Fast forward--1 bilateral mastectomy, 1 expander/implant exchange, #2 biopsy, 1 DIEP flap, 1 bilateral SGAP, 4 nip/tuck & we're in August of 2011 and I'm sitting in the waiting room before my 11th surgery in 5 years.
You know what I hate most about surgery? It's not the pain. Really. It's the anticipation before the surgery--knowing exactly how it all goes from the night before when I have to stop eating at midnight, getting dressed in the dark surrounded by the eerie silence of a house full of sleeping people, riding in the car as Joel drives the 90 minutes to the hospital, parking in the same spot nearly every time in the parking garage, walking to the elevator & riding up to the 4th floor, signing in at the desk with the ladies who have started to recognize my husband, waiting until the nurse collects the surgical patients in a group & walks us back to the pre-op area...don't forget to get a hit of sanitizer before you go thru the big silver doors. Each surgical patient is called by name & assigned to a numbered bed, take off all my clothes & put on the gown opening to the back, put on the white socks all the way to the knees to help circulation during surgery & put the brown non-slid socks over those, put all the clothes in this clear plastic bag for safe keeping, then sit and wait. My stomach growls on cue. I am bored. A tech comes by & starts my IV. The nurse asks me many, many questions. Someone calls for my husband to come back & sit with me. We stare at each other. He's so tired. I'm so hungry. I haven't had my coffee. What time is it? We listen as other patients around us are questioned about what time they last ate or drank anything & which medicines are they taking. The doctor comes in to "mark me". I stand up & expose myself while he takes a black sharpie & creates a treasure map all over my breasts. More paperwork. More signatures. Another nurse. Another doctor. Sign this. Sign that. Instructions to Joel--who, btw, is a PRO at this--on what will happen & when he'll see me again. I have a headache. Silly hat goes on my head, a quick kiss & away we go. Upon entry of the OR, I am warned, "It's going to be cold but we'll get you some warm blankets." Yep--every time. Then, they push some of this or that & tell me I'll get sleepy. Someone puts that plastic thing over my face & tells me to breathe deeply....
Next thing I know, I'm at the next thing I hate most about surgery--waking up from anesthesia! YUCK! It never fails that my nose is itchy--really, every time! And my hands feel like lead weights. My mouth tastes like plastic. My throat is dry & sore. I am SO thirsty. There's a stranger at the foot of my bed asking me how I feel. Someone calls Joel. Sometimes he arrives with his own food & the smell makes me sick to my stomach. I know they won't let me go until I pee. I want to pee. I want to go home. But sitting up makes me nauseous. I take deep breaths. Eventually we get to go home (for most of the surgeries). I am so hungry. But I'm sick to my stomach. My head is still hurting. It takes two or three days before I can eat food without tasting plastic in my mouth. I don't feel back-to-normal for awhile. I hate that feeling....
SO, when Dr. R. gave me the option to have my nipple reconstructed without sedation, I was beyond ready to do it! In fact, my previous surgeon said sometimes he even does them in his office. So, I jumped at the chance to have a procedure without being asleep! The morning was similar to the other mornings except it was an afternoon procedure, I did not have to fast so I got my coffee on the way to the hospital, and Joel took the kids to the Baltimore Inner Harbor while I was at the hospital instead of sitting around waiting on me.
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| These are pictures Joel sent to me while I was waiting for my surgery to begin. |
The next steps before the procedure were familiar--I had the same gown, Dr. R. came to mark me. But this time, I got to walk with Dr. R & the nurse to the operating room. I hopped up on the table, with no IV and here's the new part. All the stuff they usually do after I'm asleep happens. They put a cold pack thing on my thigh--and when I say cold, I mean ICE COLD. I am hooked up to the heart monitor & the pulse thingy goes on my finger. There is a drape hung under my chin so I can't see anything so all I hear is plastic & cutting. There are pads stuck all over my chest and abdomen. Everyone is asking if I feel ok--and by everyone I mean Dr. R, his surgical nurse & my nurse. It's not as busy in here as I remember my other surgeries being. Next I understand it's time. So Dr. R is going to insert a needle around the area to make me numb--giving me the local anesthesia. He puts the first needle in and it H.U.R.T.S.!! And it's burning. And he keeps moving all around my breast inserting the needle & pushing the fluid to numb the area & I am taking deep breaths. I can't stop the tears that have started rolling down my face. Dr. R can't see my face. My nurse sees me. He asks if I'm ok. Yes. But I'm telling Dr. R. that I can feel all of this. So he decides to push more--to make sure I'm numb when he starts cutting. And again it burns. And the panic rises. What was I thinking? What if it hurts when he's cutting? What if he's only 1/2 way thru & it hurts so bad I can't let him continue. I'm not strapped down. I could walk out right now. But if he's cut me open, I can't do that. They can't give me any meds because I ate this morning. I had coffee on my way. But what if I feel him slicing my skin? What if I can feel him taking away that section of my breast with the knife? What was I thinking? Then he starts cutting & he asks if I can feel it but I can't. I'm relieved briefly but I know we've only just begun. My arms get tense and I have to literally remind myself to relax my arms & lay them back down on the board. The surgical nurse suggests music. My nurse runs to get his speakers from his locker. He plays soft 80s rock. We joke about the tunes. Dr. R is certain he's never operated to Bon Jovi. The music distracts me--only from the surgery itself, but causes its own problem when I find it irritating that my heart monitor that is beeping loudly is not on the same beat as the music. Again, I had to keep myself from holding my breath hoping they would sync up.
Then...it was over. They removed the drape & all the monitors. I hopped off the bed & into a recliner (which Dr. R said I had to be special to be leaving the OR in a recliner. I told him it was because they'd gotten the memo on me being a frequent visitor)...down to post-op where I am immediately able to dress myself. In fact, it took the nurse longer to put me in her system than it took to get myself dressed & for Joel to arrive to pick me up.
In the end, I was glad there was no "recovery" from the anesthesia....but I'm still not sure I would opt for the awake surgery again. Tough Shmuff--there are just some things that should be left unknown...
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