No. 12: THE DAY OF…

I realized that I have not written the steps in the order that they have occurred. While the events are true, they may not have happened in that exact flow. The names have also been changed to protect the innocent.

At least a week before the scheduled day of surgery, I achieved acceptance—the final stage in the grieving process. My thoughts for that week were simple, "Let's get 'er done."

Unlike the hip replacement a mere five months before, preparing for the breast removal did not seem as comprehensive. Some items are:

Stop any vitamins and supplements as well as ibuprofen the week before. Tylenol is approved. If you are on meds, stop taking blood thinners, which for me was my small baby aspirin. I can continue to take the cholesterol and blood pressure meds. SAME FOR BOTH SURGERIES.

Five days before the hip, however, they provided an antibacterial soap that you washed with every night. The first night you changed your bed sheets and every night after that use clean towels and clean pajamas. ONLY FOR HIP SURGERY. I did have some leftover antibacterial soap from the hip. It hit me the day of, so I did shower with it that morning.

Day Before surgery: For the hip, Take 1000 mg of Tylenol at 9 AM, 3 PM and 9 PM in an effort to give pain relief a head start. DAMN, I realized that the day of Breast Surgery on the way to the hospital. Why didn't I follow the Hip Surgery Playbook???

No food after Midnight. And Clear liquids—black coffee included—up to an hour before you report to the hospital.

One item did remain the same for both surgeries. The numerous calls you get scheduling procedures, the calls checking in on you and confirming what you need to do, and the ever-popular day before surgery when you get the times for arrival and your final surgical time.

For the breast surgery, that announcement came fairly early the morning before. Since surgery was on a Tuesday, it was Monday morning, a great way to start the week. The nurse was pleasant, "You will be arriving at the hospital at 7:30 am main entrance and go to the Admissions Desk. Here you will get signed in so that OR will know that you are there. Then 7:45 am report to Nuclear Medicine for the procedure to locate the Sentinel Lymph Node—the node that holds my fate in its hands. Surgery around 11 AM."

Actually, I slept pretty well the night before surgery. I was up early to shower with the aforementioned anti-bacterial soap. Hospitals today are concerned with infection, so I decided to help alleviate that concern. I also wanted to say Good Bye to the Girls. I looked at them and gave myself one more breast exam. I still did not feel anything. Why am I going through this? Is it too late to say NO?

I had already packed my bag. I was wearing what I would need anyway. I went braless—wouldn't need that. My shirt was one of those new ones with the inside pockets for the drains that would be added to my body. All I had to pack was slippers and clean underwear. (My mother was an ER nurse and you would be surprised to hear her stories of the people that come in with dirty, holey underwear. Whenever I travel, I make sure all underwear is clean and whole. For this, I purchased new.) I also had my three-ring binder, wallet with my ID and Insurances, my Kindle, and a magazine to read. None of which, except for the ID and insurances, turned out to be needed.

We arrived at the hospital right on time. As my family took a seat in the waiting area, I checked in. As the perfunctory questions were asked, a new question appeared! What pronoun would you like? I said IT. Then recanted and said She Her Me I Us. Really, call me my name. But that is fodder for another topic.

She put on my identity bracelet emblazoned with name, DOB and a variety of QR codes that would be my record of all charges. She said I was ready to go.

"I have to report to Nuclear Medicine, where is that?"

"Oh, That is different! I need to print out your records and you take them with you. These you will give to the OR when you report. I will also have a slip of paper to tell you where to go." I am sure she really did want to tell me where to go.

Papers in hand, I read the slip. We went down the main hall and turned right at the statue. Go to elevator and take it to the basement. My entourage and I proceeded.

Off the elevator, we reported to the admission desk of Nuclear Medicine. "Oh, your minister is here and is in the waiting room." Wow, he beat me there! Another ID bracelet was added to the same wrist and we went to the waiting room and the minister. It was a comfort to have the minister there. We talked and prayed. When the tech came to get me, he left and I went with the tech, the family remained behind.

