I haven’t been blogging lately. I’m going to radiation every day, and I just get so tired that I can’t even…
But I had surgery on May 20, and it went okay!
I was SUPER scared beforehand because…who wouldn’t be scared thinking about getting cut open?
After I finished chemo in April, my breast surgeon told me I had two options: breast-conserving surgery (a lumpectomy) or a mastectomy.
She explained that because my cancer had already spread to my liver and lymph nodes, having a mastectomy wouldn’t necessarily give me a better chance of preventing the cancer from coming back. A mastectomy would also be a much more complicated surgery, especially if I chose reconstruction.
Either way, I would still need radiation—which I was completely unprepared for.
More on THAT later.
I was always pretty sure I wanted the lumpectomy because it sounded less invasive to me. But I was nervous about the possibility of not getting clear margins, needing more surgery, and eventually ending up with a mastectomy anyway.
Ultimately, I decided on the lumpectomy.
At my next appointment, my breast surgeon explained the surgery in more detail. I would have a lumpectomy and sentinel lymph node biopsy.
They would inject dye near the tumor site to identify the sentinel lymph node, remove it and send it to pathology. If the lymph node was clear, great! If cancer was found, she might need to remove additional lymph nodes.
She also explained that even though the chemo had done its job, there could still be cancer cells left behind—almost like a Swiss cheese effect—so the tissue she removed would be sent to pathology to make sure she got clear margins.
If the margins weren’t clear, I might need more surgery.
Later, I went in for my pre-op appointment, and one of the nurses walked me through what to expect.
She mentioned that I was having a partial mastectomy.
WHAT?!!!
Apparently that’s another term sometimes used for a lumpectomy, but hearing the word mastectomy immediately freaked me out.
Then she started talking about the possibility of waking up with a drain.
And that’s where my anxiety really kicked in.
First of all, having something attached to you and coming out of a hole in your side just does NOT sound very nice.
Then she started explaining how I might have to record the amount of fluid, empty the drain and do something with the tubing that sounded like curling a ribbon with a pen if it got clogged.
WTH???
I think she could tell I was getting freaked out because she reassured me that I wouldn’t even know whether I’d need a drain until after surgery. If I did, the post-op nurse would go over everything with me again.
She just wanted me to be prepared.
On the actual day of surgery, I was surprisingly calm.
I had to get to the hospital really early, and because of COVID, my mom could only drop me off. She wasn’t allowed to stay with me.
My breast surgeon came by, and then the anesthesiologist introduced himself. He seemed like he knew what he was doing, so I didn’t have any questions. 😂
He told me I would count to five and then wouldn’t remember anything.
He was right!
When I woke up…
I was crying.
My breast surgeon asked:
“Why are you crying?”
I said:
“I dunno.”
And then we both started laughing.
My immediate question was:
“DO I HAVE A DRAIN???”
She said no!
Everything had gone well. She only had to remove one lymph node, and it was clear.
The post-op recovery room was VERY interesting.
If I were a nurse, I think I’d want to work there because there was a lot going on!
When they wheeled me in, the woman in front of me was propped up and staring straight at me, so I covered my face.
Maybe I was still crying. Haha. I don’t know.
Then the guy to my left would not stop talking. He kept asking me questions, apologizing for asking me questions, and then introducing himself to me over and over again.
Somewhere on the other side of the room, I could hear someone yelling:
“I’M BURNING!!! IT HURTS! IT HURTS!”
What a place.
I went home in kind of a daze from all the medication. I don’t remember much except that I needed the pain meds because…
I WAS IN PAIN!!!
BTW, Vicodin is the bomb.
My recovery actually wasn’t too bad. I did my arm exercises and rested as much as I could.
Taking off the outer bandage was terrifying, though.
I felt like I was going to pass out when I saw the incision. Some of the dried blood was stuck to the bandage, so I ended up cutting around it and walking around with pieces of bandage hanging off me for a while.
Very glamorous.
About a week later, I went back to see my breast surgeon and got REALLY GREAT NEWS.
The surgery was a success.
The pathology came back with clear margins.
YAY!!! NO MORE SURGERY!
Finally, I could breathe a huge sigh of relief.
Some good news after all.
