The New Twins

The surgery takes a looong time. My husband says from the time he had to leave me in the pre-op area to the time he saw me post-op was about seven hours.

Pre-op a nurse came in and did an intake interview. She took my vitals and such and then she left me alone. I had changed into a thin robe and footies, and was given blankets to keep warm. I was instructed to remove all my jewelry. My husband already had my wedding rings. Being an old hand at this pre-op thing, I knew enough not to wear anything else so that was not an issue. I was given a ID bracelet and on my lymphedema arm they put a piece of medical tape with the words "NO PROCEDURES ON THIS ARM" written on on it.

After awhile, various people came in to see me - the head nurse for my surgery, the anethesiologist, and finally - the man himself, Dr. Singh! Her drew on my belly and my breast with a purple marker, notating whatever things he needed to know for when he began my surgery. My torso looked like a football playbook with all the dotted lines and Xs and such.

Finally, it was time to go to the show! They started the anesthesia as they wheeled my out of pre-op and I was out by the time I got the the surgical theatre. I remember nothing after that.

Here are a couple of pictures to show you the girls. What do you think? You can see the port above my right breast. It remained in because I was still taking Herceptin every three weeks. Also, you can't tell very well from the pic, but above my left breast there is an indentation where they did a small rib resection in order to attach the blood supply to my new breast. I still have that dent.

I was soooo drugged when I came out of surgery. And terribly thirsty, but they wouldn't give me any water or ice chips.

My husband came back to the recovery room to see me, and I can't tell you much about it. I do remember a couple of nurses arguing about something having to do with who was suppose to be staying with me, or moving me to my room, or something like that. I also do remember demanding to be allowed to pee, but they kept saying I had a catheter and I should relax and pee because the catheter would take care of it. Apparently I did not believe them and it took a while to get me to calm down.

You can see from the photos that the new breast is incredibly HUGE! It was like a Hummer to the Honda Accord I was carrying on the right. Ha!

In the hospital room, they wouldn't let me eat or drink. The nurses were incredibly attentive and came in every so often to give me meds, to check the pulse in the new breast, empty my drains (two) or to generally check on me. I had a morphine pump and I was allowed to dose myself with pain meds when I needed it - up to a point of course. So they would not give me food, but they did let me have all the drugs I wanted.

I stayed in the hospital for three nights. I was allowed to eat a small meal late on Wednesday evening - the day of my surgery - and I was allowed a proper meal on Thanksgiving day. I was given a paper list all the foods on that day's menu and you're suppose to circle what you'd like to eat for the day. I found it hard to get comfy in the bed because of course, I had no way of pulling myself up because I couldn't use my abs. You really understand what you're core does for you when you can't use it!

I also had these wrappy-type pillows on my lower legs that would inflate and deflate. I was told they were to prevent an embolism from forming in my legs. They were irritating. I would rachet the bed back and forth until I was upright and then I'd take the pillows off and itch my legs, then put them back on before being caught by the nurse.

Now I don't remember exactly, but it seems to me I kept asking them to take the catheter out and could I please take a shower in the bathroom (it had a stool you could sit on and wash yourself). No, no, and no, was what they kept saying, but a nurse did come in and give me a sponge bath. I felt so bad that she was stuck washing me like I was some big baby. But the bath did make me feel better.

On Friday, the catheter was taken out. Hooray! Finally! Well, until I had to really go to the bathroom and couldn't get out of the bed because of the weakness in my belly! I didn't think I was gonna make it! It must have been comical for the fly on the wall watching my frantic pressing of buttons on the the the bed adjuster thingy to try and get out of the bed before I had an accident. The whole time I was thinking, "Son-of-bitch, after everything I've been through, I'll be damned if I wet the bed..." I made it just in time. Whew!

While in the bathroom, I took time to admire my oh-so-flat belly. Something I had craved my whole life was finally mine! It looked strange on me - a flat belly. I had a hip-to-hip incision that had been closed with some type of surgical glue - no stitches. I couldn't stand up straight. My belly was tight, tight, tight.

On Saturday, my husband finally rolled in about 2 p.m. to take me home. Again, I had two drains to tend to while at home. I fastened them to my pants with safety pins. He took me to Dairy Queen for a vanilla shake, which I was craving, for some reason.

I don't remember being in a lot of pain, but I do remember having to take care and walk slowly. In fact, a physical therapist came to my room once and took me for a walk to make sure I could get up and down stairs safely. She also gave me a booklet of exercises she wanted to me to practice, which of course I didn't.

Oh, and maybe this is TMI, but after having my liquids limited, when it was finally time to 'get things moving again' in a manner of speaking, all I can say is, "YEEEOOOOOOWWWW!"

And P.S. Don't tell anyone, but I'm guessing I'm not the first person to fudge the figures on her drains to get the damn things taken out so I could get on with my life.