Weeks 35-37: Thursday 20 July - Wednesday 09 August 2017
Wow! What a momentous 3 weeks I have had this time! Partying, bone infusions, surgery and recovery. And of course, me being me, nothing is quite straight forward or without humour 😊.
I will chunk this into the separate weeks for easier reading - and then it also doesn't look like I am writing a novel in one sitting lol.
First off, I should start off by saying that in the scale of things, I feel amazing. I don't quite look like Angelina Jolie, but I don't look like Frankenstein's bride either 😜.
So after 2 weeks, I should maybe have dialled down my expectations from surgery, but to be fair, I am alive, I didn't wake up dead, and I sit here at home in relative comfort. (Albeit pumped full of painkillers lol.)
Medical staff keep telling me I am healing relatively quickly and that everything medically was a resounding success ☺️. I have progressed from swaddling bandages to a training bra, and my abdominal wound has now had the sticky back plastic removed from it, so I am guessing my innards are no longer at risk of falling out... always good to know 😊😊😊.
So where to start really?
Well after the last blog entry, I was due to go to my pre-op assessment at the hospital on the Thursday of that week. This involved an initial chat with the breast cancer nurse. However, it transpired that because I had raised queries about the need for getting the bio phosphate infusion prior to this particular surgery, it seemed slightly engineered that my previous chemo nurse was on hand that day. Indeed after she told me that the infusion was nothing compared to chemo, she then said she had a space in the unit right at the moment if I wanted to get it there and then... and it only took 15 mins!
So I went, feeling kind of like a lamb to the slaughter. The reason for my hesitancy is that the fact sheet had said it could cause flu like symptoms, may interfere with antibiotics and may cause issues with necrosis of the jaw... and all I had actually asked was, was it a good idea to have it 72hrs before major surgery.... anyway... I had it done, and to be fair there were no real side effects aside from joint pain over my knuckles for a few days.
However... when I went through to get my actual pre-op assessment, they had major trouble getting a vein raised to get blood tests taken - mainly because having had the infusion an hour before, my veins decided to pack up their bags and hide deep in my arms. Have to admit, when the staff nurse said she was nervous and couldn't find a vein after 20 mins, and then asked my mum to leave with her, my imagination went into overdrive! But... the charge nurse obviously came with heavy weight munitions and just tied the tourniquet tighter... and took blood from the same vein that I had had blood tests taken the day previous at the GP's.
The only reason they needed the extra blood test was to get my blood type... this was slipped into conversation as I was having major surgery and they were having to be prepared for blood loss. I then got told if I had any extraordinary pathogens in my blood, I may have to go to hospital over the weekend to donate my own blood in advance of surgery... !!! (This did not particularly suit given I was out socialising all weekend and for the first time in ages I had planned to have alcohol!)
Anyway... as I said... success on blood was had, albeit it came out at a slow trickle.
They then sent me on my way for yet another ECG (yip, I do still have a heart!), and then they mentioned medical photographs... for the uninitiated, this is so the surgeon can have a portfolio of before and after photos... but clearly I didn't make the cut for them, so I didn't have to pose Page 3 girl like... 😜.
What I did do though, was to take time to reflect how far I had actually come since finding the lump at the end of November. I created a few different photo montages which I put on Facebook... showing everything from pre-cancer Linz, to Christmas time surgery, shaving head and all the chemo; to all the looks (burned, bloated, wigs and bald); through to all the fun times with family and friends.... most of the time everything done with a smile (but only cos I never take photos of a grumpy me lol)
It was quite amazing to look back at myself and look at the difference in looks, and ups and downs, and good, bad and ugly times. I recognise that I really am a bolshy fighter as I have come through it 😊.
End of an era... now thinking ahead to my Baywatch body hopefully... might be still be several months off, but I am nothing if not determined!
