The Surgeon, the Pathologist, and the Ta Ta Maker

Ladies and gentleman, I have no breasts. And I have no tumor. Here is how it all went down... 

Thursday, September 1, 2011
5:30 a.m. - My alarm goes off. I hit snooze three times. 

7:10 a.m. - Depart my townhouse for St. Luke's Hospital, Dad gets a little ticked that I am paying attention to my phone and miss telling him to jump three lanes to turn left immediately after exiting the interstate. Ruh row! It's alright - we still found it!

7:23 a.m. - Arrive at St. Luke's Hospital Surgicare (outpatient center) with my father, bonus mother, and boyfriend. Yes, folks, a double mastectomy and immediate reconstruction surgery is done as an outpatient procedure, with a 23 hr. maximum observation period. Seriously.

7:40 a.m. - We are escorted to my pre-surgery prep room by a gal who asks me basic questions, while I am hoping she is not my "person" for the morning, as she doesn't really have me feeling groovy.

8:00 ish a.m. - Semi-cool nurse arrives and starts filtering through tons of paperwork, starts my IV, etc.

8:35 a.m. - Transporter arrives to wheel me to the Women's Breast and Bone Health Center for the radioactive tracer injection that is needed for the sentinel lymph node biopsy. This substance follows the same flow in my breast the cancer would into the sentinel (first) node and into the lymph node system. It takes about an hour for the dye to flow from the center of the breast to the sentinel node. 

8:45 a.m. - Arrive at Women's Breast and Bone Health Center for 9:00 a.m. scheduled injection. Wait. Wait. Wait. After 30 minutes of unbelievably annoying conversation with this nurse who behaves as if she is just riding to retirement, I ask her to go fetch the doctor. Now, most of you know how I am. I promise you this is the ONLY moment thus far that I have been a biotch about anything. My surgery is supposed to begin at 9:30 and I haven't even talked to the surgeon yet. The doctor for the injection stumbles in and apologizes for being late. He tells me the shot will hurt less than the IV insertion. Whatever. No offense, but I wanted to tell him to take an injection into something similar to a full breast on his body, then we'll have a conversation. Grrr.

9:35 a.m. - Arrive back to the pre-surgery room. Things started to move VERY quickly from here on. The general surgeon, the very hot Dr. Renz, stops in to spend about 10 minutes discussing the surgery. I cannot even say enough to tell you what a gem this man is. Another nurse, Becky, arrives and tells me she will be my nurse in the OR and through the recovery room stage. She was rock solid awesome! Another lady walks in and sits down next to my bed and starts talking to me very casually about what will happen in the OR. I look at her and say, "Who are you, and what is it that you do?" Hello, anesthesiologist, Dr. Dykstra! She's my bestie for the next six hours of my life!

She talks about how Dr. Renz is more quiet than usual today. I advise her it is because I am losing my breasts and that makes him very sad. She looks at me as if I am crazy. See, she just doesn't know me that well yet. Dr. Dykstra asked if I wanted something to help me keep calm. I made it that far with minimal anxiety and I really want to be aware of everything, so I declined. I take one last look down at my breasts, and Becky asks if that is indeed what I am doing. I offer John one last opportunity at a "motor boat", his face turns red. Becky wheels me away. As we are racing down the hall, I say to her "Can you believe this is actually happening?!"

9:55 a.m. - Arrive outside operating room. It is JUST like on Grey's Anatomy! LOL!! Becky puts on my bonnet, ties her mask, and in we go! There are women in scrubs bustling all over the place. Eighties music is playing, they are all arranging trays and movable LCD panels extended from the ceiling. There is a light right above me that is as big as a circle I can make with my arms. A nurse asks me to scoot on over to the operating table, while telling me she is the one who is in charge of this whole business today. I shout "Woo hoo, let's get this show on the road!", while I hear Dr. Dykstra above my head saying she hasn't given me any drugs yet and I am this fun! I tell Dr. Dykstra to keep me alive while two other nurses are extending and positioning my arms out into these large silicon pads. We all banter back a forth for a bit, and the head nurse puts a mask to my face, I tell her 'Not yet, I'm not ready." She says, "This is just oxygen, not gas", and I... am out...

The surgery schedule:
9:30 a.m     Place Port-a-Cath for chemotherapy
10:00 a.m.  Sentinel node biopsy
10:30 a.m.  Double mastectomy
12:30 a.m.  Double reconstruction
3:00 p.m.    Recovery
4:00 p.m.    To hospital room

12:20 ish p.m. - Dr. Renz comes to the waiting room to tell John, John Weger, Mom, and Dad that surgery went well, that there is NO CANCER IN THE LYMPH NODES (note that he did not give any qualifications to that statement), and that Dr. Emery has begun the reconstruction. Full pathology report is expected by September 8th. I cannot wait to see how much those suckers weighed. The word from both Mom and John is that there was not a dry eye in the waiting room. Well, at least for those four.

2:20 ish p.m. - Dr. Emery comes to waiting room to tell everyone that the surgery went well and that I will be in recovery for about 30-45 minutes.

I have no clue what time p.m. - I wake up in recovery, out of a bad dream, crying uncontrollably. Becky is asking me how my pain is and I try to get out while almost hyperventilating that I am upset from a dream and cannot feel any pain. She gets me calmed down, I am loosy goosey and really have no clue what is going on. Heading to my room, I see John, Mom, and Dad down the hall. I keep my eyes closed to keep from getting motion sickness. They put a patch behind my ear before surgery to help with this also, because I got so sick from this when I had my daughter.

4:15 p.m. - I arrive at my hospital room - corner room, two windows - yeah-yuh! Becky asked everyone to wait outside while they transfer me into the bed. Everyone comes in and John kisses me and tells me there is no cancer in the lymph nodes. I am still so out of it, this has little significance to me at the time. 

Quotes for today:
"Prayer doesn't change things; it changes people, and they change things". ~ Anonymous, included in the book Help Me Live: Twenty Things People With Cancer Want You To Know 

I sincerely thank everyone who prayed for me, added me to the prayer chain at their house of worship, and/or thought of me just once this past week. I, myself, pray for ME daily. I start by thanking the Lord for the blessings of this day, thanking Him for bringing John into my life, ask Him to continue to protect our little lambs (the children), ask Him to continue to provide me the strength, courage, and peace that has been bestowed upon me, and thank Him for loving me. ~ Gwen 


Known in my tradition as 'The Benediction':
Numbers 6:24-26
The Lord bless you
and keep you;
the Lord make his face shine upon you
and be gracious to you;
the Lord turn his face toward you
and give you peace. 

This is my absolute favorite passage and the point in a religious service I look most forward to. Much like being on a swing, it is impossible for me not to smile when I hear these words. The tumor is out of my body. Thank you, Lord for shining over me. ~ Gwen