
I’ve now attended 3 sessions of physio with Dianna and my range of motion is definitely improving. My shoulder and chest have been aching a little more so she said not to push my at-home exercises as it is still pretty early. But things are looking good and perhaps in the New Year I can start doing some resistance training (ie pushing, pulling, lifting). For now I am limited with the left side to just stretching and range of motion activities.
The physio sessions are conducted in the hospital in a specialized area. There are pieces of exercise equipment everywhere and lots of people doing different exercises for different injuries/surgeries. The first day I arrived, I saw an older woman doing some arm exercises using a ball. Another woman was using the arm-bike. I don’t know how, but just by looking at them, I knew they were there for the same thing as me.
While on my table, I realized each of the women was on either side of me behind their own curtains on their own tables. I was lying there on the heat packs and couldn’t help but overhear their conversations with their physiotherapists. Both women were asked specifics of their surgeries, cancer diagnosis, etc. And while overhearing these conversations I realized something - once you have been diagnosed with an illness, dates start to become permanently embedded in your mind.
For example, there was a woman in one of the information sessions I attended and her hair was long enough to cover her head, but not long enough to have been a haircut. I asked her when her hair started growing back. She didn’t answer “Oh about 2 months ago” or “around the start of the fall”. She answered “My last chemo treatment was Aug 30th so after that.”
Same with the women in the physio department of the hospital – ‘when was your surgery’ gets answered with “I was diagnosed on September 29th and had surgery Oct 15th” or “Oct 29th was my surgery and I start my first chemo on January 6th”.
These dates stick with you. Normally I’ve been pretty decent at remembering dates – sure I’ll forget the occasional special occasion or a birthday will sneak up on me, but that happens to everyone. But you ask me anything about my cancer diagnosis and I can rattle off dates like a textbook. Even with my ‘chemo brain’ I can still tell you all my cancer diagnosis/treatment dates with precision.
Part of me hates that this has been embedded into my memory, taking up valuable space that could be used for other fun memories. But part of me knows that this is not just something I can forget – as much as I want to just get this treatment done with and push on.
But part of me also knows that dates are good for other things too – like celebrations! So if nothing else, maybe these newly embedded dates in my mind will give me cause to celebrate a few more times throughout the year :)
I attended this Breast Surgery Recovery group the day after I got home from Vancouver. A physiotherapist came and talked about the importance of exercise after surgery. She showed us some exercises and gave us her cards to come see her if we needed physio. I spoke with her and explained that I had been in the hospital in Vancouver, so was I still able to use her services at the Kelowna hospital – no problem!
I’ve now attended 3 sessions of physio with Dianna and my range of motion is definitely improving. My shoulder and chest have been aching a little more so she said not to push my at-home exercises as it is still pretty early. But things are looking good and perhaps in the New Year I can start doing some resistance training (ie pushing, pulling, lifting). For now I am limited with the left side to just stretching and range of motion activities.
The physio sessions are conducted in the hospital in a specialized area. There are pieces of exercise equipment everywhere and lots of people doing different exercises for different injuries/surgeries. The first day I arrived, I saw an older woman doing some arm exercises using a ball. Another woman was using the arm-bike. I don’t know how, but just by looking at them, I knew they were there for the same thing as me.
While on my table, I realized each of the women was on either side of me behind their own curtains on their own tables. I was lying there on the heat packs and couldn’t help but overhear their conversations with their physiotherapists. Both women were asked specifics of their surgeries, cancer diagnosis, etc. And while overhearing these conversations I realized something - once you have been diagnosed with an illness, dates start to become permanently embedded in your mind.
For example, there was a woman in one of the information sessions I attended and her hair was long enough to cover her head, but not long enough to have been a haircut. I asked her when her hair started growing back. She didn’t answer “Oh about 2 months ago” or “around the start of the fall”. She answered “My last chemo treatment was Aug 30th so after that.”
Same with the women in the physio department of the hospital – ‘when was your surgery’ gets answered with “I was diagnosed on September 29th and had surgery Oct 15th” or “Oct 29th was my surgery and I start my first chemo on January 6th”.