Anyway, after a period of reflection, I then decided that my last free weekend was definitely going to be a social butterfly time for me - a friend's leaving night for work on the Friday, night out with friends on the Saturday and then big family picnic on the Sunday lunchtime before getting taken to hospital for the big check in. It was a great weekend filled with fun, drink and laughter... and different dress up and wigs too lol.
The Sunday afternoon I was to be in hospital for 4pm. Despite being placed in the superheated waiting room and left to bake for half hour, the check in process was relatively smooth. My mum and sis offered to come back and see me at visiting that evening, but I did get distinct impression that nurses were not too keen... on the basis that I needed to be calm and rested and they wanted to give me a sedative.
Anyway... when it came to saying goodbye I actually felt really emotional. I know it was stupid, but suddenly all those thoughts of what would happen if I didn't wake up, or it went horribly wrong came to mind... this could have been the last time I saw them! Have to admit I did break down and then I really didn't want them to go.
(With hindsight I know that this was really daft - I have had multiple surgeries before - this one just seemed bigger somehow as everyone kept telling me it was MAJOR surgery...)
However, it now makes sense why nurse wanted to give me a sedative, as clearly she is used to people feeling like this.
Not long afterwards, the hospital DJ came to see me. He was due to be giving the gospel hour on the radio, and asked if I had any favourite hymns.
Aside from the fact that my mind genuinely went blank, I started to overthink things and almost thought this was akin to last rites. Talk about having a mini freak out... and that was before any drugs were administered!
Anyway... I did listen in to the show, and I got my name check, although to be honest I can't remember what he said or what piece of music was played. I really was not thinking too much. I remember having dinner in hospital, getting my sexy compression stockings, and spent time just reading my book and organising my visiting rota. (Nothing like a bit of organising to keep your mind mindlessly busy!). I didn't unpack very much as I knew that the following day I would be in theatre, then high dependency unit, and then few days after that, another unit... so to avoid losing things, I just kept everything packed up in my bag.
I did indeed get a sedative late evening, and I had the best sleep ever 😊 - can't even remember much about my room mate! Only thing I do actually remember is that I finally found out my blood type (A Positive), and that the nurses basically said I could have any drugs I wanted... ☺️. (That's not meant to sound like I was asking for illicit drugs, but I was still in some pain from the last chemo, and the bloody bone infusion causing joint pain!)
Day of surgery I clearly don't remember much about... however I was woken up at 6am, had a shower and got backless gown and compression stockings on... (very sexy - not!). But then people started coming to see me with a speed which was actually quite breathtaking!
First off the anaesthetist came to see how I was and to check allergies and medical history...
... Then the junior plastic surgeon who wanted to take more obs and cross check things...
...Then the senior plastic surgeon who did all the drawing on me, and decided to gather up handfuls of my stomach so that he could see how big he was going to make my final breasts...
... then the Charge nurse who was making sure that I had packed up my things and making sure I had not sneaked in any food or drink since midnight...
I then got wheeled down to surgery, and again it was like a small pack of nimble ninjas who were attaching electrodes, and trying to cannulas in my arm. I say 'trying' as basically my veins were clearly in flight mode again. 😢.
The anaesthetist then said to me that they would use the tiny vein on top of my knuckle at base of my pinkie... quote "it will be enough to at least get you to sleep...."
Aaaaaaaaarrrrrrgh!!! That sent my heart rate through the roof as I had visions of me waking up during the surgery!
Anyway... once the oxygen mask was over my face, I did feel the cannula go in... and it was bloody sore... but clearly it worked... I drifted off to sleep whilst hearing that they would put a bigger cannula into an artery (?) once I was asleep, as my veins would relax and open up..
So by my reckoning... I think I went into surgery maybe about 8.30am. Going by texts and messages that husband put on Facebook... I may have got out of surgery after 12 hours... I don't actually remember being in the recovery unit, but I clearly must have been given that one of the nurses popped by to see me the following week! They must also have told me how to use the Morphine Pump as that was wrapped around my hand and I was told to use it as often as every 5 minutes...
