Well here I am, four days post op. I'm not gonna lie, it was scary. I only slept about three hours the night before. I packed a bag with a robe, some button up pajamas, socks, a toothbrush and a brush. Really that was all I needed. I had to stop eating and drinking at midnight the night before so I was starving and desperate for coffee. At 7:15 my mom and I dropped off my kids with my friend. She watched them both days I was at the hospital. My daughters are 3 and 4. That was hard on me. I cried when I left them. I've never been away from them that long before, and they thought I was just going to a doctor appointment. I didn't want to tell them I was at the hospital because that would scare them. I told them later, but I'll get to that.
When we got to the hospital, we parked in the garage and headed inside. We had to get stickers at the information desk and then we went up the elevator to the fifth floor. We met my husband and father there. We all sat down and a patient advocate came and introduced herself and told us what was going to happen and what they would be doing while I was in surgery. They had a code name for each patient, which was the first letters of your first and last name plus your birthday. On a tv screen, each patient code name was listed and color coded with a key that said where the patient was (pre op, OR, post op, etc). It was very cool. After a few minutes a nurse came and got me. She weighed me and asked me a bunch of questions about my eating and drinking and the procedure I was having. That's when I started crying. I'm not gonna lie. I have never been more scared in my life. The nurses were very nice to me and I think she gave me a hug. She took me to my pre op room and gave me two gowns to put on and a warm blanket and some yellow skid socks.
After a few minutes my pre op nurse came in and talked me down a little and reassured me that I was absolutely going to be fine. She set me up with an IV of saline and then Dr. C, my plastic surgeon, came in. He was so sweet and reassuring. He told me about his first time undergoing surgery on himself and that he's never had major complications with mastectomy procedures. We talked about the size I want to be, and he looked at me quite dubiously like he always does when I say I want my DD to be a large B! I think he thinks I have no idea what I'm talking about. Oh well. It's the plastic surgeon in him I guess! He had me sign a consent form and drew on my chest with purple marker. I took a picture after he left. It's my very last boob pic.
The anesthesiologist came in next. She was really nice and also reassuring. She asked me a lot of questions about what drugs I take, what I have taken in the past, how different drugs make me feel, and whether I'd had surgery before (I hadn't). She said her main priority would be to have me wake up in little to no pain, and with little to no nausea.
After that, my parents and husband were escorted back. Luckily I had stopped crying by then! They asked me what had been happening so far and they told me what they'd been up to the last half hour. We just hung out and they were a big help at keeping my mind calm.
About ten am, Dr. F came to see me. He told me the surgery was going to be great and I would be fine and that I was making a great choice. He was really helpful at making me feel better. A few minutes later, his surgical nurse came in and put a lovely blue puffy hat on my head, placed me in a wheelchair and told my family to follow her to the waiting room. That's when I lost it. I cried all the way to the waiting room, into the elevator, through the hallways of the surgical floor, into the OR. When I got inside, the anesthesiologist was standing at a table that was covered in pillows and blankets, situated under some gigantic round lights. There were techs and nurses gathering supplies and walking around. Dr. F was in a corner getting his tools together, I assume. He said hi to me, and the anesthesiologist told me to come lie down on the table. I cried harder. I remember the surgical nurse guiding me from the wheelchair to the table and laying me down. I was crying really hard. I was so scared! The anesthesiologist told me I would be fine and that she was putting something in my IV that would calm me down and put a big smile on my face. If there was an oxygen mask, I never saw it.
The next thing I remember was hearing a tech say, "Did you see her tattoo? It's so cool! It says Fight Like a Girl!" Then I felt someone moving me from the operating table to a gurney. I felt blankets cover me and I felt the sides of the gurney lock into place. Then I was out again.
I woke up in spurts. I saw the clock each time I woke up and I thought there must be a mistake. Dr. F said I'd get out of surgery around 2:30, and I'd be unaware of what was going on for about an hour. But the clock said 2:20. I found out later that my four and a half hour surgery only took three hours. A nurse was next to me, and I was hooked up to a monitor. She was updating the computer screen that would tell my family in the waiting room that I was awake. I asked her if it was really 2:20, and if I could have something to eat. She asked what I want and I said I'd love a cheeseburger. She laughed. I wasn't joking. I also told her I was really itchy. I felt like I had ants crawling on my face. She told me it was probably a side effect of the dilaudid and she put some Benadryl in my IV and she washed my face with a cold wash cloth. The itchiness went away pretty quickly after that. I felt pretty lucky to not feel nauseous or in pain. I was a little groggy but I think I felt pretty good considering everything I'd just been through!
I tried to look down at my chest but I had layers of blankets covering me and my arms were too weak to lift them off. I could tell I was pretty flat though. The nurse brought me some water, and then a diet coke a few minutes later. After about a half hour my dad and husband came in. They were allowed to stay for ten minutes. I only vaguely remember the conversation, but my husband told me that Dr. F and Dr. C both said I'm very healthy and the surgery went better than expected. I told my husband to smuggle me in a cheeseburger too.
At about 3:15 a nurse came and wheeled me out of recovery. The room was really large and full of people on gurneys in various stages of post op. We went into an elevator and went to the 14th floor. When we got to my room, my mom, dad, husband, and my new nurse were there waiting for me. My new nurse made me get off the gurney and walk to my bed. I have no idea how I got from the gurney to the bed, but I do remember her making me do it.
Within the hour, my dad went home, my husband went to pick up our kids to take them home for the night, and my mom was settling down in her recliner bed to spend the night with me. My nurse brought me a turkey sandwich and showed me how to use the bed and the remote, explained my pain management options, showed me my scars and wrinkled boobies, explained my drains and how to care for them, and escorted me to the bathroom.
Later that night I ate hummus and pretzels, a calzone, and an apple cobbler. I never once felt queasy. I took 5mg of oxycodone for the pain, along with 1000mg of Tylenol. I was able to get out of bed to go to the bathroom, and we took a walk through the hallways in the middle of the night when I was feeling stir crazy.
The next morning I met an occupational therapist who taught me some extremely painful but useful exercises to do. The nurse from Dr. F's office came to check on me and told me I looked great. I was released by 11:30 am with a prescription for oxycodone and another for an antibiotic.
That was Friday. Today is Monday. I feel pretty good overall. My drains are doing their jobs, my incisions are healing nicely. I am able to maintain a good attitude and everyone keeps telling me I'm doing better than expected. People have been bringing me dinners which is fantastic. A lot of my "friends" that had disappeared on me still haven't made an appearance. At least I know where we stand now.
My kids are trying to help too. They're taking it pretty well. My three year old ran around the house yelling, "Mommy's boobies are cut off! They're cut off!" My four year old has been helping my mom clean and empty my drains. They're both getting me things when I ask and they want to be my doctors. I'm glad they're taking it so well. I told them I had to get my boobies cut off because they were going to make me sick, and that Grammie had to do it too a long time ago. My oldest daughter asked if she would have to get hers cut off one day too. I told her I hope not.
So. That was long and now I'm tired. But I'm glad I had the energy to write it. Surgery is more exhausting than I ever thought it would be! I'll be back soon to update further. I'll hopefully get my drains removed this week and I'll definitely post about that fun experience!
Thanks for all the thoughts and well wishes! I'll leave you here with a before and after pic :)
