The Details (Part One)

Well, it's been a while since you've heard from me but I know my KISA has kept you all posted with progress and GOOD news. Yay! Plus he has been reading me your comments and we just can't thank everyone enough for all the love and care you send to us. Have I said before how lucky we are to have such a wonderful group of friends and family?

I thought I would backtrack a little and put down some thoughts about surgery day (probably in several posts since I'm easily tired still). It helps to get them out of my head, as I'm sure everyone has realized by now. A week ago I was at this moment just being closed back up, I think. I seem to remember finally opening my eyes in recovery at around 12:20 PM but I know I was hearing stuff around me before that and trying desperately to open my eyes and tell them I felt like something was stabbing me in the armpit and how about a little more pain medicine, please!

As you might imagine, none of us slept very well the night before (me, Mike, my parents) but we were all up and ready to go exactly on time. I couldn't eat or drink anything, but that didn't bother me. I was just ready to get the whole thing going. We got to Tucson Breast Center at 7:30 for the wire localization. I filled out the medical history again (as Mike has already noted) and then we waited, and waited, and waited some more. Okay, we only really waited about 25 minutes, but it felt like forever. Here I was - ready to get this whole thing started and who the heck was holding me up anyway? Didn't they know I was mentally prepared for right now?! Hel-lo? Why were all these other women getting to go before me? You don't mean to say they actually have appointments, too?

These were the thoughts that were running through my head (some of which escaped aloud, alas) and we all groused a bit at the delay. We found out later that my appointment was actually for 8:00 but they wanted me there at 7:30 to, guess what? Fill out the medical history! Seriously, don't these offices share information? I know they either share or can access the UMC database. Do they think that anything about my medical history has changed in the last .5 seconds since I filled it out for some other office? Half the questions weren't relevant anyway, since I wasn't there to get a mammogram. In a snit, I made a big slash through all the stupid, not applicable questions. It made me feel much better. Also, Mike provided entertainment with his quest for coffee and pastries (which he reported already). Such a charmer, as he did score the coffee!

Finally, a very nice nurse called my name. She told my devoted "wait-ers" to expect me back in about an hour or slightly more. As we walked away, she explained that first we were going to take some mammograms to see if the tumor would show up and to see if they could see the clip that was inserted during the biopsy. I had to change into the pink, close-in-the-front smock and then wait only about five minutes this time. This was time enough to drool over some beautiful remodeled kitchens in a magazine. Now, I'd have normally gone for some entertainment magazine if they'd had any (did Cameron Diaz and Justin Timberlake really break up?), but for some reason the selection in the Breast Center seems to all be for new moms - Parent's Magazine, Babies Galore, etc. - or serious minded folk - Time, Golf Digest, Boring Mag #4. What about us shallow people? Where is the People? the In Touch? the Style Watch? My thought was maybe patients make off with those because they are the only interesting magazines and that's why there never are any of that sort.

After this brief interval, I got two mammograms (squished again; but this time they put a little pad on the machine so I didn't get squished and have to have the tatas on the freezing cold metal of the machine). In these images, not only did they see the clip, but they saw the tumor. This was actually reassuring because it meant that they'd have found the cancer even without the MRI. My yearly mammograms are in February and guess what month it is now? They would have caught it this year no matter what and that is a very good thought.

I then was escorted to another room where they had an interesting looking table (translation: another medieval-looking torture device) that I will apparently have to lay on. The nurse asked me some more questions and explained the whole procedure to me, and then she left to get the doctor. Before she left, she gave me a huge, blue, fuzzy blanket because it was freezing in the room (for the equipment, I gathered). I wrapped myself in this posthaste (plus, as Mike will tell you, even at 40 years old, I still like to feel swaddled; in the days since the surgery, he has made a point of piling many blankets on me and wrapping up my feet). I have to admit, the blanket was actually a big comfort.

The doctor turned out to be a very young, very pregnant woman (responsible for all the baby magazines, maybe?) who reviewed the procedure with me and also made sure I was who I said I was (not sure why as I can't imagine that some impostor might actually choose to go through this). She then left while the nurse prepped me for the procedure.

I had to lie face-down with my head turned to the right and my right arm up over my head; the left one was down along my left side. The left tata went in a hole where it got squished again (for stability) and then the nurse raised the whole table (I was pretty close to the ceiling; it would have been nice in other circumstances to appreciate my sudden height!) so that no one had to bend over to work on me. She then took two more images and made some calculations so that they knew exactly where to put the wire. At this point, the doctor came back and injected me with a local anesthetic. That stung and she also had to put extra in because I could still feel things I shouldn't have been able to feel. The nurse held my right hand to keep me from moving but I'm an old hand at this now (two MRIs later) and they both commented on how still I kept throughout the procedure. This still amazes me because I don't feel like there is a lot to laying down and doing nothing.

After I got all numb in the tata, the wire went in. The way they do this is the wire is inside a needle that is really a sheath that has the wire inside it. They put the needle in, take a picture to make sure they are where they need to be, and then retract the sheath, leaving the wire behind. It was actually really quick - over before I knew it. The blue blanket was on top of me at this point and I was surprised that I actually felt sleepy. I wouldn't have minded if they'd just left me there for a little snooze. Unfortunately, I had to get up.

The nurse taped down the wire, which was really really fine but could still poke me somewhere unfortunate if left to its own devices. Then I had to get two more mammograms so they could make sure they wire could be seen and that it was really really where it should be. When I got these mammograms, even though there was the oozing blood thing, I was not upset like I was with the MRI. Either I'm getting used to all this again and/or I was much more nervous about Phase 2 - the actual surgery. The doctor and the nurse both said that the wire was perfectly placed. They sounded really happy and a little amazed, so I wondered whether not getting it right is more the norm? If so, then I was glad to be the ideal case. Phew! One down, and one to go. On to the next bit of fun and games!