These dates stick with you. Normally I’ve been pretty decent at remembering dates – sure I’ll forget the occasional special occasion or a birthday will sneak up on me, but that happens to everyone. But you ask me anything about my cancer diagnosis and I can rattle off dates like a textbook. Even with my ‘chemo brain’ I can still tell you all my cancer diagnosis/treatment dates with precision.
Part of me hates that this has been embedded into my memory, taking up valuable space that could be used for other fun memories. But part of me knows that this is not just something I can forget – as much as I want to just get this treatment done with and push on.
But part of me also knows that dates are good for other things too – like celebrations! So if nothing else, maybe these newly embedded dates in my mind will give me cause to celebrate a few more times throughout the year :)
Thursday, 1 December 2011
Recovery (4 of 4)
I spent nearly a week at my Uncle’s in Vancouver starting the process of recovery from my surgery. I had lots of people come and visit which was awesome. I slept a lot. I slowly started getting a bit more mobile and able to do a few more things.
You don’t realize how much energy it requires to do most daily tasks are until you have limited mobility. Then everything seems to be a struggle. Getting dressed required another set of hands. Sitting up required a hand pushing me on my back. Everything had to be handed to me, as opposed to me reaching for it.
Both Cayley and my Dad were, and continue to be, awesome. I had lots of help, but boy was it frustrating.
Dealing with a drain is never fun either. It gets in the way, you have to empty it at least once a day, and you fear that you will accidentally rip it out.
Things also hurt a lot at times. I won’t try and be tough and tell you it wasn’t that bad – it was. There were times that this screaming pain ripped across my left chest, almost in the area of where my nipple should be to my back, and there was nothing I could do about it. I’d wince, try to remember to breath, and just wait until the pain subsided. It was never for a long period of time, but when it came, holy it hurt.
I went in to see my PSurg on Monday so she could take off my bandages and remove my drain. My friend came with me and Cayley wouldn’t leave the room – no matter how much I said I didn’t want him to see, he insisted that he’d get to see anyways – plus “I’m the one who is taking care of you so I have to know what to do.” Even when he doesn’t do what I want, I still can’t help but immensely love this man.
The PSurg removed my bandage that went across my chest, down my sides and across my belly. I thought it might pull a little, but I was not expecting the serious pain that came with it. She said they had to come off and there was no easy way to do it, but wowzers! Bits of my skin came off with the bandage, but it needed to be on tightly so I guess that’s sometimes the outcome.
I didn’t get a tonne of time to take in what it looked like, because next up was removing the drain. She said this would hurt but I was thinking it would just be more uncomfortable. The thought of removing the drain gave me the heebie-jeebies, but I figured it wouldn’t be all that painful. Wrong. My friend held my hand and kept reminding me to breathe. Thankfully it was over fairly quickly – and to be honest, in comparison to hassle of the drain, that few minutes of pain was okay if it meant it could come out!
The PSurg said everything looked great and that I could go home and to come back in two weeks to get the stitches removed and get my first official ‘fill-up’ for the expander. (she had filled up the expander a bit during surgery, but not too much).
I’m home now and fairing alright. I’m in pain a lot, I have a really hard time sleeping, and moving my one arm is still a big challenge. It’s slowly getting better every day, but it’s still not at a point where I can do much on my own. I am not allowed to drive for a least another week – so I am basically homebound until someone can chauffer me around.
How does it look? Well weird. My right breast is lifted, but there are still lots of bandages around it. My left breast is gone, in its place a smooth lump with some bandages. To top it off, my eyes are tired so I look like a raccoon. And I still have no eyebrows/eyelashes and am bald, so that doesn’t help either. Of course Cayley tells me I am still beautiful to him – hmmm, maybe he needs some glasses for Christmas! Haha But I do think this will take some getting used to. To be honest, I’m not as shocked by it as I thought I would be – and I seem to be handling it okay.
But another big step mostly done and now just need to rest and make sure to do my physio exercises to get back my range of motion and then I should be good to go for the next step. Man this feels like it is taking forever.
You don’t realize how much energy it requires to do most daily tasks are until you have limited mobility. Then everything seems to be a struggle. Getting dressed required another set of hands. Sitting up required a hand pushing me on my back. Everything had to be handed to me, as opposed to me reaching for it.
Both Cayley and my Dad were, and continue to be, awesome. I had lots of help, but boy was it frustrating.
