Surgery

My surgery was on Monday, March 23. Michael, Lily and I arrived at the Ambulatory Surgery Center at 6:45 AM. There were forms to be filled, bracelets to be attached, clothes to be removed, gowns to put on, and questions to be asked. The most common question: "What is your name and why are you here?" Every health care practitioner I dealt with asked me that same question and everyone got the same answer: "My name is Diane McSweeney. I am here for a lumpectomy and sentential node biopsy on my right breast. My medical history number is 756457." (They never asked for my number, but I can never resist an opportunity to exceed expectations!) As I was being prepped, Michael was given a number to use to check a monitor that told where I was at any given time without using my name. This coding system balanced patient privacy and friends and family concern. After changing into a gown with snaps at the shoulder, I met dear Timmy, a friendly Englishman whose job it was to wheel me from place to place. The first stop was to meet the nurse to make sure any last minute questions were answered. After asking the common question, she unsnapped my gown and wrote YES on my chest above my right breast. As I sat there, I read the board with that day's surgery schedule. Four lumpectomies, one mastectomy, and one thyroidectomy. I shook my head thinking about the lives of women who, like me, were rushing headlong into incertainty hoping to put fear behind them and replacing it with victory. Then off to mammography to meet Dr. B. His job was to locate the small metal chip left in my breast during the biopsy and hook a wire around it to guide the surgeon. OK, I thought when it was over, that wasn't too bad. Next Timmy wheeled me into a large room with 2 nurses' desks and 3 hospital beds, one of which was my place for two hours. There I met with Dr. B again. He injected 4 shots of radioactive material into my areole. Agony! My family (Patrick had now arrived) joined me to wait as the radioactive material travelled through the breast tissue to the lymph nodes. The surgeon, Dr. V, would use a geiger counter type instrument to locate the lymph nodes nearest the cancer and remove them during the first part of the surgery. Waiting in that room was one of the most pleasant parts of an otherwise gruesome day. We were laughing, reliving precious memories, and supporting each other as we faced the uncertainites of the surgery and its outcome. I didn't know how anyone could go through a cancer diagnosis alone. Thank goodness, I didn't have to.