I didn't die! What I remember and where I am now

 Hello everyone! *waves with left hand* This post will have some fun photos and some more sensitive ones, so viewers should proceed with caution, like one hand over their eyes (for some of you) and the knowledge that I'm okay! 

Sorry for the radio silence. My brain still feels a bit slow, but this is always good therapy so here goes. Please bear with me if I get distracted before proofreading or lose my place in the story, haha.

One week ago we headed into the city for surgery first thing Wednesday morning. Report time was 5 AM with surgery to start at 7. The night before was the usual nothing by mouth after midnight (just in case I were to turn into a Gremlin, I suppose) so in that sense it was nice to be there early; less time to feel sorry for myself due to hunger and dehydration. I get crabby from both!

That green circle, above, surrounds the little dimpled area of this squatting troublemaker. It's not truly in my armpit so much as just in front of it.

Below, the arrow points to the scar from where my port was during my year of infusions, the circle is over the previous scar from my right side surgical drain post-mastectomy, and the X marks the general area of the tumor. Ignore the hair- I wasn't allowed to shave in the days leading up to surgery. Not that anybody is looking that closely, just my disclaimer. 😅

We woke up at 4 AM because I needed my final of the 6 showers with the special super-duper sudsy germ killing soap first. That done, we snuck out of our friends' house and drove the not quite half hour to the hospital. They checked us in and immediately started to draw on me and initial their work so everyone is on the same page and body part and all that. 

                                                 

I had a sweet nurse who told me they'd get me an expert to start my IV, so then I had another sweet nurse come in to do just that and she nailed it on the first try. Woot! I met my surgery nurse and the anesthesiologist (holy COW, I got that right on the first try- no way!) and her assistant, and both docs came in to go over things, and then it was time to smooch Dada and get wheeled into my adventure!

                      

Gotta love my duck socks. And my fun compression boots that kept all my blood circulating and helped prevent clots while I was under anesthesia. These guys really know what they're doing! Everyone was incredibly kind, and let me tell you, I remember kissing Dada... and I have zero memory of even making it into the OR. Not kidding. Not being pushed through the doors, feeling the coldness of the room, not the bright lights, none of it. 

I didn't even get to use my bite sticks! I had one in my hand and was completely befuddled when I asked about the dye going in and how it feels like an angry hornet and they smiled at me and said, "oh no, we'll wait until you're sleeping for that." Could have knocked me over with a feather. Unbelievable. So I got to give that to Dada to put in my purse as I left him. Such good fortune! Hooray! No stinging!

And you guys, thanks for praying. One, I was not allergic to the dye. I am still bluish green in areas to prove it. Thank you! Two, apparently they had to do the long version after all and I didn't die! Dr A had not expected the lymph node mapping to work, and she was right, unfortunately. That meant after Dr A removed the tumor, surrounding tissue, and whatever lymph nodes were in there and attempted the mapping, Dr H also had to step in to reroute the severed lymph vessels into suitable veins. Apparently my previous radiation damage made that trickier in that he had to dig deeper to find recipient veins, but he was able to make five connections and was pleased. 

I woke up in recovery some time after all that and that's all pretty fuzzy. I know I vomited at least once- maybe when they tried to stand me up the first time? They said that happens often. 

One of the nice parts is that all of this procedure happened on the same floor: pre-op, the surgery, and the post-op care. No elevator rides, less chance of germs being handed around, no chance to get lost, haha. It was a really nice set up! My nurses, Abby and Alexis and Jesse and Chris were all fantastic, excellent educators, caring, kind, encouraging. I forget which person handed me the plastic tool that they want you to inhale from to make sure that your lung sacs are opening post-anesthesia, but she started to give directions and I took in a huge breath- the little indicator hit the top wall- and she laughed mid-instruction and said, "well, okay then, champ!" Guess all that walking and running this spring and summer made the odds ever in my favor. That and all your prayers, for sure! Thank you so much! 

I ate all my dinner, which was noodles, mashed potatoes, a roll and green beans- yes, Mother, there is visual proof in a photo below (I am NOT a fan of green beans)- and I didn't die! Haha. And my strawberry ice cream and later some orange sherbet with a turkey sandwich. I remember brushing my teeth later and wondering why my toothpaste was orange colored when I spit it out before I remembered about the orange sherbet. I think I also had another turkey sandwich around 4 AM...

They kept me overnight since I'd had the long version, and booted me out before 8 AM the following morning, sending me home with Tylenol and ibuprofen to alternate between, my inhaling-suck-it-in tool, two front-closing sports bras to help hold my dressing in place, gloves and wipes and all that jazz for Dada to use whilst emptying my surgical drain twice daily (fun times but not painful) and various dressings. 

And my duck socks. 

So now I'm colorful from the dye and the bruising:

The blue dots on my arm are where the plastic surgeon injected his own set of dyes to trace where the lymph vessels drained and to match with the veins. I also had blue dye injected into the webbing of my right hand between each finger. Mercifully I was asleep for all that. It is quite clear to me that I'd make a terrible junkie.

