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.
No comments:
Post a Comment