At Nuclear Medicine, I was given the waist up, open in the front gown information and they left while I prepared. When they returned they explained what would happen in the 45-minute procedure. I would be given a shot to numb the breasts and then a dye of some radioactive substance will be injected into the nipple. They will then put me inside a camera to see where this juice flows to which lymph node on each side. They are the Sentinel nodes. I love that name—the frontline soldier who protects the body. It is also the one we prayed for to be clear of cancer and hoped it did not allow any cancer through its defense and into the rest of my body.

Getting up on the table, lying down, arms raised behind my head, I did not watch as they injected either the numbing agent or the material. I was rolled under the camera. And then it began. Nothing.

After what seemed like a long time, the tech asked me to start massaging my breasts. Cross your arms and rub. Keep it up. It actually felt good to let my arms at my side for that time. They tried again. The radiologist came in. Looked and disappeared. The tech and a variety of people came in and were talking behind the glass.

Two hours later, the radiologist returned. "When is your surgery?" 11 AM I replied. "Ok this is what you are going to do. We are going to get you off the table and I want you to walk around, exercise your arms like you are rowing a boat. Flap your arms like a bird. Do a few jumping jacks, keep your arms moving. We will do this for 20 minutes. Then you'll go back on the table. We will also bring your family in to be with you. They have been in the waiting room for two hours. Is that ok?"

The family arrived, and laughed that I was rowing and jumping around. I explained the stuff was not flowing—and they need to get it moving. As everyone was smiling at me—the family and behind the glass, the radiologist returned. "The OR is waiting for you, we are going to see if this worked and get you up there."

Back on the table and slid under the camera, it must have worked, as the radiologist made some marks on my chest and said "Done! Get yourself together and we will call transport to get you up to the OR."

As soon as I was dressed, we went to the waiting room. Within minutes, no transport person came. It was the OR supervisor, a nice young man, who said, "Everyone is waiting upstairs, and we couldn't wait for transport, so I am here to take you. Can you walk?" YES. "Good as there were no wheelchairs available."

So we walked, into elevators, up floors, down long halls and arrived at the OR admission. With the papers given to me at the Front desk, I handed them to the woman behind the counter who was just about to say, take a seat, when she said "Oh My this is the woman they have been waiting for!" The OR supervisor said, "I can take her, I know where she is going."

At this point, only my husband could be with me. The OR supervisor told Baby where she needed to go and that Dad would follow her soon. She gave me a hug, left. We proceeded down the hall, and it wasn't hard to see which Pre-Op bay I was going to as they were all standing there waiting—Nurse, CRNA, Anesthesiologist, Doctor and who knows maybe the janitor too.

"We are happy to see you—OR has been ready for an hour." Cannot say I am happy to be here, but I am ready too. They gave me the gown and wipes. Take off all clothes and wipe yourself down arms, legs, chest, no privates, gown open to the back. WHAT? Not the front? No, I do not know why. They may have said why, but all was happening so fast now.

When I was ready and on the bed, the curtain was opened and everyone was ready with paperwork. Sign here, Date here. I am the Doctor. I am the anesthesiologist. I am the Anesthesiologist for the research program you signed up for, I am your anesthesiology nurse and I think a regular nurse too. I do not know why, but when I signed the papers, I put the wrong date. Not only the wrong date, the wrong year. The nurse caught it. I said I would mark it like a bank check, initials and correct. They opted to put a label over the date.

Everyone left except for me, hubby and the nurse. "Everyone is waiting for you. Husband you go as far as the elevator and give her a kiss." We did. And husband said to the nurse, "Do your Best." She said she would.

Down the hallway, the nurse said now which room is it. I answered, This one. How did I know? It said Allergies: Latex and Penicillin. That is me.

We went into the OR and the Doctor and the assistants were ready. I moved myself onto the operating table. The doctor and I said a few pleasantries and the mask was put on my face. No counting down from 100? No just breathe. "Do your best" I said.

I woke up in Post-Op. Who knows how much later.