Surgery Day

surgery-day

First and foremost, these photos are awful. I look like an overweight little boy. But for some reason, my body does not respond well to morphine and with that being said, you get photo number 3.  Photo 2 are my drains the same day of surgery. I have some awesome scars from those bad boys.

My double mastectomy with immediate reconstruction was on May 2, 2016. So many things were running through my head leading up to this day. I second guessed myself and then I would be fine and knew I was making the right decision. But then I would go back to wondering why I was going forward with it.

I had support from so many people, including my family and my closest friends. But I had other people who weren’t so supportive and who didn’t think I was doing my surgery for the right reasons. All I have to say to those people is; Screw you. You have no idea what it is like to make this kind of decision and the last thing I wanted from it was special attention.

Anyways, the day of the surgery I had to fast for 12 hours before I got to the hospital and this didn’t sit well with me. I need my caffeine in the morning and I need to eat within 1 hour of being awake or I turn into a complete hangry asshole. No joke, I am not a nice person. The nice thing was, even though my ex and I had split up, he still took 10 days off work to take care of me, and that meant from the minute we got home from my Boob-voyage party to the last day home then he had to go back to work. He stayed up late with me, we vegged on snacks until 11:45pm with me till I could no longer eat/drink anything.

So, we get to the Foothills hospital for my 5:30am check in and we sat there and waited through the processing before I was taken to some random wing where I had to change into scrubs and am told to use the restroom before surgery. We and I mean he, updated our families with what was going on and what stage we were at before I was officially under the knife. It seemed like I was waiting for eternity. I didn’t want to speak to anyone. I felt alone in my decision and that I needed to face it alone. But sure enough after not too long of a wait, I get taken into another waiting room and I am given a number. It was a strange feeling, I felt odd being referred to as a number and not my name. This was their “process” before your Oncologist and your anesthesiologist come and talk to you before they knock yo ass out!

Once I had spoken with them both, it literally seemed like forever until they took me back to the next room to get my first level of sedation. I could hear the clock ticking, it sounded so loud. I remember their being this really obnoxious older woman sitting behind me and i was having a hard time not telling her to be quiet and wait like the rest of us. It’s not like her complaining was going to speed up her process and put her in front of everyone else about to be put under. She was giving me anxiety and i was starting to get extremely frustrated.

We move into yet another pre surgical waiting room where I am given a bed and I am hooked up to an IV that would calm my nerves. I only waited in there for 20ish minutes before my oncologist and his team came out to come and get me. I said my goodbyes and away I went.

I got into the room and was put on this bed that had to arm components. It literally looked like a giant crossed. I got strapped down to it and was speaking to my surgeon and then poof, out like a light.

I remember waking from surgery and feeling everything. It was a pain I couldn’t even fathom. It felt like there was a 200 lb person crushing my chest and nothing was helping. I started to sob uncontrollably and then they moved me from my surgical bed into my over night bed in my room, and I let out a blood curdling scream. I remember the pain to this day. It literally felt like i was being stabbed a thousand times over and someone was pouring acid in the wounds.

For some reason beyond my understanding, the anesthesiologist was under the impression i was allergic to perocete. I literally had to beg for hard drugs. I asked for Torodal and Percoete. I needed something strong and fast because morphine makes me vomit and did nothing for the pain. They finally brought me Percoete, tramadol and torodal all at once. I had two pills and an IV drip. FInally i had relief, but of course as soon as your pain starts to dimenish they want you up and trying to use the bathroom.

So after what seemed like 20 minutes of trying to get out of bed, my nurse helps me to the restroom and sits me down on the biggest toilet I have ever seen. She left me alone for privacy and that’s the last thing I remember. Apparently mt heart rate dropped so low from the extreme pain I was in, my heart couldn’t take it. She came in to check on me and I was nearly unconscious about the fall face and chest first onto the floor. My face was white as a ghost and my lips had turned blue. She hit the emergency call button and asked for help. I just remember her getting me back to bed and later on telling me I scared her.

I don’t remember much else from my first night in the hospital so I will leave this here and go into further detail of my interesting room mate, her whole clan of a family that stayed in my room and my release after 3 days, in another post!

This is probably the most boring blog of them all.

Stay tuned and as always,

Much love,

Birdy

 

 

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