Post Surgery Early Lessons

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Things Just Got Real

I really haven’t had to address anything regarding the cancer diagnosis until now. I just had to wait until the surgery date.

In the interim, I took care of myself. I did my morning stretches and intentions. I went for walks. I rowed. I felt really good mentally, physically, and spiritually.

But coming out of it, I feel like I lost something. My feelings are still raw and unprocessed, not unlike the wounds from the surgery. And those wounds are not pretty.

Lumpectomy Process

Every single person I’ve interacted with on the medical teams has been SUPER! They’ve been pleasant, helpful, and empathetic. They’ve explained every procedure, and they’ve answered all my questions. I am grateful to have received such good care.

I’m ever so grateful that the genetic testing came back negative for the BRCA gene mutation. After this experience, I can’t even imagine one mastectomy, much less a double mastectomy. But the process for a lumpectomy is no picnic.

Once you’re all done with the surgery prep of getting in a gown and tagged and asked a bunch of questions, they take you back to radiology to go through a partial repeat of the biopsy. They do an ultrasound to locate the lump and tag they left in during the biopsy. Next, the radiologist uses a needle to insert a wire next to the lump. This is how the surgeon will locate the lump during surgery and remove it. After the wire is inserted, you go get another mammogram so the surgeon has a picture of the breast, the lump, and the location of the wire. Then, you’re returned to your pre/post op room.

Then, someone comes by to inject a radioactive dye into 4 points around your nipple. That dye travels to your lymph nodes. During surgery, the surgeon uses a detector to locate the lymph nodes that are immediately downstream from the cancerous lump. Those lymph nodes are removed and sent to a lab where they are checked for cancer.

Do you think it hurts when they inject the dye? Hell yes it hurts!! The technician who did the injections felt so bad, and I felt bad for her to have to do such a thing. It’s not her fault of course.

After that adrenaline jolt, you wait an hour for the dye to move along to the lymph nodes. That’s when they come to get you to go into the operating room. I remember very little after I got into the OR. They moved me from the bed to the table, got my arms positioned and legs strapped down, and I was out. I’m told the surgery took about 1.5 hours.

The next thing I knew, I was hearing people around me, but not really knowing what was happening. I slowly became more aware as there was something on my calves pumping to prevent blood clots. Then they were concerned about my heart rate. This is an anxiety trigger for me, so I tried to remain focused on my breathing. They got some more fluids in me and did an EKG and compared it to one they had on file. Things settled down after that and I found myself getting dressed.

Now, all of this had been explained to me ahead of time. Very clearly, and in great detail. But until it’s your body getting poked, and cut, and pulled, and put under anesthesia, it’s all very academic.

As I write this, it’s 3 full days post surgery and my mouth is still full of sores from the tube they stuck down my throat. My head has cleared a bit each day, but I’m still a little unsteady on my feet. These are the indicators to me that this isn’t as simple as I thought it would be, and I hope to God that there is no reason to go back in to remove more tissue or lymph nodes.

UPDATE: Day 4. Today I returned to work. My head is clear, and I went for a couple of walks and rode my bike for 20 minutes on my indoor trainer. I’m not allowed to row yet. I still have a big sore under my tongue, but the others have cleared up. Still no surgery pain. I’m happy with my progress.

Early Lessons

As I said at the beginning of this post, I feel as if I’ve lost something. I look at the site of the IV, or the surgery scars, or tape marks from the EKG pads, and I know that something significant happened.

It’s weird because I didn’t feel this way about my ankle reconstruction surgery that required 10 weeks for recovery. Maybe because my ankle wasn’t going to kill me?

I don’t think the answer will come to me for awhile.

Most of the time, it’s quiet in my head. I’m not worrying about the future or what’s next. Other times, I wonder if I should be able to find any significance in this experience.

Then, eventually, I use a more Zen approach. I ask myself, “what do I need at this moment?” Rest? Food? Movement? Nothing?

The answer is very often I need nothing. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t need to acknowledge the wounds and violations to my body. They happened. And at the same time, I don’t need to make a bigger deal out of it than it is.

What has happened is necessary. It’s not pretty. It is challenging. I need to acknowledge and honor that.

And I have lost something. Something more than tissue and lymph nodes. I’ve lost any illusion that this is going to be simple and easy.