After the Party, I'm Fine -- BRCA 1 Positive, but Fine.

First of all, thank you for reading, caring, praying and keeping up with me!  I'm really not as hard to keep up with as the Kardashians, so it has hopefully not been too much of a bother to follow these rare updates.

My party, aka surgery, the bi-lateral prophylactic mastectomy, is now over.  It was a success!  And, like most parties, there was a huge mess to clean up afterward. The long party was about six hours long and I was in the hospital for only two nights.  As one of my readers pointed out, the most disappointing thing that happened was that there were at least three other women there who were wearing my same party gown. It was a simple, pastel number with a small print that opened in the back. Designer, one of a kind hospital party gowns are hard to come by. 

The important thing is that I AM FINE! There were no traces of cancer in my pathology report, and I feel (almost) great now.  There is still some lingering soreness and pain, even seven weeks later, but overall I am doing very well.  I went back to work on January 7th, and I have managed very well in spite of the pain.  So, happily, I am scheduled for my next reconstruction surgery in late May. Stay tuned for one more super-fun party!  I'm just sort of patched up for now, but the doctors assure me that they will make everything better in May. This is all most of you will care to know about. So stop reading now unless you can brave some of the "party pranks" that happened along the way.  I warned you!  The next section may be too graphic for some of you, so seriously, you should not read any more if you are a) short on time, b) don't care enough to find out more, c) are too embarrassed by semi-inappropriate hospital revelations.  Keep reading if you want to perhaps chuckle and be grossed out a little. 
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If you have had a surgery of any kind, you can probably relate to the following.  Here are some of the interesting events that occurred pre and post-party: 