The following day I woke up in 'Level 1', which was the High Dependency Unit. This was a large room, which was pleasantly warm and light, which had 4 beds in it. I was the only patient, and I had a nurse at the desk right beside me on a permanent basis.
This was required as I was under constant observations and 15 minute monitoring with the Doppler test - a bit like an ultrasound when pregnant, except this was to monitor my blood flow through the new veins in my new boobs! But it literally did sound like a baby's heartbeat!!
The only downside was that someone decided that the High Dependency Unit was a great place to then interview all the nursing staff doing their SVQs... I kid you not 😡. My mum was seriously not impressed.... and neither was my dedicated nurse. The assessor woman clearly loved the sound of her own voice, but by the end of the day, I myself felt personally well versed in her work pattern, her relationships, and the importance of cleanliness and hygiene in a hospital setting...
The downside of people sharing the HDU with me, was that I clearly put them off their stride when I started vomiting. Unfortunately it appears that I do not react well to opiates... and lots of sick bowls were required 🤢. And can I just say... vomiting whilst having an abdominal wound which literally stretches from hip to hip is extremely painful, and there were points where I thought my internal stitching was surely going to burst 😱😱😱.
However... I clearly survived, and that night, I got transferred back to the Plastics Unit to a side room. This was earlier than planned, basically due to lack of staff to oversee me in the HDU.
The room I got was hot - too hot for many people to actually stay in for longer than about an hour at a time. Unfortunately I was there for 6 days in total. I knew in advance that I was going to be kept hot, but this was really quite uncomfortable. Sweat literally streaming down head, neck, back... I had cold compresses on scalp and neck which were literally drying out in the space of 10 mins... I was just miserable. And I looked like a bad Alf Garnett impersonator. 😢
I wasn't allowed the window open, nor a big fan, in case it cooled my temperature too much to allow veins to shrink / stop working. The whole purpose of the heat was to make sure blood kept pumping around the new veins inside my chest.
However... between the medication, the chemo hangover, the anaesthesia hangover, the heat and also associated constipation... I was really really sick. Constantly.
At one point I was on something like 7 different types of anti sickness drugs, all to no avail... on a good note, means I could never be an illicit or even a prescription drug addict... my body rejects everything! ☺️☺️☺️
There were funny moments though... first off, as I was so hot, I spent the first 4 days just lying on the bed sheet, with the hospital gown just draped across my naked body. No underwear due to drains at top of my pelvis and catheter bag, and just because it was too hot for clothes.
Not for me, the silky negligee and matching wrap to look pretty for visitors... instead, a simple gown which could be whisked away for checking the wounds, and to allow much chin scratching and note taking when it came to the morning rounds by the multi discipline medical team who saw me every morning...
Of course, there are many ways to maintain dignity in hospital. I am not sure I managed any of them.
Some nurses were very careful in asking to lift up my gown to check my wounds... others just took my gown off and left me starkers to face the world whilst they did their stuff. It was also my first experience of having bed baths, and also, using a catheter.
(On a side note, my sister came to visit me and was absolutely disgusted to be sitting beside a bag of my urine... that was just funny 😊😊😊. Almost as good as my nephew's reaction when he just got told about it a few days later.... evil laugh....)
After the first few days of lying prone and not being able to do anything for myself, the physio team came to see me. At first, the exercises only consisted of me learning to take deep breaths and learning to cough. It transpired that I had collected fluid on my lungs due to length of operation, so had to use the 'Birdie' to force oxygen into my lungs and to avoid getting pneumonia or suchlike. Also, they ordered me a chest x-ray but rather than me getting transported down like I had done previously... the x-ray machine came to me! (It was quite funny watching them do a 20pt turn to get it it into my room...)
Oh - another side effect was my hands swelled up to look like giant cartoon fists... not joking - I looked like Homer Simpson!!!