Dealing with a drain is never fun either. It gets in the way, you have to empty it at least once a day, and you fear that you will accidentally rip it out.
Things also hurt a lot at times. I won’t try and be tough and tell you it wasn’t that bad – it was. There were times that this screaming pain ripped across my left chest, almost in the area of where my nipple should be to my back, and there was nothing I could do about it. I’d wince, try to remember to breath, and just wait until the pain subsided. It was never for a long period of time, but when it came, holy it hurt.
I went in to see my PSurg on Monday so she could take off my bandages and remove my drain. My friend came with me and Cayley wouldn’t leave the room – no matter how much I said I didn’t want him to see, he insisted that he’d get to see anyways – plus “I’m the one who is taking care of you so I have to know what to do.” Even when he doesn’t do what I want, I still can’t help but immensely love this man.
The PSurg removed my bandage that went across my chest, down my sides and across my belly. I thought it might pull a little, but I was not expecting the serious pain that came with it. She said they had to come off and there was no easy way to do it, but wowzers! Bits of my skin came off with the bandage, but it needed to be on tightly so I guess that’s sometimes the outcome.
I didn’t get a tonne of time to take in what it looked like, because next up was removing the drain. She said this would hurt but I was thinking it would just be more uncomfortable. The thought of removing the drain gave me the heebie-jeebies, but I figured it wouldn’t be all that painful. Wrong. My friend held my hand and kept reminding me to breathe. Thankfully it was over fairly quickly – and to be honest, in comparison to hassle of the drain, that few minutes of pain was okay if it meant it could come out!
The PSurg said everything looked great and that I could go home and to come back in two weeks to get the stitches removed and get my first official ‘fill-up’ for the expander. (she had filled up the expander a bit during surgery, but not too much).
I’m home now and fairing alright. I’m in pain a lot, I have a really hard time sleeping, and moving my one arm is still a big challenge. It’s slowly getting better every day, but it’s still not at a point where I can do much on my own. I am not allowed to drive for a least another week – so I am basically homebound until someone can chauffer me around.
How does it look? Well weird. My right breast is lifted, but there are still lots of bandages around it. My left breast is gone, in its place a smooth lump with some bandages. To top it off, my eyes are tired so I look like a raccoon. And I still have no eyebrows/eyelashes and am bald, so that doesn’t help either. Of course Cayley tells me I am still beautiful to him – hmmm, maybe he needs some glasses for Christmas! Haha But I do think this will take some getting used to. To be honest, I’m not as shocked by it as I thought I would be – and I seem to be handling it okay.
But another big step mostly done and now just need to rest and make sure to do my physio exercises to get back my range of motion and then I should be good to go for the next step. Man this feels like it is taking forever.
Post-Surgery (3 of 4)
I remember seeing my anaesthesiologist standing over me telling me it was all over. I don’t know if I dreamt that because she told me it would happen, or if it really did happen – but the next thing I really remember was being in the recovery room.
My nurse Debbie and my anaesthesiologist were looking after me. I was in a lot of pain when I woke up and was really uncomfortable. In pre-surgery, they tell you of the “pain scale” and that the nurses will ask you what your pain is like from 0-10, with 0 being no pain and 10 being the worst pain you’ve ever felt. Debbie asked me what my pain was and I said 8.
Why 8? I have no idea. It was definitely painful and I was really uncomfortable, but maybe I was thinking I had been in worse pain before? I have no idea when that time would have been. Maybe I was just trying to be a bit tough – 8 sounds not as bad as 10? I have no idea, but they gave me some morphine to help and started to get me ready to head up to the ward.
I was assigned to a semi-private room and hooked up to a machine that would allow me to administer my own morphine on a timed basis. Every 6 minutes I could give myself another shot if I needed it. I was still in a lot of pain when I got up to the ward, so I hit the button a few times in a row – it just beeped at me signalling me “too early!” The nurse who set up the machine told me it was timed so I wouldn’t become a drug addict. Okay, I guess I can handle a bit of pain for a few more minutes.
Cayley and my Dad came in right away to see me. It felt like forever since I had seen them, but really, it was only 4 hours.
My nurse was named Florence and she was from Nigeria. I couldn’t help but think of Florence Nightingale, so I knew I was in good hands.
