The day before my surgery, Rachel so sweetly gave me three gemstones... smooth rocks to hold in my pocket... one says "strength" and one says "gratitude". One is a pink heart, so I can hold her near to me in my heart. She told me what each one meant to her, as tears filled her eyes. Mine too. I ended up holding that pink heart rock in my hand all during my surgery.
The night before my big day I was having trouble deciding whether to go to Hacienda for some dancing, one last time. We'd just gone out to dinner as a family to Jerry's Deli and pigged out on Jewish comfort food. Chopped liver, matza ball soup, pastrami, latkes. Rachel said maybe I should not go dancing...that I should leave the LAPD event last weekend as my last dance memory. I realized she was right. Such wisdom, so young. So I stayed home to regroup, to rest, and to cuddle Bob. Believe it or not, I actually needed that more than dancing.
Phone calls, e-mails, Facebook messages, texts... coming in droves... so many people well wishing and praying for me. I could hardly believe it. Neighbor Cindy sending out play-by-play email blasts with my progress. (Thank you, Cindy, you were amazing, and everyone appreciated it!) Paul and Rachel coordinating visitors. Not an easy task when every hour, it seemed, brought some new unexpected turn of events.
Yet according to my surgeons, it all went smoothly - "textbook" they said. Still quite an ordeal.
Those 2 days in the hospital were generally a positive experience. The staff was great. My favorite nurse was Clare, she was top notch (night shift). I loved how she fondly called my Jackson Pratt surgical drains, "Little Guys". One of the most painful times I remember was before the surgery when they were trying to get the IV in the back of my hand. I have a phobia about that anyway, so who knows if my fears compounded the pain, but it was horrendous. And I'm diabetic so it's not a fear of needles; it's the location. Brrrr...
I don't remember much detail upon waking from the surgery. Nor do I remember actually falling asleep. I do remember being wheeled into the OR, and when I saw that "exit" sign in the hallway, I was reminded of Geralyn's desire to "bolt". (Author of “Why I Wore Red Lipstick to my Mastectomy”) She thought, "should I escape out that door to save my breasts?" …and then thought better of it. Me? I had no desire to bolt. I was more than ready to say goodbye to the tata's of terror.
Right before surgery my Plastic Surgeon came by and proceeded to draw on my chest, with a marker, the actual surgical outlines. He seemed calm, reassuring, confident, and ready. Armed with my surgical cap & 2 coats of my bright red super long lasting matte lipstick, I assured him I was too.
I do remember waking up and just having the sense to want to climb back into reality. I felt pain and tightness in my chest, and barely remember who was around me. Before surgery I'd asked Paul to give me a "thumbs up" upon waking if my lymph nodes were clear, but he didn't commit to it because he didn't want me to be upset had the outcome been different and I didn't see the thumbs up sign right away. In reality, I didn't even think about that upon waking. I just wanted to get my bearings. After a while, I saw this big huge thumb in my face, literally one inch from my nose... Paul's thumbs up! (Well one BIG thumb.) No cancer in my lymph nodes! Not sure what I said in response, but I think somehow I’d known it all along because I wasn’t surprised. At that point I think I started to really wake up. They removed 3 lymph nodes, (the sentinel plus 2 others) to biopsy during the surgery. But thankfully they were able to use the nipple incision to do it, not an additional one under my arm. Of course mostly I'm thankful the nodes were benign. Best news of all!
The pain after surgery was intense. Well meaning friends suggested things to take my mind off it. But distraction does not work with this deep rooted kind of pain. It's not just an ache. It really hurts. It felt like I'd been sliced open and sewn back together. Literally. When it was 30 min. prior to a scheduled pain pill, I'd try to push through the pain, do my childbirth breathing, to make it another half hour... until my doctor said it was okay to take my meds early. Thank God.... The other most painful time I remember was right after going for my first walk after surgery around the corridor. I was surprised I walked so well! But 5 minutes after returning to my bed, the pain started increasing. Easily a twelve on the ten scale. It was total agony. They neglected to tell me to take pain meds 30 min. before walking. Learned that lesson quick!
