LOOSING YOURSELF: The Mastectomy and axillary lymph node removalSo, haven’t updated in a while as I have been living my life… The initial weeks that followed my final Chemo, were all about building myself back up as quick as I could, in order to go straight into surgery. On seeing Julie and Miss Davies again, I listened to the options in relation to my upcoming surgery, it seemed that the second bout of chemo had worked fairly well, however due to my small breast size, there would still be a significant amount that would have to be removed, and this would completely alter my original appearance. After a small amount of deliberation, the choice was made to go with the Mastectomy due to the only setbacks being cosmetic and 50% less chance of re-occurrence in that area, I felt confident enough in my own skin to not fret massively over losing my breast. After the decision had been made, my surgery date was brought forward a week after expressing my wish to travel up to London to see Grace Jones preform, I was completely adamant I would be going up, even with my drainage tubes still attached! In theory the whole ugly debacle sounded fairly straight forward and strangely complicated all at once, physically and mentally. The day before my surgery I remember feeling absolutely terrified deep down, more so for this surgery than the chemo, as least with the chemo I felt I had some element of control instead of being knocked out and entrusting my life with people I don’t know all that well. I tried not to show it though, but as usual Nick clocked me a mile off. On arrival I was taken to my bed, positioned between two other ladies, It was then I met Bess and Sharon. Bess worked in the NHS so I was guessing she had it all sussed out and Sharon was being brave, she was kind of like the mother figure on the ward, but the nerves in both were apparent as soon as their families made their exit while we had tea, they were both very new in diagnosis and I recognised the understated signs of shock and uncertainty from them both, it was like watching myself five months prior. It turns out Bess was in for the same surgery as myself; the whole kibosh, and Sharon was in for a lumpectomy. I hope they don’t mind that I am writing about them so matter of fact as they probably may never see this, but I think about them both often. You see, Bess was pre-chemo and Sharon was in that stage of delicate balance, where it was caught early enough to stay local, but of course until the results you can’t be sure. I distinctively remember trying to put a positive spin on chemo, but that is not easy! I guess I felt it was my responsibility having grappled with the fucker myself. I often wonder how Bess is managing the chemo, I hope she didn’t experience TAX, and Sharon, if everything is OK now? Me, just after checking in, the night before my surgery 23/08/16 Sitting on my bed I looked up to see the window behind my head and a brilliant late summer blue sky at dusk was approaching, Being the dramatic sort, I wondered if it may the last time I may see the summer sky and teared up a bit. There was something very upsetting about seeing it through the ward window, a kind of feeling of being trapped, like you couldn’t go and enjoy the laid back summer atmosphere. We had visitors in the evening and after that I watched a game show with one of the nurses and Sharon, It kind of had a morbid vibe but also felt like a girls sleep over…. Very weird. And just after midnight I settled in to sleep. I awoke at 5.30am, and immediately started preparing myself for surgery, just going through the motions, not thinking, not feeling. I was told that I was slightly anaemic before the surgery, which didn’t help in the slightest, my mind immediately jumped to a morbid conclusion that I was just going to bleed out all over the operating table, but of course that didn’t happen…. That I know of anyway. The whole thing was very dramatic though, you are not allowed to walk to surgery, you have to sit on the bed and be wheeled, well that done me in. The nurse who walked down with me was lovely, she held my hand and her soft words made me cry out of fear and appreciation, but I just tried to focus on the very big issue of today being the day I finally get the fucker out of me. After awaking, It all felt like a dream, as I could not recall what was reality or if I was in my own head, although I am very certain I opened my eyes in the operating room before being wheeled to the recovery room. It was then I reached to feel the area, it was so flat, but still felt like I had a breast. To this day I sometimes forget I don’t have a left breast and when I have an itch I have a shock when I remember there is no nipple there! But it sure did feel good to be free. The rest of the day was in a blur, I was on oxygen for a lot of the time and was sick a lot, it was horrible, but the team working there were spot on. In case you are wondering, the mastectomy may look a bit nasty, but it did not hurt, at all. The challenge comes from the axillary lymph node clearance, I don’t like to say, but that can be quite painful at times. My problem lies in the issue that I over dramatise the seemingly innocuous occurrences and don’t flinch when I am in serious pain or discomfort. I can safely say out of everyone I know, I am the queen of needles now!
The following day I was sent home to recover but kept forgetting I had two large drainage pipes attached to my abdomen, and experienced a few painful incidences when I would get up from bed and end up getting yanked back through the attached tubes. I seemed to recover very quick from the surgery, just 5 days later the wound dressing and tube 1 was removed, Tube 2 took 5 more days from then. Just a warning here… apparently the tube removal does not bother some women, however, for me, it was probably the worst part of the whole surgery. For those who don’t know how the drainage tubes work- I had two, they are flexible plastic tubes which go into you, in my case it was just under my heart. About 6-7 inches worth stay inside you and they have little holes which soak up all the nasty fluid your body makes. I quite like playing with my drains though, squeezing and pushing the goo out of my body, kind of like a lava lamp. |
A ' no holds' page about my life with incurable advanced Breast Cancer, in the hope it will give a realistic, detailed account to other young women going through the unfortunate illness.
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