My drain was pinned to my gown so I could see what I would have to deal with when I got home. Florence and the team of nurses emptied it for me while I was in the hospital, but I was on my own once I got home.
I also had these things wrapped around my lower legs that squeezed different air patterns through them at different intervals. This was to keep the blood circulating in my lower legs and prevent any complications.
I was given a few exercises to do to move my legs and help expand my chest. There was a big bandage around my chest so it felt really tight. Also I was told from the anesthesia and other drugs that I would need to take deep breaths to stretch out my chest.
My stay in the hospital was pretty routine. I had lots of people come visit me on Tuesday night. I slept on and off throughout the night. (it is hard to stay asleep when you need to take meds or get checked on every few hours – plus every time the pain medication wears off you wake up).
Wednesday morning came around and Cayley was there at 7am to make sure he didn’t miss seeing the surgeons check on me. Both surgeons said everything went smoothly and that we would see what things looked like when the bandages came off.
A physiotherapist and someone from Community Nursing came in to see me as well. I dozed on and off throughout the day. Honestly, I felt like I could have stayed another night and just slept – but then I’d look over at my Dad and Cayley and knew that if I didn’t get out of there, the two of them would likely keel over from boredom. They had read all the magazines, talked about every piece of equipment in my room, every bit of flooring or paint was discussed, and then they just sat there watching me. At least at home they could maybe find something else to do! Haha
I was discharged Wednesday afternoon and headed back to my Uncle’s place to start my recovery.
My nurse Debbie and my anaesthesiologist were looking after me. I was in a lot of pain when I woke up and was really uncomfortable. In pre-surgery, they tell you of the “pain scale” and that the nurses will ask you what your pain is like from 0-10, with 0 being no pain and 10 being the worst pain you’ve ever felt. Debbie asked me what my pain was and I said 8.
Why 8? I have no idea. It was definitely painful and I was really uncomfortable, but maybe I was thinking I had been in worse pain before? I have no idea when that time would have been. Maybe I was just trying to be a bit tough – 8 sounds not as bad as 10? I have no idea, but they gave me some morphine to help and started to get me ready to head up to the ward.
I was assigned to a semi-private room and hooked up to a machine that would allow me to administer my own morphine on a timed basis. Every 6 minutes I could give myself another shot if I needed it. I was still in a lot of pain when I got up to the ward, so I hit the button a few times in a row – it just beeped at me signalling me “too early!” The nurse who set up the machine told me it was timed so I wouldn’t become a drug addict. Okay, I guess I can handle a bit of pain for a few more minutes.
Cayley and my Dad came in right away to see me. It felt like forever since I had seen them, but really, it was only 4 hours.
My nurse was named Florence and she was from Nigeria. I couldn’t help but think of Florence Nightingale, so I knew I was in good hands.
My drain was pinned to my gown so I could see what I would have to deal with when I got home. Florence and the team of nurses emptied it for me while I was in the hospital, but I was on my own once I got home.
I also had these things wrapped around my lower legs that squeezed different air patterns through them at different intervals. This was to keep the blood circulating in my lower legs and prevent any complications.
I was given a few exercises to do to move my legs and help expand my chest. There was a big bandage around my chest so it felt really tight. Also I was told from the anesthesia and other drugs that I would need to take deep breaths to stretch out my chest.
My stay in the hospital was pretty routine. I had lots of people come visit me on Tuesday night. I slept on and off throughout the night. (it is hard to stay asleep when you need to take meds or get checked on every few hours – plus every time the pain medication wears off you wake up).
Wednesday morning came around and Cayley was there at 7am to make sure he didn’t miss seeing the surgeons check on me. Both surgeons said everything went smoothly and that we would see what things looked like when the bandages came off.
A physiotherapist and someone from Community Nursing came in to see me as well. I dozed on and off throughout the day. Honestly, I felt like I could have stayed another night and just slept – but then I’d look over at my Dad and Cayley and knew that if I didn’t get out of there, the two of them would likely keel over from boredom. They had read all the magazines, talked about every piece of equipment in my room, every bit of flooring or paint was discussed, and then they just sat there watching me. At least at home they could maybe find something else to do! Haha
I was discharged Wednesday afternoon and headed back to my Uncle’s place to start my recovery.
