Surgery Time!

Appointment 15: Lymph Node Mapping - 5 March
The day before surgery I had my lymph nodes mapped. Going in, I had no idea what this procedure entailed and still don't really know to be honest. The technician also presumed that it was my mother who was there for the appointment as young people never get cancer! Get with the times people! 

So I entered yet another room, put on yet another robe, got injected with yet another needle and got glided into yet another machine. The stuff they injected (which seemed pretty dodgy according to the disclaimer I signed) didn't really work so I was sent off to wave my arm around like a dick for an hour. 

I returned, was glided back into the machine and it seemed that my manic arm waving had successfully manoeuvred the mapping serum(?) around my nodes. With a black marker, the technician then marked my chest and armpit with noughts and crosses.

Surgery Time - 6 March
I didn't feel all too emotional on the day of surgery. Although the big decisions were only made that week, this operation was nearly 5 weeks in the making, so I had envisioned every possible option and outcome and felt completely prepared. 

At the hospital, we signed in and were escorted to my room. I waited a while with my parents, my mum read some messages from friends and family, I signed some surgery forms and answered a few health questions. I then said goodbye to the olds, unpacked my bag, received my sexy surgery garments and promptly put the giant underwear on my head to amuse my nurse Valencia. She then left me to get ready and I, of course, proceeded to take a whole load of pre-surgery selfies. I literally can't get over the underwear...I mean seriously, what the hell...

Reeeeeoooooooow

The nurses rolled me into the room outside the operating theatre where I was greeted by my plastic surgeon. I opened up my robe like a dodgy flasher and he marked my boobs out like a NFL game plan (is there a name for that?). I also met with my anaesthetist who took my blood pressure and asked me a few medical questions. I was then left to relax for 10 minutes or so before surgery. As I lay there I listened to the noises coming from the theatre next door to my operating room. My eyes began to widen, I pulled my sheet up to below my nose as the shrill of what sounded like a chainsaw began to buzz. Moments later a man dressed for a lunar landing in head to toe scrubs emerged with a big pouch of that stuff those dudes from Band of Brothers were looking always on the hunt for...plasmaaaa.

I was rolled into the theatre and chatted with my surgeons. My anaesthetist began jabbing me like the human pin cushion that I have become lately and we had a conversation that went (and looked) a lot like this...

And two seconds later I was out cold. 

Four hours later I came to, my Colombian's face appearing like an angelic vision before me. Waking up and the hour(?) that followed was a little blurry to say the least.  Apparently I kept asking the nurse what I said when I woke up. My friend Winnie said anaesthetic is a 'truth serum' so I was expecting to unleash my deepest darkest secrets. But apparently all I could say was OW OW OW OW OW OW OW as I was in the most UNIMAGINABLE amount of pain. Also that I really needed to weeeeeeeee. It was a really classy affair.

I was given some crazy amazing pain medication so things became even blurrier but I do know that I chatted to my surgeon who said that my lymph nodes were clear, that they had done immediate reconstruction and had saved my nipple. I was sooooo high that 5 minutes later I thought it was all some sort of magical dream. My parents also popped in and I told them that I had a wonderful dream about the doctor telling me the best news ever and that perhaps it did really happen. I also kept telling them and all the nurses how much I loved them. 

The following day I saw my doctor and he confirmed that it wasn't a dream and everything that he had said really happened! It's a miracle! 

I was in hospital for several days after surgery and encountered many highs and lows over that time:

Low Points: 

1. On the second night, two evil nurses who had just come on duty came over to my bed just as I had just fallen asleep. At this stage I couldn't actually pull myself out of bed so they began trying to roll me on my side to help get me up because I 'needed' to go for a walk. I began sobbing in agony, waking the whole ward up, so they slowly rolled me back again and put some compression things on my legs which puffed one leg at a time throughout the night. 

2. Another low was not being able to get to the shower and being hand washed in bed by big mama Valencia. AWKWARD.

  

3. Once I was a bit more mobile, getting to the bathroom literally became my Everest and felt a little something like this (only perhaps with less crawling)...

High Point: 

1. That aforementioned pain medication! I had so many nurses throughout my stay so I kept telling all of them that I was in pain (which I really was) so I kept on getting jabbed in the ass and floating a metre above my bed. It was fabulous.

My time in hospital is a bit mingled in my mind but I know I had a few visits from my friends and fam, I managed to get through around 3 - 4 seasons of Entourage, I discovered a new love for apple pie (nom nom nom), I realised that having a bloody drain coming out of your boob is probs one of the most DISGUSTING things ever and I found out that getting a mastectomy is really FUCKING PAINFUL. But that pain was definitely worth it considering the end result! Those positive vibes really worked so thanks to everyone who was thinking of me.

Looking gorgeous with my drain hanging out. GAG.