Anyway the breast drains and catheter got removed on day 4 (bit ouchy for one of the drains!) and then I discovered that it was actually a bit stingy to pass urine. Well to cut a very long (and embarrassing) story short... the phrase "just rub it on your flaps, hen" will forever more be ingrained in my mind, with associated red face... 😀
Day 5 got the abdominal drains removed, and hurrah! I got allowed to have my first proper shower... had to sit down on shower chair, and I was absolutely shattered, but that first shower was amazing. Felt like a dottery old woman, as first couple of times on my feet, I was hunched over due to tummy tuck pain, and wobbly from lack of activity... but it was great feeling of independence. I also had to have a half hour snooze when I got back to bed, and had to get the nurses to swing my legs back onto the bed... but it was worth it.
Physios came back to see me every day and gave me new exercises every day... but even doing 10 reps of simple exercises knackered me. Although they were pleasantly surprised that I had such good upper body movement...😀.
They then asked me if I had had a bowel movement or passed wind... to which the reply was no... so of course they then said that was the side effect of the drugs, but I needed to be able to do all of those things before I could get home... to which they then just said I should feel free "to have a big fart in front of them"... I was mortified 😳😳😳. (I'm a lady....!)
Anyway, then I became uber paranoid, as I realised there was no sound proofing between rooms, and I hated thought of anyone hearing any wind passing - my god, the way it was described it would sound like there was enemy machine gun fire!!!
Had lots of lovely visitors when I was in hospital, but think I generally got tired after about an hour... from people bringing rescue packages, to those curious to see my new boobs, to tips on how to breathe to encourage bowel movements... no topics were sacrosanct ... that's why I love my friends and family!
Other funny moments also include whenever there was a change in nursing staff and when they were doing the Doppler test on my breasts... one of the markers had actually been misplaced, so every time they put the sensor over it, there was no sound... you could actually see their faces fall, thinking that they would have to initiate some emergency procedure... but then I would remind them that it needed to be down and to the left a bit... 😀.
On day 6 I finally got to see fresh air and daylight, with a quick trip in a wheelchair outside.... thought it was heaven - even when I had to navigate through the smokers... Unfortunately turns out movement and return to hot room generated more sickness...
On day 7... the full and frank charge nurse came up and said that despite 4 days of laxatives in various forms, I still had not been to bathroom proper... so suppositories were the next stage in the game... so she raised my bed bars, asked me to turn over and hold on to them "for leverage".... another aaaaaaaarrrggghh moment!!!
She did advise if they didn't work, then the next day it would have to be an enema.... and by that point, I actually just didn't care. But all good things come to those that wait... and thankfully all things resumed normal working practice later that night. Enough said.
Honestly, by the time the doctors came to see me on the Monday morning, I was literally a new woman. And desperate to go home.
The pain management nurse came to see me - she was concerned that I had stepped down to just paracetamol, ibuprofen and codeine... but I pointed out I would rather have a bit of pain and no sick... so she reluctantly signed me off....
On way home, I had my mandatory McDonalds, and got home to find the house decorated with 'Welcome Home' banners, and two very excitable puppies. Oh, and a Netflix subscription 😀.
Basically my mum moved in with me for the next 10 days and helped change my dressings every day, and she made sure I got enough fluids and food, and basically I did nothing.
She had borrowed a wheelchair for me so she could take me out for some walks (funny stories to follow), and I slept. A lot.
Had weekly check ups at the wound clinic, and those first 2 weeks, I was given silver dressings to draw out excess moisture and promote healing. My tummy scar had its sticky back plastic removed, and my innards remained inside as planned...
I had trouble getting out of bed and also getting out of chairs... basically I had no strength in abdominal area to sit up... so everything had to be about me rolling over, or getting mum to help pull me up. I am not good at depending on others, but mum was so good to me... fatigue was still an issue, and I literally had to lie down after everything I did. Showering, dressing, getting downstairs... all took much longer than I ever thought - and I still had to have a snooze after each activity. Any kind of walking for more than 5 minutes was a pipe dream, and I looked a bit like Quasimodo for those first few weeks.... my tummy was so tight from the tummy tuck, that I couldn't physically stand up straight, and everything felt like it was pulling my innards apart...