Surgery (2 of 4)
After arriving at the check-in counter for surgery, we took a quick walk around the block. This helped get my body moving and staved off the hunger pains I was starting to have. No eating or drinking for 11ish hours makes Aidan a wee bit angry at times…my friend down in SF coined the term “HAngry” and that is me in a nutshell some days!
My brother called before my surgery and I chatted with him for a bit – we joked around a bit, chatted and bit, then he wished me luck. (As a side-note, my Uncle, the doc, said as we left his house that morning “I’m not going to wish you luck – there is no luck involved, it’s all skill and you have a greatly skilled team of people taking care of you. See you soon.”) We didn’t have anything left to say in that phone call, but I really didn’t want to hang up. Hanging up meant I had nothing left to do but surgery and I wasn’t sure I was ready yet.
But as has happened for most of this year, my choices were limited, so I hung up the phone and went back to wait in the lobby.
My Surgeon called me first to talk to me. Up until that point, I felt like I was handling things fairly well. Sure, I was tired and a bit hungry, but I hadn’t cried or yelled or done anything really out of the ordinary. I felt pretty calm and that I was being patient while waiting. I went into the little room to chat with her. She had her scrubs on and her cap and asked me how I was doing. I said okay. She asked “Are you ready for this?” I sorta shrugged and she said “well as much as anyone can be ready I suppose.” I half smiled and then tears welled-up in my eyes – dammit, I didn’t want to cry!
She asked me which breast was being operated on, as I had to tell her for safety reasons (please don’t take the wrong one!!!), and then she wrote on my chest and told me she’d see me later.
I had to put on a hospital gown and these long green socks. Apparently they are compression socks to help avoid getting blood clots in my legs during surgery. They are also ugly as you can get – but I guess that means no one will steal them! Ha ha
My PSurg came in next to draw some more lines on me to help guide her and the Surgeon for what they needed to do. She told me that when this was all done, I’d have nice perky boobs – but it’s just a really hard way to get them. I laughed, and cried a bit, and then waited for the next person to come chat with me.
I was tearing up more than I would have liked. When I first got diagnosed, I read of a girl I had gone to high school with who was a bit older than me, but had gone through the same thing. I read her blog and on the day of her surgery her husband wrote the entry to update her family/friends. He said she was doing well before her surgery, smiling and laughing and making jokes with all the staff, and then he posted a photo of her in her hospital gown and funny cap you have to wear – she had a big smile on her face. When I read that I thought to myself, I want to be like her – brave and laughing enough that it makes it seem like not that big of a deal.
Well, I was nothing like her. I felt like I was okay, but then a nurse or doc would ask me something and I would start tearing up again. In fact, I’m tearing up right now writing this. I tried my hardest but I just couldn’t be as brave as I had hoped.
At least I didn’t freak out and try to run away! Or yell or scream. I just sat and waited and tried to make sure all my last-minute questions were answered and that I remembered my birthdate for the millionth time.
My anaesthesiologist was the next to see me. My Uncle specifically asked this woman to do my surgery and she agreed. She was really nice, attentive, young (mid-30s I’d guess) and my Uncle said she’s awesome at what she does. She certainly made me feel at ease and outlined each of the steps that would happen next. She told me that she’d help me go to sleep, then the next thing I would know she’d be waking me up, telling me it’s all over.
Ricky the nurse came in next all asked me a few more questions. He asked me what operation was being performed today, and of course, I start crying. I think he felt really bad and he told me he was sorry but I had to tell him, again for safety reasons. I managed to get it all out and he squeezed my hand and told me everything was going to go really well.
So I got onto the bed to get ready to be wheeled into the OR. I said goodbye to my Dad and Cayley and then the attendant wheeled me in. She smiled at me but all I could think about was her longish, white moustache…seriously! Maybe she was growing it for Mo’vember.
Ricky the nurse met us at the doors and guided my bed next to the OR table. I got onto the table and then he started to attach monitors to me. I kept staring at his Oakley eyeglasses and thinking that they were pretty stylish. Anything to keep my mind away from what was about to happen.
I had to be strapped to the table so I wouldn’t fall off. Then my anaesthesiologist gave me my IV, some oxygen, and then told me to think of nice thoughts. And then I was asleep.
