moving forward
After my biopsy, I went forward with making the necessary appointments to have a double mastectomy. From the very beginning, I've been terrified. The reason that I pursued this course is simple; Penelope. I scheduled my surgery for February 16, 2021. Up until a few weeks before, I was still not giving a definitive answer about whether or not they could do the procedure. With the overcrowding caused by the Coronavirus, I was told that they were not doing inpatient surgeries.
During all of this, I was panicked because I have a full schedule of teaching that I would need to prepare a substitute for. My doctors told me that I would need to take 6-8 weeks to recover. I chose the latter in order to protect myself from pushing too hard. Not being able to lift items over 8 lbs when I'm used to carrying 50 lb boxes of clay is not an easy adjustment. Most of the people that know me, know I will not ask for help. I will push myself to the point of injury to avoid doing so. Taking the full-time off, I am less likely to do this when preparing and transitioning between classes.
I had to have a covid test before my appointment, so on Saturday morning, I went through a drive-through test site. They swabbed my throat which left a weird aftertaste, but nothing more. Because I am known for being stubborn, my Aunt insisted on staying with me to help me following the surgery. The Saturday before my Tuesday surgery, she arrived. I did my best to prepare, but most of the days proceeding the surgery were spent in waves of tears. My daughter was scared. I was scared. I tried my best to hide my fear so that Penelope wouldn't see it.
A few things about my Aunt; she's a total badass. She has worked her whole life to become independent and self-sufficient. She was also told at a very young age that she would not be able to have children. When my Mother died, my Aunt did her best to step into her role. Any time that I've felt panic or loneliness or needed support, she's been there.
The day of my surgery, central Ohio got more snow than we've gotten in years. I couldn't sleep at all and spent most of the night awake and tearful. I was to arrive at the hospital at 6am. My brother drove me and was worried that the weather would make us late, so he picked me up at 5am. We arrived at the hospital around 5:15. I don't think we said much to one another during the drive. I just remember feeling so glad that he was there with me. As I type this, I'm crying. My family has supported me through all of this and though I often find myself feeling alone and unnoticed, they have been steadfast.
I had my daughter at Dublin Methodist, so I was aware of how nice and quiet the hospital is. I took a backpack to the hospital. I packed 2 pairs of sweatpants, 2 pairs of underwear, an extra pair of shoes, and an extra sweatshirt. I also took my computer because I believed I would be "so bored".
I got checked in and settled into my room. I am terrified of needles. IV's specifically. I can't look, I get emotional, I get light-headed. My nurse got everything ready and was very kind. I forget her name, but I do remember asking if she would be with me when I woke up. She said she wouldn't. I also remember begging for water but not being allowed to have any.
The next thing I remember, I was waking up in a different room. When I woke up, the two things that I noticed first were my throat was incredibly sore and my right arm was in extreme pain. The pain in my throat was because my surgery was 6 1/2 hours long and I had a breathing tube. Apparently, this was the same reason for my arm pain. Either its placement or how one of the surgeons had leaned on it while operating. The pain was immense. I was on Tylenol and oxycodine. But, neither of them helped my arm. I also had wraps around my legs that inflated and deflated to prevent blood clots, similar to a blood pressure machine cuff.
Over the following hours, I was in and out of sleep, groggy and in pain. I was exhausted but could not get any sleep. Every few hours, a nurse would come in to check my vitals, draw blood, or give me medications. While in the hospital, I had every light off and never turned on the TV. I didn't eat until Wednesday. I ordered some macaroni and cheese and a dinner roll. The macaroni was awful. I ate one bite and pushed it away. I did eat the roll and it helped me feel a little better.
Other than that, I survived on water and pain medication...