Also.. randomly, I stood on the scales when I got home from hospital. Everything I had been through... I had only lost 4lbs. Yip, you read that correctly... 4lbs. 😣😣😣
But couldn't actually care as cancer free and flat tummy.... 😀 silver linings.
And OMG... what an amazing flat tummy it was too! For the first time in a long time, I could see my feet without bending over boobs and tummy... and it felt a bit strange and numb... but OMG... it was flat!!! I may get a belly button ring now! Lol
On the wheelchair front, the first time mum took me out to Dobbies for coffee. Not actually being disabled, we parked at the far end of the car park.... and found out that the walkway to the front door was littered with flower tubs. Looked lovely... but really crap for wheelchairs.
Sitting in the wheelchair, made my head height basically level with other people's butt cracks. And bad opinion alert... but some people should really not wear vertical stripes. 😱
I also discovered exactly how patronising people can be towards wheelchair users. The checkout assistant took one look at me, had clearly been on the course about making eye contact with disabled people.... and then proceeded to talk loudly to me like I was a 5 year old... 😱😱😱. So I just smiled politely and asked for a price check on the items I was holding...
Then, as we were going back to the car, there was a lady who decided to reverse without looking... after a very large and exaggerated hand wave later, with associated "H-E-L-L-O....." from me, got her to stop, and mum and I in stitches with laughter....
Then there were the trips round Asda...😄😄😄
First trip out, mum pushed me and I had a basket on my knee. OMG people are so ignorant!!!
Turning round with big bags or baskets, and swiping the side of my head...
Or just staring at me to work out how disabled I was... at which point my bald head, occasional cross eyed looks and burst of Tourette's maybe scared them away slightly...
And then there was the next time when I decided to push a wee trolley by lodging it inside one leg and outside the other... that worked really well until mum was consciously going in direction of trolley... but forgetting me and wheelchair were off centre.... there were a few bashes off the wall... but all with much laughter...
Also discovered that being in a wheelchair means you don't get overbearing assistants trying to crowd you in shops... a jewellery shop, an antiques fair and a hairdressers... we generally got left in peace... even though the hairdresser was quite funny in a unique sick humour way 😄😄😄.
Finally for this blog... my wonderful neighbour loaned me a mobility scooter. It was such a fabulous laugh - for so many reasons!
The idea was, that as I couldn't walk for more than literally 5 mins the first few weeks, this would give me some freedom to go out with mum and walk the dogs... well, it didn't quite work out that way 😄😄😄.
First time I used it, mum and I planned to go up and around the estate, with dogs and aim of picking flowers for mum's crafty projects. So after doing practise wheelies, we set off with 3 bemused dogs and a feeling of freedom, with the wind rushing through my non-existent hair...
Along the way, mum found some scrap metal and we loaded that onto the scooter too... about 2/3 of the way round... the battery light came on... and I slowly rolled to a delicate stop.
Poor mum was worried about leaving me, but it was a lovely sunny evening... so she ran back to the house with the dogs, and came back with the car to pick me up.
What I hadn't realised, as I was sitting there updating Facebook on my phone, with my head down reading my screen... was that I looked like some dejected old lady, sitting on scooter at side of road... 😱... I just found whole thing hilarious 😄😄😄.
Anyway, lesson learned... after that, I only took scooter out short journeys and actually a couple of times my dogs actually sat on my knee and had a lazy dog walk... 😉
But at end of these 3 weeks... I was really tired, a little sore, couldn't walk much... but had had such a good laugh whilst out and about with mum... had almost forgotten how bad hospital had been!
So... life was getting rosy... especially when it was confirmed that all tissue removed had been confirmed as cancer free!
😄😄😄😄😄
So... onto the next instalment ....
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