And I'm a bit rashy because of adhesives and cleansers, which is apparently a side effect of chemo because it happened then, as well. Benadryl helps and I know the itching won't be forever. Nothing like sporting weird racing stripes of rash in odd places and having one bumpy arm:

In addition to those itches, I had been warned ahead of time that post-surgery there would be light, tickly feelings on my right arm and that I'd need to rub it to desensitize those nerves and get them used to reporting in when something was actually touching me. Dada, who loves to give light tickly touches, was delighted. I am not a fan of light tickly touches because they tickle! Thing Two and I are firmly in the Firm Touches camp. I have indeed felt as though spider webs or Thing Two's hairs have been draped along my arm, or as though a drip of moisture is sliding down, and am brushing and rubbing and scratching gently accordingly. Mostly it feels like when you've slept funny and your arm is asleep, unusually heavy, right before the tingles of the blood rushing back in begins. Sometimes the skin gets stuck together in the adhesives that I have to let flake off. I'm allowed to shower but not let that part face the stream of water yet. So things get a little pinchy on that side.

I'm to not lift anything heavier than two pounds on my right side and I'm not to lift higher than 45 degrees this first week. If you want to know what that's like, go unload your dishwasher with your opposite hand and you'll have a pretty good idea. Get a gallon of milk out of the fridge with your off hand. Set a lot of things down so you can open the fridge or cabinet or door first and then pick the stuff back up with your "bad" hand. It's entertaining, but I am so astoundingly bad at brushing my teeth with my off hand, that I've gone back to using my chicken wing right side. 

I'm drinking lots of water, eating whatever I want, playing lots of solitaire on my phone and watching way too much TV, but I don't feel like I can focus on a book quite yet. This post alone has taken me about two hours, though there were some interruptions, including a thunderstorm followed by intense sunshine which resulted in this: 

Thank you again, all of you, for being invaluable members of my tribe. I am sure the docs will be pleased at my follow up appointments and I am healing well. I've gone from meds every four hours to meds about three times a day. I slept through the entire night last night and I can't tell you when that last happened! We're still waiting to hear if there was lymph node involvement so we know if I will need chemo in addition to hormone therapy, and I'm not sure when we will get those results. Thank you all so much. You are among my many blessings. 

MRI recap

 Yesterday morning while admiring the smiling moon, I drove myself the three minutes to the hospital for my MRI. Shh, don't tell, hehe. Upon arrival, the friendly registration ladies said I was all set and sent me down the hall. I was the first one in the waiting room, haha!

After attaching my snazzy hospital bracelet and filling out the paperwork on a clipboard, I sat down to wait out the few minutes until I was to be summoned.

My radiation tech had kind, smiley eyes above her mask as she told me apologetically that I'd have to change, showed me the locker of scrubs and the changing room, and waited for me. She then escorted me to the MRI room where she and her fellow tech explained that I'd be in the machine about 20 minutes and then they'd inject a contrast into a vein and then I'd have about 5 more minutes. 

So I hop up on the table/tray/slab and wiggle into position. She asks if I'd like a blanket as it'll take about half an hour for everything, so I said sure. They tuck me in, hand me the call button, caution me that it'll be loud in there, and ask what kind of music I want. Adding a pair of the puffy, over-the-head headphones and clipping a plastic hockey-looking mask over my head, she tells me I'm all set. I giggle about it really feeling like Halloween as now I look like Jason from the Friday the 13th movies. 

I close my eyes, because I figure I won't be able tell how close or tight the top part of the machine will be to my face if I can't see it. Yes, the air current might feel a little different depending on if I am in or out, but I can do this. 

And in I go! At first there's some blips and boops and rata-rata-ratas as the machine sets itself up. Sometimes it feels like you're on top of a car hood that's been out in the sun awhile. Sometimes it feels exactly like sitting in my tenth grade Spanish class with a certain soccer player sitting directly behind me who repeatedly kicked my chair enough times that I wanted to elbow him in the face, that constant small jamming jiggle that you feel through your whole body. Sometimes it sounds like being inside an old printer, that bzzzzzzt bzzzzzzt bzzzzzzt sound. Sometimes it's like a mosquito the size of a T-Rex hovering over your shoulder. 

I picked smooth jazz so that I wouldn't be tempted to dance or sing along to the music because I was supposed to be still for accuracy purposes. The first few minutes there was no music and I thought, "hmm, either they forgot to turn it on or their headphones aren't working. Oh well. I'll just pray." So I started to pray for a sweet friend of mine and there was a large thump that made me jump a little and then the music started. I was glad, as it was hard to concentrate on praying with all the racket and no music to focus on. 

I listen to a handful of songs and then they pull me out to do the contrast part. Uh oh. Well, I'm already laying down, so I theoretically shouldn't pass out. She ties off my arm, has me make a fist, pops that sucker in there first try, reminds me that I might feel coolness versus the warmth that CT contrast has where it can make you feel like you peed your pants, and is done in no time. Then she says, "five more minutes, you're doing great." 

I close my eyes again, they stick me back in, and right when I think I might be done, it gets really bright. I think, "oh, maybe I'm out." So I crack open one eye and nope, still very much inside a tube made of what reminded me of the white walls of the Millennium Falcon. Reshutting my eye right quick.

Very soon after, she calls through the intercom that I'm done and that they'll help me finish up in just a few minutes. I have a few last minutes of music and then she helps me off the table/tray/slab with a, "you did great!" I thank her for doing great with the needle, haha. She tells me that they'd most likely have the results by tomorrow (today). I figure I'd give it another day and then call my doc for results if I didn't hear from the office first.

I put my clothes back on and head on my merry way, back out through a much fuller waiting room.

Imagine my delighted surprise when I got a call yesterday saying that the MRI results were fine/clear/normal! Woohoo!

So thanks for praying, everybody. I maintain that I am a single stick patient and that the whole brouhaha was brought about by my bod's overreaction to multiple and/or moving around needle jabs. Thank you all for the texts checking on me and for being available to help in your myriad of ways. I appreciate all of you!

Happy hump day!