Cheryl and I headed out in my Honda Pilot, and Craig followed behind us in his Yukon. (Cheryl and I would be staying in Mountain View for the week and thus needed a car to make the return trip. Craig wouldn't be staying ... he felt he needed to be at work.) I drove all the way to West Sacramento before realizing it would be best if Cheryl drove. I was already antsy about emails and texts to which I needed to respond. We pulled over and Cheryl took over as driver so I could safely text and email. I usually quickly fall asleep while a passenger in a car but I knew I couldn't do that then; Cheryl had no clue where to go. I had to be navigator.
We pulled into the hospital parking lot, parked the car, grabbed our belongings and headed inside. My wardrobe that day consisted of black lounge pants, a tank top and a zip-up sweatshirt. (This wasn't my first rodeo ... I knew the appropriate attire.) After registration, paying my hospital co-pay and getting my admittance bracelet, I was taken to a pre-op staging room, Cheryl along with me, and instructed to change into the hospital gown. (Those things suck. I'm just sayin'. But the ugly green socks with the sticky soles, well, those were awesome ... cozy and safe.) All my personal belongings were stored in a plastic bag given to us by hospital. I kept my cell phone with me. I refused to let it go until the very last possible moment. (Addiction? Hmmm...) The nurse was very sweet and comforting as she took my vitals and got my paperwork all set for me. I signed here and there agreeing that yes, indeed, I wanted a double mastectomy with immediate reconstruction in the way of spacers, blah blah blah. They are quite thorough in confirming you do want the surgery before they begin! This was already an entirely different (aka: better) experience than the lumpectomy a few months back. I felt I was in the hands of professionals and I had no fear, anxiety or hesitation about the surgery at hand.
Eventually Craig was allowed in to visit. He and Cheryl sat with me and we talked with Dr. Singhal when she came by for her pre-op visit. I asked her, "How long is the surgery going to take?"
"My part, well, maybe 45 minutes," she said quite casually. Surgery was slated for about five hours so her part of taking off my breasts and making me cancer-free only taking 45 minutes made me wonder a bit. But then, I realized that the super hard part of this whole procedure was Dr. Fazilat's job of reconstructing my breasts. I wanted the girls to look as good as possible, so I said to him (in my mind), take all the time you want, Doc. Heck, I'd be asleep and wouldn't even know how long it took him.
Dr. Singhal had to sign-off on my chest - literally. With the purple Sharpie, she initialed each breast ... the in-surgery check list item indicating that yes, this is me, these are my breasts and she is to cut them off.
After her visit, Dr. Fazilat came by and had his turn with the purple Sharpie. I remember standing there, facing him, gown wide open exposing the girls and him sitting on the stool, drawing all over my chest. Cut here, lift here, make this even here, center this, etc. - I looked like a piece of construction paper a toddler had scribbled all over.
He leaned back a bit, studying a mole I had under my breasts. "You ever have this looked at?" he asked. Nope. Should I have?
He circled it and said he'd take it off while were in surgery. Better safe than sorry. The artist, satisfied that his masterpiece had been drawn and sketched perfectly, signed my chest and declared we were ready for surgery.
I was wheeled down to the main pre-op room, Cheryl and Craig walking along beside me. I was only allowed one person in the anesthesia room and I elected to have Craig come in with me. He knew the pain I suffered from the lumpectomy and he was there to help me convey my concerns to the anesthesiologist of this happening again. The anesthesiologist could see my fear (remember the 10 on the pain scale I encountered when in recovery from the lumpectomy?!) and he was, quite honestly, totally surprised and shocked to hear that I had experienced such pain before. He assured me that would not happen that day and he said the other hospital probably just failed to add pain killers to the IV. (Yep, think they did.) This doctor was kind and professional and put my mind at ease.
And just like that, it was time. The nurses covered me with blankets and I was wheeled into surgery by Dr. Singhal (and accompanying nurses). It was a humbling experience to have my doctor personally escort me into surgery. I felt safe, secure and I knew I had the best of the best on my team.
The operating room was very cold. It was so strange to be awake inside an operating room. (Pretty darn similar to the Grey's Anatomy set...) I was shifted from the wheeled cart onto the incredibly thin operating table. It couldn't have been more than 18" wide. I thought I was going to fall off the table! Talk about an experience that makes you feel fat! But soon enough, Dr. Singhal and the anesthesiologist told me to start counting back from 10. Last I recall, I said nine and was out.
I remember waking up in the recovery room. I was groggy, definitely, but I didn't care. I was essentially pain-free and relatively comfortable. The experience was a complete 180 from my previous surgery and I couldn't have been more grateful! I hadn't even known they inserted a catheter (which, as bad as they can be, especially when the remove them, shiver, shiver, is an incredible device ... what a relief to not have to get up to go to the bathroom)! I had the devices again on my legs to help the circulation and I could hear the hum of the machine. I had my El Camino water bottle (incredible water bottle by the way) next to me, filled with ice and water. Cheryl and Craig came by to visit. They didn't stay long; I was tired. I'd talk with them in the morning when they'd be back to visit (and with my Starbucks grande, sugar-free vanilla, soy, skinny mocha in hand).
I fell asleep ... cancer free at last.
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| Peaceful, pain-free recovery from double mastectomy ... |
