I had my lumpectomy surgery at Holy Redeemer Hospital yesterday. Just as I was about to leave the house, Nan surprised me and stopped by to give me a good luck hug and lots of positive, healing energy. Fran and I had decided to use my car, so I picked her up. She was wearing a pale pink shirt and jacket and carrying a pink quartz stone given to her by my surgeon, Dr. Beth DuPree. The only pink I was wearing was my underwear.
Once we arrived at the hospital, things progressed quickly. I was taken back to the day-surgery area and prepped — oh those exquisite warm blankets. The nurse had trouble accessing a good vein which was a bit uncomfortable. Fortunately, she gave up and called for another nurse. Fran was allowed to come back at that point, and I was wishing that she could have hooked up my line since she is a home infusion RN for Jefferson Hospital. The second nurse successfully got the line going, and Dr. DuPree stopped by to touch base. While we were talking, I suddenly started to cry. I’m not exactly sure why, but I guess it was triggered by an immense sense of feeling vulnerable. I got hugs from both Fran and Dr. DuPree which made me cry more!
Dr. DuPree was ready to roll, but we were still waiting for the anesthesiologist. He finally arrived and introduced himself as Dr. Bradley — I asked if that was his first or last name — Dr. Joe Bradley. I told him I wanted the least invasive airway possible. I hate general anesthesia and always get a sore throat from the airway. He promised me he would take good care of me.
Dr. DuPree and a nurse both walked me into surgery, and she held my hand while we were rolling. I was still feeling a little weepy. They got me onto the surgery table, and announced that I was about to be put under. Dr DuPree later told Fran that I said at that point, “Nectar of the Gods!”
Everything went smoothly, and I woke up in recovery, feeling very thirsty and shaking from the anesthesia. The nurses were great and managed the pain quickly and efficiently. In no time at all I was taken back to the day-surgery area where Fran joined me until I was discharged. We left the hospital around 2:15 in a downpour, stopped at the drugstore for the pain prescription, got a bite to eat, and then home.
Fran stayed with me until she was confident I would be OK alone, and later Wendi and Nan both stopped by with flowers and dinner. I was pretty groggy, but spent the bulk of the evening curled up on the sofa with ice and “the girls.” They both knew something was different and stayed very close.
Pathology results will come back in 2-3 days, and hopefully they show that there is no metastasis.
. . . and so it is