IN THE TRENCHES (Cont. from 'The Battle Plan')

It's one thing for the General to study the information and lay out a battle plan for war. It is quite another thing for the soldier to enter the trenches and start shooting back at the enemy.

The doctor had studied the enemy and found out where the it was located. Now we were entering the trenches together to eradicate this frightful monster. We chose to have this surgery the day before Thanksgiving, so that I could use the holiday to save myself some lost time at work.

I arrived at the hospital at 7:30 a.m. They got me dressed for surgery, and by 8:15 I was on my way over to radiology to get the radioactive dye shot into my breast to track the lymph system. [ This is called 'sentinel node biopsy'. The lymph system carries the dye to the first lymph node, and then the next, and so on. Later, during surgery, the surgeon uses a tracking device to follow it to the first, then second lymph node, and removes them. Right there, during surgery, the pathologist analyzes those, and if they are clear of cancer cells, there is no need to remove more. If there are cancer cells in any lymph node, they keep tracking to the next one, until they are clear, or until they decide the cells are more places than they can get to that day. They only removed three of my nodes and there was no cancer in any of them.] When I arrived at radiology, the nurse rolled me into a small room, gathered supplies, and said to me, "Okay, let me see if I can find a radiologist to inject this" and she promptly started looking in all the upper cabinets! I said, "Is that where you keep your radiologists? in the cabinets?" We had a good laugh, and she did find a radiologist; Dr. Strange! (Don't you find that a little strange?) He made four injections into the skin of my breast, which stung, and swelled like a hornet's sting. They asked me if I was doing okay, and I said "Yes, just let me make an ugly face, and I'll be alright". (Later, a good friend was telling me that she hadn't fared so well. She kept passing out.) After the injections were all in, they wheeled me back to the room where I started, and friends and family came in to see me. We visited for about an hour and a half till the nurses came to get me for surgery. I made most of them leave when it was time for the 'happy shot' (which makes the patient happy and not care what she says. For some reason, I had been made fun of for the things I said at a former surgery a few years back.) My 'network' prayed for me and left the room, and I was on my way to surgery. I barely remember saying good morning to the surgeon. At least, I think it was him. He had a mask on his face. I think he was planning to rob me. (And sure enough, when I woke up, that left breast was GONE!)

The nurse woke me up about 2:00 p.m. and asked about my pain level on a scale of 1 to 10. I said, "1 or 2", and she gave me morphine. (What might I have gotten if I'd said 8-10?) I woke up very well, and stayed till I was able to dribble just a little bit of water, and walk up and down the hall. They let me go home by 7:30. I had expected to stay in the hospital 24 hours, and I was only there 12. And I was thankful. After all, it was Thanksgiving Holidays, right?

Several people called to see how I was doing. (More of the 'network') My 3 daughters were in and around for the holidays, helping with the household chores. I was feeling well, despite the drains dangling from my chest. My good friend, Liz, a registered nurse, come by to assist me in removing the bandages. I was nervous about that. I guess I was expecting blood and bruises, or something. But when we removed the bandages, the wound was clean and the seam was straight. I remember thinking, "My home economics teacher would have been proud. HA!" Seriously, it was a very sobering moment. My daughter, Fonda was there and she wrote about it on her blog. I asked her permission to print it here, and she said yes. So the next entry is from Fonda, "Peace about Pieces". (to be continued)