When I told Dr. Schiff I felt like I'd been hit by a train, he said soon it will feel like a mac truck, then a car, then a bike... he was right. Today we've upgraded to "hit by a car".
The first day I wasn't ready to look down inside my hospital gown yet. I found myself looking in stages; a glance here and there. The first two times I felt like crying when I'd look, and crying hurt; so I didn't try any more. Each time I looked after that, it got a little easier and less emotional.
Saturday I had a good number of visitors, starting at 9am with my lovely friend Linda Wilson from my newly-diagnosed Wellness Community support group. She was so knowledgeable having recently gone through it, so it was very reassuring having her visit me. That was followed by around 25 other friends who came throughout the day bringing flowers and gifts. My room became so bright and cheerful. My sincere thanks go to each one of you who took the time and effort to visit me. I may have been groggy and out of it, but I knew you were there, and I will always remember.
Sunday morning came along and they wanted me to go home. I wasn't ready. But Nurse Cynthia said to me, "Most of you guys go home the next day." You guys? That made me feel like I was wearing a name tag that said, "53-year-old-bilateral-mas
But after a few hours things turned around. By 3 or 4pm I felt so much better, and by 5pm I was ready. We got the ball moving, and by 7pm I was in a wheelchair headed for the elevator.
Just before leaving, I was treated to a special private performance by a Hawaiian family of hula dancers & ukelele players in my hospital room! Their father was having brain surgery the next day, and they asked Paul if I would want to hear them play before I left the hospital. They played "Hanalei Moon" (correction thanks to Laureen!), and it was fantastic! The joyful expression in the hula dancer's eyes made me cry... she knew her father was about to undergo life threatening surgery, and yet she could still express her joy through her dance and her beaming smile. I will never forget it.
Got home from the hospital about 7:30pm Sunday night. While I was getting settled, it hit me just how much there was to do. Emptying my surgical drains is an ordeal. It has to be done a minimum of twice a day, up to 6 times daily the first few days... have to glove up, empty them both in measuring cups, sterilize, and record the amounts, date & time. For a whole month. Not to mention getting my meds on a schedule, doing my breathing exercises, and the every day basics of life.
Now, in another week or two, the surgical pathology report will come back which will tell us whether they got clean margins around the tumors. This will dictate whether or not I have to have chemo or radiation. My doctor told me it’s very unlikely that I will. So good to hear!
As a normally independent person, it's hard to feel like a prisoner. I can hardly do anything for myself, have to depend on everyone else... to help me get up and pee. To open my pill bottles. To pick up my laptop to put it on my lap in bed. I knew all this in theory before surgery, but when it actually happens, it's another story. I have such gratitude for the smallest accomplishments, like passing gas! ;-)
Finding a balance between being too fearful and hesitant, and taking risks to stretch my ‘reach’ so I can heal, isn’t easy. I don’t want to sabotage my healing by overdoing, but I also need to push through the pain to a certain extent so as not to delay it either. It’s a fine line. I can tell you, I’m learning first hand exactly what movements use my back muscles, abdominals, and arm muscles! I’m so glad I did my workouts faithfully before surgery and got strong; it’s really paying off now.
I see my Plastic Surgeon tomorrow afternoon, first ‘outing’ since surgery. He’ll check my incisions and drains, and discuss the game plan for the next few weeks. I expect to start my saline fills in about a month when my drains come out, and then hopefully my next surgery to replace the expanders with the final implants will be in 2-4 months. I’ll know more details after my appointment tomorrow, although we won’t know anything for sure until after the pathology report is back.
So much of the future is still a mystery. But the ‘unknown’ I had such fear of last week is now in the past. I’m thrilled about my clean lymph nodes and so grateful I was/am strong enough to make it through this ordeal so well. I’m stronger than I thought! I have SO many people to thank I wouldn’t know where to start, other than the obvious, my amazing husband Paul. Without his love and support I wouldn’t be, well, I just wouldn’t be Rhonda.
Love to all,
Rhonda
P.S. My red lipstick stayed on the whole surgery!
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