My brother called before my surgery and I chatted with him for a bit – we joked around a bit, chatted and bit, then he wished me luck. (As a side-note, my Uncle, the doc, said as we left his house that morning “I’m not going to wish you luck – there is no luck involved, it’s all skill and you have a greatly skilled team of people taking care of you. See you soon.”) We didn’t have anything left to say in that phone call, but I really didn’t want to hang up. Hanging up meant I had nothing left to do but surgery and I wasn’t sure I was ready yet.
But as has happened for most of this year, my choices were limited, so I hung up the phone and went back to wait in the lobby.
My Surgeon called me first to talk to me. Up until that point, I felt like I was handling things fairly well. Sure, I was tired and a bit hungry, but I hadn’t cried or yelled or done anything really out of the ordinary. I felt pretty calm and that I was being patient while waiting. I went into the little room to chat with her. She had her scrubs on and her cap and asked me how I was doing. I said okay. She asked “Are you ready for this?” I sorta shrugged and she said “well as much as anyone can be ready I suppose.” I half smiled and then tears welled-up in my eyes – dammit, I didn’t want to cry!
She asked me which breast was being operated on, as I had to tell her for safety reasons (please don’t take the wrong one!!!), and then she wrote on my chest and told me she’d see me later.
I had to put on a hospital gown and these long green socks. Apparently they are compression socks to help avoid getting blood clots in my legs during surgery. They are also ugly as you can get – but I guess that means no one will steal them! Ha ha
My PSurg came in next to draw some more lines on me to help guide her and the Surgeon for what they needed to do. She told me that when this was all done, I’d have nice perky boobs – but it’s just a really hard way to get them. I laughed, and cried a bit, and then waited for the next person to come chat with me.
I was tearing up more than I would have liked. When I first got diagnosed, I read of a girl I had gone to high school with who was a bit older than me, but had gone through the same thing. I read her blog and on the day of her surgery her husband wrote the entry to update her family/friends. He said she was doing well before her surgery, smiling and laughing and making jokes with all the staff, and then he posted a photo of her in her hospital gown and funny cap you have to wear – she had a big smile on her face. When I read that I thought to myself, I want to be like her – brave and laughing enough that it makes it seem like not that big of a deal.
Well, I was nothing like her. I felt like I was okay, but then a nurse or doc would ask me something and I would start tearing up again. In fact, I’m tearing up right now writing this. I tried my hardest but I just couldn’t be as brave as I had hoped.
At least I didn’t freak out and try to run away! Or yell or scream. I just sat and waited and tried to make sure all my last-minute questions were answered and that I remembered my birthdate for the millionth time.
My anaesthesiologist was the next to see me. My Uncle specifically asked this woman to do my surgery and she agreed. She was really nice, attentive, young (mid-30s I’d guess) and my Uncle said she’s awesome at what she does. She certainly made me feel at ease and outlined each of the steps that would happen next. She told me that she’d help me go to sleep, then the next thing I would know she’d be waking me up, telling me it’s all over.
Ricky the nurse came in next all asked me a few more questions. He asked me what operation was being performed today, and of course, I start crying. I think he felt really bad and he told me he was sorry but I had to tell him, again for safety reasons. I managed to get it all out and he squeezed my hand and told me everything was going to go really well.
So I got onto the bed to get ready to be wheeled into the OR. I said goodbye to my Dad and Cayley and then the attendant wheeled me in. She smiled at me but all I could think about was her longish, white moustache…seriously! Maybe she was growing it for Mo’vember.
Ricky the nurse met us at the doors and guided my bed next to the OR table. I got onto the table and then he started to attach monitors to me. I kept staring at his Oakley eyeglasses and thinking that they were pretty stylish. Anything to keep my mind away from what was about to happen.
I had to be strapped to the table so I wouldn’t fall off. Then my anaesthesiologist gave me my IV, some oxygen, and then told me to think of nice thoughts. And then I was asleep.
Pre-Surgery (1 of 4)
Well I am home now, but haven’t had the energy to sit a computer long enough to type out my updates – so you will get a few in one shot.
We headed to Vancouver for my surgery. The only plans I had while there were to attend my pre-admissions appointment on Monday, surgery on Tuesday, and follow-up appointment the next Monday.
