Wednesday, February 9, 2011 was Get-the-Cancer-Out Day. It's sort of funny how such a small tumor (it was only 1.1 cm) caused such consternation. But it had to come out and I gave myself no other choices because I really did want it removed. My biggest worry was that I wouldn't come out of the anesthesia which is also humorous because if I didn't wake up from surgery I wouldn't even realize it and it wouldn't matter anyway (except to everyone else).
The day began at 7:00 a.m. with Greg driving me to The Christ Hospital Surgical Center on Red Bank Expressway. I met my nurse, Cathy, and got prepped for surgery. This included mammography of the tumor during which a wire was inserted into my right breast to mark the spot for my surgeon. This seemed challenging to me but the Imaging Center doctor and his assistant were up to the task and made me as comfortable as possible.
The next thing was to go back down to the surgery area and wait for my official time of surgery. My family was there waiting patiently near my bedside within the curtained area. Cathy had already inserted the needle in my left hand where the I.V. would eventually be hooked up and I was tubed and ready. Isaac, Wren, and Greg stayed with me while Fr. Manto prayed and then Dr. Runk popped in.
I remember being wheeled into the operating room and meeting the anesthesiologist and more nurses. Then they taped both of my arms out to my sides and at that point must have put anesthesia in my I.V. because I then found myself in a curtained recovery room sipping 7Up and munching Saltines. The anesthesia made me slightly dizzy and I think it took awhile for coherence to return and my brain to clear a bit. Actually, it's been a month already since the first surgery and I cannot recall many details. Greg and Wren keep reminding me that I asked the recovery nurses redundant questions and then forget their answers.
I believe we arrived back home about 2:30 p.m. and I got to lie on the couch and be pampered for the next couple of days. Greg, Isaac and Wren stayed with me for the rest of the day. Jon arrived the next day, I think, and stayed until he had to go back to Dayton to work.
The Jackson-Pratt drainage bag was an interesting appendage that lasted for a week. When Amanda, Dr. Runk's awesome nurse, removed it, there was quite a good pinching sensation but it was quickly over. I took antibiotics for a week and was off of the pain meds after a few days although I still took a teaspoon of the liquid Roxicet at bedtime as a sleeping aid because there was more pain during the nighttime. I was surprised at how energetic I felt and I even paid bills about five days after the surgery. This proved to have been a bad idea later, though, when I discovered that I had sent a check to the water company for the wrong account. Oh bother.
I went back to work after an 11-day hiatus counting two weekends. I think I readjusted to work quickly and it was great to see everyone. My bubble burst when Dr. Runk called to tell me that the pathology report showed cancer cells in one of the margins. It meant that a re-excision of the original lumpectomy site was necessary to get out the remaining rebel cells.
During all of this time, I had been relying on my Facebook Prayer Protectors Group to pray for me at every bend in this winding road. All of the prayers, kindnesses, thoughts, meals, flowers, cards, emails, FB messages and stuff were so meaningful to me and I was completely overwhelmed.
There was one evening prior to surgery when a dear friend and her husband came over to share their breast cancer experiences with us. She had, in fact, just finished her first draft of a book about it: Shaken Not Stirred, a Chemo Cocktail, by Joules Evans. I even got my own draft copy of said book and proceeded to read the entire thing over the next week. Joules is a GREAT writer and the book is witty, humorous and poignant.