1. The anaesthesiologist was probably 17 years old.  I liked her anyway.  She had to put my IV in because the nurse could not do it.  The poor nurse tried twice and got very frustrated, but I am used to that.  I have had three nurses try to put in my IV before, so I was impressed when this nurse begrudgingly stated, "You are just going to have to get your IV in the operating room, I guess."  But in came Amy, the anaesthesiologist, to the rescue. When I asked Amy if I could use the ladies room before I was hooked up to the IV, she said, "Sure, do you know where it is? Because I don't."  The restroom was literally five steps away; and, I did know where it was since I had been there twice before while I was waiting all morning for the doctor. I asked her, "Are you new here?"  She laughed, but did not answer.  Comforting. 
2.  A different nurse, Rachel, was about 16 years old.  Sarcastic disclaimer: the ages stated here in this blog are related to how old the people looked and acted. Anyway, Rachel told me that my surgery would take about two to three hours.  Wow! That was shorter than I thought.  Come to find out, she was new, and wrong. She did not realize that the oncologist surgeon would take about two to three hours to remove all of the breast tissue and that the plastic surgeon would need two to three hours per breast to put me back together.  Oops. 
3.  When I got out of recovery, I felt great!  Of course, I was on heavy pain meds, but I could talk, smile, move my head, and check my make-up. But, there were not enough nurses available to get me situated in my room. Some nurse supervisor guy had to get everything hooked up -- and he was not used to hooking up all of that stuff while wearing dress pants, a dress shirt and a tie.  He asked the aides for help --- they said that they did not have what he needed on their floor -- he got frustrated and made sure that they knew that he needed it, instructed them to go get it, then had to go find it himself.  I'm not sure exactly what he needed, but mainly he needed more nurses on the floor. The hospital was super-busy for some reason. 
4. I did not sleep at all that night.  The drugs made me absolutely cRaZy.  I was in a great deal of pain -- I said A GREAT DEAL OF PAIN! Yes, this is a very painful surgery.  I hit the little pain med button a lot. David stayed in my room and snored a lot.  I loved him being there, but good grief!  If I could have slept, I wouldn't have! I had a very sweet night nurse who finally showed up to take care of me.  She was an angel.  She was at least 21--an adult, finally!  She brought me juice, ice, water, straws, and pillows. I threw up a lot.  She didn't care. She brought me a cold wash cloth to put on my forehead and tried to make me comfortable.  She made me so happy, even though I was vomiting.  Ick. 
5.  The day nurse arrived.  She was 13.  Her name was Ashley.  I swear she was one of my middle school students with a long, sleek pony-tail, too much make up, and false eyelashes.  Ashley was hilarious, but she did not know it.  Most of the time I just wanted to yank out her pony-tail and eyelashes.  She took out my catheter (I know, gross) and then tried to help me stand up.  She checked my feet and asked what happened to my sock.  Was I wearing socks?  I had one sock on and one sock off. Ashley, I am sorry, but evidently I was unconscious when they took my sock off. Then Ashley wanted to know why the white compression hose I had to wear had the toes cut out of them.  Ummm....again.  I was unconscious, Ashley! I don't know who cut a hole in my special white hosiery.  Perhaps they put some sort of monitor on my toe.  I did not have a clue, but even I could take a stab at an educated guess, Ashley.  She then asked me when they put my catheter in.  I told her that I did not know.  I do know it was after I was in the operating room, UNCONSCIOUS.  Wasn't Ashley suppose to already know all of this? I was dizzy and unstable and nauseous.  Yuck. I really did not have it in me to answer all of Ashley, the new nurse's, questions!!!! Couldn't someone else please help this nurse understand what goes on in the operating room?  Did she know that they had just removed my breasts?  I was traumatized by the thought of that.  I did not care about my sock and where it went.  Just bring me a new pair, please! Of socks, that is!  Not breasts! 
6. Breakfast was brought in for me.  The smell made me gag, so I asked for it to be taken away.  Ashley asked if I ever ate breakfast and if it always makes me sick to my stomach. "No, Ashley! I love breakfast! I eat breakfast all of the time!  I love bacon! I love eggs! BUT, I am dizzy and sick from the drugs. I promise I am doing my best not to barf all over you, so just GET IT OUT OF HERE, NOW before you have to clean up a big mess!"  I didn't really say all of that, but sort of.  David had to be my nurse, since Ashley couldn't, and take away that gosh-awful breakfast tray.  Thanks, honey!  So, I was trying to get to the restroom, but first I had to stand up.  That was not easy because, as you already know, I was in a great deal of pain.  And, I was still hooked up to these weird drain things and was attached to the wall.  I did not know what all was going on yet as far as what contraptions were beeping and blinking and slurping blood and guts and fluid.  SO Gross.  Ashley did not understand any of that either, because she could not unhook me.  David, Ashley and I all three had to pull and stretch all manner of wires and drains and tubes, stretch them tight and nearly rip them out of the wall for me to reach the commode. I did this while working hard not to throw up, again. Whew...finally -- I made it to the bathroom and then made it back to bed.  I was exhausted.  