I will admit, having an Uncle who is a well-respected doctor at the hospital group you are going to really makes things a breeze. Pre-admissions started out with me checking in and watching a video about what surgery was like, the recovery room, and the ward. I was lucky enough that one of my most amazing friends specialized in recovery room nursing and was able to give me the low-down before I left – it was SO helpful to know ahead of time what to expect.
I had to give a few more blood samples to a nurse who checked my name, birthdate and id number about 14 times – good to know she’s thorough and has the right patient! It’s funny though – you think that you’d sound like a recording after repeating things so much…but they switch it up all the time! Keeps you on your toes to make sure you are really the person going in for surgery. Although, if you weren’t me, would you really want to do this willingly???
Then I met with a nurse and then an anaesthesiologist to answer a few more questions. They both work with my Uncle and were really nice and reassuring. They spent as much time as I wanted with them, yet were still efficient enough that we were done before the parking meter expired!
The rest of Monday was spent visiting my Grandma and shopping with one of my best friends. Seemed like a pretty normal day – except I was shopping for unscented lotions and shirts I could put on easily after surgery, not fun clothes or other fun things! (okay I’ll admit, we ducked into a few stores to look at clothes and boots ;) )
Tuesday rolled around and we were up early to head to the Nuclear Medicine department at the hospital. Because my MRI showed ‘no indication’ of tumours in the lymph nodes, the surgeon was only going to remove a sentinel node during my surgery. The sentinel node is the one that fluids first drain to in any specific area of the body, then it disperses the fluid to the other lymph nodes in the area to help flush out any waste or excess fluids. If the sentinel node is removed and examined and shows no sign of cancer, then my cancer will not have spread and we are all happy campers.
To find this sentinel node, I was given an injection of radioactive material into my breast near the nipple. During surgery, the surgeon would take an instrument and wave it over my chest – the loudest beep is where the radioactive material first went to drain and we have found the sentinel node! I’m imagining it was like a Geiger-Counter from Science 9 – but I was going to be asleep so I really don’t know.
After that I was ready for surgery so we headed over to the check-in area to wait until it was my turn.
We headed to Vancouver for my surgery. The only plans I had while there were to attend my pre-admissions appointment on Monday, surgery on Tuesday, and follow-up appointment the next Monday.
I will admit, having an Uncle who is a well-respected doctor at the hospital group you are going to really makes things a breeze. Pre-admissions started out with me checking in and watching a video about what surgery was like, the recovery room, and the ward. I was lucky enough that one of my most amazing friends specialized in recovery room nursing and was able to give me the low-down before I left – it was SO helpful to know ahead of time what to expect.
I had to give a few more blood samples to a nurse who checked my name, birthdate and id number about 14 times – good to know she’s thorough and has the right patient! It’s funny though – you think that you’d sound like a recording after repeating things so much…but they switch it up all the time! Keeps you on your toes to make sure you are really the person going in for surgery. Although, if you weren’t me, would you really want to do this willingly???
Then I met with a nurse and then an anaesthesiologist to answer a few more questions. They both work with my Uncle and were really nice and reassuring. They spent as much time as I wanted with them, yet were still efficient enough that we were done before the parking meter expired!
The rest of Monday was spent visiting my Grandma and shopping with one of my best friends. Seemed like a pretty normal day – except I was shopping for unscented lotions and shirts I could put on easily after surgery, not fun clothes or other fun things! (okay I’ll admit, we ducked into a few stores to look at clothes and boots ;) )
Tuesday rolled around and we were up early to head to the Nuclear Medicine department at the hospital. Because my MRI showed ‘no indication’ of tumours in the lymph nodes, the surgeon was only going to remove a sentinel node during my surgery. The sentinel node is the one that fluids first drain to in any specific area of the body, then it disperses the fluid to the other lymph nodes in the area to help flush out any waste or excess fluids. If the sentinel node is removed and examined and shows no sign of cancer, then my cancer will not have spread and we are all happy campers.
To find this sentinel node, I was given an injection of radioactive material into my breast near the nipple. During surgery, the surgeon would take an instrument and wave it over my chest – the loudest beep is where the radioactive material first went to drain and we have found the sentinel node! I’m imagining it was like a Geiger-Counter from Science 9 – but I was going to be asleep so I really don’t know.
After that I was ready for surgery so we headed over to the check-in area to wait until it was my turn.
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