A Date with Double Mastectomy

November 1 is a huge blur. In fact, that whole week was a big blur! I was hoping to rememeber everything that happened, but thankfully, the Dilaudid I was on had other plans.

We had to be at the hospital at 6am, which meant that we needed to leave the house around 5:15am. I had celebrated Halloween with the kids the night before and my father came to help with the kids.

We arrived at the hospital and things moved pretty quickly. My husband & oldest daughter, Paige, were with me. My brother and his girlfriend also came early that morning.

I was sent to a little room to get ready. I changed into the lovely gown and before I knew it, my IV was hooked up to the PICC line and they must have already given me something because things become very fuzzy. I asked my husband to take pictures of my breasts. I've heard many women say that during the process, they would forget what thier real breasts used to look like. I wanted documentation!

No sooner had Ward taken the pictures and I slipped my gown back on, my breast surgeon came in. He took his surgery marker and drew lines on my breast. He started near my sternum and went perpendicular to my nipple. He traced the marker over the top of my nipple and extented the line toward my armit. He switched sides and drew the other breast. He told me it wouldn't be a long wait and he didn't lie.

I don't remember my plastic surgeon, but I'm sure he came in there. I learned from my husband that my brother had arrived, so I asked to see him and my daughter before they took me back. I think I was able to visit with them all of 5 minutes before someone came into the room and announced that it was time to go to the pre-surgical room.

As they were wheeling me out, I remember one of my family members ask if they could wait with me and the staff person told everyone that they would have to wait in the waiting room because they were taking me back. It was time.

I almost panicked as I said my good-bye's. I say almost because someone gave me some good drugs. I barely remember going through the double-doors that I saw while I was saying good-bye to my husband.

I know that my surgery lasted about 7 hours. My breast surgeon performed my lymph node dissecion on my left side as they got started, and preliminary pathology came back clean. The plastic surgeon was able to place both expanders in my chest using my chest muscles. The Alloderm (cadaver tissue) was not necessary for me, thank goodness. (I was worried about that because the use of Alloderm automatically meant 4 drains instead of two and an increased risk of infection) I came out of surgery with no breasts, two expanders, two JP drains, lots of stiches, and a catheter.

I remember none of it. I don't remember recovery at all. I don't remember going to the room. I don't remember seeing my husband or visiting with my daugher & brother afterwards. The first memory I have was sometime very early the next morning. I was on Morphine and having bad reactions with it.

Evidentally, Morhine makes me evil according to my husband. I don't remember, and he won't tell me, what I said while under the influence. It must have been really ugly. I'm embarrassed, even today, that I was a mean person after surgery, even though I don't remember. Not only was I mean, but I was very, very itchy. Like unbearable itchy. I remember scratching myself, HARD, everywhere I could reach, which wasn't very far.

At some point that morning, the staff realized that I was having reactions to Morphine and thank goodness, my surgeon switched me to Dilaudid. Much better. I slept.

The second night, I vaugely remember a slew of visitors. Three co-workers, including my boss (I made him feel my expander! OMG!), more friends and family. Ward even brought the kids, which I don't remember. I never ate while I was there.

The day I was discharged, I remember a little. I know I was able to pee on my own. I had a breast nurse navigator come and give me some mastectomy prizes. I got lots of reading material, a little pillow for my seat belt made by a Girl Scout, fake "pillow" boobs to pad a shirt with, and a weird tank-top that had pockets to hold my drains. Somehow, she helped me change.

It was at that moment that I clearly remember having a very hard time moving my left arm. I realized the impact of the lymph node dissection and it was unreal. Both arms had limited movement and I was sore. I never looked down either.

I was discharged on November 3. Ward carefully drove me home and put me in the recliner, my new best friend.

Maybe it was a blessing I can't recall the events of my date with a double mastectomy.

(lymph node dissection location, left side)