David thought he had done his part for the last 24 hours, so he was going to go out and eat breakfast, run some errands, and get out of the hospital room for a while.  Luckily, I asked him to empty out the little pink bucket and put it close to me just in case I needed it for some gross reason.  As it happened, about an hour passed, and I indeed did need the pink bucket.  I was still on the IV fluids, and new nurse Ashley left my room without unhooking those darn drains.  I really needed to use the restroom again, so I called for help.  No help arrived.  I called again.  No help again.  So, I had to find the pink bucket and make a port-a-potty all by myself.  Still in pain, still hooked up to all of the IVs, pain pump, drains, monitors, etc. that make any movement at all difficult, somehow I managed to relieve myself by the side of my bed in the pink bucket without making a mess.  I was so proud of myself for just having a plan and taking care of business without a 13 year old new nurse's help.  About that time, my cousin came to visit.  I was in a very precarious position when she arrived!  Yikes! Then the aide, Judy, came to help me.  She was very helpful.  Another adult to the rescue!  Hooray!  Judy told me to please pardon Ashley--that Ashley was new and had not quite figured everything out yet. REALLY? Thank you, Judy! Then a cute, blonde 14 year old nurse came to teach Ashley how to unhook the wall unit drains.  It was about time!  Ashley was getting on-the-job training from Lauren while my super-sweet cousin made the best of it and distracted me by talking to me.  I was so glad to talk to my cousin instead of listening to the new nurses club jibber-jabber about the wall drains. 
7.  I asked for some juice.  The night nurse found apple juice and cranberry juice and mixed them together in a cup with ice and handed me the cup with a straw so I could manage. Angelic. Ashley, however, brought me apple juice and cranberry juice and put it on the side table too far away for me to reach.  I asked for help, because I had trouble moving my arms and couldn't reach it, let alone open the little pull off lids without spilling it all over my bed.  And, I was still in a great deal of pain.  Ashley asked, "Do you always need help opening your juice?  Could you open your own juice before you had surgery?"  Are you serious?  David had to open my juice for me because Ashley just wanted to ask me ridiculous questions instead of helping me. Thank goodness he was back to take care of me, because Ashley couldn't, or wouldn't.  I'm not sure. 
8.  There was a big pink pill I was suppose to take, but Ashley did not know what it was and wanted to make sure I was suppose to take it.  She had to go check.  When she returned she said to me with a strangely excited look on her face, "You ARE suppose to take this big pink pill!  It is your anti-bacterial medicine."  Anti-bacterial, as in hand sanitizer, Ashley?  Are you sure?  Do you think it could be my antibiotic? New nurses are awesome!
9.  About 6:00 pm, after a long day of going to the restroom all by myself, working hard to not vomit, and taking a stroll down the hall with my IV pole, Ashley returned to my room and announced, "Wow! I just have to check your IV one more time and it will be time for me to go home! This day flew by!  I can't believe I just have to check on you one more time!"  Really, Ashley? It really must have been her actual first day as a professional nurse.  I decided to take Judy's advice. Remember Judy, the aide who told me Ashley was new? So, I gave poor little Ashley a break.  After all, I knew it would be good material for a blog when I had enough energy to write it! I could actually laugh about it. Thanks for the memories, Ashley! I really had no use for Ashley except for bringing me my "antibacterial" medicine. 
10.  I couldn't feel my lip.  The breathing tube made my lip puff out and severed some nerve.  This made it difficult to eat and drink. This made me worry.  It is still bothersome, even seven weeks later. 
11.  Judy wanted me to put a "bra" back on.  I swear, the doctor said I did not have to wear it, but Judy insisted.  I told her it was too small, and I had the angelic night nurse take it away because it was bloody, gross and IT WAS TOO SMALL, even with my breasts removed. Did I mention that they put temporary implants in?  Well, they did.  They feel weird, very weird.  And the doctor told me I did not have to wear the bra if it was too uncomfortable.  Judy just wanted to argue.  I do not know why. 
12.  In the middle of the 2nd night I was unhooked from the heart monitor for a few minutes. I was so exhausted by then after not sleeping and barely eating.  When someone came in to hook it back up, it was beeping, LOUDLY. After a while I could not stand it, so I stood up and tried to push all of the buttons on the machine to try to stop the beeping. Then Judy came in, thank goodness.  (NOT!) I asked her to stop the beeping, please.  She said, "Oh, that thing always beeps!" I knew it had not been beeping that loudly the night before, so I decided to argue with Judy, yes again.  She assured me that it beeps all the time and that it would stop when I was still.  She "shushed me" and firmly told me to be still.  Then she said, "See there, it stopped.  Just lie still."  UMMMMM........Judy, it is still beeping, loudly.  Seriously, can you actually stand there and tell me that is stopped when I was still when it was clearly beeping?  It would have stopped if I was dead, but I wasn't!  So I gave up.  I just waited until some other nurse, aide, or therapist came in.  I'm not even sure who it was, but I asked them to make the beeping stop.  They were like, "sure," and turned the volume down on the machine. Why didn't Judy know how to do that?????? She was not even new, and she couldn't blame it on Ashley. 

There is more . . . much more.  I'll finish later.  I promise.