Two Weeks and Two Days

I had every intention to write on this blog through the worst part of my surgery and recuperation.  I also had every intention of reading all the books that I have wanted to read, you know, that stack of novels by the bed, while recuperating.  I have done neither.

My surgery was 16 days ago.  My husband, the girls and I drove to Prentice on Monday the 11th.  We got to spend some time together in a pre-op room where I was poked and prodded by the nicest people.  We met my anesthesiologist and I was given two shots of radioactive material by a tech from nuclear medicine that would help my first surgeon map where the cancer may have gone into the lymph nodes. 

Both of my surgeons came into my room and "mapped" what they planned on doing.  They told my family that they would be informing them of everything in two hour windows.  I felt a touch of sadness for my family when we were told that the surgery was probably going to last a couple hours longer than we had initially thought.  The first surgeon would be operating approximately three hours and then the other would be working on me for another 9-10 hours.

The anesthesiologist told me that my part was easy.  He was going to give me some meds that would cause me to probably not even remember leaving the very room I was in.  He could not have been more right.  I don't even recall them putting anything into my drip.  I closed my eyes and the next thing I knew I was in a dark room with my family and they were to the right of me.  I recall Greg saying it was late, that they were going to leave and then I remember hearing and seeing Ali give me a thumbs up, I got the TRAM flap procedure that I wanted.  All had gone well.

What I didn't know was that it was so much later.  I was told by Greg and the girls that when my surgery was finally over at approximately 7:30 the evening of the 11th, they were able to be with me for two hours in recovery.  Since I needed to be watched by the Plastics team, my family went with me as I was wheeled down to the basement of Prentice and underground, under the parking structure and into the Feinberg building two blocks away. It was about 10:30 in the evening.

I recall later being in the ICU and the main goal of the three nurses was to get me up and sitting.  My bed was electric and it was made into a chair, the foot position becoming a chair seat.  I heard apology after apology and was assured that the first move was the worst.  God, they were right!  Getting me to stand had me crying out in pain.  When I finally got to the chair and looked at the position of the bed, it looked like some kind of torture chamber.

I spent the day in ICU, with family all around.  They were going to take me to another room later on the 12th but there was a concern for a hematoma in my chest and the resident assigned to me felt it better that I stay in the ICU where the nurses were right there with me.

After two days of the ICU, I was placed on the 12th floor and recuperated there for several more days. I was told that I would probably go home on Saturday morning.  Sadly, the Plastic Resident came in, Dr. E, took one look at me and said no.  I was extremely nauseous and not feeling well.  The good thing; they decided to change my blood thinner.  I was getting a shot every six hours and it was excruciating and burned so much.  It was given in the thigh and by now, with so many days, my thighs were all beaten and bruised.  I would get anxious just thinking about the shot.

On Sunday morning, Dr. E came in again and said I could go home.  I texted my husband, who was in church for Fathers Day with the girls, that they could come and get me after mass.  By 1:30 I was at home and recuperating with my family.