With a Little Help From My Friends

On the day of surgery, we had to be at the surgery center at 5 am for check in. 5 AM. I never get up that early. It was brutal. My brother & sister both wanted to be there, so on the way once we were on site, we took photos to help them figure out where to go once they arrived. Up to that morning, I thought I was ok and at peace with what was happening to me, but, when the pre-op nurse asked me to rattle off why I was there, my voice caught and I started to cry as I said "bilateral mastectomy with sentinal lymph node biopsy." She held my hand & told me it was ok. My breast surgeon & plastic surgeon arrived and they seemed weirdly hyped/animated. Is this a surgeon thing? Does it make them excited to go do their thing? I was asked that morning by someone if there would be reconstruction, I said no. Then an OR nurse came out & asked if there should be spacers - again, I said no. And at that point, was even more nervous because what the fuck people, I told you all of this. One of the last things I recall as I was put under was Dr. O'Neill (my breast surgeon) taking charge of things by way of having someone move & taking over a task then shushing the OR nurse who had been chattering loudly away.

Then later, I woke up. One of the first things I remember is Dr. O'Neill sitting at my bedside leaning on the rail, remarking on how drugged up I was but that I had come through the surgery great, minimal blood loss. And that there had been a 1 cm tumor in the lymph node, so it was also removed. That...was not cool to hear. After she left, my brother & Jason came back for awhile. Then my sister swapped places with my brother and she sat with me while Jason went to get my prescriptions & the car while a nurse helped me to the bathroom to well, use it, as well as get dressed. I won't go into a lot of detail on that, but I wore Wonder Woman undies that day & also made the mistake of looking at the bed where I'd been laying after coming back to my little recovery area because there was blood (that my sister quickly covered with a sheet).

We had a rough drive home & I don't remember much of the first 24-48 hours except for amusing things here & there - like warning the first few people to come over that I wasn't wearing pants. (I did cover up with a sheet though, so haha.)


***

After I started telling people about my diagnosis, I received an almost overwhelming amount of emotional support from all sorts of people. However, many of my fellow clinic escorts (plus a few others who wanted to help) provided tangible, edible support. At a Planned Parenthood luncheon in March, one of my fellow escorts took me aside to see how I was and ask some questions. She said that as soon as I had a surgery date, let her know - she would organize meals for us for awhile. When I seemed hesitant she took me by the shoulders, looked me right in the eye and said "I'm Southern & Italian - LET ME TAKE CARE OF YOU." (And I mean really, how can you argue with that?)

Fast forward to May. I had a surgery date & I let her know and sure as shit - she sent me a message to ask questions about food preferences, allergies, preferred meal times, etc. Within days, the entire first week after surgery was filled. Because of all these generous people, we didn't have to actually cook anything ourselves for almost a full two weeks. It was glorious. Some people cooked, some brought us take out, and a couple had food delivered to us from a restaurant. To be fair, I remember very little from conversations I had during the first few days when people stopped by - I apparently had a conversation with Serena that involved pirates and the Flying Spaghetti Monster...? (Jason mentioned it later on.) Yay Percocet!

Two friends who are medical professionals were quite helpful, one brought kick ass potato bacon soup for the first night and assessed my vitals. Another stopped over to help with questions we had concerning the drains and later brought strawberries & whipped cream.

There have been a handful of people who have randomly messaged me to check in & see how I'm coping. Words can't really express how much I appreciate that/those gestures.

Not to mention that prior to surgery people gave me books and the means to get more books (most of which I read while I was out). As I write this, I have returned to work. That doesn't mean this series will end. I still have more to say, but at times struggle with how I will say it.

This

Pre-dawn sky the morning of the surgery. Taken from our driveway.